Anonymous

REIGN OF WILLIAM III. (continued).

Rising Hopes of the Jacobites—Expulsion of Trevor for Venality—Examination of the Books of the East India Company—Impeachment of Leeds—The Glencoe Inquiry—The Darien Scheme—Marlborough's Reconciliation with William—Campaign of 1695—Surrender of Namur—William's Triumphant Return—General Election and Victory of the Whigs—New Parliament—Re-establishment of the Currency—Treasons Bill passed—A Double Jacobite Plot—Barclay's Preparations—Failure of Berwick's Insurrection Scheme—William Avoids the Snare—Warnings and Arrests—Sensation in the House of Commons—Trial and Execution of the Conspirators—The Association Bill becomes Law—Land Bank Established—Commercial Crisis—Failure of the Land Bank—The Bank of England supplies William with Money—Arrest of Sir John Fenwick—His Confession—William ignores it—Good Temper of the Commons—They take up Fenwick's Confession—His Silence—A Bill of Attainder passes both Houses—Execution of Fenwick—Ministerial Changes—Louis desires Peace—Opposition of the Allies—French Successes—Terms of Peace—Treaty of Ryswick—Enthusiasm in England.

The death of Queen Mary raised marvellously the hopes of the Jacobites and the Court of St. Germains. Though the Jacobites had charged Mary with ascending the throne contrary to the order of succession, they now asserted that William had no right thereto, and that Mary's claim, however weak, had been his only colourable plea for his usurpation. Mary it was whose amiability and courtesy had reconciled the public to the government of her husband. His gloomy and morose character and manners, and his attachment to nothing but Holland and Dutchmen, they said, had thoroughly disgusted the whole nation, and would now speedily bring his reign to an end. He spent a great part of the year on the Continent; Mary had managed affairs admirably in his absence, but who was to manage them now? They must soon go into confusion, and the people be glad to bring back their old monarch.

And truly the wholesale corruption of his Parliament and ministers served to give some force to their anticipations. Hardly ever was there a time when dishonesty and peculation, hideous as they have been in some periods of our Government were more gross, general, and unblushing than amongst the boasted Whigs who had brought about the Revolution. From the highest to the lowest they were insatiably greedy, unprincipled, and unpatriotic—if want of patriotism is evidenced by abusing the institutions and betraying the honour of the nation. One of the best of them died in April, 1695—George Saville, Marquis of Halifax. He bore the name of "the Trimmer," but rather because parties had changed than that he himself had changed. He had discouraged extreme measures, especially such as were bloody and vindictive. He had endeavoured to save the heads of both Stafford and Russell; he had opposed the virulence of the Whigs in the days of the Popish plot, and of the Tories in that of the Rye House Plot. But even he had not kept himself free from intriguing with St. Germains. Compared, however, with the unclean beasts that he left behind, he was a saint.

The tide of inquiry was now, however, flowing fast, and higher delinquents were reached by it every day. In 1695 there was a charge made against Sir John Trevor, Speaker of the House of Commons, for receiving a bribe of one thousand guineas to ensure the passing of the City Orphans Bill. This was a Bill to enable the Corporation of London to make a sort of funded debt of the money of the orphans of freemen which had been left in their charge, and which they had spent. To carry this Bill, and cover their criminality, bribes had been given, not only to Trevor, but to Hungerford, Chairman of the Grand Committee, and many others. Trevor—who had been one of Judge Jeffreys' creatures—was ejected from the Chair of the House, where he had long made a trade of selling his influence to the amount of at least six thousand pounds per annum, besides his salary of four thousand pounds. For his insolence and greed he had become universally hated, and there was great rejoicing over his exposure and expulsion from the House. Paul Foley, the Chairman of the Committee of Inquiry, was elected Speaker of the House in his stead; Hungerford was also expelled; Seymour came into question. His overbearing manners had created him plenty of enemies; and on his remarking on the irregular conduct of a member, the indignant individual replied that it was "certainly wrong to talk during a discussion, but it was far worse to take money for getting a Bill passed." The hint thrown out was quickly seized, and on examining the books of the East India Company, to which enormous bribery also was traced, it was found that Seymour had received a bribe of ten thousand pounds, but under the artful cover of selling him two hundred tons of saltpetre for much less than its value. It was, moreover, sold ostensibly to a man named Colston, but really to Seymour, so that the House could not expel him, but a public mark was stamped on his character.

WILLIAM PATERSON. (Facsimile of the only known Engraving.)

But the examination of the books of the East India Company laid bare a series of bribes of Ministers and Parliament men, which made all the rest dwindle into insignificance. In previous years there were found items in the books of one thousand two hundred and eighty-four pounds and two thousand and ninety-six pounds; but in the past year, during the great contest with the new Company, Sir Thomas Cook, who had been empowered to bribe at his discretion, had expended on Ministers and Members no less a sum than one hundred and sixty-seven thousand pounds. Wharton, himself a most profligate man, pursued these inquiries on the part of the Commons with untiring avidity. In order to damp this inquiry, the guilty parties caused it to be whispered about that it was best not to press the matter too far, as a large part of the money might have been given to the King through Portland. But nothing could stop the inquest, and it turned out that large sums had been offered to the King but had been refused, and that fifty thousand pounds offered to Portland had also been refused. Nottingham, too, had refused ten thousand pounds, but others had not been so scrupulous. Cook declined at first to disclose the names of those who had received the money, but he was threatened with a Bill to compel him on terms which, had he persisted, would have ruined him. He then offered to disclose all on condition that a clause in the Bill should indemnify him against the consequences of his disclosures. This was done, and Sir Basil Firebrace was named as receiving a sum of forty thousand pounds. When pressed to explain what had become of this money, the worthy knight fell into great confusion and loss of memory; but he was obliged to account for the cash, and then it came out that he had, through a Mr. Bates, paid five thousand five hundred guineas to Caermarthen, now Duke of Leeds. The duke denied having had the money, and then Bates said he had left it with one Robarts, a foreign servant of the duke's, to count it out for him, and this with the duke's permission. Robarts, however, was so bad at counting coin, that he had taken half a year to do it in, and only brought it back on the very morning that the Committee of Inquiry was formed.

The duke did not deny that he had got all the money that he could through Bates from the Company for others; but this, according to the morals of that age, was considered quite pardonable. To take a bribe himself was criminal if found out, to assist others in selling their votes was venial. The Commons impeached the duke, but then his servant Robarts was missing, and as Leeds insisted on his presence as evidence for him, the impeachment remained uncarried out. In fact, William, who, though suffering perpetually from the gross corruption all around him, was always the first to screen great offenders, now hastened Parliament to a conclusion.

In the following week the Scottish Parliament commenced its session after an interval of two years. The Duke of Hamilton was dead, and John Hay, Marquis of Tweeddale, was appointed Lord High Commissioner, a man in years, and of fair character. The question which immediately seized the attention of the Estates was the massacre of Glencoe. That sanguinary affair had now come to the public knowledge in all its perfidy and barbarity, and there was a vehement demand for inquiry and for justice on the perpetrators. The facts which had reached the queen long ago regarding this dark transaction had greatly shocked her, and she had been earnest for a searching investigation; but William, who must now have been aware that the matter would not bear the light very well, had not been too desirous to urge it on. The Jacobites, however, never ceased to declaim on the fearful theme; and the Presbyterians, who hated the Master of Stair, who under James had been one of their worst persecutors, and was a man without any real religion, were not the less importunate for its unveiling. Seeing that the Parliament would now have it dragged to the light, William made haste to make the movement his own. He signed a Commission appointing Tweeddale its head, and sent it down with all haste to Edinburgh. The Parliament expressed great thanks to the king for this act of justice, but it deceived nobody, for it was felt at once that no Commission would have issued but for the public outcry, and it was now meant to take it out of the earnest hands of the Estates, and defeat it as far as possible; and this turned out to be the case. The report of the Commission was long in appearing, and had not the Estates been very firm, it might have been longer, and have been effectually emasculated, for the Lord High Commissioner was on the point of sending it to William, who was now in the Netherlands, and deeply immersed in the affairs of the campaign. The Estates insisted on its immediate production, and Tweeddale was compelled to obey. It then appeared that several of the Macdonalds had been admitted to give their evidence on the atrocities committed in their glen: and the conclusion was come to that it was a barbarous murder. The king's warrant, however, was declared to have authorised no such butchery, and the main blame was thrown on the Master of Stair and the Earl of Breadalbane. Undoubtedly Sir John Dalrymple, the Master of Stair, had urged on by his letter the massacre of the clan with unflinching cruelty; but William contented himself with merely dismissing him from his office.

To put the Scots Parliament into good humour, William promised them through the Marquis of Tweeddale, that if they would pass an Act establishing a colony in Africa, America, or any other part of the world where it was open to the English rightfully to plant a colony, he would grant them a charter with as full powers as he had done to the subjects of his other dominions. This was, no doubt, in consequence of a scheme agitated by Paterson, the originator of the Bank of England, for founding a colony on the Isthmus of Darien, for trading between the Atlantic and Pacific—forming, in fact, a link of commerce between China and India, as well as the Spanish States on the Pacific coasts and Europe. The Act, supposed to be drawn by Paterson himself, was passed, and preparations begun for carrying the scheme into effect, but the expedition did not sail till 1698. Parliament granted some indulgence to the Episcopalians, by which seventy of their clergy retained their livings, and voted a hundred and twenty thousand pounds for the services of the State.

At the moment that William was about to set out for the Continent, a plot for his assassination was discovered, but the conspirators were not brought to trial till the following year.

William embarked on the 12th of May for Holland. Before going he had appointed as Lords Justices to carry on the government in his absence—Archbishop Tenison; Somers, Keeper of the Great Seal; Pembroke, Keeper of the Privy Seal; Devonshire, the Lord Steward; Dorset, the Lord Chamberlain; Shrewsbury, the Secretary of State; and Godolphin, First Lord of the Treasury. There had also been a formal reconciliation between him and the Princess Anne. Marlborough and his wife were now all anxiety for this reconciliation. The queen being gone, and William, from his infirmities, not being expected to reach a long life, Marlborough saw Anne at once brought many degrees nearer the throne. Instead of James ever returning, the crafty Marlborough felt sure that, even if William did not succeed in retaining his popularity, any change would seat, not James, but Anne on the throne. It was his interest, therefore, to promote by all means Anne's chance of succession, because, once on the throne, he felt that he should be the ruling power. Anne was, therefore, induced by him and his countess to write a conciliatory letter to William, proposing to wait on him and endeavour to console him in his distress. This had not been done without some difficulty and delay, but, when once effected, William received the princess very cordially; gave her the greater part of the late queen's jewels, restored all her honours, her name was once more united in the prayers for the royal family, and the foreign ambassadors presented themselves at her house. In one thing, however, Marlborough was disappointed. William did not appoint Anne regent during his absence, as he had hoped, because he knew that that would be simply making Marlborough viceroy. The King still retained his dislike to the Marlboroughs, and though he permitted them to reside again under the same roof with the princess, he refused for some time to admit Marlborough to kiss his hand in the circle at Kensington, and offered him no renewal of his offices and command.

William entered on the campaign of 1695 under unusual advantages. Louis of France had reduced his country to such distress that he was now obliged to stand on the defensive. The people were loud in their complaints all over France of the merciless exactions for the continuance of the war. They were actually perishing of famine. Barbessieux, the minister, was not able to devise resources like the able Louvois, who was gone; and now Louis had lost by death the great Marshal Luxemburg, who had won for him almost all his martial renown. The forces in Flanders, deprived of their heroic and experienced head, were badly supplied with provisions, badly recruited, and to make all worse, Louis, as he had chosen his prime minister, now selected his general—not from the men of real military talent, but from a courtier and man of pleasure—Villeroi. He was a tall, handsome man, much admired by the ladies, and a reckless gambler, but totally unfit to cope with William in the field. Boufflers was still at the head of a division of the army, but under Villeroi.

Louis was apprehensive that the Allies would make a push at Dunkirk. He therefore ordered a new line to be drawn between the Lys and the Scheldt, and every means to be taken to cover Dunkirk, Ypres, Tournai, and Namur. William arrived in the camp of the Allies on the 5th of July, and immediately marched against Villeroi, who retired behind his lines between Ypres and Menin. He, however, detached ten thousand men to support Boufflers, who had advanced as far as Pont d'EspiÈres. William then sent forward the Elector of Bavaria to confront Boufflers, who also retired behind his lines, and the Elector passed the Scheldt, and posted himself at Kirk. William, having thus driven the French to the frontiers of Flanders, then despatched the Baron von Heyden from the camp of the Elector of Bavaria, along with Ginkell, to invest Namur. At the same time, leaving Vaudemont to confront the army of Villeroi on the border of Flanders, William suddenly marched also for Namur, the Brandenburgers having orders to advance from another quarter. William's hope was, by this ably concerted plan, completely to invest Namur before any fresh troops could be poured into it; but Boufflers, perceiving his design, managed to throw himself into the city with seven regiments of dragoons, by which the garrison was raised to fifteen thousand men. Immediately on the heels of Boufflers arrived William and the Elector, and encamped on both sides of the Sambre and Meuse, thus investing the whole place.

They began to throw up their entrenchments on the 6th of July, under the direction of the celebrated engineer, Cohorn. The city had always been strong; it had been of late years made much stronger by Cohorn, and since then the French had added to its defences. Its castle was deemed impregnable; the town was full of provisions and of brave soldiers, and it was regarded as a somewhat rash act in William to attempt so formidable a fortress, with the chance of being taken in the rear by Villeroi at the head of eighty thousand men. The moment that Villeroi saw the object of William he began to put himself in motion to attack Vaudemont, and, having beaten him, to, advance on Namur. Vaudemont, however, began to fortify his camp, and Villeroi's vanguard appearing at Dentreghem, he entrenched himself on both sides. Villeroi made sure, nevertheless, of a complete victory over him, having such a superiority of force, and he sent word to Louis that he would speedily hear of a victory. But Vaudemont, perceiving another body of French advancing from the Scheldt so as to enclose him, very adroitly drew back, and made a retreat, much admired by military judges, to Ghent. This he was able to effect through the cowardice of Louis's natural son, the Duke of Maine. Villeroi accordingly advanced unopposed and brutally bombarded Brussels.

William was all this time—except for a few days when he was anxiously observing the French proceedings before Brussels—prosecuting the siege of Namur with a determined ardour which cost a terrible amount of human lives. The trenches had been first opened on the 11th of July, and the batteries on both sides commenced a furious fire. This continued for a week, and on the 18th a storming party, headed by Lord Cutts, consisting of five battalions of English, Scots, and Dutch, attacked the works on the right of the counterscarp, supported by six English battalions under General Fitzpatrick, whilst nine thousand pioneers advanced on the left under General Salisch. Twelve hundred of the Allies fell in this bloody action, whilst William, looking on in exultation, thought not of their destruction, but of the bulldog valour of the British soldiers, exclaiming to the Elector of Bavaria, "See my brave English! See my brave English!" They drove in the enemy, though at a terrible sacrifice.

On the 30th of July the Elector of Bavaria attacked Vauban's line that surrounded the defences of the castle, and broke through it, and reached even Cohorn's celebrated fort, under the eyes of Cohorn himself, but could not effect a lodgment in it. On the 2nd of August another party of grenadiers, headed by the dare-devil Lord Cutts, attacked and lodged themselves on the second counterscarp. The governor, Count Guiscard, now engaged to give up the town, time being allowed for the garrison to retire into the citadel. This being done, and the Allies having engaged to give up the one thousand five hundred wounded men left below, on the 13th the bombardment of the fort commenced with renewed fury. Both sides fought with the fanaticism of courage, and committed great havoc on each other. Boufflers at length attempted to cut his way through the besiegers in a headlong sally, but was repulsed, and shut up again.

At this crisis Villeroi's army had reached Fleurus, and fired ninety pieces of cannon to apprise the besieged of their vicinity. William immediately left the conduct of the siege to the Elector of Bavaria, and drew out a strong force to confront Villeroi, who was reinforced by a large body of troops from Germany. This was a most anxious moment to the people of both England and France. The armies of the two nations were drawn out against each other, and covered the plains of the Sambre and the Meuse. Boufflers was urging Villeroi to strike a decisive stroke for his deliverance and the rescue of Namur, and William had Boufflers in the rear if he was beaten by Villeroi.

At Versailles Louis was imploring heaven for victory, with all his Court on their knees, confessing and receiving the Eucharist; and in London the Jacobites, frantic with confident expectation that now William would be annihilated, filled the town with all sorts of horrible rumours and alarms. But after having faced each other for three days, Villeroi saw that the position and numbers of the Allies were too formidable, and he quietly decamped along the river Mehaigne to Boneffe. As Boufflers was now left without hope of succour, the Allies informed him of the retreat of Villeroi and summoned him to surrender without occasioning more slaughter. But there was a tradition in the French army that no marshal of France had ever capitulated, and he stood out until the English, at the cost of two thousand men, had effected a lodgment in the place.

Boufflers now demanded forty-eight hours to bury his dead, which was granted him; and, in truth, he had need of it, for his trenches were choked with the fallen, and his force was already reduced to about one-third its original strength. When he entered the town, the garrison mustered fifteen thousand men; now it was only about five thousand. When the dead were buried, Boufflers offered to surrender in ten days if he were not relieved before; but the Allies would not listen to anything but an immediate surrender, and he complied, on condition that the garrison should be allowed to march out with the honours of war, but leaving the artillery and stores to the conquerors. The Allies announced the surrender to Villeroi by the discharge of their artillery, and by a running fire of all their musketry three times repeated. He knew the meaning of it, and retreated towards Mons.

Accordingly, on the 26th of August, Boufflers marched forth with drums beating and flags flying, William, the Elector of Bavaria, and all the officers being assembled to witness this gratifying spectacle. Boufflers lowered his sword in token of submission to the Elector of Bavaria, and the troops marched on. Before Boufflers, however, passed out of the trenches, Dykvelt informed him that he was the prisoner of the King of England. Boufflers was highly enraged at what he regarded as an act of gross perfidy; but he was informed that he was detained in consequence of his sovereign having broken the cartel, and refused to deliver up the captured garrisons of Dixmude and Deynze, and that he was held as a hostage for the faithful discharge of the articles agreed upon. There was no denying the perfidy of his king, which had caused this incident, and Boufflers sent an express to inform Louis, who immediately returned a promise that the garrisons should be sent back, and Boufflers was forthwith released. On his return to Fontainebleau, he was received by Louis as if he were a conqueror, and created a duke, with a grant of money to enable him to support his new rank. The capture of Namur was the great event of the campaign, and spread exultation throughout all the countries of the Allies. It seemed to wipe out the successive defeats of Mons, Fleurus, Landen, and the former loss of Namur; it showed the Allies at length victorious, and Louis discomfited and on the wane.

William arrived in London from Holland on the 20th of October. He was received with acclamations, illuminations, and ringing of bells. His progress through London and to Kensington was like that of a conqueror. As if he were destined to take no rest, that very day the Council was assembled, and it was concluded to dissolve Parliament. William, however, had been enjoying relaxation at Loo, and no doubt this question of the dissolution of Parliament had been discussed and arranged prior to his arrival. It was deemed wiser to take the nation at this moment when it was in a good humour, than to defer the dissolution till the 25th of next March, when, by the Triennial Act, Parliament must expire, and the public mind might be different. Another motive was said to operate with William—the impeachment of Leeds. William was always very reluctant to bring great delinquents to justice; but in the case of Leeds there were causes for this reluctance which we must respect. It was to Leeds, when he was yet Lord Danby, that William owed his match with Mary, and Mary had ever had the greatest regard for Leeds, who, on his part, had served her assiduously during the king's absences. A new Parliament would not be likely to take up again his impeachment, and, accordingly, the old one was dissolved, and the new one called for the 22nd of November.

This announcement threw into full activity the newly acquired liberty of the press. Since the Revolution, despite the restrictions of the censorship, the press had been extremely busy, and when it was obliged to work in secret, it had been all the more venomous. The Jacobites had employed it to spread sedition and lies, but it now came forward in favour of the king and the Constitution. There were tracts on the election, and besides the old news-letters, there were regular newspapers which advocated their own views, but with a decency and moderation which surprised all parties. Amongst the pamphlets was one—the last literary effort of Halifax—called, "Some Cautions Offered to those who are to Choose Members," which gave some good advice, especially not to choose lawyers, because they were in the habit of pleading on both sides, and were sure to look after their own advancement more than that of the country; nor officers in the army, who, the writer thought, were out of place in Parliament, attempting to do what no man ever can do—serve two masters. He also warned them against pensioners and dependents on the Crown, who do not make good representatives of the people; and against those who, for reasons best known to themselves, had opposed the Triennial Bill. Finally, he bade them seek honest Englishmen, but warned them that they were not very easy to find. The constituencies followed his advice, and the Whig party were victorious. Some of the members of the late Parliament most opposed to Government were not returned—as Sir John Knight, for Bristol, who had been so furious against William's favourite Dutchmen, and Seymour, for Exeter. Neither could John Hampden, who had saved his neck in the Rye House Plot by the loss of character, and had since shown as much insolence in Parliament as he did meanness then, get returned, and in his mortification he committed suicide—to such degeneracy had fallen the grandson of the illustrious patriot.

When Parliament met on the 22nd, they chose Paul Foley as Speaker of the Commons. The king, in his speech, again demanded large supplies for the continuance of the war, and informed them that the funds granted last Session had fallen far short of the expenses. This was by no means agreeable news, and William well knew that there was a large party in the country which complained loudly of this system of foreign warfare, which, like a bottomless gulf, swallowed up all the resources of the country. But he took care to flatter the national vanity by praising the valour of the English soldiers, and by expressing his confidence that England would never consent to the French king making himself master of Europe, and that nothing but the power and bravery of England could prevent it. He complained that his Civil List was fixed so low that he could not live upon it; and, passing from his own affairs, he recommended to their consideration the deplorable state of the coinage.

When the address came to be considered, some strong speeches were delivered against the enormous demands made by the king for this continual war. Musgrave and Howe represented the nation as bleeding to death under this Dutch vampyrism; but William had touched the right chord in the national character, and an address of thanks and zealously promised support was carried. The Commons likewise voted again above five millions for the services of the year.

The first business which occupied the attention of the Commons was the state of the currency. The old silver coin had become so clipped and sweated that, on an average, it now possessed little more than half its proper weight. The consequence was, all transactions in the country were in a state of confusion, and the most oppressive frauds were practised, especially on the poor. They were paid in this nominal coin, but, when they offered it for the purchase of the articles of life, the vendors refused to receive it at more than its intrinsic worth, by which means the price of everything was nearly doubled. The old hammered money was easily imitated, and whilst the clippers went on diminishing the weight of the coin, the forgers were as busy producing spurious imitations of it. The most terrible examples were made of such coiners, till juries refused to send such numbers of them to be hanged. All money-dealers received the coin only at its value by weight, but paid it out by tale, and thus made enormous fortunes. The house of Duncombe, Earls of Feversham, is said to have thus raised itself from insignificance to a coronet.

The House of Lords, therefore, took up the subject of recoinage, and invited the Commons to unite with them in it; but the Commons, considering it a matter more properly belonging to them, went into a committee of the whole House on the subject. The debate continued for several days. There was a strong party opposed to recoinage, on the ground that, if the silver coin were called in, there would be no money to pay the soldiers abroad, nor for merchants to take up their bills of exchange with; that the consequence would be universal stagnation and misery. But at this rate the old coin must have stayed out so long that literally there would none of it be left. It was resolved to have a new coinage; but Lowndes, the Secretary of the Treasury, proposed that the standard should be lowered—in fact, that a nominal instead of a real value should be impressed upon it; that ninepence should be called a shilling—as if thereby any greater value could be given to it. This mode of raising the price of everything by lowering the value of the coinage, which would now be laughed at by the merest tyro in political economy, had then its partisans; but John Locke exploded the whole delusion in a little tract written at the desire of Somers, which showed all the inconveniences and injustice which would flow from a lowered standard. There were, however, other difficulties to be met, and these were, whether the Government or the public should bear the loss of the clipped coin, and by what means it could best be called in. If the Government bore the loss, and ordered all persons to bring in their clipped coin and receive full-weighted coin instead, that would be a direct premium on clipping, and all the coin would be clipped before it was paid in. Somers proposed as a remedy to proclaim that all the hammered coins should henceforth be taken by Government only by weight; but that, after having been weighed within three days, every one should take it back with a note authorising him to receive the difference between the deficiency of weight and the full weight at a future time. By this means Government would have suffered the loss.

Locke, on the contrary, proposed that Government should receive all clipped coin up to a day to be announced, at full value; after that day only at its value by weight; and something of this kind was carried by Montague after a debate in the House. It was ordered that, after a certain day, no clipped money should pass except in payment of taxes, or as loans to Government. After another fixed day, no clipped money should pass in any payment whatsoever; and that, on a third day, all persons should bring in all their clipped money to be recoined, making just what it would, and after that time clipped money should not be a legal tender at any value, or be received at the Mint.

By this plan the holders of clipped money suffered part of the loss where they could not be in time; but the public eventually bore the greatest part of it, for a Bill was brought in to indemnify Government for its share of the loss, by a duty on glass windows, which was calculated to raise twelve hundred thousand pounds. This was the origin of that window-tax which under William Pitt's Government grew to such a nuisance.

In order to meet the demand for milled and unclipped coin to be given in exchange for the clipped coin to be brought in, premiums were offered of five per cent. on good milled money, and of threepence per pound on all plate that should be brought in to be melted into the new coins. The 4th of May, 1696, was fixed as the last day for receiving the clipped money in payment of taxes; and early in February furnaces were at work melting down the old coin into ingots, which were sent to the Tower in readiness, and the coining began. Ten of these furnaces were erected in a garden behind the Treasury; yet, in spite of every endeavour to prevent inconvenience, the Jacobites managed to excite great alarm in the minds of the people. There was a widespread panic that there would be grave personal losses and wrongs, and that all receipts of money would be stopped, and that there would be general distress. The malcontents attacked Montague and the other ministers in the House; the merchants demanded indemnification for the rise which guineas had taken, namely, from twenty shillings and sixpence to thirty shillings, in consequence of the scarcity of the silver coinage; for a guinea now, instead of purchasing twenty shillings' worth of their goods, would purchase one-third more; so that their stocks were reduced one-third in value till the silver coinage was again plentiful. Parliament, to remove this cause of complaint, inserted a clause in the Bill, offering a premium on plate, fixing the price of a guinea at two-and-twenty shillings. Still, however, people imagined that guineas would be scarce, and so gold would rise, and hoarded them up, which made them scarce. But Government worked manfully at the recoining. Mints were set up at York, Bristol, Exeter, and Chester as well as in London, and in less than twelve months the coinage was produced with such success that the English currency, which had been the worst, was now the best in Europe.

The Bill for regulating the trials for high treason was again brought in, and, being still steadily refused by the Lords unless with their clause for granting them the privilege of trying any of their order by the whole House of Peers instead of by the Court of the Lord High Steward, the Commons now gave way, allowed the clause, and the Bill passed. It was ordered to come into force on the 25th of March next, 1696.

The year 1696 opened with a great Jacobite plot. James had tried the effect of declarations proposing to protect the liberties of the subject and the rights of the Established Church, and nobody believed him, and with good reason. Seeing, therefore, that empty pretences availed nothing, he thought seriously of invasion, and of something worse—of preparing his way by the assassination of William. During the winter of 1695-6 Louis fell into his schemes. In 1694 two emissaries, Crosley and Parker, had been sent over from St. Germains to London to excite the Jacobites to insurrection; but they had been discovered and imprisoned. Parker contrived to escape out of the Tower, but Crosley was examined; but, nothing being positively proved against him, he was liberated on bail. It was now resolved to send over fresh and more important agents—one of these no less a person than the Duke of Berwick, James's son, and Sir George Barclay, a Scottish refugee.

The fact was that there were two parts of the scheme. As in the conspiracy of Grey and Raleigh in the time of James I., there was "the main plot" and "the bye plot," so there was here a general scheme for an invasion, and a particular scheme for the assassination of the king. This assassination was to come off first, and an army and transports were to be ready on the French coast, to take advantage of the consternation occasioned by the murder. The management of the general plot was confided to Berwick, and of the murder plot to Barclay. Berwick must be supposed to have been well aware of the assassination scheme from the first, for both James and Louis were, and the whole movements of the army and navy were dependent on it. But if Berwick did not know of it at first, he was made acquainted with it in London, as we shall see; but it was the policy of both Louis, James, and Berwick, to avoid all appearance of a knowledge which would have covered them with infamy;—this was to fall on the lesser tools of their diabolical scheme, and they were to reap the benefit of it.

A mode of communication between the Court of St. Germains and the Jacobites in England had long been established through a man named Hunt, who was a noted smuggler. This man had a house about half a mile from the Sussex coast, on Romney Marsh. The whole country round was a boggy and dreary waste, and therefore, having scarcely an inhabitant, was admirably adapted to the smuggling in of French goods and French plots. There Barclay landed in January and proceeded to London. He was followed in a few days by the Duke of Berwick, and very soon by about twenty coadjutors, some of whom were troopers of James's guard, amongst them one named Cassels, another brigadier Ambrose Rookwood, one of a family which had been in almost every plot since the Gunpowder Plot, and a Major John Bernardi, a man of Italian origin.

James saw and instructed many of these men himself before they left St. Germains, and furnished them with funds. He had given Barclay eight hundred pounds to pay expenses and engage assistants, which Barclay complained of as a miserable and insufficient sum. These men were now informed that they must put themselves under the orders of Barclay, and they would easily discover him at evening walking in the piazza of Covent Garden, and might recognise him by his white handkerchief hanging from his pocket. Meanwhile, Barclay had begun to open communication with the most determined Jacobites. The first of these were Charnock—who had originally been a fellow of Magdalen College, Oxford, but had apostatised, become a violent papistical agitator, and finally an officer in James's army—and Sir William Parkyns, a lawyer and officer of the Court of Chancery, for whilst plotting against the king, he had sworn fidelity to him, and was receiving his pay. These men most gladly united with Barclay, for they had been engaged in the very same design for some time. They assured him that there was no chance of effecting an invasion without preceding it by dispatching William. But to do this they wanted first an authority from James, and to be assured that it would be followed up. Hereupon Barclay showed them his commission from James.

As Barclay's myrmidons arrived from France his hopes grew high; he called them his Janissaries, and said he trusted they would win a Star and Garter for him. He wanted forty for his purposes, and these men made up at once half the number. Fresh desperadoes rapidly joined the band, until it was evident that the number of conspirators was getting far too numerous, and far too indiscriminate in character for safety. It was necessary to use haste, and Barclay tells us he was constantly studying how and where best to accomplish their object. He set two of his gang to haunt the neighbourhood of the Palace, and to learn what they could of the king's movements. They went to Kensington and to every place which William frequented, to find out the most suitable spot and opportunity.

At last the conspirators fixed on Turnham Green as the best for their detestable purpose. They learned that when William returned from hunting he crossed the Thames there by the ferry-boat, not getting out of his carriage, and that he did not wait for his Guards, but drove on from the water side till they overtook him. It was a low, swampy place, hidden amongst bushes at the western end of the Green. The conspirators were now thirty-five, while the King had rarely more than twenty-five Guards with him. The day fixed was Saturday, the 15th of February, for it was on Saturdays that William made these hunting excursions. As soon as they knew that the king had started, the conspirators were to follow in different bodies, and from different directions, so as to avoid observation. They were to remain at small public-houses near the crossing-place, and as soon as their scouts gave them notice of the king's party approaching the Surrey side of the river, they were to put themselves in bylanes, to be ready to intercept him. They were to be divided into four sets, one headed by Porter, one by Charnock, a third by Rookwood, and the fourth by Barclay himself. Two parties were simultaneously to rush upon the coach as it passed a cross road, one from each side; Rookwood was to come from his hiding-place in the rear, and Barclay to appear in front, and to him the death of the King was assigned. Horses and arms were purchased by Barclay for the occasion, and the horses were kept in different stables, so as to excite no suspicion.

All was now in readiness. The Duke of Berwick had remained in London till matters were in this position. He had been equally busy in endeavouring to induce the Jacobite leaders to rise in arms. He told them that his father, with ten thousand soldiers, was lying at Calais ready to cross when this movement was made, but that the King of France would not consent to the army crossing till the English had given proof of their being in earnest to receive King James in arms. Nor could they think this unreasonable; he had twice sent expeditions to co-operate with them, once in 1690, when De Tourville landed in Devonshire, and again in 1692, when his fleet had come up to the very shore in expectation of being joined by the English fleet, but, on the contrary, had been attacked by that fleet, and the losses at La Hogue suffered in consequence. They could not expect Louis to venture his ships and troops again till he saw a real demonstration for James in England; then his army would cross at once. But these representations were all lost on the Jacobites; they continued to say, "Only let James land with an army, and we shall be ready to join him." Berwick returned to France, and hastened to inform James, whom he met on the way to Calais to join the invading army, that there was no chance of a rising in England till a French army landed, but that he had a confident hope that the conspirators would succeed in dispatching William, and then would be the time to cross over. James went on to Calais to the army which Boufflers was called from Flanders to command, and Berwick went on to Versailles to communicate to Louis the state of affairs, and all parties waited for the falling of the blow in England.

Such was now the position of these two monarchs and the Duke of Berwick, whom the Jacobite writers have so confidently endeavoured to clear of the crime of participating in this base scheme of assassination. True, Berwick, whilst in England, would have nothing to do with the conspiracy itself, because, he declared, it was—not criminal, no, that was not his objection—but it was too dangerous, and would probably cause all engaged in it to be hanged. On the safe side of the water, therefore, whilst the humbler ruffians were risking their necks for them, these three arch assassins waited for the signal that the deed was done—a fire which was to be lit on one of the Kentish hills.

Meanwhile the conspiracy was suffering, as might have been expected, from the admission of too many colleagues. As the time approached, Fisher, who had boasted that he would himself kill one of the king's coach-horses, went and informed Portland that there was a design of taking the king's life. Portland at first paid little attention to this information, but it was soon confirmed in a manner which left him no alternative but to apprise the king of it. On the evening of the 14th a Mr. Pendergrass, a Catholic gentleman of Hampshire, waited on Portland, and assured him that if the king went on the morrow to hunt he was certain to be assassinated. Pendergrass said the king was the enemy of his religion, but that his religion would not permit him to see such a thing done without giving him a warning, and he entreated Portland to induce the king not to go out on any account. When pressed to name his accomplices, he declined, saying they were his friends, and one of them his benefactor; he would not betray them. The fact was, that Porter had sent for Pendergrass up from the country to take part in the assassination; but, though he was under great obligations to Porter, he refused. He would have been ready to unite in an invasion, but not in a murder.

The king was with difficulty prevented by Portland from going, but he did stay, and when it was announced to the conspirators that the king had given up hunting for that day, they were a good deal startled; but, as the weather was assigned as the cause, they imagined they were still unbetrayed, and waited for the next Saturday; one of them, Chambers, a great ruffian, who had been severely wounded at the battle of the Boyne, and had a savage malice against William, vowing to have his life yet or lose his own.

Between this day and the next Saturday, however, De la Rue had grown afraid, and went and gave a warning similar to Pendergrass's. On the Friday Pendergrass was sent for to the king's closet, where William was alone with Portland and Lord Cutts, who had fought so bravely at Namur. William was very courteous to Pendergrass, and thanked him for his information, complimented him as a man of honour, but desired him to name the conspirators. Pendergrass persisted in his refusal, except he had the king's assurance that his information should not cause the destruction of these men, but only be used to prevent the commission of the crime. This assurance being solemnly given, he named them. It does not, however, appear that this solemn assurance was kept, for undoubtedly Pendergrass's information was used for the arrest of the conspirators, and though he himself was not brought openly forward in court against them, they were condemned and executed through that means, so that not using his evidence openly was a mere quibble; and even this was laid aside as soon as, at Pendergrass's demand, they had engaged to use Porter's evidence on condition of his safety.

Ignorant of the mine ready charged under their feet, the conspirators anxiously awaited Saturday, the 22nd. This time all outwardly bade fair for success; the usual preparations were made at the palace for the hunting. There had been during the week no sign of any agitation or bustle, nor word dropped which could give the slightest suspicion that their design was known. The Guards were sent off to go round by Kingston Bridge to Richmond, as there was then no bridge nearer. The king's coach came out to take him away, and the conspirators were breakfasting at Porter's lodgings when word was hurriedly brought to them that the coach had been sent back to the stables, and the Guards had come galloping back, saying that a discovery of something terrible had been made. If the men had not been infatuated by their zeal for the assassination, as is very general in such cases, they would now have made the best of their way into some place of security. The return of the Guards in such hurry, and with such rash words, was not very skilful on the part of the Government if they meant to take the conspirators; and, as the arrests were delayed till night, there was ample time for them to have all got off. But they still flattered themselves that, though some whisper of the design had reached the Palace, the actual conspirators were unknown, and they were only the more bent on seizing some instant mode of accomplishing their object.

That night the king's officers were upon them, and Charnock, Rookwood, and Bernardi were taken in their beds. The next day seventeen more were arrested, and three of the Blues also. Barclay had had more cunning than the rest; he had absconded and got safe to France. The Lord Mayor was sent for to Whitehall, and desired to put the City into a perfect state of readiness for action. A council was held; it was agreed to send for some regiments from Flanders in consequence of the preparations at Calais; the Earl of Dorset was sent down to his lieutenancy of Sussex; Sidney, Lord Romney, Warden of the Cinque Ports, was also despatched for the guard of the coast of Kent; and Russell hastened to assume the command of the fleet. On Monday, the 24th, the king went to the House of Lords, sent for the Commons, and announced to the assembled Parliament the discovery of the plot, and the arrest of a number of the traitors. The sensation was intense. The two Houses united in an address of congratulation for the king's safety, with which they went in a body to Kensington, and the same day the Commons passed two Bills, one suspending the Habeas Corpus, and the other declaring that Parliament should not be dissolved by the king's death in case any such conspiracy should succeed. Sir Rowland Gwyn moved that the House should enrol itself as an Association for the defence of the king and country. The idea was instantly seized by Montague, who saw how immensely it would strengthen the Whigs, and the deed was immediately drawn, and ordered to be ready for signature the next morning. In this the House bound itself to defend the king with their own lives against James and his adherents, and to avenge him on his murderers in case of such an assassination, and to maintain the order of succession as fixed by the Bill of Rights.

The next morning the members hurried in to sign the form of Association; and, as some were not present, it was ordered that all who had not signed it within sixteen days should be called upon to do so or formally to refuse. They resolved that any one who declared the Association illegal should be held to be a promoter of the wicked designs of James, and an enemy to the laws and liberties of the country. They prayed the king to banish by proclamation all Papists to a distance of ten miles from the cities of London and Westminster, and to order the judges to put the laws in force throughout the country against Roman Catholics and non-jurors.

The forms of the Association and the address of the two Houses were immediately printed and published, along with a proclamation offering one thousand pounds reward for the discovery and apprehension of each of the conspirators, and one thousand pounds, with a free pardon, to each of the accomplices who should deliver himself up and reveal what he knew. One after another the miscreants were dragged from their hiding-places, or gave themselves up as king's evidence for the thousand pounds and free pardon.

On the 11th of March, Charnock and two others were placed at the bar of the Old Bailey before Lord Chief Justice Holt and other judges. The prisoners demanded that their trials should be postponed till after the 25th of the month, when the new Act for trials for treason came into force, and which allowed counsel to the accused; but the counsel for the Crown would not consent to it—a circumstance which does no honour to William and his ministers, for from them the order to proceed must now have been given. All the accused denied that James knew of or had done anything to sanction the attempt to assassinate the king; but this assertion neither agrees with the depositions made by the other conspirators admitted as evidence, nor with the facts of the case; and, indeed, Charnock left a paper, still in the Bodleian Library of Oxford, in which he declares that the attempt would not have been justifiable had it not been sanctioned by James; that his Majesty's commission did fully justify it, and that it was just as proper to attempt to kill the Prince of Orange at the head of his Guards, serving as they did the king whose throne he had usurped, and who was at war with him, as if he had been at the head of twenty thousand men. They had their king's commission for it, and their king being at declared war, it was quite legitimate to attack and kill William wherever they could meet with him. Despite this high assumption, Charnock, after conviction, offered, if they would pardon him, to reveal the whole particulars of the plot, and the names of every one concerned in it; but there was evidence enough; his offer was not accepted, and the three were executed at Tyburn on the 24th.

The Association into which the Commons had entered for the defence of the king had not yet been made law, but a Bill was now brought in for that purpose. Out of the five hundred and thirteen members of the Commons, four hundred had signed it; but on its reaching the Lords exception was made by the Tories to the words "rightful and lawful sovereign" as applied to William. Even Nottingham, who had so long and faithfully served William, declared that he could not accept them; that William was king de facto he admitted, but not king by rightful succession. He was supported by Rochester, Normanby, and others; but on the Duke of Leeds proposing that the words "rightful and lawful" should be altered to "having right by law," and no other person having such right, singularly enough the Tories acquiesced in the change, though it would not be easy for minds in general to perceive a distinction between being a rightful and lawful sovereign and a sovereign who had a full and, indeed, exclusive right by law. The Commons retained their own form and the Lords theirs. The Bill of the Commons was passed on the 4th of April. It provided that all such persons as refused the oaths to his Majesty should be liable to the forfeitures and penalties of Papist recusants; that all who questioned William's being "a lawful and rightful sovereign" should be subject to heavy penalties; that no person refusing to sign this Association should be capable of holding any office, civil or military, of sitting in Parliament, or being admitted into the service of the Prince or Princess of Denmark. All magistrates, of course, were included in the requirements, and some who refused to sign were dismissed. The Lords were to use their own form, and with this understanding it passed their House without delay. The bishops drew up a form for themselves, and, according to Burnet, not above a hundred clergymen all over England refused to sign. The people everywhere signed the bond with almost universal enthusiasm, even in the most Papist districts, as Lancashire and Cheshire.

BISHOP BURNET.