CHAPTER X.

Times have their changes; sorrows make us wise: The sun itself must set as well as rise!

PERKIN WARBECK.

While matters were going forward in Ireland as we have endeavoured to describe them in the preceding chapters, the tide, meanwhile, of political occurrences in England arose to a tempestuous and uncontrollable flood, that was wholly unexpected by Tyrconnel, and quite unapprehended by his royal master. To England, therefore, we now must trace our steps.

The various unpopular and arbitrary acts of King James the Second paralyzed those loyal effusions that burst forth when he ascended the royal throne of the Stuarts. The acquittal of the seven bishops who had been arbitrarily imprisoned in the tower still further increased the king's unpopularity. The confiscation too of property which followed, and the attainder of many loyal Protestants, soon swelled high the torrent that shortly was to burst against the abutments of his throne, and destroy that prerogative of power which he had so unjustly and so unconstitutionally assumed. Many now doubted the justness of the appellation of "James the Just," which had been awarded him shortly subsequent to his having been proclaimed king. Indeed his going publicly to mass two days consequent to his succession to the crown, at the time gave surprise and offence to the nation. Some events too occurred in those superstitious days, that in the present times would be slightly passed over, but which, albeit, were certainly considered as ill omens in that age. At the solemnity of the coronation, the crown not being properly fitted for the royal head, was often observed in a tottering condition, and likely to fall off. Mr. Henry Sidney supported it once with his hand, and pleasantly told the king,[30] that "this was not the first time that his family had supported the crown." "In one of the churches in London, the king's arms, stained on a glass window, suddenly fell down and broke in pieces, while the rest remained standing, without a possibility of discovery why that part should fall down sooner than the rest. The canopy also, which had been borne over his head at the coronation, did break."[31]

[30] Rapin's History of England, vol. II. pages 742, 743, and Note.

[31] Ibid.--pages 742, 743, 771.

James II. espoused the Princess Maria d'Este, the sister of Francis Duke of Modena, who was as beautiful as she was unfortunate. The queen had been married some time without presenting her royal consort with a child. When this event did take place, malice, falsehood, envy, and intrigue, were not slow in pronouncing that the heir apparent thus born was a "suppositious Prince of Wales." Then followed the ridiculous episodes of the "sham conception," and "the warming-pan," which were all a tissue of forgery and falsehood, still further intended to diminish the king's decreasing popularity, and bring his person and throne into disrepute. But upon the whole mass and evidence of history that is presented, the only conclusion to be drawn was this, and only this--that the Prince of Wales, so far from being suppositious, was royally and legally born, the royal and lawful successor to his father's throne and realms.

In consequence of all these combining unpopular results, a resolution was taken by many of the disappointed, disaffected nobility and gentry, of calling in the Prince of Orange of Nassau to ascend the throne of Britain. And in pursuance of this determination several noblemen and gentlemen were secretly deputed to go over to the prince, and invite him to assume the sceptre of England. To these invitations the prince fully acceded, and firmly determined to head the party. It need not be told the reader that the Prince of Orange was the son-in-law of King James, having espoused his daughter, the Princess Mary. The intriguing party used all their endeavours to prevent the secret of their project from being divulged. In this matter the Earl of Sunderland basely betrayed his royal master. Meanwhile King James remained wholly incredulous to the belief of the existence of these political machinations; and although he was advised thereto by Mr. Skelton, his Majesty's Envoy at the Hague, "that a great project was secretly carrying on against him," yet was this incredulous sovereign so sure of success, that he quite neglected this intelligence, conceiving that it was only an artifice to divert him from his designs; and he, therefore, to all such reports closed an unwilling and unbelieving ear.

Numbers of the English nobility and gentry now addressed the Prince of Orange to deliver them from that oppression under which they bent. And in reply to a long _memoirè_ presented to the prince, he published two manifestoes, declaratory of, and justifying his descent upon England, which were accompanied by his embarkation from the states of Holland, and shortly followed by his arrival in England, where by numbers his Highness was warmly received. Many personages of high rank declared to him their support; and furthermore, several regiments of the army of King James joined the standard of the Prince of Orange.

At length the landing of the prince, and the cordial reception with which he met withal, awoke the royal and too incredulous James from his trance, and he now finally resolved upon the measure of flying from his discontented subjects, whom he considered had betrayed him by thus calling in a foreigner to assume the sovereignty; and he forth-with determined to sail with what expedition he might from the shores of England, and put himself at once under the protection of the King of France.

However, previous to the flight of the unhappy James from his throne and realm of fair England, he resolved in the first instance to provide for the escape of his queen consort, and his son, the infant Prince of Wales. King James was so surrounded by spies and informers, that the very greatest circumspection was absolutely necessary to shun the hundred eyes of Argus which environed him; for, as but too often is the unhappy case with kings, that almost literally he knew not whom to trust. While flatterers and sycophants surround and blockade a throne, it must not be expected that truth, sincerity, or friendship, can there be found;--no! they are quite unknown within the stately precincts of a court! But still there was one found, and one worthy of the royal trust--the Count de Lauzun, a noble, brave, and generous Frenchman; and to this nobleman the king intrusted his queen and infant son, to assist them in conducting them in safety to France, aloof from all the enemies of the royal James.

The plan of proceeding, and all the consecutive details, were accordingly secretly arranged, and the greatest and most scrupulous care and caution were duly taken to keep these determinations a profound secret, lest the flight of the queen and infant prince being known or suspected, the measure might be wholly frustrated by the intervention of the emissaries of the Prince of Orange.

The solemn hour of midnight was selected as the safest time for the flight of the royal fugitives. The young prince, to escape suspicion, was placed in bed at his accustomed hour; and shortly after the king and queen, having duly dismissed all their attendants, retired seemingly to repose, but not to rest!

When the eyes of all in the palace were closed, save the waking, watching, unwearied eye-lids of the royal sufferers, the king and queen arose from their couch, and cautiously opened the private door leading to the royal closet, where in readiness awaited the noble and faithful Count de Lauzun. The queen raised the infant prince from his cradle, wrapped him in a swathe of flannel to keep the infant warm; indeed no unnecessary precaution, for cold and bitter was the winter weather in which the royal child was thus in silent secrecy of night taken away from the princely hall of his royal progenitors.

King James affectionately embraced them both, as sad and sorrowful he bade them a mournful farewell; and wept most bitterly at this parting scene, in which affliction his royal consort fully participated. His Majesty then intrusted them both to the loyal charge of the noble and faithful count, who taking the royal infant under one arm, while he assisted the queen with the other, they set forth from the palace to pursue their perilous and melancholy journey.

Stormy and tempestuous was the night, the wind blew with violence, and rain impetuously descended in torrents. They now approached the banks of the Thames, in order to procure a boat to cross over to Lambeth. At this point of time Count de Lauzun had previously engaged a boat to be ready in attendance, thence to escape down the river to Gravesend, to come up with the vessel which he had hired, and there awaited to convey them to France. But unluckily it happened that so pitchy dark and stormy was the night, the boat, when hailed, was not to be found. In total despair for some moments he remained; but again, more loud and stoutly once more he hailed the boat: the signal was heard, and obeyed. They descended down the Whitehall stairs and embarked; and finding a great swell in the river the count resolved not to proceed by water to Gravesend, but to land at Lambeth, and thence proceed by land. They arrived in safety at the Lambeth stairs, and landed, when the count surrendered to the queen the royal charge to hold, while he went forth to obtain a coach from the nearest adjoining inn.

Meanwhile the hapless queen--queen of the greatest realm in Europe, arrayed in disguised habiliments, stood trembling under the shelter of the ruined walls of a church, shivering in the blast, and dripping with rain, wistfully listening to every sound, and piteously raising her eyes to heaven. Oh, what a fearful lesson was here! a few days ago she might have proclaimed to all the world--"This is my throne, let kings come bow to it!" And this awful night she might envy the poorest cottier in her dominions. However, after long suspense, suffering, and delay, the count returned, having procured a carriage; and he lost no time in placing the trembling queen and shivering infant in the vehicle.

Without any accident whatever the royal fugitives reached Gravesend in perfect safety. Here, trembling with fear, and nearly overpowered by sorrow, the queen alighted on the quay, where the boat, (which was an open one,) belonging to the brig destined for Calais, awaited their coming. The count, without a moment's delay, placed the queen and prince in the boat, and flinging around them the boatman's cloak, he sat down by them, and bade him to row on. He told the boatman that the persons he bore away were his wife and child; and thus no suspicions were awakened in the mind of the boatman of the great personages he thus bore off amid the shades of night.

"Sail on, sail on, thou fearless bark, Wherever blows the welcome wind; It cannot lead to scenes more dark, More sad, than those we leave behind!"

By the morning tide they had reached, without molestation, a small brig destined for France. To the captain the count also pretended that the queen and prince were his own wife and child; he bargained for the voyage, and the contract was agreed to. But the vessel was no sooner under weigh, when how great their surprise, and how proportionate must have been their apprehensions and alarm, while they beheld the whole of the English fleet stationed at the mouth of the Thames, to examine all vessels, and prevent their escape. But fortunately the vessel was so small that, being unsuspected, she was permitted with impunity to pass the admiral of the fleet, in no wise suspecting that her hull contained such very distinguished personages on board, so no examination took place. The vessel sailed on unmolested; and that very night the Count de Lauzun had the happiness of safely landing the royal sufferers on the pier of Calais. From thence they proceeded to Versailles, where her Majesty and infant prince were received by Louis the Fourteenth with great marks of affection and of the highest respect, which afforded some consolation to the queen under her melancholy reverse of fortune.

Meanwhile King James suffered great and intense anxiety concerning the fate of his unhappy queen and infant prince.

His Majesty now fully determined to follow the queen, and waited but one day to execute his design.[32] The following night, in a plain suit, and a bob-wig, he took water at Whitehall,[33] accompanied only by Sir Edward Hales, Mr. Sheldon, and Abbadie, a Frenchman, and a page of the back-stairs, without acquainting any other person with his intentions. All writs sent out for the electing of parliament he ordered to be burnt; and when he took water he threw the great seal of England into the Thames, (which was some time afterwards taken up by a fisherman in his net,) that nothing might be legally done in his absence. "If," continued Rapin, "this may not be called a real desertion of his kingdom, it will be difficult to give a name to such proceedings!"[34]

[32] Rapin's History of England, vol. II. p. 781.

[33] Ibid. p. 782.

[34] Ibid. p. 783.

However, the king did not succeed in this attempt to escape, inasmuch as he was arrested at Feversham, and abused and insulted by the rabble; he lost a number of valuables, and gave up to the mob about between three and four hundred pounds in specie. Here he was protected by the Dutch guards of the Prince of Orange, and chose to retire to Rochester; where, in the space of about ten days from the time he had attempted his first escape, he now resolved upon trying a second. About three o'clock in a dark winter's morning he privately withdrew, taking with him only the Duke of Berwick, (his natural son,) Mr. Sheldon, and Abbadie, the page; and went on horseback to a place near the river, where he embarked in a small frigate, which landed him safely at Ambleteusè, in France; from whence he repaired to the court of Louis the Fourteenth, where with much satisfaction he rejoined his queen and infant prince. "This abdication," emphatically observes Rapin, "paved the prince's way to the throne!"[35]

[35] Rapin's History of England, vol. II. p. 783.

Upon the departure of King James from the shores of England, an _interregnum_ occurred of such a nature as was hitherto unknown in England. It was not caused by the death, but by the flight of the sovereign. Hence this incongruity took place, that the nation was without a king, nay, even without the representative of one, that would take the charge of the government! Yet still, strange to say, there was a king!--albeit a fugitive; who, although he had fled, and abandoned his throne, yet still pretended to retain his rights!

How short and limited is the narrow space between popular adoration and popular disgrace! To-day a king, an emperor, a demi-god--To-morrow a fugitive, an outcast from his realm, unregarded and forgotten! for ever blotted from the page of kings, his fate or banishment or the scaffold! Who can then rely upon the popular breath, wayward, fickle, and uncertain as the wave or wind? Oh! then, let the true patriot, _if_ such is to be found upon earth, think on this; and, divested and purified from the dross of poor mortality, reflect upon all this; aye, and let him then, firmly armed in integrity, despise equally alike public censure or public praise!

From this melancholy digression upon fallen greatness on English ground, we shall reconduct the reader once more to the shores of Erin, and again return to the family of Tyrconnel in the succeeding chapter.