"Long have my harp's best notes been gone, Their grey-haired master's misery. THE LAST DAYS OF WILLIAM III. AGNES STRICKLAND. King William seldom came to London during the winter of 1701. He felt convinced that death was at hand, yet he still mounted his horse for his favourite diversion of hunting, or rather what we should call in the present day coursing. He came but on council days to Kensington palace and kept himself as much as possible in retirement at Hampton Court, where his time was spent superintending the digging of the ugly longitudinal canals, with which he was cutting up the beautiful lime tree glades, planted by his grandsire Charles I. in the home park, rendering Hampton Court as like a Dutch hof as possible, both in aspect and atmosphere. It was in the gardens of Hampton Court that he confided to lord Portland his positive conviction, that he should not survive till the end of 1701, but he charged him "not to mention it before his death to anyone, lest the war should be prevented." "The king took the diversion of hunting last Saturday and returned at night to Kensington." Many notices of the same kind occurred during the winter months of 1702. When in London for a few hours, the king usually dined with his favourite Keppel at his lodgings in Whitehall, the Cockpit, where the business of government was carried on. It is necessary to mention as briefly as possible, the circumstances which plunged Europe into a war that was deeply connected with the future disquiet of the princess Anne. Don Carlos II., the imbecile and invalid king of Spain and the Indies, had sunk into a premature grave, leaving no children to inherit his dominions. The lineal heir was the dauphin duke of Burgundy, the young grandson of Louis XIV. and his consort, the infanta of Spain, Maria Teresa. It is true that by the marriage treaty of this princess, she had relinquished all claims on the Spanish succession for herself and her heirs-an abrogation treated as a mere formula by the partisans of her grandson in Spain. William III. as the generalissimo of the emperor and the confederated princes of Germany, determined to oppose this inheritance, and under the plea that Louis XIV. would become too powerful by his influence over his grandson, they formed a coalition to divide the dominions of Spain in three parts, of which England was to take one share, Austria another, and Holland a third.* Such was the precursor and precedent of the partition of Poland, which was actually effected at the end of the same century. As soon as the design of the Spanish partition was known, the English parliament strongly opposed it, expressed horror at the iniquity, and wanted to impeach the contrivers. Another plan had to be found to raise effectually the tocsin of war, and this was to place Charles of Austria, the brother of the emperor, on the throne of Spain as the next heir. The Austrian prince was about twenty-three, while This scheme was peculiarly unrighteous with regard to William. He had been from his youth upwards the hired general of Spain, and now to turn and rend the vitals of the realm that had so long paid him with her treasure, seemed scarcely consistent with moral justice. young Philip of France was a minor. Moreover, as in the present day, the northern half of Spain, the Basques, the Catalans and the Arragonese were loth to acknowledge the line of females, till every male heir failed. The allies therefore took advantage of internal division to foster a civil war in Spain; the north for the heir male of Ferdinand of Arragon, Charles of Austria, while the south of Spain remained loyal to the next heir of Isabella of Castile,+ Philip of France. The valuable prize of the Spanish Netherlands lay perfectly convenient to be fought for between the confederated armies of England and Germany, and the military power of France; it had been the object of all William's battles and sieges for nearly thirty years. It was to prove the fighting ground of Marlborough's subsequent victories. A rich slice of the Netherlands, howsoever dishonest the acquisition might have been, was something tangible; but to win the Netherlands for Charles of Austria, if more morally honest, was a very Quixotic excuse for manslaughter by wholesale. As for the aggravation given by Louis XIV. by his acknowledgment of the son of James II. as king of England, France and Ireland, de jure, it would be difficult to prove what made it a greater injury than recognising the title of the father, which was equally done since the peace of Ryswick. * * * * * William had amused and gratified his departing spirit by laying the train for this European conflagration, which only waited for the usual campaigning season to burst into a blaze. The king had (perhaps to keep him out of political mischief at home) given the earl of Marlborough the command of his military preparations in Holland, and in case of his own death, had expressed his opinion that the talents in war of that general ought to entitle him to command the allied forces. Thus without the least bellicose propensities on her own part, every circumstance tended to make foreign warfare and the reign of Anne commence simultaneously. It had been known in England that king William had been dangerously ill at Loo the preceding autumn of 1701; but his state of health had been carefully concealed from the public. He rode into the Home park at Hampton Court, the morning of February 21, to look at the excavation making under his directions for a new canal, which was to run in another longitudinal strip by the side of that which now deforms the vista and injures the air of Hampton Court gardens. His majesty was mounted on sir John Fenwick's sorrel pony, when just as he came by the head of the two canals, opposite to the ranger's park pales, the sorrel pony happened to tread in a mole-hill, and fell; such is the tradition of the palace. The account that the king himself gave of his accident agrees with the Hampton Court tradition. "Riding in the park at noon," he said to Dr. Bidloo, "while I was making my horse change his walk into a gallop, he fell upon his knees; upon that I meant to raise him with the bridle, but he fell forwards to one side, so I fell with my right shoulder on the ground. 'Tis a strange thing," added his majesty musingly, "for it happened on smooth, level ground." From King William thus took his death hurt within sight of Hampton Court. the first weeks of his arrival in England, he had always had plans in agitation to make that favourite seat of his royalty as different in outward semblance as possible to its aspect when, in his youth, he had visited his uncles there. He was occupied *This is according to the ancient constitution of Arragon, to which the proud Arragonese still cling. The truth is that the ancient laws of Arragon and the north of Spain militate strongly against female succession, while Castile has from the earliest times acknowledged female heirship. William's passion for war and his personal hatred of Louis XIV. may account for his wish for the war; the Dutch probably hoped to gain greatly by it, as the emperor would. [Editor.] in the same object when the accident he thought so utterly unaccountable befel him. The workinen busy at the neighbouring excavation raised the overthrown monarch, and assisted him to the palace. He affirmed that he was very slightly hurt; but Ronjat, his surgeon, who was there, found he had broken his right collar bone. On what trifles do human plans and projects depend, and what mean agency is sufficient to tumble the ambitious schemes of military pride and glory literally to the dust. The purblind mole that was obeying the first call of spring to repair his fortification and set his subterranean house in order, did what Louis XIV. and all his engineers never could effect: he prevented William III. from heading Europe in the battle array against France. The angry Jacobites found more than one circumstance of exultation in this accident, which proved so fatal to William III. "The little gentleman in black velvet," became one of their party words, and they wrote many eulogies on the sagacity of Sorrel, who had been the favourite pony of the unfortunate sir John Fenwick, and had taken an opportunity of thus revenging the illegal death of his master. Pope has followed this example in the contrast he drew between the preservation of Charles at Boscobel and the accident at Bushy: * Angels who watched the guardian oak so well, When Ronjat had set the injured collar-bone of the king, he earnestly recommended to him rest and medical regimen. William refused to submit to any such discipline; he made light of the accident, declared the injury was nothing, that he must go to Kensington that night, and go he would despite of all remonstrance. On the journey the rolling of the carriage displaced the fractured bones, and he was in a state of great pain and exhaustion when he arrived at his palace of Kensington. Bidloo, his household physician, received him there, and making many remonstrances regarding the wilfulness of royal patients, the injured collar-bone was re-set by Ronjat under his superintendence. The king sent a message to the united houses of parliament (28th of February) for promoting the union with Scotland, in which he mentioned the mishap of breaking the collar-bone as "an unhappy accident." Meantime he advised expedition in passing the bill for the attainder of young James Stuart, which had been in agitation in parliament since the preceding January. It is just possible that when the act passed parliament, March 1st, against a child who was his nearest male relative, some agitation might take place in the mind of the invalid king, for that self same how he was struck with his mortal malady, which appeared in the shape of spasmodic cramp. He recovered a little by the use of stimulants, and on the 6th of March walked for exercise in the gallery of Kensington palace; he felt fatigued and sat down on a couch near an open window, and fell fast asleep; he slept two hours; no one dared waken him, for his pages and personal attendants dreaded the effects of his positiveness and peevishness. Shiverings and spasms seized him when he awoke from this unhealthy slumber; he was carried to bed in great misery. Sir Richard Blackmore, the poetaster physician, attended him, but did him no good. It may be judged how little the public papers knew of his malady or were permitted to communicate concerning it, by these passages :— Sir John Fenwick was accused of being engaged in a plot against William's life. The king had old grudges against him, and in despite of the law established by the bill of rights he was condemned by attainder without regular trial and without the two witnesses required for an act of overt-treason. He was beheaded on Tower hill January 28, 1696-7. "King William," says Miss Strickland, "took possession of all the personal effects of sir John Fenwick, among others, in evil hour for himself, of a remarkable sorrel shooting pony, which creature was connected with his future history." [Editor.] "The king continues very well, but it not being advisable that his majesty should yet go abroad, the act for attainting the pretended prince of Wales, and the act for further punishing deserters and mutineers, received the royal assent." Notwithstanding the assertion of the public print, the attainder of the young prince James Stuart had not received the royal ratification, for the king fell into fits whenever he attempted to sign the act, which was finally effected by being stamped by his ministers on the Saturday afternoon, with his initials, when his death was approaching. A dead silence was maintained in the newspapers regarding the state of William, until his death; but the stocks fell every day, and from this occult bulletin, the monied world formed accurate inferences on the subject. All this time the king's breath became more and more oppressed—a fatal symptom, which was soon observed by lord Jersey, the lord chamberlain of his household. This courtier immediately dispatched a trusty messenger with the news to the princess Anne, at St. James's palace. Likewise, ever and anon, during the agony of king William, did lord Jersey dispatch intelligence to the expectant heiress that the breath of the royal patient "grew shorter every half hour." The princess had sent in the course of that day, to Kensington palace, a dutiful message to the king, entreating permission to see him in his bed-chamber. It was answered by the dying king himself, who collected his strength to pronounce a short and rude "No." The prince of Denmark actually made many attempts to enter the king's chamber, but met with as many downright repulses. The newspapers of the day affirm that the king was kept alive all the Saturday night by the use of sir Walter Raleigh's cordial. Lamberty, who was in the palace with his patron lord Portland that night --and therefore indisputable evidence-declares that the king was supported entirely by spirituous liquors. Sir Walter Raleigh's cordial was a strong spirituous compound. His majesty had desired to see his friend Bentinck, lord Portland, who, it is well known, never came to court since the period of the peace of Ryswick, excepting on a special message. This nobleman was sent for, and was momentarily expected, during the Saturday evening. The king was also anxiously looking for the arrival of his favourite, Keppel, earl of Albemarle, from a mission on which he had sent him to Holland. He just arrived before the king lost his speech, and was in his travelling boots when he came to his majesty's bedside. The king was very desirous of saying something in confidence to Keppel; he gave him the keys of his escritoir, and bade him take possession for his own use of 20,000 guineas: all the private property his majesty had at command: he likewise directed him to destroy all the letters which would be found in a cabinet which he named. Keppel was extremely eager to give his royal master information of the rapid progress of his martial preparations for the commencement of war in the Low Countries, and for the first time the departing warrior listened to the anticipations of battle with a cold, dull ear; all the comment he made was comprised in these impressive words, the last he uttered distinctly :-" Je tire vers ma fin-I draw towards my end." His old friend, Bentinck, earl of Portland, entered the chamber of death early on Sunday morning. The king was speechless, but had not then lost memory or consciousness. He took the hand of Bentinck, pressed it to his heart, and held it there while the pangs of death were dealing with him. Lamberty, the secretary of Bentinck, expressly declares that no English lord was admitted into the royal chamber until the king had lost all consciousness. Burnet and others give an account of his reception of the sacrament as administered by archbishop Tennison, a fact which Lamberty positively denies. Just as the clock struck eight William III. drew his last breath; he expired very gently in the arms of his page Sewel, who sat behind his pillow supporting him. Ralph's History, vol. i., p. 1623. * The lords in waiting, the earls of Scarborough and Lexington, no sooner perceived that the spirit had departed, than they told Ronjat, the surgeon, to unbind from the wrist of the royal corpse a black ribbon which fastened a bracelet of queen Mary's hair close to the pulse.* It was an outrage to tear from the arm of the breathless warrior this memorial, so long cherished and so secretly kept. If William had not through life scorned the language of poetry, his newly separated spirit might have sympathised with the exquisite lines of that true poet Crashaw :— Whoever comes to shroud me, do not harm or question much The subtile wreath of hair about mine arm; The mystery, the sign, thou must not touch. THE BENEFITS OF THE REVOLUTION. LORD MACAULAY. Foremost in the list of the benefits which our country owes to the Revolution we place the Toleration Act. It is true that this measure fell short of the wishes of the leading whigs. It is true also that, where catholics were concerned, even the most enlightened of the leading whigs held opinions by no means so liberal as those which are happily common at the present day. Those distinguished statesmen did however make a noble, and, in some respects, a successful struggle for the rights of conscience. Their wish was to bring the great body of the protestant dissenters within the pale of the church by judicious alterations in the liturgy and the articles, and to grant to those who still remained without that pale the most ample toleration. They framed a plan of comprehension which would have satisfied a great majority of the seceders; and they proposed the complete abolition of that absurd and odious test which, after having been, during a century and a half, a scandal to the pious and a laughing-stock to the profane, was at length removed in our own time. The immense power of the clergy and of the tory gentry frustrated these excellent designs. The whigs, however, did much. They succeeded in obtaining a law in the provisions of which a philosopher will doubtless find much to condemn, but which had the practical effect of enabling almost every protestant nonconformist to follow the dictates of his own conscience without molestation. Scarcely a law in the statute-book is theoretically more objectionable than the Toleration Act. But we question whether in the whole of that vast mass of legislation, from the great charter downwards, there be a single law which has so much diminished the sum of human suffering,-which has done so much to allay bad passions,-which has put an end to so much petty tyranny and vexation,—which has brought gladness, peace, and a sense of security to so many private dwellings. The second of these great reforms which the Revolution produced was the final establishment of the Presbyterian Kirk in Scotland. We shall not now inquire whether the episcopal or the calvinistic form of church government be more agreeable to primitive practice. Far be it from us to disturb with our doubts the repose of any Oxonian bachelor of divinity who conceives that the English prelates, with their baronies and palaces, their purple and their fine linen, their mitred carriages and their sumptuous tables, are the true successors and exact resemblances of those ancient bishops who lived by catching fish and mending tents. We say only that the Scotch, doubtless from their own inveterate stupidity and malice, were not episcopalians; that they could not be made episcopalians; that the whole power government had been in vain employed for the purpose of converting them * Cunningham's History of Great Britain. |