The History of England, from the Accession of James the Second - Volume 1, Thomas Babington Macaulay [ebook pc reader txt] 📗

a

prerogative which had never been questioned. If he had, since the

dissolution, done some harsh things, still those things were in

strict conformity with the letter of the law, and with the recent

practice of the malecontents themselves. If he had prosecuted his

opponents, he had prosecuted them according to the proper forms,

and before the proper tribunals. The evidence now produced for

the crown was at least as worthy of credit as the evidence on

which the noblest blood of England had lately been shed by the

opposition. The treatment which an accused Whig had now to expect

from judges, advocates, sheriffs, juries and spectators, was no

worse than the treatment which had lately been thought by the

Whigs good enough for an accused Papist. If the privileges of the

City of London were attacked, they were attacked, not by military

violence or by any disputable exercise of prerogative, but

according to the regular practice of Westminster Hall. No tax was

imposed by royal authority. No law was suspended. The Habeas

Corpus Act was respected. Even the Test Act was enforced. The

opposition, therefore, could not bring home to the King that

species of misgovernment which alone could justify insurrection.

And, even had his misgovernment been more flagrant than it was,

insurrection would still have been criminal, because it was

almost certain to be unsuccessful. The situation of the Whigs in

1682 differed widely from that of the Roundheads forty years

before. Those who took up arms against Charles the First acted

under the authority of a Parliament which had been legally

assembled, and which could not, without its own consent, be

legally dissolved. The opponents of Charles the Second were

private men. Almost all the military and naval resources of the

kingdom had been at the disposal of those who resisted Charles

the First. All the military and naval resources of the kingdom

were at the disposal of Charles the Second. The House of Commons

had been supported by at least half the nation against Charles

the First. But those who were disposed to levy war against

Charles the Second were certainly a minority. It could hardly be

doubted, therefore, that, if they attempted a rising, they would

fail. Still less could it be doubted that their failure would

aggravate every evil of which they complained. The true policy of

the Whigs was to submit with patience to adversity which was the

natural consequence and the just punishment of their errors, to

wait patiently for that turn of public feeling which must

inevitably come, to observe the law, and to avail themselves of

the protection, imperfect indeed, but by no means nugatory, which

the law afforded to innocence. Unhappily they took a very

different course. Unscrupulous and hot-headed chiefs of the party

formed and discussed schemes of resistance, and were heard, if

not with approbation, yet with the show of acquiescence, by much

better men than themselves. It was proposed that there should be

simultaneous insurrections in London, in Cheshire, at Bristol,

and at Newcastle. Communications were opened with the

discontented Presbyterians of Scotland, who were suffering under

a tyranny such as England, in the worst times, had never known.

While the leaders of the opposition thus revolved plans of open

rebellion, but were still restrained by fears or scruples from

taking any decisive step, a design of a very different kind was

meditated by some of their accomplices. To fierce spirits,

unrestrained by principle, or maddened by fanaticism, it seemed

that to waylay and murder the King and his brother was the

shortest and surest way of vindicating the Protestant religion

and the liberties of England. A place and a time were named; and

the details of the butchery were frequently discussed, if not

definitely arranged. This scheme was known but to few, and was

concealed with especial care from the upright and humane Russell,

and from Monmouth, who, though not a man of delicate conscience,

would have recoiled with horror from the guilt of parricide. Thus

there were two plots, one within the other. The object of the

great Whig plot was to raise the nation in arms against the

government. The lesser plot, commonly called the Rye House Plot,

in which only a few desperate men were concerned, had for its

object the assassination of the King and of the heir presumptive.


Both plots were soon discovered. Cowardly traitors hastened to

save themselves, by divulging all, and more than all, that had

passed in the deliberations of the party. That only a small

minority of those who meditated resistance had admitted into

their minds the thought of assassination is fully established:

but, as the two conspiracies ran into each other, it was not

difficult for the government to confound them together. The just

indignation excited by the Rye House Plot was extended for a time

to the whole Whig body. The King was now at liberty to exact full

vengeance for years of restraint and humiliation. Shaftesbury,

indeed, had escaped the fate which his manifold perfidy had well

deserved. He had seen that the ruin of his party was at hand, had

in vain endeavoured to make his peace with the royal brothers,

had fled to Holland, and had died there, under the generous

protection of a government which he had cruelly wronged. Monmouth

threw himself at his father's feet and found mercy, but soon gave

new offence, and thought it prudent to go into voluntary exile.

Essex perished by his own hand in the Tower. Russell, who appears

to have been guilty of no offence falling within the definition

of high treason, and Sidney, of whose guilt no legal evidence

could be produced, were beheaded in defiance of law and justice.

Russell died with the fortitude of a Christian, Sidney with the

fortitude of a Stoic. Some active politicians of meaner rank were

sent to the gallows. Many quitted the country. Numerous

prosecutions for misprision of treason, for libel, and for

conspiracy were instituted. Convictions were obtained without

difficulty from Tory juries, and rigorous punishments were

inflicted by courtly judges. With these criminal proceedings were

joined civil proceedings scarcely less formidable. Actions were

brought against persons who had defamed the Duke of York and

damages tantamount to a sentence of perpetual imprisonment were

demanded by the plaintiff, and without difficulty obtained. The

Court of King's Bench pronounced that the franchises of the City

of London were forfeited to the Crown. Flushed with this great

victory, the government proceeded to attack the constitutions of

other corporations which were governed by Whig officers, and

which had been in the habit of returning Whig members to

Parliament. Borough after borough was compelled to surrender its

privileges; and new charters were granted which gave the

ascendency everywhere to the Tories.


These proceedings, however reprehensible, had yet the semblance

of legality. They were also accompanied by an act intended to

quiet the uneasiness with which many loyal men looked forward to

the accession of a Popish sovereign. The Lady Anne, younger

daughter of the Duke of York by his first wife, was married to

George, a prince of the orthodox House of Denmark. The Tory

gentry and clergy might now flatter themselves that the Church of

England had been effectually secured without any violation of the

order of succession. The King and the heir presumptive were

nearly of the same age. Both were approaching the decline of

life. The King's health was good. It was therefore probable that

James, if he came to the throne, would have but a short reign.

Beyond his reign there was the gratifying prospect of a long

series of Protestant sovereigns.


The liberty of unlicensed printing was of little or no use to the

vanquished party; for the temper of judges and juries was such

that no writer whom the government prosecuted for a libel had any

chance of escaping. The dread of punishment therefore did all

that a censorship could have done. Meanwhile, the pulpits

resounded with harangues against the sin of rebellion. The

treatises in which Filmer maintained that hereditary despotism

was the form of government ordained by God, and that limited

monarchy was a pernicious absurdity, had recently appeared, and

had been favourably received by a large section of the Tory

party. The university of Oxford, on the very day on which Russell

was put to death, adopted by a solemn public act these strange

doctrines, and ordered the political works of Buchanan, Milton,

and Baxter to be publicly burned in the court of the Schools.


Thus emboldened, the King at length ventured to overstep the

bounds which he had during some years observed, and to violate

the plain letter of the law. The law was that not more than three

years should pass between the dissolving of one Parliament and

the convoking of another. But, when three years had elapsed after

the dissolution of the Parliament which sate at Oxford, no writs

were issued for an election. This infraction of the constitution

was the more reprehensible, because the King had little reason to

fear a meeting with a new House of Commons. The counties were

generally on his side; and many boroughs in which the Whigs had

lately held sway had been so remodelled that they were certain to

return none but courtiers


In a short time the law was again violated in order to gratify

the Duke of York. That prince was, partly on account of his

religion, and partly on account of the sternness and harshness of

his nature, so unpopular that it had been thought necessary to

keep him out of sight while the Exclusion Bill was before

Parliament, lest his appearance should give an advantage to the

party which was struggling to deprive him of his birthright. He

had therefore been sent to govern Scotland, where the savage old

tyrant Lauderdale was sinking into the grave. Even Lauderdale was

now outdone. The administration of James was marked by odious

laws, by barbarous punishments, and by judgments to the iniquity

of which even that age furnished no parallel. The Scottish Privy

Council had power to put state prisoners to the question. But the

sight was so dreadful that, as soon as the boots appeared, even

the most servile and hardhearted courtiers hastened out of the

chamber. The board was sometimes quite deserted: and it was at

length found necessary to make an order that the members should

keep their seats on such occasions. The Duke of York, it was

remarked, seemed to take pleasure in the spectacle which some of

the worst men then living were unable to contemplate without pity

and horror. He not only came to Council when the torture was to

be inflicted, but watched the agonies of the sufferers with that

sort of interest and complacency with which men observe a curious

experiment in science. Thus he employed himself at Edinburgh,

till the