ON the 6th February, 1685, the heralds proclaimed before the new palace at Whitehall that James the Second had succeeded to the crown of England Coaches filled with noble ladies, lined the streets. Gentlemen were in groups, on foot or horseback. Flags were hung from house and steeple.
Guns were fired at the Tower; the church bells rung merrily, the drums and trumpets sounded, while crowds of people shouted forth their loyalty, making one mingled din, that passed from street to street, till the whole town was in an uproar.
It was known that James was a Romanist; but then he had promised fair things; and the nation hoped that he would respect their religion and laws. “We have the word of a king,” said the most loyal, “and a king will not break his word.” “We have our fears,” said others, “but we trust all will be for the best.”
How James kept his promise, and what deeds were done by his commands, the page of history will tell us.
The King of England has no power to make or set aside any law but with the consent of parliament. This did not suit the proud will of James the Second. He was resolved to favor the interests of the Roman Catholics, and issued a decree contrary to the law.
This decree, or “declaration,” the clergy were ordered to read in the churches. The Archbishop of Canterbury and six bishops hastened to the palace, and on their knees presented a petition to the king, begging him to withdraw his command. But they were rudely spurned from his presence.
In a few days a barge was seen passing down the river Thames, in which were the seven bishops; they were on their way to the Tower. Around them were other boats filled with the guards. Crowds of people were on the banks; some were kneeling, and begging a blessing from the prisoners as they moved along, while the air rang with the shouts.
The bishops were shortly brought to trial. The charge was that they had refused to obey the king. From early morning till late in the evening, the trial went on. At night the jury were locked up in darkness. Early the next day they came into court with the verdict of “Not guilty.”
And then up rose a shout of joy that made all old Westminster Hall ring again. The throng without caught the sound, and sent it rolling along the street. A crowd of people waited to see the bishops come forth, and when they appeared another shout, louder than ever, was heard, which rose and fell like the breakers. on the seashore.
All London seemed to share in the joy; and as the bishops returned to their homes, the people fell on their knees once more; the bells rang, and at night bonfires were lighted in every open space.
King James was at Hounslow reviewing the troops, and, on hearing a great noise, asked, “What was the matter?” “Nothing but the soldiers shouting for the acquittal of the bishops.” “Call you that nothing?” he asked; “but never mind, it will be so much the worse for them,” he promptly added.
It was soon seen that the great aim of King James was to discourage and oppress the Protestants, and to set up the papacy as the great power in the land. On the second Sunday after he came to the throne he went in his state coach, with great pomp, to the royal chapel, and ordered the doors to be set wide open while mass was performed. When he was crowned he took care that the communion service after a Protestant form should be omitted.
Two papers in support of the doctrines of the Church of Rome were printed by his desire, and sent through the land; while, on the other hand, the bishops and clergy were commanded not to preach against the Church of Rome. An agent was sent to the pope, to present the homage of the king; and, in return, an ambassador came from Rome, and was received with much honor.
The highest officer in the University of Cambridge was dismissed, because he would not carry out the popish views of the king; and at Oxford many of the college tutors were deprived of their places, for resisting an attempt to force on them a papist as their head. Monasteries were set up; and such numbers of priests and monks flaunted through the streets in their robes, that the king boasted he had made the towns and cities of England like those in popish lands.
Nor did the king stop here. Many officers of state, who would not change their religion, were replaced by strict Romanists some of whom were men of low habits, and wholly unfit to serve the country. A priest and two popish noblemen became his chief advisers in every matter. He sought to compel his daughter, the Princess Ann, to join the Church of Rome; and next to deprive his eldest daughter Mary, the wife of the Prince of Orange, of her right as heir to the throne, because she was a Protestant.
At last, he carried matters to such a point, that even the Spanish Ambassador warned him of his danger. “Does not your master consult with priests?” asked the king. “Yes,” was the reply, “and that is the reason why our country’s affairs go on so badly.”
The heavy hand of a tyrant was felt to be on the liberties of England. The king levied taxes in his own name, and claimed a right to put aside the laws of the land by his own power. Four thousand Protestant soldiers were refused their pay, and sent to wander, hungry and half-naked, through the land. All who were thought to be unfriendly to his doings were fined, whipped, or sent to prison.
The king had not long sat on his throne when the news was spread that the Duke of Monmouth, the king’s nephew, and the Earl of Argyle, had raised the flag of rebellion. But their plans were rash and badly managed. They had no money, no arms, nor any promise of support from the people. The king’s troops soon overthrew them, and the lives of these two noblemen were forfeited.
Now was a time for the king to show mercy to the followers of the rebel chiefs. By such a course he might win the hearts of many, and turn the tide in his favor. One of the prisoners was brought before him. “You know it is in my power,” said the king, “to pardon you.” “Yes,” said the man, who well knew his cruel character, “but it is not in your nature.” However unwise this answer was, its truth was soon seen.
Judge Jeffreys was sent with a troop of soldiers to punish all rebels, and every one who had shown them any favor. Among others was a pious and aged woman, Lady Alice Lisle, who was charged with hiding two men in her house. She was not aware they had been in arms against the king; and the jury who tried her felt that there was no proof of guilt.
But the king’s commands must be obeyed; she must not be spared. The sentence of death was passed, and she went forth to the block in a spirit worthy of her high Christian character.
Hundreds of unhappy prisoners, more or less guilty, were hung in a few days. “The country for six miles in between Exeter and Bristol,” says one who saw the sad scene, “had a new and terrible sort of sign-post; the heads of the executed were placed in rows on poles by the road side.”
Other prisoners were burned alive, and some escaped by paying large bribes. The judges, and other persons in power, had many that were found guilty made over to them as gifts, that they might be sold as slaves, or ransomed at a large price by their friends. Thousands were carried to the West India Islands to labor in, slavery.
Among those condemned to be sold were twenty-seven young ladies at Taunton, whose offense was that they had given a flag and a Bible to the Duke of Monmouth. They were saved from slavery by the payment of a great sum, which was divided among the queen’s maids of honor as a “Christmas-box.”
For weeks Jeffreys went forward in his career of blood. The nation looked on with horror at the terrible doings, and deep and bitter were the feelings that came over men’s minds. At last, the judge had done his terrible work, when he shockingly said that he had not been half severe enough. The king mocked and jested when the judge reported his “campaign,” as he called it.
While the English people were thus borne down, they heard that James had received twenty thousand. pounds from Louis, king of France, to aid him in his designs. Then the news came that a pitiless war was raging against the Protestants of France, many of whom escaped to England. And as they told of their bitter trials, the people saw what they might expect should James succeed in setting up popery in the land.
Members of the Church of England and Dissenters were alike opposed by the king. The meeting-houses of the latter were shut up, and their ministers dragged to prison. They then met in small numbers in private houses, late in the evening or early in the morning. There were friends who stood at the doors always on the watch to give notice of danger.
They made windows or holes in the walls between two houses, that the preacher’s voice might be heard in more places than one. They had often secret passages and trapdoors for their escape. In country towns and villages they went through back yards and gardens that they might not be heard in the streets.
But the time came when men not only whispered, but spoke openly of their country’s wrongs. Bishops, clergymen, and pastors, the officers of the army and navy, and the great body of the people groaned under their bondage. There was no law but the king’s will; no justice or safety in the land. They asked if it were not right in them to maintain their religion and their laws. “We have been trodden to the ground,” said many; “shall we not seek to stand up as free-born Britons!” “Yes,” said others, “the king has stretched the bow to such a degree that some day it will snap asunder.”
All eyes were turned to William, prince of Orange, who had married Mary, the eldest daughter of James. He was a man of talent, of good character, and a zealous Protestant.
Near to the town of Maidenhead, on the banks of the Thames, stood a mansion known as Hurley House. It was a fine old building, around which the river flowed in its winding course, and before it spread out to view a lovely landscape. Often in the early part of the year i688, there met, in a gloomy vault beneath this house, several noblemen and others.
They spoke of the helpless and hopeless state of the country under the reign of James, and resolved, if he would not grant them redress, to apply to the Prince of Orange for aid. Seven of them signed a paper, calling on the prince to come to England, and defend their cause.
While the English nobles at home got ready for the 1conflict, the prince fitted out his ships and collected his troops. By the end of October the “Protestant east wind,” as it was called, carried the fleet towards the shores of England.
There were many praying hearts in Britain and Holland that God would grant success to this enterprise. Public feeling was raised to the highest point; and soon was heard from the cliffs of Torbay a cry that the ships had reached the English coast. Seven hundred vessels bore the invading army. On the flag of the prince’s ship were the words, “I WILL MAINTAIN THE PROTESTANT RELIGION AND THE LIBERTIES OF ENGLAND.”
On the 5th, of November, 1688 eighty-four years after the discovery of the popish plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament, on the same day of the month Prince William landed at Torbay amidst the shouts of the people. An officer rode at full speed, bearing the tidings to James at Whitehall. The king turned pale, a letter in his hand fell to the ground, and he stepped aside to weep.
James now found what it is to be served only from fear. In the hour of his need he was without one who truly loved him. Nobles and gentry soon joined the ranks of the Prince of Orange; and many to whom the king had shown favor deserted him. Opposed by his own son-in-law, betrayed by his courtiers, with an army that could not be trusted, and shunned by the people, he tasted the last bitter drop in his cup of grief when he was told that his daughter, the Princess Anne, had also fled from him. Then was wrung from him the bitter wail, “Oh, help! my very children have forsaken me.”
Early in the morning of the 11th of December, a common hackney coach left Whitehall. It hurried down to the river side. Two persons stepped from it into a boat awaiting them on the Thames. As they passed by Lambeth, one of them threw a box into the water, and then landing on the opposite shore, they both hurried along the road that led to the county of Kent.
In a short time the royal chamber was found empty. The king had fled. He and one of his household were the persons who had crossed the water, and in the box thrown into the stream was the great seal of England.
After passing from town to town, James got on board a small ship, and arrived in France. The pope’s ambassador rushed out of London in the disguise of a footman; and Judge Jeffreys was caught in the dress of a sailor, wearing an old tarred hat, at a low public house in Wapping.
A shout of joy was raised by the people when they heard of the capture of this wicked man. To save him from their fury, he was taken to the Tower of London, where he soon. ended his days as a prisoner.
Thus closed the reign of James the Second. It was short, unhonored, and is a blot on the page of English history. From first to last it was without a single event that was for the honor of the king or the happiness of his subjects. By a wise course he might have reigned over a loyal and loving people: but he sought to overthrow the Protestant religion, and to raise his own church on its ruins. It ended in the loss of his crown.
On the flight of James, England was without a king or a ruler. The Prince of Orange soon called together the peers and those gentlemen who had been members of the last parliament. After solemn debate, it was declared by them that the throne was vacant, that James had forfeited the crown, and that the Prince and Princess of Orange should be king and queen.
They also agreed to a “Bill of Rights,” which set forth the great principles of the British constitution and secured to the people many valuable privileges, among which was a merciful and just regard to the laws of the land. The strength of the throne and the freedom of the people were thus provided for, and through the blessing of God they continue to this day.
May young Protestants know how to value their civil and religious advantages, and be grateful to God that the country in which they were born was saved, in the days of James, from the craft of the Church of Rome.