and join him; yet it was not likely, that he would be so forward as to receive us at our first coming. The delays he made afterwards, pretending that he was managing the garrison, whereas he was indeed staying till he saw how the matter was likely to be decided, shewed us how fatal it had proved, if we had been forced to sail on to Plymouth. But while Russel was in no small disorder, after he saw the pilot's error, (upon which he bade me go to my prayers, for all was lost,) and as he was ordering the boat to be cleared to go aboard the prince, on a sudden, to all our wonder, it calmed a little. And then the wind turned into the south; and a soft and happy gale of wind carried in the whole fleet in four hours' time into Torbay. Iminediately as many landed as conveniently could. As soon as the prince and marshal Schomberg got to shore, they were furnished with such horses as the village of Broxholme could afford; and rode up to view the grounds, which they found as convenient as could be imagined for the foot in that season. It was not a cold night; otherwise the soldiers, who had been kept warm aboard, might have suffered much by it. As soon as I landed, I made what haste I could to the place where the prince was; who took me heartily by the hand, and asked me, if I would not now believe predestination. I told him, I would never forget that providence of God, which had appeared so signally on this occasion.* He was cheerfuller than ordinary. Yet he returned soon to his usual gravity. The prince sent for all the fishermen of the place; and asked them, which was the properest place for landing his horse, which all apprehended would be a tedious business, and might hold some days. But next morning he was shewed a place, a quarter of a mile below the village, where the ships could be brought very near the land, against a good shore, and the horses would not be put to swim above twenty yards. This proved to be so happy for our landing, though we came to it by mere accident, that, if we had ordered the whole island round to be sounded, we could not have found a properer place for it. There was a dead calm all that morning; and in three hours' time all our horse were landed, with as much baggage as was necessary till we got to Exeter. The artillery

and heavy baggage were left aboard, and ordered to Topsham, the seaport to Exeter. All that belonged to us was so soon and so happily landed, that by the next day at noon we were in full march, and marched four miles that night We had from thence twenty miles to Exeter; and we resolved to make haste thither. But, as we were now happily landed, and marching, we saw new and unthought of characters of a favourable providence of God watching over us. We had no sooner got thus disengaged from our fleet, than a new and great storm blew from the west; from which our fleet, being covered by the land, could receive no prejudice; but the king's fleet had got out as the wind calmed, and in pursuit of us was come as far as

(Light is thrown on this passage by the following curious account given in M'Cormick's Life of Carstares: "Mr. Carstares set out along with his highness in quality of his domestic chaplain, and went aboard of his own ship. It is well known, that, upon their first setting out from the coast of Holland, the fleet was in imminent danger by a violent tempest, which obliged them to put back for a few days. Upon that occasion, the vessel which carried the prince and his retinue narrowly escaped shipwreck, a circumstance which some who were around his person were disposed to interpret into a bad omen of their success. Among these, Dr. Burnet happening to observe, that it seemed predestined that they should not set foot on English ground, the prince said nothing; but, upon stepping ashore at Torbay, in the hearing of Mr. Carstares, he turned about to Dr. Burnet, and asked him what he thought of the doctrine of predestination now?" Carstares' State Papers and Letters, p. 34. Cunningham, according to the translation of the Latin MS. of his History of England, says, that "Dr. Burnet, who understood but little of military affairs, asked the prince of Orange, which way he intended to march, and when? and desired to be employed by him in whatever service he should think fit. The prince only asked, what he now thought of predestination? and advised, if he had a mind to be busy, to consult the canons. Vol. i. p. 88. The bishop omits mentioning the proximate cause of the prince's question; and says nothing about his declining the offer of his services, which indeed it is not likely that he did, at least so uncivilly.)

the Isle of Wight, when this contrary wind turned upon them. They tried what they could to pursue us; but they were so shattered by some days of this storm, that they were forced to go into Portsmouth, and were no more fit for service that year. This was a greater happiness than we were then aware of: for the lord Dartmouth assured me some time after, that, whatever stories we had heard and believed, either of officers or seamen, he was confident they would all have fought very heartily. But now, by the immediate hand of Heaven, we were masters of the sea without a blow. I never found a disposition to saperstition in my temper; I was rather inclined to be philosophical upon all occasions. Yet I must confess, that this strange ordering of the winds and seasons, just to change as our affairs required it, could not but make deep impressions on me, as well as on all that observed it. Those famous verses of Claudian seemed to be more applicable to the prince, than to him they were made on :—

O nimium dilecte Deo, cui militat æther,
Et conjurati veniunt ad classica venti !

Heaven's favourite, for whom the skies do fight,
And all the winds conspire to guide thee right!

The prince made haste to Exeter, where he stayed ten days, both for refreshing his troops, and for giving the country time to shew their affections. Both the clergy and magistrates of Exeter were very fearful, and very backward. The bishop and the dean ran away. And the clergy stood off, though they were sent for, and very gently spoke to by the prince. The truth was, the doctrines of passive obedience and non-resistance had been carried so far, and preached so much, that clergymen either could not all on the sudden get out of that entanglement into which they had by long thinking and speaking all one way involved themselves, or they were ashamed to make so quick a turn. Yet care was taken to protect them and their houses every where; so that no sort of violence or rudeness was offered to any of them. The prince gave me full authority to do this; and I took so particular a care of it, that we heard of no complaints. The army was kept under such an exact discipline, that every thing was paid for where it was demanded; though the soldiers were contented with such moderate entertainment, that the people generally asked but little for what they did eat. We stayed a week at Exeter, before any of the gentlemen of the country about came in to the prince. Every day some persons of condition came from other parts. The first were the lord Colchester, Mr. Wharton, the eldest sons of the earl of Rivers, and the lord Wharton, Mr. Russel, the lord Russel's brother, and the earl of Abingdon. Of

The king came down to Salisbury, and sent his troops twenty miles further. these, three regiments of horse and dragoons were drawn on by their officers, the lord Cornbury and colonel Langston, on design to come over to the prince. Advice was sent to the prince of this. But because these officers were not sure of their subalterns, the prince ordered a body of his men to advance, and assist them in case any resistance was made. They were within twenty miles of Exeter, and within two miles of the body that the prince had sent to join them, when a whisper ran about among them that they were betrayed. Lord Cornbury had not the presence of mind that so critical a thing required. So they fell in confusion, and many rode back. Yet one regiment came over in a body, and with them about a hundred of the other two. This gave us great courage; and shewed us, that we had not been deceived in what was told us of the inclinations of the king's army. Yet, on the other hand, those who studied to support the king's spirit by flatteries, told him, that in this he saw that he might trust his army, since these who intended to carry over those regiments, were forced to manage it with so much artifice, and durst not

discover their design either to officers or soldiers; and that, as soon as they perceived it, the greater part of them had turned back. The king wanted support; for his spirits sunk extremely. His blood was in such fermentation, that he was bleeding much at the nose, which returned oft upon him every day. He sent many spies over to us. They all took his money, and came and joined themselves to the prince, none of them returning to him. So that he had no intelligence brought him of what the prince was doing, but what common reports brought him, which magnified our numbers, and made him think we were coming near him, while we were still at Exeter. He heard that the city of London was very unquiet. News was brought him, that the earls of Devonshire and Danby, and the lord Lumley, were drawing great bodies together, and that both York and Newcastle had declared for the prince. The lord Delamere had raised a regiment in Cheshire. And the body of the nation did every where discover their inclinations for the prince so evidently, that the king saw he had nothing to trust to but his army. And the ill-disposition among them was so apparent, that he reckoned he could not depend on them. So that he lost both heart and head at once. But that which gave him the last and most confounding stroke was, that the lord Churchill and the duke of Grafton left him, and came and joined the prince at Axminster, twenty miles on that side of Exeter. After this he could not know on whom he could depend. The duke of Grafton was one of king Charles's sons by the duchess of Cleveland. He had been some time at sea, and was a gallant but rough man. He had more spirit than any one of that spurious race. He made answer to the king about this time, that was much talked of. The king took notice of somewhat in his behaviour that looked factious; and he said he was sure he could not pretend to act upon principles of conscience; for he had been so il bred, that, as he knew little of religion, so he regarded it less. But he answered the king, that, though he had little conscience, yet he was of a party that had conscience. Soon after that, prince George, the duke of Ormond, and the lord Drumlanerick, the duke of Queensbury's eldest son, left him, and came over to the prince, and joined him when he was come as far as the earl of Bristol's house at Sherburn. When the news came to London, the princess was so struck with the apprehensions of the king's displeasure, and of the ill effects that it might have, that she said to the lady Churchill, that she could not bear the thoughts of it, and would leap out at window rather than venture on it. The bishop of London was then lodged very secretly in Suffolk street. So the lady Churchill, who knew where he was, went to him and concerted with him the method of the princess's withdrawing from the court. The princess went sooner to bed than ordinary. And about midnight she went down a back stairs from her closet, attended only by the lady Churchill,* in such haste that they carried nothing with them. They were waited for by the bishop of London, who carried them to the carl of Dorset's, whose lady furnished them with every thing. And so they went northward, as far as Northampton; where that earl attended on them with all respect, and quickly

And Mrs. Berkeley, afterwards lady Fitzharding. The back stairs were made a lit le before for that purpose. The princess pretended she was out of order, upon some expostulations that had passed between her and the queen, in a visit she received from her that night: therefore said she would not be disturbed till she rang her bell. Next morning when her servants had waited two hours longer than her usual time of rising, they were afraid something was the matter with her; and finding the bed open, and her highness gone, they ran screaming to my father's lodgings, which were the next to hers, and told my mother the princess was murdered by the priests; from thence they went to the queen, and old mistress Buss asked her in a very rude manner, what she had done with her mistress. The queen answered her very gravely, she supposed their mistress was where she liked to be, but did assure them she knew nothing of her, but did not doubt they would hear of her again very soon. Which gave them little satisfaction, upon which there was a rumour all over Whitehall, that the queen had made away with the princess. D.

brought a body of horse to serve for a guard to the princess. And in a little while a small army was formed about her, who chose to be commanded by the bishop of London; of which he too easily accepted, and was by that exposed to much censure. These things put the king in an unexpressible confusion. He saw himself now forsaken, not only by those whom he had trusted and favoured most, but even by his own children. And the army was in such distraction, that there was not any one body that seemed entirely united and firm to him. A foolish ballad was made

at that time, treating the papists, and chiefly the Irish, in a very ridiculous manner, which had a burden, said to be Irish words, lero lero lilibulero,* that made an impression on the army, that cannot be well imagined by those who saw it not. The whole army, and at last all people both in city and country, were singing it perpetually. And perhaps never had so slight a thing so great an effect.

FLIGHT OF JAMES II.

BURNET.

The priests,

But now strange counsels were suggested to the king and queen. and all the violent papists, saw a treaty was now opened. They knew, that they must be the sacrifice. The whole design of popery must be given up, without any hope of being able in an age to think of bringing it on again. Severe laws would be made against them. And all those who intended to stick to the king, and to preserve him, would go into those laws with a particular zeal; so that they, and their hopes, must be now given up, and sacrificed for ever. They infused all this into the queen. They said, she would certainly be impeached; and witnesses would be set up against her and her son; the king's mother had been impeached in the Long Parliament; and she was to look for nothing but violence. So the queen took up a sudden resolution of going to France with the child. The midwife, together with all who were assisting at the birth, were also carried over, or so disposed of, that it could never be learned what became of them afterwards. The queen prevailed with the king, not only to consent to this, but to promise to go quickly after her. He was only to stay a day or two after her, in hope that the shadow of authority that was still left in him might keep things so quiet, that she might have an undisturbed passage. So she went to Portsmouth. And from thence, in a man of war, she went over to France, the king resolving to follow her in disguise. Care was also taken to send all the priests away. The king stayed long enough to get the prince's answer. And when he had read it, he said, he did not expect so good terms. He ordered the lord chancellor to come to him next morning. But he had called secretly for the great seal. And the next morning, being the tenth of December, about three in the morning he went away in disguise with sir Edward Hales, whose servant he seemed to be. They passed the river, and flung the great seal into it; which was some months after found by a fisherman near Fox-Hall. The king went down to a miserable fisher boat, that Hales had provided for carrying them over to France.

Thus a great king, who had yet a good army and a strong fleet, did choose rather to abandon all, than either to expose himself to any danger with that part of the army that was still firm to him, or to stay and see the issue of a parliament. Some put this mean and unaccountable resolution on a want of courage. Others thought

They are not Irish words, but better than Scotch. S. There was a particular expression in it which the king remembered he had made use of to the carl of Dorset, from whence it was concluded that he was the author. D. (It has been said, that it was written by the marquis Wharton.)

it was the effect of an ill conscience, and of some black thing under which he could not now support himself. And they who censured it the most moderately, said, that it shewed, that his priests had more regard to themselves than to him; and that he considered their interests more than his own; and that he chose rather to wander abroad with them, and to try what he could do by a French force to subdue his people, than to stay at home, and be shut up within the bounds of law, and be brought under an incapacity of doing more mischief; which they saw was necessary to quiet those fears and jealousies, for which his bad government had given so much occasion. It seemed very unaccountable, since he was resolved to go, that he did not choose rather to go in one of his yachts or frigates than to expose himself in so dangerous and ignominious a manner. It was not possible to put a good construction on any part of the dishonourable scene which he then acted.

With this his reign ended for this was a plain deserting his people, and the exposing the nation to the pillage of an army, which he had ordered the earl of Feversham to disband. And the doing this without paying them, was the letting so many armed men loose upon the nation; who might have done much mischief, if the execution of those orders that he left behind him had not been stopped. I shall continue the recital of all that passed in this interregnum, till the throne, which he now left empty, was filled.

*

Yet all the strugglings which that day, which from him were called for if he had got clear away, by all

He was not got far, when some fishermen of Feversham, who were watching for such priests, and other delinquents, as they fancied were making their escape, came up to him. And they, knowing sir Edward Hales, took both the king and him, and brought them to Feversham. The king told them who he was. And that flying about brought a vast crowd together, to look on this astonishing instance of the uncertainty of all worldly greatness; when he who had ruled three kingdoms, and might have been the arbiter of all Europe, was now in such mean hands, and so low an equipage. The people of the town were extremely disordered with this unlooked for accident; and, though for a while they kept him as a prisoner, yet they quickly changed that into as much respect as they could possibly pay him. Here was an accident that seemed of no great consequence. party have made ever since that time to this afterwards the Jacobites, did rise out of this; that could be judged, he would not have had a party left; all would have agreed, that here was a desertion, and that therefore the nation was free, and at liberty to secure itself. But what followed upon this gave them a colour to say, that he was forced away, and driven out. Till now, he scarce had a party, but among the papists. But from this incident a party grew up, that has been long very active for his interests. As soon as it was known at London, that the king was gone, the prentices and the rabble, who had been a little quieted when they saw a treaty on foot between the king and the prince, now broke out again upon all suspected houses, where they believed there were either priests or papists. They made great havoc of many places, not sparing the houses of ambassadors. But none were killed, no houses burnt, nor were any robberies committed. Never was so much fury seen under so much management. Jefferies finding the king was gone, saw what reason he had to look to himself; and, apprehending that he was now exposed to the rage of the people, whom he had provoked with so particular a brutality, he had disguised himself to make his escape. But he fell into the hands of some who knew him.

He was insulted by them with as much scorn and rudeness as they could invent.

* And desired they would send to Eastwell for the earl of Winchelsea; which sir Basil Dixwell put a stop to, by telling him, sure they were good enough to take care of him. Which occasioned the king's saying, he found there was more civility amongst the common people than some gentlemen, when he was returned to Whitehall. D.