and sport with his ladies whilst his subjects were ground and tortured; James, who never laughed, pursued the diabolic bent with a settled, butcher-like mood, and would have extirpated nations, were it in his power, to restore a bigot creed, and establish the political absolutism adored by the Stuarts. Yet he began the reign of the inquisition with the hypocrisy of the Jesuit. When the breath had left the body of Charles, James retired for a quarter of an hour to his chamber, and then met the privy council with a speech which promised everything that he was most resolved not to perform. He began by eulogising the deceased as "a good and gracious king." If he really thought his late merry, debauched, and despotic brother good and gracious, it was an evil omen for the nation whose ruler had such conceptions of what was good and gracious. He then added, "I have been reported to be a man fond of arbitrary power; but that is not the only falsehood which has been reported of me; and I shall make it my endeavour to preserve this government, both in church and state, as it is by law now established. I know the principles of the church of England are favourable to monarchy, and the members of it have shown themselves good and loyal subjects; therefore I shall take care to defend and support it. I know, too, that the laws of England are sufficient to make the king as great a monarch as I can wish; and as I shall never depart from the just rights and prerogatives of the crown, so I shall never invade any man's property. I have often before ventured my life in defence of this nation, and shall go as far as any man in preserving it in all its just rights and liberties."
This was, indeed, a gracious-sounding speech; but then Charles had sent as gracious a declaration from Broda, and all the world knew how it had been kept. No man had been more steady in advising him to crush the liberties of the nation, and rob and imprison the people on account of their religion, than this same fair-spoken James. It was only too well known what he had done to the covenanters in Scotland, and with what satisfaction he had gloated over the smashing of legs and thumbs in the iron boots and thumbscrews. Wondrous, therefore, must have been the credulity of those who could really believe that the royal tiger which had already tasted so much blood, was going to grow all at once mild and lamb-like when feeding on the stimulating aliment of royal power. Yet the council received these bland promises with raptures of delight, and the king was humbly entreated to have his speech published. He replied that it had sprung from the impromptu expression of his heart; he had not waited to commit anything to paper. Heneage Finch, the solicitor-general, however, declared that it had made such a profound impression on his heart, that he could remember every word of it, and, with the royal permission, would write it down. This was graciously accorded, and the written speech, receiving the full approbation of the king, was immediately published.
Casks of wine were simultaneously rolled into the streets, and the people were expected to be clamorous with joy over the halcyon prospects of the new reign, but the occasional shouts which were called forth were deemed by the spectators to be rather faint, and to owe more to the enjoyment of the wine than to the exhilaration of the promises. On the following Sunday, however, the pulpits of the establishment resounded with exulting eulogies on the new monarch, on the injustice which had been shown to such a man by unworthy suspicions of him, by attempts to exclude him from the throne, and by calumnies on the severity of his temper. The triumphant preachers now declared that the church and the nation had the most ample promises of security and favour "on the word of a king who never broke his word." A very little time taught these jubilant preachers a different note.
The first thing which scandalised the nation was the miserable economy of the late king's funeral. It was declared scarcely befitting a private gentleman, and the Scottish covenanters declared that the dead tyrant had been treated as the Scriptures declared tyrants should be, to "the burial of an ass." The first thing which James set about was the rearrangement of the cabinet. There was but one man in the cabinet of the late king who had his entire confidence—that was Rochester, the second son of the late lord Clarendon. To him he gave the office of lord high treasurer, thus constituting him prime minister; to Godolphin, who had held this office, he gave that of chamberlain to the queen; Halifax was deprived of the privy seal, and was made president of the council, a post both less lucrative and less influential, a circumstance which highly delighted Rochester, who now saw the wit who said he had been kicked upstairs, served precisely the same; Sunderland, the late secretary of state, was suffered to retain his office. He had both intrigued and acted against James; both he and Godolphin had supported the exclusion bill, but Sunderland now, with his usual supple artifice, represented that he could have no hope of the king's favour but from the merit of his future services, and as he possessed some dangerous secrets, he was permitted to retain his place. He did not, however, content himself with this, but cherished the ambition of superseding Rochester as lord treasurer, and therefore represented himself to the catholics as their stanch friend, whilst they knew that Rochester was the champion of the church of England. For the present, nevertheless, from having been at high feud with both Rochester and Clarendon, he cultivated a strong friendship with them to make his position from with the king. Halifax had opposed the exclusion bill, but he had become too well known to be a decided enemy of popery and of the French ascendancy. James, therefore, only tolerated him for the present; and whilst he assured him that all the past was forgotten, except the service he had rendered by his opposition to the exclusion bill, he told Barillon, the French ambassador, that he knew him too well to trust him, and only gave him the post of president to the council, to show how little influence he had.
The great seal was retained also by lord Guildford, who, though he was by no means a friend of liberty, was too much a stickler for the law to be a useful tool of arbitrary power. James secretly hated him, and determined to associate a more unscrupulous man with him in the functions of his office. This was his most obedient and most unflinching creature, the lord chief justice Jeffreys, of whose unexampled villainies we shall soon hear too much. Guildford was by the overbearing Jeffreys at once thrust back into the mere routine of a judge in equity, and all his state functions and
