Rhine near Manheim, to a position betwixt Spires and Wurms. The prince then crossed also, higher up, into Alsace, which he laid under contribution, but retired again on the approach of de Lorges. In Austria, the Turks in the neighbourhood of Belgrade and Peterwaradin had effected nothing. In Savoy as little was done; but lord Galway, a brave general, was sent to supply the loss of Schomberg; and in Catalonia, as we have related, the appearance of Russell put a stop to the triumphs of Noailles, who had already taken Giroune and Ostalric. Such were the meager details of the land campaign.
On the 9th of November William landed at Margate, where the queen met him, and their journey to the capital was like an ovation. On the 12th the king met his parliament, and congratulated it on having decidedly given a check to the arms of the French. This was certainly true, though it had not been done by any battle this campaign. Russell had effaced at Barcelona the defeat of Camaret Bay, and in the Netherlands, if there had been no battle, there had been no repulse, as in every former campaign. He had now no Mons, no Fleurus, no Namur, no Landen to deplore; on the contrary, he had driven the French to their own frontiers without the loss of a man. But he still deemed it necessary to continue their exertions, and completely to reduce the French arrogance, and he called for supplies as liberal as in the preceding year. The customs act was about to expire, and he desired its renewal.
The commons adjourned for a week, and before they met again archbishop Tillotson was taken suddenly ill whilst performing service in the chapel at Whitehall, and died on the 22nd of November. With the exception of the most violent Jacobites, who could not forgive him taking the primacy whilst Sancroft was living, the archbishop was universally and justly beloved and venerated. In the city especially, where he had preached at St. Lawrence in the Jewry for nearly thirty years, and where, as we have seen, his friend Firmin took care to have his pulpit supplied with the most distinguished preachers during his absence at Canterbury, he was enthusiastically admired as a preacher and beloved as a man. The king and queen were greatly attached to him, and William pronounced him, at his death, the best friend he ever had, and the best man he ever knew.
Tillotson was succeeded by Dr. Tennison, bishop of Lincoln. Mary was very earnest for Stillingfleet; but even Stillingfleet was too high church for William. Could he, however, have foreseen that it was the last request that the queen would ever make, he would no doubt have complied with it. In a few weeks Mary herself was seized with illness. She had been worn down by the anxieties of governing amid the feuds of parties and the plottings of traitors during the king's absence, and had now not strength to combat with a strong disease. The disease was, moreover, the most fatal which then attacked the human frame—the smallpox. No means had yet been discovered to arrest its ravages, and in her the physicians were for a time divided in opinion as to its real character. One thought it measles, one scarlet fever, another spotted fever, a fourth crysipelas. The famous Radcliffe at once pronounced it smallpox, and smallpox it proved. It was soon perceived that it would prove fatal, and Dr. Tennison was selected to break the intelligence to her. She received the solemn announcement with groat fortitude and composure. She instantly issued orders that no person, not even the ladies of her bed-chamber, should approach her if they had not already had the complaint. She shut herself up for several hours in her closet, during which she was busy burning papers and arranging others. Her sister Anne, on being apprised of her danger, sent a message, offering to come and see her; but she thanked her, and replied that she thought she had better not. But she sent her a kind message, expressing her forgiveness of whatever she might have thought unkindness in Anne.
Mary has been accused of great want of feeling. It has been said that she was ready to mount her father's throne and send him into exile, and that she lived in feud or estrangement with her sister. In the case of her father, it was clear and stern necessity that he should be removed; it was the national will, and it was Mary's equal duty to obey the national will in succeeding to the throne in exclusion of a papist succession. In every emergency Mary entreated that her father should receive no personal injury or dishonour, and her wishes were fully complied with by William. As it regarded Anne, Mary was certainly more sinned against than sinning. Anne allied herself to a party which was, during the whole life of Mary, incessantly plotting to annoy her, and, if possible, to expel her from the throne. In no previous reign would Anne have received the same liberal and honourable treatment, being, as she was, the perpetual centre of a hostile and irritating party, of which her friends, the mean-souled Marlborough and his termagant wife, were the head.
In everything else the very enemies of Mary were compelled to praise her. She was tall, handsome, and dignified in person, yet of the most mild and amiable manners; strong in her judgment, quick in perceiving the right, anxious to do it, warm in her attachment to her friends, and most lenient towards her enemies. To her husband she was devotedly attached; had the most profound confidence in his abilities, and was more happy in regarding herself as his faithful wife than as joint sovereign of the realm. William, on his part, had not avoided giving her the mortification of seeing a mistress in his court in the person of Mrs. Villiers, yet she had borne it with a quiet dignity which did her much credit; and now William showed that, cold as he was outwardly, he was passionately attached to her. His grief was so excessive that, when he knew that he must lose her, he fainted many times in succession, and his own life, even, began to be despaired of. He would not quit her bedside for a moment day or night till he was borne away in a sinking state a short time before she expired. After her death he shut himself up for some weeks, and scarcely saw any one, and attended to no business, till it was feared that he would lose his reason. During his illness he had called Burnet into his closet, and, bursting into a passion of tears, he said "he had been the happiest, and now he was going to be the most miserable of men; that during the whole course of their marriage he had never known a single fault in her. There was a worth in her that no one knew beside himself."
Mary died in the utmost peace after taking the sacrament, and ordering a small cabinet which she called for to be
