letter of Sunderland's, addressed to "a Mr. Penne," which Sir James Mackintosh discovered in the state paper office, and not knowing of any other Penn, or Penne, incautiously asserted it to be William Penn. There is no mention whatever of William Penn, no address under that name; and so far from any proof that "Penn accepted it," it is clearly shown by Oldmixon, who did accept and undertake the dirty business, namely, "one Breat, a popish lawyer, and his under agent, one Crane, of Bridgewater."
Now these facts have been fully stated since Macaulay published this, and many other calumnies on the same excellent man, by the "Tablet" newspaper, by W. E. Forster, in a paper now given as preface to Clarkson's "Life of Penn," and followed up by Dixon in another "Life of Penn;" yet in his recent edition of his History, Macaulay, without being able to produce one iota of evidence in support of the flagrant and groundless charge, has still persisted in it, only asking whether William Penn, who had influence at court, or one George Penne, who has been pointed out as the probable man, seeing that he was actually engaged in bargaining for the pardon of one of these prisoners, was most likely to be selected by the queen's women for their agent. In our opinion, the George Penne who was acting in such matters was the most likely; for it was not more likely that Penn would defile his soul with such a thing than Sir Francis Warre. But the thing is not a thing of probability, it is a thing of fact. There is not a title of proof that William Penn "did accept the commission," not even that it was ever offered to him; yet lord Macaulay not only perpetuates the base falsehood, but accompanies it by a baser assurance, that he could produce much worse charges against Penn if he pleased. It is difficult to express our real opinion on such conduct in an historian who, instead of proving what he has asserted, asserts further by innuendo what it is certain he cannot make good. The honourable fame of one of our most virtuous historic characters demanded this brief vindication from us in passing.
The only persons who escaped from this sea of blood were Grey, as we have said, Sir John Cochrane, who had been in Argyll's expedition, Storey, who had been commissary to Monmouth's army, Wade, Goodenough, and Ferguson. All these owed their escape to money or their secret services in giving information against their old friends, except Ferguson, who by some means escaped to the continent. On the other hand Bateman, the surgeon who had bled Oates in Newgate after his scourging, and thus saved his life, was, for a mere duty of his profession, arrested, tried, hanged, and quartered.
James now seemed at the summit of his ambition. He had established an actual reign of terror. The dreadful massacre of the west struck dumb the most courageous, and this gloomy tyrant gave full play to his love of cruelty. The nonconformists were everywhere beset by informers, who imprisoned, robbed, and abused them at pleasure. They could only meet for worship in the most obscure places and in the most secret manner. Their houses were broken into and searched on pretence of discovering conventicles. Their ministers were seized and thrust into prison. Baxter was there; Howe was obliged to escape abroad. Never, even in the time of Laud, had the oppression been so universal and crushing. All spirit of resistance appeared to be quenched in terror. The close of the year 1685 was long remembered as one of indescribable and unexampled depression and speechless misery.
James, on the contrary, never was so triumphant. He believed that he had now struck effectual terror into the country, and might rule at will. He had increased the army, and openly declared the necessity of increasing it further. He had in many instances dispensed with the test act in giving many commissions in the army to catholics, and he resolved to abolish both that act and the habeas corpus act. His great design was to restore the Roman religion to full liberty in England; he believed that he was able now to accomplish that daring deed. Parliament was to meet in the beginning of November, and he announced to his cabinet his intention to have the test act repealed by it, or if it refused, to dispense with it by his own authority. This declaration produced the utmost consternation. Halifax, however, was the only member who dared to warn him of the consequences, and avowed that he must be compelled to oppose the measure. James endeavoured to win him over to his views, but finding it vain, determined to dismiss him from office. His more prudent counsellors cautioned him against such an act on the eve of the meeting of parliament, on the ground that Halifax possessed great influence, and might head a dangerous opposition. But James was the last man to see danger ahead, and Halifax ceased to be president of the council. The news was received with astonishment in England, with exultation in Paris, and with discontent at the Hague.
The dismissal of Halifax produced a great sensation out of doors. The opposition gathered new courage. Danby and his party showed themselves early to coalesce with the adherents of Halifax. The whispered assurance that Halifax was dismissed for refusing to betray the test and habeas corpus acts, created general alarm, and even the leading officers of the army did not hesitate to express their disapprobation. Just at this crisis, only a week before parliament would assemble, came the news of the revocation of the edict of Nantes by Louis XIV. This edict had been issued under the ministry of Richelieu, and had closed the long and bloody war betwixt catholic France and its protestant subjects. Under certain restrictions the Huguenots were tolerated, and were contented. But Louis, urged by the Jesuits, had long been infringing on the conditions of the treaty. He had dismissed all Huguenots from his service, had forbade them to be admitted to the profession of the law, and compelled protestant children to be educated by catholics. Now at length he abolished the edict altogether, by which the Huguenots were once more at the mercy of dragoons and ruffian informers and constables. Their ministers were banished, their children torn from them, and sent to be educated in convents. The unhappy people, seeing nothing but destruction before them, fled out of the kingdom on all sides. No less than fifty thousand families were said to have quitted France, some of them of high rank and name, the bulk of them weavers in silk and stuffs, hatters, and artificers of various kinds. Many settled in London, where they introduced silk weaving, and where
