stand, the preliminary articles were to be thrown in, with a cry of "No peace;"" and proper messengers were to come galloping, as if like to break their necks, their horses all in a foam, who should cry out, "The queen, the queen, was dead at Hampton court." At the same time the duke of Marlborough was to make his entry through Aldgate, where he was to be met with the cry of "Victory, Bouchain, the lines, no peace, no peace." If matters had once come to this pass, I do not see what could have hindered the leaders from doing all the mischief they desired, from exalting and pulling down whom they pleased, nor from executing, during the rage of the people, prepossessed, as they would be, with the news of the queen's death, whatever violence, injustice, and cruelty, they should think fit. They had resolved before what houses should be burnt. They were to begin with one in Essex street, where the commissioners of accompts meet, from whence a late discovery has been made of vast sums annually received by a great man, for his permission to serve the army with bread. They said, "Harley should have better luck than they expected, if he escaped de Witting[1]; they would set people to watch him all that day, that they might know where to find him when they had occasion." And truly who can answer for the consequence of such a tumult, the rage of a mad drunken populace, fomented by such incendiaries (for the whole party,
- ↑ The superiour talents and virtue of the pensioner de Witt made him the chief object of general envy, and exposed him to the utmost rage of popular prejudices and finally assassination. See Hume's History of England, vol. VII.
