In the meanwhile an event had taken place which for a time overshadowed all questions of domestic politics, and which was destined to have the most far-reaching and tremendous consequences. On the evening of the 1st of November William received at Hampton Court "the terrible news," as he designated it, of the death of the King of Spain, which, occurring as it did in the midst of the negotiations for the Second Partition Treaty, plunged the whole of Europe in a ferment. Three days after William received further intelligence here, which burst upon him like a thunderbolt. This was the news that Louis XIV., in violation of his solemnly pledged word, had accepted the will made by the late King of Spain, in favour of the Duke of Anjou, bequeathing to him the whole of the vast dominions, in the Old World and the New, subject to the Spanish Crown. Of his indignation and dismay, no words but his own could convey any idea. Writing to Heinsius the next day, the 5th of November, from Hampton Court, he says: "I never relied much on the engagements with France; but I must confess I did not think they would, on this occasion, have broken, in the face of the whole world, a solemn treaty, before it was well accomplished. The motives alleged in the annexed memorial are so shameful, that I cannot conceive how they can have the effrontery to produce such a paper. We must confess we are dupes; but if one's word and faith are not to be kept, it is easy to cheat any man."

But what caused him even still greater vexation and anxiety was the mood in which the English people received the news. We need not dwell here on the strange aberration of popular feeling, too often paralleled in modern times, which, fanned by interested party politicians, looked upon the Partition Treaty as more obnoxious to English interests than the King of Spain's will. William had to deal with that deplorable indifference to foreign politics, and with one of those strange infatuations, which have so often foiled the calculations of our astutest statesmen. "The blindness of the people of England," as the King himself said, "was indeed incredible." "They are all quiet here," he goes on to say, "and trouble their thoughts little with the great change in the affairs of the world. It seems as if it were

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a punishment from heaven that people here are so little sensible to what passes without the island, though we ought to have the same interests and anxieties as those upon the Continent." His only course now was to try and “ engage the English people," as he put it, "by a prudent conduct, by degrees, and without their perceiving it." It was as much in pursuit of this object as from any other cause, that he proceeded forthwith to seek for popular support by dismissing all the Whigs and calling the Tories to his counsels. William, however, fettered as he was by the position of political parties, and the state of public opinion in England, was powerless to adopt the measures which he thought vital to the security of Europe.

He was, indeed, harassed on all sides, and his worries began again to affect his health. "His Majesty is not very well," writes Vernon, "his appetite abates, and his legs are more swelled; but it chiefly arises from his great thoughtfulness in relation to the public. Physicians have been consulted, and have prescribed remedies."

What these were we learn from the curious record of the royal physickings which we have already cited. The night of his return to Hampton Court he was given "half a dram of the cream of tartar (to be taken twice a day); a ptisane (to be taken at pleasure) of the clarified decoction of barley, after a warm infusion of Eryngo roots condited, sal prunellæ, and the spirit of black cherries." At the same time they recommended "the frequent use of tablets, made of the species de Althæa, with Sal prunellæ, Loaf-sugar, and Mucilage of Gum Tragacanth." But a few days after the treatment was changed to "Nynsichtius' elixir vitrioli and Spa water"; and these were followed in quick succession, during the next month or so, by gentian, centaury, tartar vitriolated, salt of wormwood, salt of steel, balsamic syrup, Epsom salts in chicken broth, crabs' eyes, steel prepared with sulphur, hog's lice, chalybeate pills, elder flowers, after which recourse was again had to the old prescriptions, to be afterwards followed by a new set of remedies, "four spoonfuls a day of the juices of garden scurvy-grass, watercresses, brooklime and oranges, with Rhenish wine and wormwood compound, with some drops of the tincture of steel."

In the meanwhile William was giving constant attention to further works and improvements in the parks, gardens, and the palace, particulars of which we need not trouble the reader with here.

Early on Monday, the 30th of June, 1701, King William again left Hampton Court for his palace of Loo in Holland, where he resided three or four months.

From Loo William III. went on to Breda, and from there to the Hague, whence, after being detained for three weeks by adverse winds, he sailed on November 3rd for England, landing at Margate unexpectedly early the following morning, the 4th, the anniversary of his own birth, and of his landing in 1688 at Torbay. From the coast he came post-haste to Hampton Court, avoiding the fatigue of a progress through London, which the enfeebled state of his health could not have suffered him to bear, and reached the palace on the evening of the 5th, about eight o'clock, "much tired with his journey, so that he went immediately to bed." That very same night he signed a commission for the proroguing of Parliament.

No moment could have been more aptly chosen for his return. During his absence an event had occurred of incalculable importance in the history of the world. James II. had died, and, in a moment of ill-considered bravado, Louis XIV. had acknowledged the Pretender as King of England. This was just the one thing needed to revive William's fast vanishing popularity, for it touched the English nation in what has ever been its most sensitive point-its jealous dislike of the interference of foreigners in its domestic affairs. The effect was, in truth, instantaneous. All the pride of the English nature, all its enthusiasm for liberty and its impatience of foreign influence, all its pent-up loyalty and patriotism were exalted to the highest pitch. The voice of disaffection was hushed, while the whole nation rallied with one accord round the throne. It was a striking instance of those revulsions of English national feeling, which have so often perplexed and bewildered foreign politicians, and disturbed their deepest calculations.

Even while William was yet abroad, addresses had been drawn up by public bodies in every part of the kingdom, declaring their devotion to his crown and person, and their

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high resentment at the indignity offered to him and the English people. And now, on the day of his arrival, even at Hampton Court, the King could find no refuge from the importunate loyalty of his subjects. Deputations from cities, counties, universities, besieged him all day.

He doubtless received them in his new Presence Chamber, which is one of the finest of Wren's stately suite of rooms, and which has undergone but little change in appearance since that day. The throne, or chair of State, by which he stood, was placed underneath the canopy of crimson damask which still remains fixed to the wall in its original position with its valance richly embroidered in silver and gold, with the rose, thistle, fleur-de-lis, harp, and the cypher W. R., all crowned. The same emblems were embroidered on the rest of the furniture, which was of crimson damask, en suite; and they were embossed on the beautiful silver chandelier which still hangs from the lofty coved ceiling. Opposite the throne there was, as there is to-day, the large allegorical picture of William, which had just been finished by Kneller, and in which he is represented landing in England after the Peace of Ryswick in 1697, in armour, on a white horse, trampling on the emblems of war, attended by Mercury, Peace, and Plenty, and welcomed to British soil by Neptune. The rich dark panels of Norway oak, relieved by delicatelycarved festoons of fruit and flowers in limewood from the incomparable hand of Gibbons, and lightened by intermediate hangings of rich tapestry, formed an admirable background for the assembled Court.

We can imagine the ceaseless throng passing up Verrio's resplendent staircase, making their way through the stately Guard Chamber, and surveying with curiosity all the magnificence of the new palace, of which so much had been reported, and then approaching the feeble but highspirited King, who stood to receive them pale, haggard, and coughing.

It is not surprising that the King was, as he wrote to Heinsius, "quite exhausted by the labour of hearing harangues and returning answers," and that he was reported to look a little pale." Yet so great was his energy, and so anxious was he to see how the works in the grounds of the palace were getting on, that on the first day on which he

received addresses, he spent two hours, ill as he was, in the cold November afternoon, walking about the gardens; and afterwards dined in public. The swelling in his leg was, at this time, better, "by the help of the medicines administered to him by Dr. Bidloe, whom his Majesty brought over with him from Holland": and what those remedies were we learn from the diary of his health, kept without intermission from this time to the day of his death. He was, by the orders of Doctors Bidloe, Blackmore, and Laurence, to take "Forty drops of the Tincture of the Salt of Tartar, morning and evening in a draught of medicinal wine." Whether or not such a dose is to be found in the modern pharmacopoeia, it was credited with a good result, for "soon after the swelling of his legs fell so much that on the 9th he expressed himself to this effect: 'I did not think that one could recover so soon; I rode out yesterday on horseback, and eat lustily.' His Majesty dined that day in public with the Prince and Princess of Denmark, and despatched (though it was Sunday) a great deal of business in council and elsewhere. At night, however, his legs were more swelled again: "As I take it," said his Majesty, "this is occasioned by standing so long."

The fervent demonstrations of loyalty and regard which we have just noticed, afforded the very opportunity which the King was in want of, to shake off his Tory ministers, and to relieve himself of the Tory House of Commons, which had thwarted and affronted him again and again. On the evening of his arrival here, he had, as we have seen, prepared the way by signing a commission for proroguing Parliament till the 13th; but before that day arrived, the question of a dissolution was discussed. Fortunately this topic is one of those which Macaulay has treated of, in a separate and completed fragment of the last unfinished chapter of his history; and we may therefore have recourse to his graphic pages for an account of what occurred: "The whole kingdom, meanwhile, was looking anxiously to Hampton Court. Most of the ministers were assembled there. The most eminent men of the party, which was out of power, had repaired thither, to pay their duty to their sovereign, and to congratulate him on his safe return. It was remarked that Somers and Halifax, so malignantly per