ans indicated exultation, [710] Melfort,
in a transport of joy, sate down to write a letter of congratulation to
Mary of Modena. That letter is still extant, and would alone suffice
to explain why he was the favourite of James. Herod,--so William was
designated, was gone. There must be a restoration; and that restoration
ought to be followed by a terrible revenge and by the establishment of
despotism. The power of the purse must be taken away from the Commons.
Political offenders must be tried, not by juries, but by judges on whom
the Crown could depend. The Habeas Corpus Act must be rescinded. The
authors of the Revolution must be punished with merciless severity.
"If," the cruel apostate wrote, "if the King is forced to pardon, let
it be as few rogues as he can." [711] After the lapse of some anxious
hours, a messenger bearing later and more authentic intelligence
alighted at the palace occupied by the representative of the Catholic
King. In a moment all was changed. The enemies of France,--and all the
population, except Frenchmen and British Jacobites, were her enemies,
eagerly felicitated one another. All the clerks of the Spanish legation
were too few to make transcripts of the despatches for the Cardinals and
Bishops who were impatient to know the details of the victory. The first
copy was sent to the Pope, and was doubtless welcome to him, [712]

The good news from Ireland reached London at a moment when good news
was needed. The English flag had been disgraced in the English seas.
A foreign enemy threatened the coast. Traitors were at work within the
realm. Mary had exerted herself beyond her strength. Her gentle nature
was unequal to the cruel anxieties of her position; and she complained
that she could scarcely snatch a moment from business to calm herself by
prayer. Her distress rose to the highest point when she learned that the
camps of her father and her husband were pitched near to each other, and
that tidings of a battle might be hourly expected. She stole time for a
visit to Kensington, and had three hours of quiet in the garden, then a
rural solitude, [713] But the recollection of days passed there with him
whom she might never see again overpowered her. "The place," she wrote
to him, "made me think how happy I was there when I had your dear
company. But now I will say no more; for I shall hurt my own eyes, which
I want now more than ever. Adieu. Think of me, and love me as much as I
shall you, whom I l