e last three
months of the session had been almost entirely wasted in disputes, which
have left no trace in the Statute Book. The progress of salutary laws
had been impeded, sometimes by bickerings between the Whigs and the
Tories, and sometimes by bickerings between the Lords and the Commons.

The Revolution had scarcely been accomplished when it appeared that
the supporters of the Exclusion Bill had not forgotten what they had
suffered during the ascendancy of their enemies, and were bent on
obtaining both reparation and revenge. Even before the throne was
filled, the Lords appointed a committee to examine into the truth of
the frightful stories which had been circulated concerning the death of
Essex. The committee, which consisted of zealous Whigs, continued its
inquiries till all reasonable men were convinced that he had fallen
by his own hand, and till his wife, his brother, and his most intimate
friends were desirous that the investigation should be carried no
further, [381] Atonement was made, without any opposition on the part
of the Tories, to the memory and the families of some other victims,
who were themselves beyond the reach of human power. Soon after the
Convention had been turned into a Parliament, a bill for reversing
the attainder of Lord Russell was presented to the peers, was speedily
passed by them, was sent down to the Lower House, and was welcomed there
with no common signs of emotion. Many of the members had sate in that
very chamber with Russell. He had long exercised there an influence
resembling the influence which, within the memory of this generation,
belonged to the upright and benevolent Althorpe; an influence derived,
not from superior skill in debate or in declamation, but from spotless
integrity, from plain good sense, and from that frankness, that
simplicity, that good nature, which are singularly graceful and winning
in a man raised by birth and fortune high above his fellows. By
the Whigs Russell had been honoured as a chief; and his political
adversaries had admitted that, when he was not misled by associates
less respectable and more artful than himself, he was as honest and
kindhearted a gentleman as any in England. The manly firmness and
Christian meekness with which he had met death, the desolation of his
noble house, the misery of the bereaved father, the blighted prospects
of the orphan children, [382] above all, the union of womanly tenderness
and angelic patience in her who