s feeble mind, which had just before been
sunk in despondency, was extravagantly elated by these unexpected signs
of popular goodwill and compassion. He entered his dwelling in high
spirits. It speedily resumed its old aspect. Roman Catholic priests, who
had, during the preceding week, been glad to hide themselves from the
rage of the multitude in vaults and cocklofts, now came forth from their
lurking places, and demanded possession of their old apartments in the
palace. Grace was said at the royal table by a Jesuit. The Irish
brogue, then the most hateful of all sounds to English ears, was heard
everywhere in the courts and galleries. The King himself had resumed all
his old haughtiness. He held a Council, his last Council, and, even in
that extremity, summoned to the board persons not legally qualified to
sit there. He expressed high displeasure at the conduct of those
Lords who, during his absence, had dared to take the administration
on themselves. It was their duty, he conceived, to let society be
dissolved, to let the houses of Ambassadors be pulled down, to let
London be set on fire, rather than assume the functions which he had
thought fit to abandon. Among those whom he thus censured were some
nobles and prelates who, in spite of all his errors, had been constantly
true to him, and who, even after this provocation, never could be
induced by hope or fear to transfer their allegiance from him to any
other sovereign. [596]

But his courage was soon cast down. Scarcely had he entered his palace
when Zulestein was announced. William's cold and stern message was
delivered. The King still pressed for a personal conference with his
nephew. "I would not have left Rochester," he said, "if I had known that
he wished me not to do so: but, since I am here, I hope that he will
come to Saint James's." "I must plainly tell your Majesty," said
Zulestein, "that His Highness will not come to London while there are
any troops here which are not under his orders." The King, confounded
by this answer, remained silent. Zulestein retired; and soon a gentleman
entered the bedchamber with the news that Feversham had been put under
arrest. [597] James was greatly disturbed. Yet the recollection of the
applause with which he had been greeted still buoyed up his spirits.
A wild hope rose in his mind. He fancied that London, so long the
stronghold of Protestantism and Whiggism, was ready to take arms in his
defence. He sent to ask the Comm