loyalty,
and the loyalty of his family, had been signally proved. His father,
the second Earl of Northampton, had fought bravely for King Charles the
First, and, surrounded by the parliamentary soldiers, had fallen, sword
in hand, refusing to give or take quarter. The Bishop himself, before he
was ordained, had borne arms in the Guards; and, though he generally did
his best to preserve the gravity and sobriety befitting a prelate, some
flashes of his military spirit would, to the last, occasionally break
forth. He had been entrusted with the religious education of the two
Princesses, and had acquitted himself of that important duty in a
manner which had satisfied all good Protestants, and had secured to him
considerable influence over the minds of his pupils, especially of the
Lady Anne. [30] He now declared that he was empowered to speak the sense
of his brethren, and that, in their opinion and in his own, the whole
civil and ecclesiastical constitution of the realm was in danger.

One of the most remarkable speeches of that day was made by a young man,
whose eccentric career was destined to amaze Europe. This was Charles
Mordaunt, Viscount Mordaunt, widely renowned, many years later, as Earl
of Peterborough. Already he had given abundant proofs of his courage,
of his capacity, and of that strange unsoundness of mind which made
his courage and capacity almost useless to his country. Already he had
distinguished himself as a wit and a scholar, as a soldier and a sailor.
He had even set his heart on rivalling Bourdaloue and Bossuet. Though an
avowed freethinker, he had sate up all night at sea to compose sermons,
and had with great difficulty been prevented from edifying the crew of
a man of war with his pious oratory. [31] He now addressed the House of
Peers, for the first time, with characteristic eloquence, sprightliness,
and audacity. He blamed the Commons for not having taken a bolder line.
"They have been afraid," he said, "to speak out. They have talked of
apprehensions and jealousies. What have apprehension and jealousy to do
here? Apprehension and jealousy are the feelings with which we regard
future and uncertain evils. The evil which we are considering is
neither future nor uncertain. A standing army exists. It is officered
by Papists. We have no foreign enemy. There is no rebellion in the land.
For what, then, is this force maintained, except for the purpose of
subverting our laws and establishing that arbitr