he trick of arresting attention by an unexpected thesis, such
as this promise of reasons for peace when everybody was dreaming of war,
is an art in which Defoe has never been surpassed. As we shall have
occasion to see, he practised it more than once too often for his
comfort.

CHAPTER III.

A MARTYR TO DISSENT?

From the death of the King in March, 1702, we must date a change in
Defoe's relations with the ruling powers. Under William, his position as
a political writer had been distinct and honourable. He supported
William's policy warmly and straightforwardly, whether he divined it by
his own judgment, or learned it by direct or indirect instructions or
hints. When charged with writing for a place, he indignantly denied that
he held either place or pension at Court, but at another time he
admitted that he had been employed by the King and rewarded by him
beyond his deserts. Any reward that he received for his literary
services was well earned, and there was nothing dishonourable in
accepting it. For concealing the connexion while the King was alive, he
might plead the custom of the time. But in the confusion of parties and
the uncertainty of government that followed William's death, Defoe slid
into practices which cannot be justified by any standard of morality.

It was by accident that Defoe drifted into this equivocal position. His
first writings under the new reign were in staunch consistency with what
he had written before. He did not try to flatter the Queen as many
others did by slighting her predecessors; on the contrary, he wrote a
poem called _The Mock Mourners_, in which he extolled "the glorious
memory"--a phrase which he did much to bring into use--and charged those
who spoke disrespectfully of William with the vilest insolence and
ingratitude. He sang the praises of the Queen also, but as he based his
joy at her accession on an assurance that she would follow in William's
footsteps, the compliment might be construed as an exhortation. Shortly
afterwards, in another poem, _The Spanish Descent_, he took his revenge
upon the fleet for not carrying out his West Indian scheme by ridiculing
unmercifully their first fruitless cruise on the Spanish coast, taking
care at the same time to exult in the capture of the galleons at Vigo.
In yet another poem--the success of the _True Born Englishman_ seems to
have misguided him into the belief that he had a genius for verse--he
reverted to the Reformation of