General Literature.

Lyttelton Times, Volume VI, Issue 372, 28 May 1856, Page 4

General Literature.

[continued trom ode last.] macaulay's history of england, (Abridged for tha ': Lyttelton Times," from the " Times," December 18th )

By January, 1691, William had so far settled English affairs, as to be enabled to pay a visit to Holland. He received a more cordial welcome from his Dutch fellow citizens tha-; had ever been accorded him by his English subjects. It gratified the pride of his fellow-countrymen, that he had delivered England, and their parsimony, that he had induced England to pay promptly and handsomely for the service. Accordingly, he was received at the Hague with unwonted festivities, and Mr. Macaulay takes care to tell us that, at the banquets which were given, the guests got very drunk, aixl, while quoting Grotius and Piifreudorff. rolled under the table.

But William had serious business to transact. The potentates of the league, of which he was the head, crowded, either in person, or by their representatives, to the Hairue, wh-sre was held v kind of Congress on tiie situation of Europe. It was no easy task for him to keep together that coalition against France, which he had mainly formed, and which he had now to save from the consequences of their own jealousies and short-comings. Each of the confederates was tempted to throw, and did throw, part of his fair burden upon the rest. Scarcely one of them furnished the promised contingent, or observed the appointed day. But, thanks to William, they did hold together; in imperfect harmony, it is true; but still to

some purpose. Some have blamed William for acting as his own foreign minister, but the sovereign of that day governed as well as reigned. Not a few of those who object to his interference in diplomacy, approve of his acting as his own Commander of the Forces. Even Somers thought it natural and reasonable that William should be his own Foreign Secretary, and Somers must for ever satisfy the Whigs, while the triumphant result of William's policy must be his justification to the world.

One of the most extraordinary of William's achievements, was his conciliation of the Pope, and his obtaining toleration for the Wddenses. His influence obtained glad tidings for the inhabitants of remote Alpine valleys, who were unconscious of his intervention, and probably ignorant of his very existence. It was also agreed that 220,000 men should take the field against France before the beginning of summer. But these troops were not early enough to check the advance of their more active adversary. A hundred thousand men, with Luxemburg for their general, and Vauban for their engineer, had been already directed against the fortress of Mons, and the magnificent King of France came in person to witness their exploits. In spite of the anxiety and adroitness of William, his attempt at relieving the place was a failure. His messengers could not even penetrate to the garrison; the bombardment continued; the burghers, in their excess of fear, rose upon the soldiers; and Mons capitulated almost under William's eyes. One achievement was, in that day, sufficient for a campaign ; Louis returned to enjoy his triumph at Versailles, and William returned to England to meet and surmount the obstacles to his future success.

Hitherto the greatest open resistance to his policy had been in Ireland, and that resistance was as yet uncrushed. Dublin was recovered, and William and Mary were proclaimed there, precisely two years after his landing at Torbay. But the west and south of Ireland still adhered to James, and its soldiery demoralized by its previous defeats, had, in a great measure, broken up into gangs'of freebooters, who daily harassed the territory of the English. The sympathies of the peasantry of the plundered country were entirely in favour of the invaders, who were guided to the richest booty, and shown the safest roads to elude pursuit. In the words of Mr. Macaulav—

" The English complained that it was no easy matter to catch a rapparee. Sometimes, when he saw danger approaching, he lay down in the long grass of the bog, and then it was as difficult to find him as a hare sitting. Sometimes he sprang into a stream, and lay there, like an otter, with only his mouth and nostrils above the water. Nay, a whole gang of banditti would in the twinkling of an eyetransform itself into a crowd of harmless labourers. Every man took his gun to pieces, hid the lock in Ins clothes, stuck a cork in the muzzle, stopped the touch-hole with a quill, and threw the weapon into the next pond. Nothing was to be seen but a train of poor rustics who had not so much as a cudgel among them, and whose humble look and crouching walk seemed to say that their spirit was thoroughly broken to slavery. When the peril was over, when the signal was given, every man flesv to the place where he had hid his arms, and soon the robbers were in full march towards some Protestant mansion "

The Irish army was then quartered at Limerick, awaiting reinforcements from Louis. At length a French fleet arrived, carrying arms, ammunition, and food. The English, under Ginkell, were at the same time in motion, taking Bally more, and closely investing AthJone. The French general, Saint Rvth, having in vain attempted to relieve that town, resolved to risk a battle at Aughrim. Here, while exhorting his soldiers'lo make a stand for the defence of their religion and their liberty, he fell; his head being carried away by a cannon ball. His second in command, Sarsfield, resisted gallantly with the Irish,

retreating from enclosure to enclosure, and disputing the possession of every inch of ground, but was at length compelled to give way. Then ensued a carnage unparalleled in any battle of that age. No fewer than 7000 Irish fell in the battle and the pursuit; and we are told that so many dogs came to feast on the carnage, and became so fierce after they had acquired a taste for human, flesh, that it was long dangerous for men to travel this road unless in companies suffi- $

ciently large to protect them from the dogs' ferocity.

The fall of Galway followed the battle of Aughrim, and Limerick was soon invested by the victorious Ginkeil. Here Tyrconnell died suddenly of apoplexy, and the defence of the city consequently devolved on D'Usson and Sarsfield. Then, after a fierce attack on Thomond Bridge, came the capitulation, the terms of which, with their supposed infraction, have been so repeatedly a theme for the outpourings of excited Irish demagogues, and which Sarsn'eld intimated he would never have signed if he had had a braver monarch to support him. Mr. Macaulay enters at some length into the terms of this treaty, and succeeds in showing that they were substantially adhered to. It sent, it is true, a number of Irish troops to swell the armies of Louis, but their withdrawal left Ireland pacified, and subjected to the English dynasty for ever. The aboriginal Irish in Ireland itself were completely crushed, and none of the successive exponents of Irish wrongs thought of appealing to the Irish race for co-operation until a day near to our own times. Mr. Macaulay sees and discusses with his usual skill the effect of Derry, of the Boyne, of Aughrim, and of Limerick, in postponing the date of Catholic emancipation.

Scotland, on the other hand, was completely pacified, except in the opinion of those fanatics for order, the Scotch and Dutch partisans. Much about this time was perpetrated a great atrocity—the Massacre of Glencoe. The historian endeavours to clear William of all responsibility for this infamous action, at the sole expense of the Master of Stair: but he has not, we think, succeeded in so doing. Burnet, on whose authority he relies, contradicts himself when he states in one place that " the King's orders carried with them nothing that was in any sort blameable ;" and in another that the warrant, which lie would have us believe William signed without reading, was "to extirpate" the Macdonalds. Mr. Macaulay contends that even if William did read it, no blame can possibly attach itself to him ; the words were " perfectly innocent," and would have been universally understood as indicating a meritorious intent. Unfortunately for this harmless interpretation, we are expressly told by an authority, —- Dalrymple, whom Mr." Macaulay neglects on "this occasion, — that William was " irritated." He had, in fact, reason to remember Killiecrankie with bitterness ; and so little sense did he show of the atrocity of the deed, that he punished the offenders in the mildest manner possible. The Master of Stair was dismissed only in deference to the popular outcry, after an enquiry conduce I with evident remissness. Even Burnet admits that the crime was " not punished with due rigour;" and that the King's " gentleness prevailed on him as a fault." We can only infer, either that William was entrapped into signing the warrant, and that, when necessary foa his own vindication, he shrank from punishing those who had deceived him ; or, that his gentleness towards the murderers can be accounted for only by some animosity against the murdered, and a participation in.the responsibility for the crime. However much Mr. Macaulay may have suffered his judgment to be warped as to the

culpability of the principal criminals, he has depicted their conduct with unrelenting vigour and impartial brilliancy. His description of the scene of the slaughter of the tribe of Mac Donald, or, as he was ordinarily called, Maclan of Glencoe, is an inimitable piece of word-painting : — " * * In the Gaelic tongue, Glencoe signifies the vale of weeping ; and, in truth, that pass is the most dreary and melancholy of all the Scottish passes—the very Valley of the Shadow of Death. Mists and storms brood over it through the greater part of the finest summer, and even on those rare days when the sun is bright, and there is no cloud in the sky , the impression made by the landscape is sad and awful. The path lies along a stream which issues from the most sullen and gloomy of mountain pools. Huge precipices of naked stone frown from both sides- Even in July the streaks of snow may still be discerned in the rifts near the summits. All down the sides of the craigs heaps of ruin mark the headlong paths of the torrents. Mile after mile the traveller looks in vain f<ir the >m)ke of one hut, for one human form wrapped in a plaid, and listens in vain for the bark of a shepherd's dog, or the bleat of a lamb. Mile after mile the only sound that indicates life is the faint cry of a bird of prey from fome storm-beaten pinnacle of rock. The progress of civilization, which has turned so many wastes into fields yellow with harvests or gay with apple blossoms, has only made Glencoe more desolate. All the science and industry of peaceful age can extract nothing valuable from that wilderness ; but in an age of violence and rapine, the wilderness was valued on account of the shelter which it afforded to the plunderer and his plunder."

The murderous usages of the Highland clans and the motives of the master of Stair are well contrasted. The implacable course of his dark policy comes out from the canvas like a portrait of Titian. His ferocious joy when he learns that Mac lan has not taken the oaths by the appointed time, his preparations, and his accomplices are made the most of. The sojourn of the soldiers of Glenlyon among the Macdonalds, while awaiting the concerted signal, awakens, as we learn, the suspicions of the latter : —

" The night was rough- ' Hamilton and his troops made slow progress, and were long after their time. While they were, contending with the wind and snow, Glenlyon was supping and .playing at cards with ihose whom he meant to butcher before daybreak. He and Lieutenant Lindsay had engaged themselves to dine with the old-chief on the morrOw >« I •-.- -■■' Late in the evening a vague suspicion that some evil was intended crossed the win.l of the Chief's elrest son. The soldiers were evidently in a restless state ; and some of them uttered strange cries. * * John Macdonald was so uneasy that snon after midnight he went to Glenlyon's quarters. Gl> nlyon and his men were all up, and seemed to be getting their arms ready for aeiion. John, much alarmed, asked what these preparations meant. Glenlyon was profuse of friendly assurances- ' Some of Glengarry's people have been harrying the country. f We are getting ready to inarch against them. You are quite safe. Do you think that if you were in any daugtr I should not have given a hint to your brother S^ndy and his wife?' John's suspicions were quieted. He returned to his house aad lay down to rest." The arrangements for perpetrating this great crime, appears to have been complete in detail; while the execution was indifferently so. Glenlyon commenced the work of death too soon. Through some mismanagement Hamilton and his men were yet some miles off, and the " fox earths," as he called them, " were unstopped." The slaughter commenced in the village where Glenlyon himself was quartered. His host and nine other Macdonalds were dragged out of their beds, and murdered. No mere}' was shown even to children. A boy, twelve years old, threw himself at the feet of the soldiers, and begged hard for his life. The Captai.j showed some signs of relenting, when a ruffian named Urummond, shot the boy dead. At another place the master of the house was seated with his famity round the fire, when a volley from without stretched him and seven of his eight companions dead or dying on the floor. The one who remained unwounded begged to be allowed i to die in the open air. He came forth, rushed through the astonished soldiers, and, favoured by the darkness, was gone in a

moment,

" Aleanwhile Lindsay had knocked at the door of the old chief, and had asked for admission in friendly language. The door was opened. Mac lan, while putting on his clothes and calling to his servants to bring some refreshment for his visitors, was shot through the head- Two of his attendants were slain with him. His wife was already up, and dressed in such finery as the princesses of the rude Highland glens were accustomed to wear. The assassins pulled off her clothes and trinkets. The rings were not easily taken from her lingers ; but a soldier tore them away with his teeth. She died on the following day."

Neither Hamilton nor Glenlyon, however well they were moral!}' fitted to bear a part in such a massacre, seem to have had much professional skill. Glenlyon and his men allowed the alarm to bespread 100 soon, and as we have seen, Hamilton delayed his march toojlong to admit of closing the paths, and- preventing the escape of the persecuted Macdonalds. Even the sons of Mac lan, who had been especially marked out for destruction, roused in time by faithful servants, contrived to elude their foes. When Hamilton arrived, it was already broad day, and the work was not half clone. He found about 30 corpses, those of a few women among the number, lying on the dunghill? in front of the doors. But one prisoner had been made—an old man beyond seventy — whom even Glenlyon had spared, but whom Hamilton ferociously murdered in cold blood. The hamlets were then set on fire, and the troops departed carrying with them the wealth of the clan in sheep, goats, and kine: — " It is said, and may too easily be believed, that the sufferings of the fugitives were horrible. How many old men, how many women, with babes in their arms, sank down and slept their last sleep in the snow; how many, having crawled, spent with toil and hunger, iuto nooks among the precipices, died in those dark holes, and were picked to the bone by the mountain ravens, caw never be known. But it is probable that those who perished by cold, weariness, and want, were not less numerous than those who were slain by the assassins. When the troops had retired, the Macdonalds crept out of the caverns of Glencoe, ventured back to the spot where the huts had formerly stood, collected the scorched corpses from among the smoking ruins, and performed some rude rites of sepulture. The tradition runs that the hereditary bard of the tribe took his seat O7i a rock which overhung the place of slaughter, and pealed forth a long "lament over his murdered brethren, and. and his desolate home. Eighty years later that sad dirge was still repeated by the population of the valley."

It is remarkable how long an interval elapsed before public opinion became enlightened as to the nature of the transaction, and how late a belief even in the literal /acts extended beyond their Jacobite denouncers. Mr. Macaulay has solved this very clearly, but not so clearly all the remote consequences of this famous massacre. The Highlanders were not pacified by this measure of terror, as Ireland was pacified by the fair issues of war. They were twice ayain in arms against, the new dynasty, and Prestoi: Pans recalled Rill'eerankie by heavier crosses and a more alarming peril. It was not till some Years after the mas-

sacre of Glencoe that London beheld, the suppression of as lawless a horde as the Irish rapparees, or the cow-stealing Highlanders. Whitefriars, bounded on the west by the school of English jurisprudence, and on the east by the centre of English commerce, but crowded from cellar to cockloft with outcasts at war with society, was invaded and finally annexed to the domains of civilization and law. Mr. Macaulay describes the characteristics of its inhabitants with a resolute particularity—its debtors : its attorneys struck off'the roll; its " witnesses who carried straw in their shoes as a sign to inform the public where a false oath might be procured fox* half-a-crown ;" its thieves, sharpers, receivers, clippers, forgers, and its/ tawdry women,lblooming with paint and brandy, who, in their anger, made free use of their nails and scissors, yet whose anger was less to be dreaded than their kindness. " Its dicing, its blasphemies, its

brutal uproar, its lawless revenge on venturous bailiffs, and its consignment even of the sheriffs' gold chain to the melting pot filled the measure of its social iniquities to the brim. In 1697 a bill was past abolishing its franchises, and, after a fortnight's grace allowed to rascaldom to depart, peace and order were henceforth assured to a district which had been as unsafe as "the bog of Allen or the passes of the Grampians. " But the causj of order, which ma/ be identified with the cause of William, ran greater hazard from the treachery of Whigs, and the treason of Tories than from the antipathies ofg a lawless or the open hostility of a rebellious province. The politicians of the age were profoundly immoral and so generally stained with political baseness that it would be difficult to name tei who were at the same time eminent and honest. Nottingham the Tory, Soraers the Whig, and Halifax the Trimmer, may be unsuspected, but it would be difficult to find another trio so distinguished at once for probity and importance. The majority of their compeers would all have been for William had it been certain that he would stand—for James, had it been certain that he would have been restored. While the issue was in suspense, their consciences were susceptible of the most opposite impressions, or, to put it rightly, their consciences were passive, while their conduct was swayed by the conflict of their interests. They took the oath of Allegiance to one king, while they secretly plighted their word to tb.3 other; they corresponded with St. Germains while paying court at Kensington : and they kept in their drawers pardons from James while soliciting places, pensions, and honours from William.

I*, is from the baseness of the "Whig heroes of 1688, that Mr. Macaulay recoils with the most horror. He unravels what he terms the " mystery of iniquity, " and sees,*as his scripture similitude implies, the " abomination of desolation," standing in the sanctuary in which he has worshipped with such zeal. The High Priests of his temple were the most prostrate of all. Godolphin was a cautious, time servingTory, and his treachery was natural enough. But Shrewsbury was a sensitive, scrupulous Whig, yet he " suffered himself to be drawn into a correspondence with the banished family. " Russel bore a venerated name : had a pension of £3,000 a year, and a grant of the value of £18.000 ; but being at the same time Admiral of the Fleet, he offered by its instrumentality to bring back KingJames. Marlborough had, in his desertion at Salisbury, done service never to be forgotten by William; never to be pardoned by James : but as he, of all men, had staked most on the revolution, so he hedged with most infamy in contemplation of its overthrow. In 1691 he furnished James with information of the strength and distribution

of the English army, and disclosed to him the plan of the approaching campaign. He even offered to cam over the English army to the French camp. At a later period he took advantage of the English jealousy of Dutchmen to threaten William with a dangerous Parliamentary opposition; and, still later, he shamefully gave James the information which enabled the French to frustrate the expedition against Brest. Mr. Macaulay lays deserved emphasis on the disclosure of Marlborough's baseness to William as the cause of his first disgrace, and on the death

of Queen Mary as the ground of his reconciliation.

The rise of the Junto in 1693 tended to free William from the difficulty of distracted councils. Nottingham, though honest, retired with cold thanks; Leeds, Trevor and Seymour were deservedly ejected for corruption. But the kingdom in addition to peril from the venality of ministers, ay.is also iv danger from the plots of the Jacobites.

These gentry whether hopeful or desponding were desperate and reckless. At their taverns they squeezed the orange into their tumblers with significant gesture, or went limping about with their glasses at their lips. A number of gentlemen suddenly became lame because the initials of Louis, James, Mary, aud the Prince composed the word " limp, " and to limp implied the toast which their loyalty dared not utter. In one instance they sallied forth, with drums beating and flags flying, and began to light bonfires; l)ut more generally they plotted treason without the accompaniment of riot. They had a regular post at Hunt's, in Romney Marsh, by which they communicated with Prance. Here the plot was concerted for the assassination of William, in which Chai*-nock,-Barclay, Fenwick, and many more were compromised. On this occasion William had a narrow escape, and the sense of his danger aroused public indignation. The greatest pests of that troubled time were the Fullers and Youngs—disciples in the school which Oates had founded, and for which be had been pensioned. Wretches such as these haunted the coffee bouses, suborned false witnesses, forged documents, and swore hardily to enormous treasons. Meantime the Jacobites were prolific of songs and lampoons, and unlicensed presses teemed with scurrilous libels and savage

jests.

■ With all these heavy discouragements a^ home. William's course was by no means clear abroad. He had created a coalition j against France, but he could hardly keep it j from falling asunder. . The Scandinavian j powers, becoming cold, set up a third or j neutral party. The Pope was impatient to \ be reconciled to Louis. The Emperor of j Germany had more dread of Turkey than i of France. The King of Spain wished his dominions saved without trouble or expense to himself. England and Holland were accordingly persecuted " with sordid importunity by all their confederates—from Caesar, who, in the pride of his solitary dignity, would not honour King William with the title of Majesty, down to the meanest Margrave, who could see his whole principality from s the cracked windows of the mean and ruinous old house which he called his palace." William saved the coalition from perishing by disunion, but he could not insure activity to its movements. Year after year their troops took the field too late, and year after year brought defeat. In 1690, Waldeck had been defeated at Fleurs. In 1691 Mons had fallen. In 1692 the naval victory of La Hogue was but a poor set-off for the loss of Namur and the defeat of Steinkirk. In 1693 the battle of Landen had been lost and Charleroy had submitted. Not till 1694 did the tide begin to turn, and tie death of Luxemburg in 1695 left William a more welcome adversary. He speedily improved the absence of his great competitor. Yilleroy attempted in vain to relieve Isfamur, the almost impregnable citadel of ■which fell by assault. When the news reached Versailles, it spread universal dismay. For the firot time a Marshal of France had delivered up a fortress to a victorious enemy. The allies, on the other hand, enjoyed a triumph heightened by the recollection of their previous discomfiture at the same place. The Dutch struck medals ; and the Spaniards sung Te Deums. "When the Gazette containing the great news reached London, the hearts of the Jacobites Bank within them. England, on the whole, was gratified and exultant, for the turning point of William's fortune was reached; the coalition was triumphing, and the revolution was safe.

The fortunes of James were descending to the level to wbich his own fatal obstinacy, together with William's infinite superiority, impelled them. William was dealing, on

the whole, wisely with the social and political issues of his time. He had at length given his assent to the Triennial Bill. He vetoed the bill which provided that every member of the House of Commons must have a certain estate in land. He had thrown himself entirely into the arms of the Whigs, and had thus obtained Ministers in tolerable accord. After the death of Mary, he was reconciled to Anne and Marlborough ; he had obtained the support of the Bank of England; 1 and had succeeded, with the help of Charles Montague, not only in dealing with a financial crisis, but in conducting the nation through the terrible pressure attending a complete restoration of the coin of the realm. The burdens of the nation were relieved, and its l'esources developed. On the other hand, France was becoming exhausted by its efforts ; and in this, as in all wars, the last piece of gold was carrying the day. Louis regarded William as a great man, and, to the mortification of James, was at length prepared to recognise his pretensions. Terms of peace were proposed, unwelcome to the King of Spain and the Emperor of Germany, yet equitable and honourable. Louis was ready to relinquish his conquests, and negotiations proceeded, though slowly and inconclusively. The Plenipotentiaries met at Ryswick, and much valuable time was wasted in adjusting some frivolous points of etiquette. The German statesmen ignored a paper drawn up by the French ministers, because drawn in their own language, and refused to receive it until it was translated into latin. The empty ceremonies attending on the formal announcement of the death of Charles XI. of Sweden, wasted two valuable months, and the hopes of peace were becoming faint. But Bentinck and BoufSers had a private chat together near the little town of Hal. In two hours they did more business than the diplomatists had done in as many months. After a few more such meetings, they jotted down a few memoranda. These proceedings, according to the diplomatist, were irregular and indecorous, but not the less effectual, " While the latter," as Harlay said, " were making war, the generals were [making peace,"—the peace which took its name from Ryswick, and guaranteed his crown to William. When the news reached London, the funds went up, the steeples rang, and the Tower guns thundered forth the glad tidings. Nevei*, since the restoration of Charles 11., had there been such signs of public gladness as when William returned to England, not only her deliverer, but her master.

■ To the numerous authorities consulted by Mr. Macaulay in the former portion of his work, he has now made some remarkable additions. Besides the collection of MSS. and State papers in different public libraries, he has had access to the originals of William's Letters to Bentinck, preserved at Welbeck. He has studied the archives of the House of Lords, and thus obtained the details of the Comprehension Bill and of the Place Bill. He can boast that of the unique collection of the newspapers in William's reign, preserved in the British Museum, he has turned over every page. And from these materials, in combination with more familiar sonrces, he has constructed his great; story.