f her race, and both revolted against the submission to
which she was forced. If she bowed to the spirit of the Revolution by
yielding implicitly to the decision of her Parliament, she held firmly
to the ceremonial traditions of the monarchy of her ancestors. She dined
in royal state, she touched for the evil in her progresses, she presided
at every meeting of council or cabinet, she insisted on every measure
proposed by her ministers being previously laid before her. She shrank
from party government as an enslavement of the Crown; and claimed the
right to call on men from either side to aid in the administration of
the State. But if England was to be governed by a party, she was
resolved that it should be her own party. She had been bred a Tory. Her
youth had fallen among the storms of the Exclusion Bill, and she looked
on Whigs as disguised republicans. Above all her pride was outraged by
the concessions which were forced from her. She had prayed Godolphin to
help her in excluding Sunderland as a thing on which the peace of her
life depended. She trembled every day before the violent temper of the
Duchess of Marlborough, and before the threat of resignation by which
the Duke himself crushed her first faint efforts at revolt. She longed
for a peace which would free her from both Marlborough and the Whigs, as
the Whigs on the other hand were resolute for a war which kept them in
power. It was on this ground that they set aside the Duke's counsels and
answered the French proposals of peace by terms which made peace
impossible. They insisted on the transfer of the whole Spanish monarchy
to the Austrian prince. When even this seemed likely to be conceded they
demanded that Lewis should with his own troops compel his grandson to
give up the crown of Spain.

[Sidenote: Sacheverell.]

"If I must wage war," replied the French king, "I had rather wage it
with my enemies than with my children." In a bitter despair he appealed
to France; and, exhausted as the country was by the struggle, the
campaign of 1709 proved how nobly France answered his appeal. The
terrible slaughter which bears the name of the battle of Malplaquet
showed a new temper in the French soldiers. Starving as they were, they
flung away their rations in their eagerness for the fight, and fell
back at its close in serried masses that no efforts of Marlborough could
break. They had lost twelve thousand men, but the forcing their lines of
entrenchment had cost the