the Heads of Houses had despatched one of their number to assure
the Prince of Orange that they were cordially with him, and that
they would gladly coin their plate for his service. The Whig chief,
therefore, rode through the capital of Toryism amidst general
acclamation. Before him the drums beat Lillibullero. Behind him came a
long stream of horse and foot. The whole High Street was gay with orange
ribands. For already the orange riband had the double signification
which, after the lapse of one hundred and sixty years, it still retains.
Already it was the emblem to the Protestant Englishman of civil and
religious freedom, to the Roman Catholic Celt of subjugation and
persecution. [563]

While foes were thus rising up all round the King, friends were fast
shrinking from his side. The idea of resistance had become familiar to
every mind. Many who had been struck with horror when they heard of
the first defections now blamed themselves for having been so slow to
discern the signs of the times. There was no longer any difficulty or
danger in repairing to William. The King, in calling on the nation to
elect representatives, had, by implication, authorised all men to repair
to the places where they had votes or interest; and many of those places
were already occupied by invaders or insurgents. Clarendon eagerly
caught at this opportunity of deserting the falling cause. He knew that
his speech in the Council of Peers had given deadly offence: and he
was mortified by finding that he was not to be one of the royal
Commissioners. He had estates in Wiltshire. He determined that his son,
the son of whom he had lately spoken with grief and horror, should be
a candidate for that county; and, under pretence of looking after the
election, he set out for the West. He was speedily followed by the Earl
of Oxford, and by others who had hitherto disclaimed all connection with
the Prince's enterprise. [564]

By this time the invaders, steadily though slowly advancing, were within
seventy miles of London. Though midwinter was approaching, the weather
was fine; the way was pleasant; and the turf of Salisbury Plain seemed
luxuriously smooth to men who had been toiling through the miry ruts
of the Devonshire and Somersetshire highways. The route of the army lay
close by Stonehenge; and regiment after regiment halted to examine
that mysterious ruin, celebrated all over the Continent as the greatest
wonder of our island. William entered Salisb