rror
and hatred, was no more, and had been succeeded, in what may be called
the subordinate Secretaryship of State, by Sir William Trumball, a
learned civilian and an experienced diplomatist, of moderate opinions,
and of temper cautious to timidity. [602] The malecontents were
emboldened by the lenity of the administration. William had scarcely
sailed for the Continent when they held a great meeting at one of their
favourite haunts, the Old King's Head in Leadenhall Street. Charnock,
Porter, Goodman, Parkyns and Fenwick were present. The Earl of Aylesbury
was there, a man whose attachment to the exiled house was notorious, but
who always denied that he had ever thought of effecting a restoration
by immoral means. His denial would be entitled to more credit if he
had not, by taking the oaths to the government against which he was
constantly intriguing, forfeited the right to be considered as a man of
conscience and honour. In the assembly was Sir John Friend, a nonjuror
who had indeed a very slender wit, but who had made a very large fortune
by brewing, and who spent it freely in sedition. After dinner,--for the
plans of the Jacobites were generally laid over wine, and generally bore
some trace of the conviviality in which they had originated,--it
was resolved that the time was come for an insurrection and a French
invasion, and that a special messenger should carry the sense of the
meeting to Saint Germains. Charnock was selected. He undertook the
commission, crossed the Channel, saw James, and had interviews with the
ministers of Lewis, but could arrange nothing. The English malecontents
would not stir till ten thousand French troops were in the island; and
ten thousand French troops could not, without great risk, be withdrawn
from the army which was contending against William in the Low Countries.
When Charnock returned to report that his embassy had been unsuccessful,
he found some of his confederates in gaol. They had during his absence
amused themselves, after their fashion, by trying to raise a riot in
London on the tenth of June, the birthday of the unfortunate Prince
of Wales. They met at a tavern in Drury Lane, and, when hot with
wine, sallied forth sword in hand, headed by Porter and Goodman, beat
kettledrums, unfurled banners, and began to light bonfires. But the
watch, supported by the populace, was too strong for the revellers. They
were put to rout; the tavern where they had feasted was sacked by the
mob; t