rivy Council in sending him to the Tower. [255] Meanwhile James had
gone down to his army, which was encamped round the basin of La
Hogue, on the northern coast of the peninsula known by the name of the
Cotentin. Before he quitted Saint Germains, he held a Chapter of the
Garter for the purpose of admitting his son into the order. Two noblemen
were honoured with the same distinction, Powis, who, among his brother
exiles, was now called a Duke, and Melfort, who had returned from Rome,
and was again James's Prime Minister. [256] Even at this moment, when it
was of the greatest importance to conciliate the members of the Church
of England, none but members of the Church of Rome were thought worthy
of any mark of royal favour. Powis indeed was an eminent member of the
English aristocracy; and his countrymen disliked him as little as they
disliked any conspicuous Papist. But Melfort was not even an Englishman;
he had never held office in England; he had never sate in the English
Parliament; and he had therefore no pretensions to a dignity peculiarly
English. He was moreover hated by all the contending factions of all the
three kingdoms. Royal letters countersigned by him had been sent both to
the Convention at Westminster and to the Convention at Edinburgh; and,
both at Westminster and at Edinburgh, the sight of his odious name and
handwriting had made the most zealous friends of hereditary right hang
down their heads in shame. It seems strange that even James should have
chosen, at such a conjuncture, to proclaim to the world that the men
whom his people most abhorred were the men whom he most delighted to
honour.

Still more injurious to his interests was the Declaration in which he
announced his intentions to his subjects. Of all the State papers
which were put forth even by him it was the most elaborately and
ostentatiously injudicious. When it had disgusted and exasperated all
good Englishmen of all parties, the Papists at Saint Germains pretended
that it had been drawn up by a stanch Protestant, Edward Herbert, who
had been Chief Justice of the Common Pleas before the Revolution, and
who now bore the empty title of Chancellor. [257] But it is certain that
Herbert was never consulted about any matter of importance, and that
the Declaration was the work of Melfort and of Melfort alone. [258]
In truth, those qualities of head and heart which had made Melfort the
favourite of his master shone forth in every sentence. Not a w