No man read the Declaration with more surprise and anger than Russell.  Bad as he was, he was much under the influence of two feelings, which, though they cannot be called virtuous, have some affinity to virtue, and are respectable when compared with mere selfish cupidity.  Professional spirit and party spirit were strong in him.  He might be false to his country, but not to his flag; and, even in becoming a Jacobite, he had not ceased to be a Whig.  In truth, he was a Jacobite only because he was the most intolerant and acrimonious of Whigs.  He thought himself and his faction ungratefully neglected by William, and was for a time too much blinded by resentment to perceive that it would be mere madness in the old Roundheads, the old Exclusionists, to punish William by recalling James.  The near prospect of an invasion, and the Declaration in which Englishmen were plainly told what they had to expect if that invasion should be successful, produced, it should seem, a sudden and entire change in Russell’s feelings; and that change he distinctly avowed.  “I wish,” he said to Lloyd, “to serve King James.  The thing might be done, if it were not his own fault.  But he takes the wrong way with us.  Let him forget all the past; let him grant a general pardon; and then I will see what I can do for him.”  Lloyd hinted something about the honours and rewards designed for Russell himself.  But the Admiral, with a spirit worthy of a better man, cut him short.  “I do not wish to hear anything on that subject.  My solicitude is for the public.  And do not think that I will let the French triumph over us in our own sea.  Understand this, that if I meet them I fight them, ay, though His Majesty himself should be on board.”

This conversation was truly reported to James; but it does not appear to have alarmed him.  He was, indeed, possessed with a belief that Russell, even if willing, would not be able to induce the officers and sailors of the English navy to fight against their old King, who was also their old Admiral.

The hopes which James felt, he and his favourite Melfort succeeded in imparting to Lewis and to Lewis’s ministers.261 But for those hopes, indeed, it is probable that all thoughts of invading England in the course of that year would have been laid aside.  For the extensive plan which had been formed in the winter had, in the course of the spring, been disconcerted by a succession of accidents such as are beyond the control of human wisdom.  The time fixed for the assembling of all the maritime forces of France at Ushant had long elapsed; and not a single sail had appeared at the place of rendezvous.  The Atlantic squadron was still detained by bad weather in the port of Brest.  The Mediterranean squadron, opposed by a strong west wind, was vainly struggling to pass the pillars of Hercules.  Two fine vessels had gone to pieces on the rocks of Ceuta.262 Meanwhile the admiralties of the allied powers had been active.  Before the end of April the English fleet was ready