to return from exile, not that he might again enjoy and dispense the favours of the Crown, not that his antechambers might again be filled by the daily swarm of suitors, but that he might see again the turf, the trees and the family pictures of his country seat.  His only wish was to be suffered to end his troubled life at Althorpe; and he would be content to forfeit his head if ever he went beyond the palings of his park.471

While the House of Commons, which had been elected during the vacancy of the throne, was busily engaged in the work of proscription, he could not venture to show himself in England.  But when that assembly had ceased to exist, he thought himself safe.  He returned a few days after the Act of Grace had been laid on the table of the Lords.  From the benefit of that Act he was by name excluded; but he well knew that he had now nothing to fear.  He went privately to Kensington, was admitted into the closet, had an audience which lasted two hours, and then retired to his country house.472

During many months be led a secluded life, and had no residence in London.  Once in the spring of 1692, to the great astonishment of the public, he showed his face in the circle at Court, and was graciously received.473 He seems to have been afraid that he might, on his reappearance in Parliament, receive some marked affront.  He therefore, very prudently, stole down to Westminster, in the dead time of the year, on a day to which the Houses stood adjourned by the royal command, and on which they met merely for the purpose of adjourning again.  Sunderland had just time to present himself, to take the oaths, to sign the declaration against transubstantiation, and to resume his seat.  None of the few peers who were present had an opportunity of making any remark.474 It was not till the year 1692 that he began to attend regularly.  He was silent; but silent he had always been in large assemblies, even when he was at the zenith of power.  His talents were not those of a public speaker.  The art in which he surpassed all men was the art of whispering.  His tact, his quick eye for the foibles of individuals, his caressing manners, his power of insinuation, and, above all, his apparent frankness, made him irresistible in private conversation.  By means of these qualities he had governed James, and now aspired to govern William.

To govern William, indeed, was not easy.  But Sunderland succeeded in obtaining such a measure of favour and influence as excited much surprise and some indignation.  In truth, scarcely any mind was strong enough to resist the witchery of his talk and of his manners.  Every man is prone to believe in the gratitude and attachment even of the most worthless persons on whom he has conferred great benefits.  It can therefore hardly be thought strange that the most skilful of all flatterers should have been heard with favour, when he, with every outward sign of strong emotion, implored permission to dedicate all his faculties