farewell of him whom she had loved so truly and entirely; but she was unable to speak.  He had a succession of fits so alarming that his Privy Councillors, who were assembled in a neighbouring room, were apprehensive for his reason and his life.  The Duke of Leeds, at the request of his colleagues, ventured to assume the friendly guardianship of which minds deranged by sorrow stand in need.  A few minutes before the Queen expired, William was removed, almost insensible, from the sick room.

Mary died in peace with Anne.  Before the physicians had pronounced the case hopeless, the Princess, who was then in very delicate health, had sent a kind message; and Mary had returned a kind answer.  The Princess had then proposed to come herself; but William had, in very gracious terms, declined the offer.  The excitement of an interview, he said, would be too much for both sisters.  If a favourable turn took place, Her Royal Highness should be most welcome to Kensington.  A few hours later all was over.551

The public sorrow was great and general.  For Mary’s blameless life, her large charities and her winning manners had conquered the hearts of her people.  When the Commons next met they sate for a time in profound silence.  At length it was moved and resolved that an Address of Condolence should be presented to the King; and then the House broke up without proceeding to other business.  The Dutch envoy informed the States General that many of the members had handkerchiefs at their eyes.  The number of sad faces in the street struck every observer.  The mourning was more general than even the mourning for Charles the Second had been.  On the Sunday which followed the Queen’s death her virtues were celebrated in almost every parish church of the Capital, and in almost every great meeting of nonconformists.552

The most estimable Jacobites respected the sorrow of William and the memory of Mary.  But to the fiercer zealots of the party neither the house of mourning nor the grave was sacred.  At Bristol the adherents of Sir John Knight rang the bells as if for a victory.553 It has often been repeated, and is not at all improbable, that a nonjuring divine, in the midst of the general lamentation, preached on the text, “Go; see now this cursed woman and bury her; for she is a King’s daughter.”  It is certain that some of the ejected priests pursued her to the grave with invectives.  Her death, they said, was evidently a judgment for her crime.  God had, from the top of Sinai, in thunder and lightning, promised length of days to children who should honour their parents; and in this promise was plainly implied a menace.  What father had ever been worse treated by his daughters than James by Mary and Anne?  Mary was gone, cut off in the prime of life, in the glow of beauty, in the height of prosperity; and Anne would do well to profit by the warning.  Wagstaffe went further, and dwelt much on certain wonderful coincidences of time.  James had been driven from