and had been alternately elated and depressed by the reports which followed one another in rapid succession.  At first it was confidently expected that the Peers would yield; and there was general good humour.  Then came intelligence that the majority of the Lords present had voted for adhering to the amendments.  “I believe,” so Vernon wrote the next day, “I believe there was not one man in the House that did not think the nation ruined.”  The lobbies were cleared; the back doors were locked; the keys were laid on the table; the Serjeant at Arms was directed to take his post at the front door, and to suffer no member to withdraw.  An awful interval followed, during which the angry passions of the assembly seemed to be subdued by terror.  Some of the leaders of the opposition, men of grave character and of large property, stood aghast at finding that they were engaged,—­they scarcely knew how,—­in a conflict such as they had not at all expected, in a conflict in which they could be victorious only at the expense of the peace and order of society.  Even Seymour was sobered by the greatness and nearness of the danger.  Even Howe thought it advisable to hold conciliatory language.  It was no time, he said, for wrangling.  Court party and country party were Englishmen alike.  Their duty was to forget all past grievances, and to cooperate heartily for the purpose of saving the country.

In a moment all was changed.  A message from the Lords was announced.  It was a message which lightened many heavy hearts.  The bill had been passed without amendments.

The leading malecontents, who, a few minutes before, scared by finding that their violence had brought on a crisis for which they were not prepared, had talked about the duty of mutual forgiveness and close union, instantly became again as rancorous as ever.  One danger, they said, was over.  So far well.  But it was the duty of the representatives of the people to take such steps as might make it impossible that there should ever again be such danger.  Every adviser of the Crown, who had been concerned in the procuring or passing of any exorbitant grant, ought to be excluded from all access to the royal ear.  A list of the privy councillors, furnished in conformity with the order made two days before, was on the table.  That list the clerk was ordered to read.  Prince George of Denmark and the Archbishop of Canterbury passed without remark.  But, as soon as the Chancellor’s name had been pronounced, the rage of his enemies broke forth.  Twice already, in the course of that stormy session, they had attempted to ruin his fame and his fortunes; and twice his innocence and his calm fortitude had confounded all their politics.  Perhaps, in the state of excitement to which the House had been wrought up, a third attack on him might be successful.  Orator after orator declaimed against him.  He was the great offender.  He was responsible for all the grievances of which the nation complained.