The two brothers, Charles and James, became then infected with Popery to such degrees as their different characters admitted of.  Charles had parts, and his good understanding served as an antidote to repel the poison.  James, the simplest man of his time, drank off the whole chalice.  The poison met in his composition with all the fear, all the credulity, and all the obstinacy of temper proper to increase its virulence and to strengthen its effect.  The first had always a wrong bias upon him; he connived at the establishment, and indirectly contributed to the growth, of that power which afterwards disturbed the peace and threatened the liberty of Europe so often; but he went no further out of the way.  The opposition of his Parliaments and his own reflections stopped him here.  The Prince and the people were, indeed, mutually jealous of one another, from whence much present disorder flowed, and the foundation of future evils was laid; but his good and his bad principles combating still together, he maintained, during a reign of more than twenty years, in some tolerable degree, the authority of the Crown and the flourishing estate of the nation.  The last, drunk with superstitious and even enthusiastic zeal, ran headlong into his own ruin whilst he endeavoured to precipitate ours.  His Parliament and his people did all they could to save themselves by winning him.  But all was vain; he had no principle on which they could take hold.  Even his good qualities worked against them, and his love of his country went halves with his bigotry.  How he succeeded we have heard from our fathers.  The revolution of 1688 saved the nation and ruined the King.

Now the Pretender’s education has rendered him infinitely less fit than his uncle—­and at least as unfit as his father—­to be King of Great Britain.  Add to this that there is no resource in his understanding.  Men of the best sense find it hard to overcome religious prejudices, which are of all the strongest; but he is a slave to the weakest.  The rod hangs like the sword of Damocles over his head, and he trembles before his mother and his priest.  What, in the name of God, can any member of the Church of England promise himself from such a character?  Are we by another revolution to return into the same state from which we were delivered by the first?  Let us take example from the Roman Catholics, who act very reasonably in refusing to submit to a Protestant Prince.  Henry IV. had at least as good a title to the crown of France as the Pretender has to ours.  His religion alone stood in his way, and he had never been King if he had not removed that obstacle.  Shall we submit to a Popish Prince, who will no more imitate Henry IV. in changing his religion than he will imitate those shining qualities which rendered him the honestest gentleman, the bravest captain, and the greatest prince of his age?  Allow me to give a loose to my pen for a moment on this subject.  General benevolence and universal charity seem to