The "campaign of Jeffreys," as the king himself called it, was at last completed; he returned to London stained with the blood of his victims, loaded with silent maledictions which weigh even to this day upon his memory. "The air of Somersetshire is tainted with death, and one cannot go a step without encountering some horrible spectacle," wrote Bishop Ken to the king. The assizes of London were opened, directed against the middle class, still obstinately rebellious. Many perished; some compromised like Cornish in the Rye House plot; others convicted for trivial offences, like the physician Bateman, who was hanged and quartered for having dressed the wounds of Titus Oates, that cowardly and cruel instigator of so many crimes, who had received his terrible punishment at the beginning of the reign of James II. Religious persecution was added to political persecution. Never in England were the Nonconformists pursued with such rigor. Jeffreys received the "seals" as a reward for his zeal. Nearly four years later, when he was confined in the Tower, trembling under the popular indignation, Jeffreys protested that he had never surpassed the orders of his master, but had even softened their terror. At St. Germain, James threw upon Jeffreys the overwhelming weight of the "Bloody Assizes." The king and the judge are equally condemned by posterity. {420} The national sentiment sustained James in his struggle against the insurgents; both Parliament and the Church had demonstrated their loyalty; but the cruelty of his vengeance revolted their honest hearts, and disquieted those who feared the future. An event in France at this time exercised great influence over the spirit of the nation. Louis XIV., led astray by the dangerous intoxication of absolute power, seduced and deceived by flatterers or fanatics, believed himself powerful enough to impose his will upon the consciences of his subjects. Convinced that nothing could resist him, and that the work of conversion was well advanced by preliminary persecutions, he revoked the Edict of Nantes on the 22d of October, 1685. Already a fugitive multitude, inundating the Protestant countries, proved to Europe the religious firmness of the reformed faith, as well as the little value with which arbitrary sovereigns regard the most solemn pledges accorded to their subjects. When the rumor of this intention reached England, Barillon wrote to Louis XIV.: "That which most vexes the English is, that they see no means of preventing that which your Majesty has undertaken. They speak freely in London of what is taking place in France, and many people think, and even say, that it is in consequence of England's not being governed by a Protestant king." And again, some days after the Revocation: "I have spoken to the king in regard to the language used in his court concerning your Majesty, and of the impropriety of allowing such freedom of speech. I said to him that I had not as yet rendered an account of these