The Archbishop did not fill the place of a Prime Minister like Chicheley, any more than he took the command of troops like Hubert Walter. It is difficult to say who in the month of May, 1695, was Prime Minister; as the Duke of Leeds, who had headed the late administration, just then, though still nominally President of the Council, lay prostrate in disgrace, and his name is omitted in the list of Lords Justices who held the Regency. The Whigs were recovering power, and with the seven members of that party who were commissioned to act in the Royal name, there appeared but one Tory. William III. himself always acted as Minister of Foreign Affairs whether he was at home or abroad, and during his absence from England on this occasion probably the management of domestic business principally rested with Somers, Keeper of the Great Seal, and Shrewsbury, Secretary of State. The Archbishop, as standing next to the Royal family, took precedence in the Commission, but the actual power which he exercised must not be measured by that circumstance. On the 10th of October William returned, after having had the satisfaction of seeing a Marshal of France surrender to the allies, the Castle of Namur. The sound of bells from every steeple, the twinkling--for in those days it could hardly be a glare--of lights in every window, and street crowds rending the air with hurrahs, welcomed the victor as he passed through London to his favourite residence at Kensington. Speedily afterwards he made a Royal progress, and visited Newmarket, where, on Sunday, October the 20th, the Vice-Chancellor, accompanied by the principal members of the University of Cambridge, in all their sedate magnificence, waited on His Majesty, and delivered a congratulatory speech. The usual kissing of hands and assurances of favour wound up the ceremony.[247] He also visited Oxford, where he had been unpopular; but now, if we were to judge by the reception prepared, we should conclude the tide had turned; for Latin orations, musical concerts, and a splendid banquet were all arranged in honour of his presence. However, he would stay in the beautiful city only a few hours, excusing himself on the ground that he had seen the Colleges before. He had no admiration for Oxford, and Oxford had no admiration for him; and between the two no love was lost, when he drove off in his lumbering coach on the road to London. [Sidenote: ECCLESIASTICAL INJUNCTIONS.]