In the left corner of the picture certain Quakers (17, 18, 19), whose curious friendship with James must not be forgotten, deprecate the priests’ blasphemies, whilst beyond them a crowd of Irish papists is suggested by their waving symbols and a torn flag embroidered with the sacred monogram. Behind the Quakers an oriental-looking person scans the heavens through a telescope. The colonnade beneath which all this takes place has its pillars surmounted by owls and a demoniacal bat. The arches are inscribed with the words “Het word hier nacht,” and other inscriptions are seen on the walls. On the extreme right of the picture is reared a banner bearing what appear to be the words “In utrumque Turgam,” of which it is difficult to imagine the meaning. “In utramque Furcam,” which would be intelligible, has been suggested to me as an {208} alternative reading, but cannot, I think, be accepted. Another friend hazards “In utrumque (modum) resurgam,” which may be freely translated, “I shall be ‘dormy’ either way,” and would certainly make sense. Farther than that I cannot go with him. So much for the first state of this elaborate copperplate which did its part in propagating the lie which went far to lose for James II. the crown of England. After having served this purpose the plate was laid aside for nearly a quarter of a century. During this period the throne of England had been occupied by James II.’s two daughters, Mary and Anne, to the exclusion of their father, who died in exile in 1701, and of the Chevalier de St. George, whose proclamation by Louis of France as James III. of England[41] had been followed by the war of the Spanish Succession. [41] In the Stuart Room at Madresfield Court Lord Beauchamp lately showed me a portrait of the Chevalier, labelled “James III.”! In 1713, just twenty-four years after the plate had been engraved, the Peace of Utrecht, so vitally important as marking the beginning of {209} England’s commercial prosperity, was signed between England and France. Amongst other things it secured the Protestant Succession to the throne of England through the House of Hanover, and the dismissal of the Chevalier from France. The suspension of arms between the English and the French which preceded the signing of the treaty was seized upon as the opportunity for resuscitating the plate and adapting: it to the altered circumstances. Now did some pictorial vandal wrench and twist the figures to new and undreamt-of uses and turn the Council of War of 1688 into the Court of Peace between the Roses and Lilies of 1712! The plate now professes to be published in London, though, from the fact that the publication line runs. “A Londres chez Turner,” and from sundry misspellings, it would appear certain that the alterations on the plate were effected abroad.