the words, “I approve of this letter,” which stood in the king’s writing at the foot of the most incriminating sheet, to those which in their yet more exonerating form have become famous; “This letter is writ by my order—C. R.” Meanwhile his opponents triumphed, and Montagu was even successful in obtaining from the French king as much as half the reward promised for his perfidy.[329] The fall of the Lord Treasurer swelled the difficulties of the government without disconcerting its policy. Though the opposition could score so great a success, there was no thought of giving up the main issue. The scheme of the militia bill was struck to the ground, for Charles declared that he would not comply with it for so much as the space of half an hour; he had not forgotten that the home forces might be used against other than foreign enemies. The Whig party was inspired with rage. Ten days before it had met with a still more serious rebuff. On November 20 the bill disabling Roman Catholics from sitting in Parliament was passed by the Lords, but with a proviso excepting the Duke of York by name from its action. James had won his point only by tears and incredible exertion, and the opposition expected confidently to throw the proviso out in the Commons. A furious debate took place. Supporters of the duke were assailed with cries of “Coleman’s letters! Coleman’s letters!” High words were bandied across the floor of the House, and Sir Jonathan Trelawny, on the court side, was committed to the Tower for boxing the ears of Mr. Ash, a country member, and calling him a rascal. Yet to the bitter disappointment of its opponents the government was successful, and the saving clause passed by a majority of two votes. The French ambassador thought that James could have hardly escaped from a greater danger.[330] Another was already looming darkly against him out of the cloudy future. Early in the session of Parliament Shaftesbury, supported by Halifax, Essex, and Barlow, now Bishop of London, had demanded the Duke of York’s dismissal from the king’s presence and counsels. Lord Russell moved an address to the same effect in the Commons. In the debate which followed Sacheverell, acting on the report of Coleman’s examination that he had himself drawn up, gave the first direct hint of the memorable project of the Exclusion bill. Might not the king and Parliament, he asked, dispose of the succession to the crown of England?[331] The idea struck immediate root. It was the obvious point to which all that had gone before tended. The exclusion of James was to be the touchstone of English politics for two years, and the lines on which parties were to be divided by it showed themselves at once. King Charles did not delay to make his view of the situation plain. He told Danby in private that he would not object to pare the nails of a popish successor, but that nothing should induce him to see his brother’s right suffer injury;