Meanwhile the tide in Parliament ran high against the government. The new constitution had hardly begun its career before the Commons on April 27 settled to consider how they might best preserve his Majesty’s person from the attacks of papists. Impotent attempts made by members in the court interest to divert the debate only increased its keenness, and the House passed from stage to stage of fiery enthusiasm until on Mr. Hampden’s motion it was unanimously declared that “the Duke of York being a papist and the hopes of his coming such to the crown have given the greatest countenance and encouragement to the present conspiracies and designs of papists against the king and the Protestant religion.” With the addition that James had been the unwilling cause of the Plot, the House of Lords adopted the motion as it stood. This was the prelude to the piece to come. On Sunday, May 11, when daylight had gone out with talk, a resolution was carried, those against it refusing to have their votes taken, “that a bill be brought in to disable the Duke of York to inherit the Imperial Crown of this realm.” It was followed by the ferocious declaration of the Commons that they would stand by his Majesty with their lives and fortunes and, should he come to any violent death (which God forbid!), revenge it to the utmost upon the Roman Catholics. Four days later the Exclusion bill was introduced and read for the first time. On May 21 it passed the second reading and was committed. The threatening aspect of these events could not be mistaken. The Commons were fierce and pertinacious. Danby’s discomfiture was followed by an attack on Lauderdale and by another, still more violent, on the system of secret service money. “Extraordinary heats” broke out on the question whether bishops had or having should retain their right to sit in judgment upon peers arraigned on a capital charge, for the trial of the five Popish lords was expected, and the strength of the spiritual peers was a matter of grave consideration to those who hoped for an adverse verdict. Many were the indecencies, records Burnet, that arose on this occasion both in town and in country. Shaftesbury was expecting an easy triumph. Suddenly all came to an end. The king had information that the common council of the city was about to offer public assistance to the Commons in their efforts for the preservation of the Protestant faith, and that an inflammatory remonstrance on the subject of the Plot lay ready for presentation in the House. His mind was made up. With the cheerfulness characteristic of him he seemed to be thinking of nothing, when on May 26 he summoned the Commons to his presence and without warning declared a prorogation of three months. Eight weeks later Charles dissolved the Little Parliament of Westminster against the advice of almost the whole of his council. The blow fell with crushing effect upon the Whig party. Shaftesbury swore openly that he would have the heads of those