Second son of King Charles I, James II succeeded to the English throne—the last Catholic to do so—on the death of his brother of King Charles II in 1685. James's reign was short when he attempted to restore Roman Catholicism in England. Challenged by his son-in-law, William of Orange, however, James chose to flee, throwing his seal of office into the Thames as he did so. His vacation of his office opened the way for the so-called Glorious Revolution in which William and his wife Mary succeeded to the throne.
James II had all the weaknesses of his father and none of the strengths of his brother. He was, additionally, burdened with the problem of being the younger son, "heir presumptive but not heir-apparent, with much obligation and no certainty of apotheosis" (J. Macleod). In his brother's reign he was appointed for a time Lord Admiral of the Navy; of it he actually did a rather remarkable job. He was for a number of years also made governor of Scotland; there too he managed unexpectedly well, though he wrought havoc for the Presbyterians. Once he was raised to the throne, however, he quickly showed himself out of his depths.
James was never much liked. "Dismal Jimmie" to the Scots, and "a crashing bore: pompous, tiresome, incapable of listening, quite incapable of realising how tedious and insufferable he was," to the French. While he was as libidinous as his brother the King, he also lacked his discretion and soon got tarred as "the most unguarded ogler in England." Whereas Charles and his wife never produce any children (though Charles is known to have produced at least a dozen illegitimate ones) James already had two daughters by his wife Anne Hyde. In 1672, a year after his wife's death, James made public that he had converted to Roman Catholicism. Then next year he remarried, this time to the beautiful but staunchly Catholic Mary of Modena. This naturally raised the political temperature considerably. The idea of a Catholic monarch—a very real possibility if James should produce a son by his new marriage—frightened and upset most Englishmen; the reign of Mary I remained vivid in English religious consciousness and Foxe's Book of the Martyrs remained a favourite reading. Soon there came calls for an Act of Exclusion to be passed to exclude James from the line of succession. Rumours of Catholic plots (the most infamous was the one concocted by Titus Oates swirling around—countered and re-countered—by the more than a dozen newly founded papers in the 1670s. Charles deftly sent James out of the country to remove the immediate cause of all these trouble from the scene, and then, with his practiced charm, made it clear that, Catholic or no, James would succeed him but, as king, he would have to follow the law of the land and not return England to the Roman see.
Charles died in 1685 and James became King. Soon after his coronation he began to rule like an autocrat, just like his father did. Deluded almost with the idea that the pro-monarchical Tory High Churchmen in parliament would support him come what may, he began to champion freedom of worship for Dissenters and Catholics, but also to put Catholics into positions of government and establish an army made up of and led by Catholics. Privately he was also receiving money from Louis XIV, which freed him from having to depend on parliament to approve the funds he needed to act as he did. Those who opposed him were sacked. Suspicion that he was paving the road back to Rome became certainty when he unilaterally issued in 1687 a Declaration of Indulgence and in April the following year ordered it to be read from the pulpit on successive Sundays. Willam Sancroft, Archbishop of Canterbury (and, therefore, the primate of the Anglican Communion) and six other bishops refused. James had them put on trial. This so-called "Seven Bishops' Case" backfired on James; the court not only acquitted them but also delivered a stinging verdict on the patent abuse of power by the King. Just then, however, news came that Queen had delivered a baby son. A Catholic dynasty was now in place, but no one wanted to believe it. A story quickly made its round that the real baby had died at birth and was switched for a boy smuggled into the court in a warming-pan.
No only understood the implications—nationally, internationally, and privately for himself, his wife and the Netherlands that he loved so dearly—than William of Orange, James's nephew as well as his son-in-law. Quietly he offered parliament to come over to England with his troops, if invited, to help restore things to right. Seven members of parliament did, and William landed at Torbay on 5 Nov 1688; the Glorious Revolution had began. As William and his army marched east towards London, James marched out with his forces to meet him. Then James's feet got cold, he turned around, fled back to London and packed his queen and son off to France. On the night of 11 December, he too fled, disguised as a priest, but not before he had tossed his Great Seal of office into the Thames. He was caught and then let loose, upon which he fled to France. This left the country without a king and parliament. A 'conventicle' was convened, which then 'invited' Mary and William to be their King and Queen.
From exile, James rued the day he fled, and immediately began plotting to retrieve his throne. There were many—Catholics in Ireland and the Highland Scots in Scotland—who still thought of him as their rightful Son and King. With orders and help from Louis XIV he landed in Ireland in March 1689 with plans to invade mainland England. As usual with Jacobite uprisings ever afterwards, the organization was dreadful and leadership inept. Battles between the Jacobites and government forces at Killicrankie, north of Edinburgh (July 1689), and Comdale near Grantown-on-Spey (May 1690) were disastrous. But they were nothing compared to the grand disaster of the Battle of Boyne (twenty miles north of Dublin) on 1 July 1690. As a battle it did not count for much. Master strategist that he was, William of Orange had James's French and Irish forces quickly surrounded. James—directing the battle from Dublin and now lost of options—then did what was becoming a habit; he fled back to France, leaving his troops to the slaughter. There, as a guest of Louis XIV, he wasted the rest of his life in what could only have been regrets of the weightiest kind. "When you listen to him," it was often reported, "you know why he is here." He died in 1701, aged 68, the best that any Stuart monarch had ever attain.
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