great bitterness, in the "Voyage to Laputa," the evidence which
had satisfied the two Houses of Parliament. Soon, however, the
most partial friends of the banished prelate ceased to assert his
innocence, and contented themselves with lamenting and excusing
what they could not defend. After a short stay at Brussels, he
had taken up his abode at Paris, and had become the leading man
among the Jacobite refugees who were assembled there. He was
invited to Rome by the Pretender, who then held his mock court
under the immediate protection of the Pope. But Atterbury felt
that a bishop of the Church of England would be strangely out of
place at the Vatican, and declined the invitation. During some
months, however, he might flatter himself that he stood high in
the good graces of James. The correspondence between the master
and the servant was constant. Atterbury's merits were warmly
acknowledged; his advice was respectfully received; and he was,
as Bolingbroke had been before him, the prime minister of a king
without a kingdom. But the new favourite found, as Bolingbroke
had found before him, that it was quite as hard to keep the
shadow of power under a vagrant and mendicant prince as to keep
the reality of power at Westminster. Though James had neither
territories nor revenues, neither army nor navy, there was more
faction and more intrigue among his courtiers than among those of
his successful rival. Atterbury soon perceived that his counsels
were disregarded, if not distrusted. His proud spirit was deeply
wounded. He quitted Paris, fixed his residence at Montpellier,
gave up politics, and devoted himself entirely to letters. In
the sixth year of his exile he had so severe an illness that his
daughter, herself in very delicate health, determined to run all
risks that she might see him once more. Having obtained a
licence from the English Government, she went by sea to Bordeaux,