FULHAM PALACE 
in 1688 Compton was instrumental in bringing over the Prince 
of Orange; and being “released from his suspension,” he, together 
with the Earl of Dorset, conveyed the Princess Anne safely from 
London to Nottingham. He was chosen by William of Orange 
to perform the ceremony of the coronation, and he also enjoyed 
the high esteem and intimacy of his former pupil, Queen Mary. 
Yet in spite of the favour shown to him, and notwithstanding 
that the see of Canterbury was twice vacant in the reign of William 
III., he was never nominated to fill it, but remained Bishop of 
London until he died at Fulham in 1713, at the age of eighty. 
From the stand he made in defence of the rights of the Church 
in the reign of James II., he was styled the ‘* Protestant Bishop.” 
Before the Restoration and before taking orders, Compton had 
served in the Horse Guards, and his spirited reply to King James II. 
on one occasion, when the King told him he “talked more like a 
colonel than a bishop,” was a reference to this time. “ His 
Majesty,” he said in polite retort, “‘ did him honour in taking 
notice of his having formerly drawn his sword in defence of the 
constitution, and that he would do so again if he lived to see 
it necessary.” 
Bishop Compton is supposed to have planted the famous avenue 
of elms—leading to the “ Bishop’s Park,” which a few years ago 
was opened as a public recreation ground. In this avenue are 
many lamentable gaps. Only last spring I watched the felling 
of. one of these patriarchal trees—which had to come down for 
the safety of the public—but if these really be the elms that Compton 
planted, the wonder is not that so few, but that so many, remain ! 
The fame of the Bishop of London’s grounds was at its height 
at the close of Compton’s long term of residence ; and it was well 
for the garden that it was so long. Thirty-seven years is a genera- 
tion and more, in the life of a man; but it is little in the life of a 
tree. In this period, however, during which the good bishop had 
dug and planted, and watered and pruned, many of the objects of 
his tender care had time to arrive at maturity, and others were 
well on the way to it. Evelyn mentions that ‘‘ he had a thousand 
species of exotic plants in his stores and gardens . . . there were 
few days in the year, till toward the latter end of his life, but he 
was actually in his garden, ordering and directing the removal 
and replacing of his plants.” But alas !—as Lysons tells us—in 
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