No More Learning

the necessity of frequent meetings together, for
which taverns were the most secure places, had
spread itself very far in that classis of men, as well
as upon other parts of the nation, in all counties;
and had exceedingly weakened the parts, and broken
the understandings of many, who had formerly com-
petent judgments, and had been in all respects fit for
any trust ; and had prevented the growth of parts
in many young men, who had good affections, but
had been from their entering into the world so cor-
rupted with that excess, and other license of the
time, that they only made much noise, and, by their
extravagant and scandalous debauches, brought
many calumnies and disestimation upon that cause
which they pretended to advance. They who had
suffered much in their fortunes, and by frequent im-
VOL. i. A a



354 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF -

1660. prisonments and sequestrations and compositions,
""expected large recompenses and reparations in ho-
nours which they could not support, or offices which
they could not discharge, or lands and money which
the king had not to give ; as all dispassioned men
knew the conditions which the king was obliged to
perform, and that the act of indemnity discharged
all those forfeitures which could have been applied
to their benefit : and therefore they who had been
without comparison the greatest sufferers in their
fortunes, and in all respects had merited most, never
made any inconvenient suits to the king, but mo-
destly left the memory and consideration of all they
had done or undergone, to his majesty's own gra-
Thosewho cious reflections. They were observed to be most
least the importunate, who had deserved least, and were least
portunat~e. capable to perform any notable service; and none
had more esteem of themselves, and believed prefer-
ment to be more due to them, than a sort of men,
who had most loudly began the king's health in ta-
verns, especially if for any disorders which had ac-
companied it they had suffered imprisonment, with-
out any other pretence of merit, or running any
other hazard.

Though it was very evident, humanly speaking,
that the late combination entered into, and the brave
attempt and engagement of sir George Booth, how
unsuccessful soever in the instant, had contributed
very much to the wonderful change that had since
ensued, by the discovery of the general affections
and disposition of the kingdom, and their aversion
from any kind of government that was not founded

knew] who knew



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 355

upon the old principles; and the public or private 1 660.
engagement of very many persons, who had never ~~
been before suspected, whereof, though many of
the most considerable persons had been, by the
treachery heretofore mentioned, committed to seve-
ral prisons, yet many others of equal interest re-
mained still in liberty, and had a great influence
upon the counsels both in the parliament and army:
yet, I say,' notwithstanding this was notorious, a
greater animosity had been kindled in the royal
party, and was still pursued and improved amongst
them from that combination and engagement, than
from all the other accidents and occasions, and gave
the king more trouble and perplexity. It had in-
troduced a great nuniber of persons, who had for-
merly no pretence of merit from the king, rather
might have been the objects of his justice, to a just
title to the greatest favours the king could confer ;
and which, from that time, they had continually
improved by repeated offices and services, which,
being of a later date, might be thought to cloud and
eclipse the lustre of those actions, which had before
been performed by the more ancient cavaliers, espe-
cially of those who had been observed to be remiss
in that occasion : and therefore they were the more
solicitous in undervaluing the undertaking, and the
persons of the undertakers, whom they mentioned
under such characters, and to whom they imputed
such weakness and levities as they had collected from
the several parts of their lives, as might render them
much disadvantage; and would by no means ad-
mit, " that any of the good that afterwards befell



the king, resulted in any degree from that rash more
enterprise; but that thereby the king's friends
A a 2



356 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

1660. " were so weakened, and more completely undone,

~~" that they were disabled to appear in that conjunc-

" ture when the army was divided, and in which

" they might otherwise have been considerable

" enough to have given the law to all parties. "

Mr. Mordaunt, whom the king had created a vis-
count before his return into England, and had P been
most eminent in the other contrivances, in a time
when a general consternation had seized upon the
spirits of those who wished best to his majesty ; for
when he resumed his former resolutions, so soon
after his head was raised from the block, and when
the blood of his confederates watered so many
streets in the city and the suburbs, the most trusted
by the king had totally withdrawn their correspond-
ence, and desired, that for some time no account or
information might be expected from them ; and
therefore it must not be denied, that his vivacity,
courage, and industry, revived the hearts which
were so near broken before Cromwell's death, and
afterwards prevailed with many to have more active
spirits than they had before appeared to have : this
gentleman, I say, most unjustly underwent the
heaviest weight of all their censures and reproaches.
Particularly He was the butt, at which all their arrows of envy,

of Mr. Mor- m i -i i i

daunt, who malice, and jealousy, were aimed and shot ; he was
signally" the object and subject of all their scurrilous jests,
served the an( j depraving discourses and relations; and they,
who agreed in nothing else, were at unity and of one
mind, in telling ridiculous stories to the king him-
self of his vanity and behaviour; and laying those
aspersions upon him, as were most like to lessen the

v and had] and who had



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 357

king's opinion of him; and to persuade him, that 1660.
the recompenses he had already received were""
abundantly more than the services he had per-
formed : which kind of insinuations from several
persons, who seemed not to do it by concert, toge-
ther with some prejudice the noble person did him-
self by some unseasonable importunities, as if he
thought he had deserved very much, did for some
time draw a more ungracious countenance from the
king towards him, than his own nature disposed him
to, or than the other's singular and useful activity,
though liable to some levity or vanity, did deserve ;
and which the same persons, who procured it, made
use of against those who were in most trust about
the king, as arguments of the little esteem they had
of those who had done the king most service, when
a man of so eminent merit as Mr. Mordaunt was so
totally neglected; and did all they could to infuse
the same apprehensions into him. When the truth
is, most men were affected, and more grieved and
discontented for any honour and preferment which
they saw conferred upon another man, than for be-
ing disappointed in their own particular expecta-
tions ; and looked upon every obligation bestowed
upon another man, how meritorious soever, as upon
a reproach to them, and an upbraiding of their want
of merit.

This unhappy temper and constitution of the This per-
royal party, with whom he had always intended to state erf the
have made a firm conjunction against all accidents fr \ends
and occurrences which might happen at home or" t c s h h *[~
from abroad, did wonderfully displease and trouble s P irit '
the king; and, with the other perplexities, which
are mentioned before, did so break his mind, and

A. a 3



358 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

1660. had that operation upon his spirits, that finding he
""could not propose any such method to himself, by
which he might extricate himself out of those many
difficulties and labyrinths in which he was involved,
nor expedite those important matters which de-
pended upon the good-will and despatch of the par-
liament, which would proceed by its own rules, and
He gives with its accustomed formalities, he grew more dis-
tdTb piea. posed to leave all things to their natural course, and
God's providence ; and by degrees unbent his mind
from the knotty and ungrateful part of his business,
grew more remiss in his application to it, and in-
dulged to his youth and appetite that license and
satisfaction that it desired, and for which he had
opportunity enough, and could not be without min-
isters abundant for any such negociations ; the time
itself, and the young people thereof of either sex
having been educated in all the liberty of vice,
wickedness without reprehension or restraint. All relations
introduced were confounded by the several sects in religion,
^ which discountenanced all forms of reverence and
respect, as relics and marks of superstition. Chil-
dren asked not blessing of their parents ; nor did
they concern themselves in the education of their
children; but were well content that they should
take any course to maintain themselves, that they
might be free from that expense. The young wo-
men conversed without any circumspection or mo-
desty, and frequently met at taverns and common
eatinghouses ; and they who were stricter and more
severe in their comportment, became the wives of
the seditious preachers, or of officers of the army.
The daughters of noble and "illustrious families be-
stowed themselves upon the divines of the time, 7>r



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 359

other low and unequal matches. Parents had no 1660.
manner of authority over their children, nor children
any obedience or submission to their parents; but
" every one did that which was good in his own
" eyes. " This unnatural antipathy had its first rise
from the beginning of the rebellion, when the fa-
thers and sons engaged themselves in the contrary
parties, the one choosing to serve the king, and the
other the parliament ; which division and contradic-
tion of affections was afterwards improved to mutual
animosities and direct malice, by the help of the
preachers and the several factions in religion, or by
the absence of all religion : so that there were never
such examples of impiety between such relations
in any age of the world, Christian or heathen, as
that wicked time, from the beginning of the rebel-
lion to the king's return ; of which the families of
Hotham and Vane are sufficient instances ; though
other more illustrious houses may be named, where
the same accursed fruit was too plentifully gathered,
and too notorious to the world. The relation be-
tween masters and servants had been long since dis-
solved by the parliament, that their army might be
increased by the prentices against their masters con-
sent, and that they might have intelligence of the
secret meetings and transactions in those houses and
families which were not devoted to them ; from
whence issued the foulest treacheries and perfidious-
ness that were ever practised : and the blood of the
master was frequently the price of the servant's
villany.

Cromwell had <i been most strict and severe in the

i had] who had

Aa 4



360 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

1660. forming the manners of his army, and in chastising
~~all irregularities; insomuch that sure there was
never any such body of men so without rapine,,
swearing, drinking, or any other debauchery, but
the wickedness of their hearts : and all persons
cherished by him, were of the same leaven, and to
common appearance without the practice of any of
those vices which were most infamous to the people,
and which drew the public hatred upon those who
were notoriously guilty of them. But then he was
well pleased with the most scandalous lives of those
who pretended to be for the king, and wished that
all his were such, and took all the pains he could
that they might be generally thought to be such ;
whereas in truth the greatest part of those who
were guilty of those disorders were young men, who
had never seen the king, and had been born and
bred in those corrupt times, " when there was no
" king in Israel. " He was equally delighted with
the luxury and voluptuousness of the presbyterians,
who, in contempt of the thrift, sordidness, and af-
fected ill-breeding of the independents, thought it
became them to live more generously, and were not
strict in restraining or mortifying the unruly and
inordinate appetite of flesh and blood, but indulged
it with too much and too open scandal, from which
he reaped no small advantage ; and wished all those,
who were not his friends, should not only be infected,
but given over to the practice of the most odious
vices and wickedness.

In a word, the nation was corrupted from that
integrity, good nature, and generosity, that had been
peculiar to it, and for which it had been signal and
celebrated throughout the world; in the room where-



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 361

of the vilest craft and dissembling had succeeded, j 660.
The tenderness of the bowels, which is the quintes-
sence of justice and compassion, the very mention of
good nature was laughed at and looked upon as the
mark and character of a fool ; and a roughness of
manners, or hardheartedness and cruelty was af-
fected. In the place of generosity, a vile and sordid
love of money was entertained as the truest wisdom,
and any thing lawful that would contribute towards
being rich. There was a total decay, or rather a
final expiration of all friendship ; and to dissuade a
man from any thing he affected, or to reprove him
for any thing he had done amiss, or to advise him
to do any thing he had no mind to do, was thought
an impertinence unworthy a wise man, and received
with reproach and contempt. These dilapidations
and ruins of the ancient candour and discipline were
not taken enough to heart, and repaired with that
early care and severity that they might have been ;
for they were not then incorrigible ; but by the re-
missness of applying remedies to some, and the un-
wariness in giving a kind of countenance to others,
too much of that poison insinuated itself into minds
not well fortified against such infection : so that
much of the malignity was transplanted, instead
of being extinguished, to the corruption of many
wholesome bodies, which, being corrupted, spread
the diseases more powerfully and more mischiev-
ously.

That the king might be the more vacant to those
thoughts and divertisements which pleased him best,
he appointed the chancellor and some others to
have frequent consultations with such members of
the parliament who were most able and willing to



362 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

J660. serve him; and to concert all the ways and means
~by which the transactions in the houses might be
carried with the more expedition, and attended with
the best success. These daily conferences proved
very beneficial to his majesty's service ; the mem-
bers of both houses being very willing to receive ad-
vice . and direction, and to pursue what they were
directed ; and all things were done there in good
The old order, and succeeded well. All the courts of justice
justice re- * n Westminster hall were presently filled with grave
and learned judges, who had either deserted their
practice and profession during all the rebellious
times, or had given full evidence of their affection
to the king and the established laws, in many
weighty instances : and they were then quickly sent
in their several circuits, to administer justice to the
people according to the old forms of law, which was
universally received and submitted to with all pos-
sible joy and satisfaction. All commissions of the
peace were renewed, and the names of those per-
sons inserted therein, who had been most eminent
sufferers for the king, and were known to have en-
tire affections for his majesty and the laws ; though
it was not possible, but some would get and con-
tinue in, who were of more doubtful inclinations, by
their not being known to him, whose province it was
to depute them. Denied it cannot be, that there
appeared, sooner than was thought possible, a gene-
ral settlement in the civil justice of the kingdom ;
that no man complained without remedy, and
" every man dwelt again under the shadow of his
" own vine," without any complaint of injustice and
oppression.

The king exposed himself with more condescen-



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 363

sion than was necessary to persons of all conditions, 1660.
heard all that they had a mind to say to him, and~
gave them such answers as for the present seemed
full of grace. He was too well pleased to hear both
the men and the women of all factions and fancies
in religion discourse in their own method, and en-
larged himself in debate with them ; which made
every one believe that they were more favoured by
him than they had cause : which kind of liberty,
though at first it was accompanied with acclama-
tions, and acknowledgment of his being a prince of
rare parts and affability, yet it was attended after-
wards with ill consequences, and gave many men
opportunity to declare and publish, that the king
had said many things to them which he had never
said ; and made many concessions and promises to
them which he had never uttered or thought upon.

The chancellor was generally thought to have
most credit with his master, and most power in the
counsels, because the king referred all matters of
what kind soever to him. And whosoever repaired The chan -

cellor prin-
tO him for his direction in any business was sent tocipaiiy en-

the chancellor, not only because he had a great con-u,," 6
fidence in his integrity, having been with him so*"
many years, and of whose indefatigable industry he
and all men had great experience ; but because he
saw those men, whom he was as willing to trust,
and who had at least an equal share in his affections,
more inclined to ease and pleasure, and willing that
the weight of the work should lie on the chancellor's
shoulders, with whom they had an entire friendship,
and knew well that they should with more ease be
consulted by him in all matters of importance. Nor
was it possible for him, at the first coining, to avoid



trans-

tlODS.



364 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

1660. the being engaged in all the counsels, of how dis-
tinct a nature soever, because he had been best ac-
quainted with all transactions whilst the king was
abroad; and therefore communication with him in
all things was thought necessary by those, who were
to have any part in them. Besides that, he conti-
nued still chancellor of the exchequer, by virtue of
the grant formerly made to him by the last king,
during whose time he executed that office, but re-
solved to surrender it into the king's hand as soon
as his majesty should resolve on whom to confer it ;
he proposing nothing to himself, but to be left at
liberty to intend only the discharge of his own office,
which he thought himself unequalto, and hoped
only to improve his talent that way by a most dili-
gent application, well knowing the great abilities of
those, who had formerly sat in that office, and that
they found it required their full time and all their
faculties. And therefore he did most heartily desire
to meddle with nothing but that province, which
though in itself and the constant perquisites of it is
not sufficient to support the dignity of it, yet was
then, upon the king's return ; and, after it had been
so many years without a lawful officer, would un-
questionably bring in money enough to be a foun-
dation to a future fortune, competent to his ambi-
tion, and enough to provoke the envy of many, who
believed they deserved better than he. And that
this was the temper and resolution he brought with
him into England, and how unwillingly he departed
from it, will evidently appear by two or three in-
stances, which shall be given in their proper place.
However, he could not expect that freedom till the
council should be settled, (into which the king ad-



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 365

mitted all who had been counsellors to his father, 1660.
and had not eminently forfeited that promotion by -
their revolt, and many of those who had been and
still were recommended by the general, amongst
whom there were some who would not have been
received upon any other title,) and until those officers
could be settled, who might take particular care of
their several provinces.

The king had upon great deliberation whilst he
was beyond the seas, after his return appeared in
view, firmly resolved to reform those excesses which
were known to be in great offices, especially in
those of his household, whilst the places were va-
cant, and to reform all extravagant expenses there ;
and first himself to gratify those, who had followed
and served him, in settling them in such inferior
offices and places, as custom had put in the disposal
of the great officers, when they should become va-
cant after their admission. And of this kind he had
made many promises, and given many warrants
under his sign manual to persons, who to his own
knowledge had merited those obligations. But most
of those predeterminations, and many other resolu-
tions of that kind, vanished and expired in the jol-
lity of the return, and new inch* nations and affections
seemed to be more seasonable. The general, who The general
was the sole pillar of the king's confidence, had by ' '



the parliament been invested (before the king's re- ^ g j]y d tlie
turn) in all the offices and commands which Crom- P arliament -
well had enjoyed. He was lieutenant of Ireland,
and general of all the armies and forces raised, or to
be raised, in the three kingdoms; and it was not fit
that he should be degraded from either upon his
majesty's arrival : therefore all diligence was used



366 * CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

1 660. in despatching grants of all those commands to him
Also sworn under the great seal of England. And that he might
ofthe'bed ^ e bh"ged to be always near his majesty's person, he
chamber, was presently sworn gentleman of the bedchamber ;

and master

of the horse, and might choose what office he liked best in the
court, whilst titles of honour were preparing by the
attorney, and particulars of lands inquired after by
the auditors and receivers, which in all respects
might raise him to that height which would most
please him. He made choice to be master of the
horse, and was immediately gratified with it ; and
thereby all those poor gentlemen, who had promises
and warrants for several places, depending upon that
great officer, were disappointed, and offered the
king's sign manual to no purpose for their admission.
The general in his own nature was an immoderate
lover of money, and yet would have gratified some
of the pretenders upon his majesty's recommenda-
tion, if the vile good housewifery of his wife had
not engrossed that province, and preferred him, who
offered most money, before all other considerations
or motives. And hereby, not only many honest
men, who had several ways served the king, and
spent the fortunes they had been masters of, were
denied the recompenses the king had designed to
them ; but such men, who had been most notorious
in the malice against the crown from the beginning
of the rebellion, or had been employed in all the
active offices to affront and oppress his party, were
for money preferred and admitted into those offices,
and became the king's servants very much against
his will, and with his manifest regret on the behalf
of the honest men, who had been so unworthily re-
jected. And this occasioned the first murmur and



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 367

discontent, which appeared after the king's return, i860,
amongst those who were not inclined to it, yet~
found every day fresh occasions to nourish and im-
prove it.

The settling this great officer in the stables made
it necessary to appoint a lord steward of the house-
hold, who was a necessary officer for the parliament,
being by the statute appointed to swear all the
members of the house of commons; and to this Themar -

t quis of Or-

charge the marquis of Ormond had been long de- mond made
signed, and was then sworn. And they had b0tfcofth
their tables erected according to the old models, and household
all those excesses, which the irregular precedents of
former times had introduced, and which the king
had so solemnly resolved to reform, before it could
be said to trench upon the rights of particular per-
sons. But the good humour the king was in, and
the plenty which generally appeared, how much
soever without a fund to support it, and especially
the natural desire his majesty had to see every body
pleased, banished all thoughts of such providence ;
instead whereof, he resolved forthwith to settle his
house according to former rules, or rather without
any rule, and to appoint the officers, who impatiently
expected their promotion. He directed his own
table to be more magnificently furnished than it had
ever been in any time of his predecessors ; which
example was easily followed in all offices.

That he might give a lively instance of his grace
to those who had been of the party which had been,
faulty, according to his declaration from Breda, he
made of his own free inclination and choice the earl'rheeariof

-_,. _ Manchester

ot Manchester (who was looked upon as one or the lord cham-
principal heads of the presbyterian party) lord cham-



368 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

1C60. berlain of his house; who, continuing still to per-
""form all good offices to his old friends, complied
very punctually with all the obligations and duties
which his place required, never failed being at
chapel, and at all the king's devotions with all ima-
ginable decency ; and, by his extraordinary civilities
and behaviour towards all men, did not only appear
the fittest person the king could have chosen for
that office in that time, but rendered himself so ac-
ceptable to all degrees of men, that none, but such
who were implacable towards all who had ever dis-
served the king, were sorry to see him so promoted.
And it must be confessed, that as he had expressed
much penitence for what he had done amiss, and
was mortally hated and persecuted by Cromwell,
even for his life, and had done many acts of merit
towards the king ; so he was of all men, who had
ever borne arms against the king, both in the gen-
tleness and justice of his nature, in the sweetness
and evenness of his conversation, and in his real
principles for monarchy, the most worthy to be re-
ceived into the trust and confidence in which he was
placed. With his, the two other white staves were
disposed of to those, to whom they were designed,
when the king was prince of Wales, by his father :
and all other inferior officers were made, who were
to take care of the expenses of the house, and were
a great part of it.

And thus the king's house quickly appeared in
its full lustre, the eating and drinking very grateful
to all men, and the charge and expense of it much
exceeding the precedents of the most luxurious
times ; and all this before there was any provision
of ready money, or any assignation of a future fund



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 369

to discharge or support it. All men were ready to 1660.
deliver their goods upon trust, the officers too remiss
in computing the disbursements; insomuch as the
debts contracted by those excesses in less than the
first year broke all the measures in that degree, that
they could not suddenly be retrenched for the fu-
ture; and the debt itself was not discharged in
many years.

The king had in his purpose, long before his re-
turn, to make the earl of Southampton (who was the
most valued and esteemed of all the nobility, and
generally thought worthy of any honour or office)
lord high treasurer of England ; but he desired first
to see some revenue settled by the parliament, and
that part of the old, which had been sold and dis-
persed by extravagant grants and sales, reduced into
the old channel, and regularly to be received and
paid, and the customs to be put in such order, (which
were not yet granted, and only continued by orders
as illegal as the late times had been accustomed to,
and to the authority whereof he had no mind to ad-
minister,) before he was willing to receive the staflf.
And so the office of the treasury . was by commission
executed by several lords of the council, whereof
the chancellor, as well by the dignity of his place,
as by his still being chancellor of the exchequer,
was one ; and so engaged in the putting the cus-
toms likewise into commissioners' hands, and settling
all the other branches of the revenue in such man-
ner as was thought most reasonable ; in all debates
whereof his majesty himself was still present, and
approved the conclusion. But after a month or two
spent in this method, in the crowd of so much bu-
siness of several natures, the king found so little

VOL. I. B b



370 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

1660. expedition, that he thought it best to determine
The eari of that commission, and so gave the staff to the earl of
Southamp- Southampton, and made him treasurer. And the

ton lord

high trea- chancellor at the same time surrendering his office

of chancellor of the exchequer into the king's hands,

his majesty, upon the humble desire of the earl, con-

And sir feiTed that office upon sir Anthony Ashley Cooper,who

Ashiey Dy had married his niece, and whose parts well enough

Sanceiior qualified him for the discharge thereof; though

of the ex- some other qualities of his, as well known, brought

chequer. . . . .

no advantage to Ins majesty by that promotion.
And from this time the chancellor would never in-
termeddle in the business of the exchequer, nor ad-
mit any applications to him in it: however, the
friendship was so great between the treasurer and
him, and so notorious from an ancient date, and
from a joint confidence in each other in the service
of the last king, that neither of them concluded any
matter of importance without consulting with the
other. And so the treasurer, marquis of Ormond,
the general, with the two secretaries of state, were
of that secret committee with the chancellor ; which,
under the notion of foreign affairs, were appointed
by the king to consult all his affairs before they
came to a public debate ; and in which there could
not be a more united concurrence of judgments and
affections.

Yet it was the chancellor's misfortune to be
thought to have the greatest credit with the king,
for the reasons mentioned before, and which for
some time seemed to be without envy, by reason of
his many years service of the crown, and constant
fidelity to the same, and his long attendance upon
the person of his majesty, and the friendship he had



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 371

with the most eminent persons who had adhered to
that interest. Yet he foresaw, and told many of his
friends, " that the credit he was thought to have
" with the king, and which he knew was much less
" than it was thought to be, and his being obliged
" by the king to conduct many affairs, which were
" foreign to those which principally concerned and
" related to his office, would in a short time raise
" such a storm of envy and malice against him, that Thechan -
" he should not be able to stand the shock. " All sees a storm
men's impatience to get, and immodesty in asking, h,g against"
when the king had nothing to give, with his ma- him<
jesty's easiness of access, and that " imbecillitas fron- .
" tis" which kept him from denying, together with
rescuing himself from the most troublesome impor-
tunities by sending men to the chancellor, could not
but in a short time make him be looked upon as the
man that obstructed all their pretences ; in which
they were confirmed by his own carriage towards
them, which, though they could not deny to be full
of civility, yet he always dissuaded them from pur-
suing the suits they had made to the king, as unfit
or unjust for his majesty to grant, how inclinable
soever he had seemed to them. And so, instead of
promising to assist them, he positively denied so
much as to endeavour it, when the matter would
not bear it ; but where he could do courtesies, no
man proceeded more cheerfully and more unasked,
which very many of all conditions knew to be true"';
nor did he ever receive recompense or reward for
any such offices. Of which temper of his there will
be occasion to say more hereafter.

The first matter of general and public importance, A discovery

f . of the duke

and which resulted not from any debate in parlia-ofYork's

B b 2



372 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

1 660. ment, was the discovery of a great affection that the
marr iage duke had for the chancellor's daughter, who was a
chancellor's m ^ ^ honour to the king's sister, the princess
daughter, royal of Orange, and of a contract of marriage be-
tween them : with which nobody was so surprised
and confounded as the chancellor himself, who being
of a nature free from any jealousy, and very confi-
dent of an. entire affection and obedience from all
his children, and particularly from that daughter,
whom he had always loved dearly, never had in the
least degree suspected any such thing; though he
knew afterwards, that the duke's affection and kind-
ness had been much spoken of beyond the seas, but
without the least suspicion in any body that it could
ever tend to marriage. And therefore it was che-
rished and promoted in the duke by those, and only
by those, who were declared enemies to the chan-
cellor, and who hoped from thence, that some signal
disgrace and dishonour would befall the chancellor
and his family ; in which they were the more rea-
sonably confirmed by the manner of the duke's living
towards him, which had never any thing of grace
in it, but very much of disfavour, to which the lord
Berkley, and most of his other servants to please
the lord Berkley, had contributed all they could ;
and the queen's notorious prejudice to him had
made it part of his duty to her majesty, which had
been a very great discomfort to the chancellor, in
his whole administration beyond the seas. But now,
upon this discovery and the consequence thereof, he
looked upon himself as a ruined person, and that
the king's indignation ought to fall upon him as the
contriver of that indignity to the crown, which as
himself from his soul abhorred, and would have had



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 373

the presumption of his daughter to be punished 166 -
with the utmost severity, so he believed the whole
kingdom would be inflamed to the punishment of it,
and to prevent the dishonour which might result
from it. And the least calamity that he expected
upon himself and family, how innocent soever, was
an everlasting banishment out of the kingdom, and
to end his days in foreign parts in poverty and mi-
sery. All which undoubtedly must have come to
pass upon that occasion, if the king had either had
that indignation which had been just in him ; or if
he had withdrawn his grace and favour from him,
and left him to be sacrificed by the envy and rage
of others ; though at this time he was not thought
to have many enemies, nor indeed any who were
friends to any other honest men. But the king's
own knowledge of his innocence, and thereupon his
gracious condescension and interposition diverting
any rough proceeding, and so a contrary effect to
what hath been mentioned having been produced
from thence; the chancellor's greatness seemed to
be thereby confirmed, his family established above
the reach of common envy, and his fortune to be in
a growing and prosperous' condition not like to be
shaken. Yeti after many years possession of this
prosperity, an unexpected gust of displeasure took
again its rise from this original, and overwhelmed
him with variety and succession of misfortunes/

q Yet] And since but as some portion is omitted,
r misfortunes. ] An account the following relation, as it is
of the entrance of the chancel- given in this part of the latter
lor's daughter into the family of manuscript, is here inserted,
the princess royal, compiled part- it is very reasonable to relate
lyfrom the MS. of the Life, and from before this time all the pas-
par tlyfrom that of the Continu- sages and circumstances, which
ation, will be found at page '300; accompanied or attended that

Bb3



374 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF



1660. The chancellor, as soon as the king was at White-
~ hall, had sent for his daughter, having a design pre-



lady's first promotion in the ser-
vice of the princess royal, in
which the extreme averseness
in her father and mother from
embracing that opportunity, and
the unusual grace and impor-
tunity from them who conferred
the honour, being considered,
there may appear to many an
extraordinary operation of Pro-
vidence, ii> giving the first rise
to what afterwards succeeded,
though of a nature so trans-
cendent as cannot be thought to
have any relation to it.

When the king resolved [as
in page 300, line 5. to page 302,
line 14. ] Mrs. Killigrew was
dead of the smallpox.

O'Neile came in the instant
to the chancellor with very much
kindness, and told him, that if
he desired the king to speak to
his sister to receive his daughter
into the place of Mrs. Killigrew,
he was most confident she would
do it very willingly, but that she
expected the king should speak
to her, because the queen had
writ to bestow the place that
should first fall vacant to an-
other ; and when he found him
not inclined to move the king in
it, saying, he would not be any
occasion to increase the jea-
lousies which were already be-
tween their majesties, nor to dis-
pose the princess to displease
her mother, he frankly offered
to move the king without the
other's appearing in it. Where-
upon the chancellor thought it
necessary to deal freely with him,
and told him, that his daughter
was the only company and com-



fort that her mother had, and
who he knew could not part
with her; and that for him-
self he was resolved, whilst the
king's condition continued so
low, he would not have his
daughter in that gayety, which
was necessary for the court of
so young a princess; and there-
fore he conjured him by all the
friendship he had for him, since
he saw to what resolution he
was fixed, to use all his dexterity
and address to divert the princess
from the thought of a bounty
that would prove so inconveni-
ent to her, and to engage the
lady Stanhope in the same office.
O'Neile on the contrary used
many arguments to him for his
compliance with an opportunity
that offered itself so much for
[his] daughter's advantage, and
which would probably, by the
generosity of such a mistress,
be attended with benefits and
advantages which might absolve
him from any further charges
for her preferment. He remain-
ed not to be shaken, and the
other desisted from his impor-
tunity. Shortly after, the king
took notice of the vacant place
in his sister's family, which he
said he thought might in many
respects be convenient for his
daughter, and therefore offered
to move his sister in it on her
behalf. The chancellor, after
he had acknowledged his ma-
jesty's goodness, with all humi-
lity besought him not to inter-
pose his authority with his royal
sister ; made him a full relation
of all that had passed between



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 375



sently to marry her ; to which purpose he had an i '60.
overture from a noble family, on the behalf of a well- "~



O'Neile and him, and of his
resolution not to separate his
daughter from his wife, and that
one should not live in lustre,
whilst the other must be neces-
sitated to continue in so much
security; and thereupon humbly
entreated the king to refuse to
interpose in that affair. The
king told him with a very gra-
cious freedom, that his 'sister
had directly spoken to him to
move in it, because of the letter
she had received from the queen ;
that she herself had seen his
daughter, and was so well pleas-
ed with her nature and her hu-
mour, which she had oppor-
tunity to observe a week toge-
ther, that she had taken a re-
solution within herself, and
communicated it to the lady
Stanhope, that she would take
her into her service when there
should be opportunity; and
therefore his majesty wished
him to consider, whether he
would not accept a benefit with
all these circumstances ; how-
ever advised him to wait upon
his sister, and acknowledge so
much grace, if he did not in-
tend to make use of it. Though
the chancellor was exceedingly
perplexed with the knowledge
of all these particulars, and un-
derstood to what misinterpre-
tation and disadvantages this
obstinacy might make him lia-
ble, yet he changed nothing of
his resolution, and waited upon
the princess with hope that he
might convert her purely upon
the inconvenience that might
follow upon the conferring a



grace, in that conjuncture, upon
a family so inconsiderable to
her service.

After he had attended the
princess, and with all the expres-
sions which his gratitude could
suggest to him magnified the
many favours he had received
from her, and the gracious in-
clination he was informed shehad
now for his daughter; and he
knew no better way (he told her)
to return his most dutiful ac-
. knowledgments, than by taking
care that she should undergo the
least prejudice by her bounty to
him, and therefore that he was re-
solved not to receive the honour
she was inclined to bestow upon
his daughter: that he had the
misfortune to be ill understood
by the queen her mother, who
would be the more incensed
against him, and offended with
her highness, if the recom-
mendation she had given on the
behalf of another lady should be
rejected on his behalf, and that
in truth he was not able to
maintain his daughter in such a
condition as that relation did
require ; and concluded how in-
convenient it would be to sepa-
rate her from her mother, who
would be desolate without her.
Her royal highness, who heard
him with great patience till he
had alleged all the arguments
why she should not persist in
her gracious disposition, and
why he could not receive the
obligations, answered, " that
" she knew well the long and
" faithful service he had per-
" formed towards the king her

B b 4



376 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

1660. bred hopeful young gentleman, who was the heir of

~~it. His daughter quickly arrived at her father's

house, to his great joy, having always had a great



" father, and the confidence his
" majesty had in him at his
" death; that he had continued
" the same fidelity to the king
" her brother, who was very.
" sensible of it, and that she was
" the more troubled, that her
" mother had entertained any
" prejudice towards him, which
" she was assured proceeded
" from some false information,
" which would shortly appear
" to be so; that for her own
" part, she had always paid all
" duty to her, and would be
" ready to gratify any worthy
" person who came recom-
" mended by her majesty, but
" that she would not exclude
" her own judgment, and be
" bound to have no servants
" about her person but such
te who should be recommended
" by her mother, who she could
" not believe could ever be of-
" fended with her for taking
" the daughter of a person who
" had been of so eminent fide-
" lity to the crown : that for the
" maintenance of his daughter
" he should take no further
" care; she well enough knew
" his condition, and how it
" came to be such, and that
" she took the care of that upon
" herself: for what related to
" his wife's unwillingness to
" part with her daughter, her
" highness said, she was con-
" tented to refer it entirely to
" her ; as soon as she came
" home she would send for her
" to Breda, and if her mother



" would not permit her to come
" to her, she had done her part,
" and would acquiesce. " There
remained nothing for the chan-
cellor to reply, and he remained
still confident that his wife (to
whom he had written to confirm
her in her former resolution of
having her daughter still with
her) would continue of the mind
she had been of; but when she
was informed of all that had
passed, she concluded that all
those unusual circumstances in
an affair of that nature were not
without some instinct of Provi-
dence ; and so when the princess
royal sent for her daughter, she
went herself likewise, and pre-
sented her to her highness ; to
which possibly it was some mo-
tive, that there would then re-
main no objection against her
own residence with her hiis-
band ; and so she presently re-
moved to him to Cologne, where
the king then was, and remained
for some years. Having now set
down (not improperly I think)
the true rise and story of his
daughter's going into that court,
with all the particulars which
preceded it, I shall now return
to that place from whence this
digression led us, of the public
discovery of the duke's affection,
and shall continue the relation
till an end was put to that great
affair, by the consent and ap-
probation of the royal family,
and, for ought appeared to the
contrary, to the general satis-
faction of the kingdom.



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 377

affection for her ; and she being his eldest child, he j 660.
had more acquaintance with her, than with any of
his children ; and being now of an age fit for mar-
riage, he was well pleased that he had an opportu-
nity to place her in such a condition, as with God's
blessing was like to yield her much content. She The duke's
had not been long in England, when the duke fo-ofHtotb*
formed the king " of the affection and engagement kl " 8 '
" that had been long between them ; that they had
" been long contracted, and that she was with
" child :" and therefore with all imaginable impor-
tunity he begged his majesty's leave and permission
upon his knees, " that he might publicly marry her,
" . in such a manner as his majesty thought necessary
" for the consequence thereof. " The king was much
troubled with it, and more with his brother's pas-
sion, which was expressed in a very wonderful man-
ner and with many tears, protesting, " that if his
"majesty should not give his consent, he would
" immediately leave the kingdom, and must spend his
" life in foreign parts. " His majesty was very much
perplexed to resolve what to do : he knew the chan-
cellor so well, that he concluded that he was not
privy to it, nor would ever approve it ; and yet that
it might draw much prejudice upon him, by the jea-
lousy of those who were not well acquainted with
his nature. He presently sent for the marquis ofrhe king
Ormond and the earl of Southampton, who he well oflhe cban-
knew were his bosom friends, and informed them at^j^V^
large, and of all particulars which had passed from to P eD the

matter to

the duke to him, and commanded them presently toim-
see for the chancellor to come to his own chamber
at Whitehall, where they would meet him upon a
business of great importance, which the king had



378 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

1660. commended to them for their joint advice. They
no sooner met, than the marquis of Ormond told the
chancellor, " that he had a matter to inform him of,
" that he doubted would give him much trouble ;"
and therefore advised him to compose himself to
hear it : and then told him, " that the duke of York
" had owned a great affection for his daughter to
" the king, and that he much doubted that she was
" with child by the duke, and that the king re-
" quired the advice of them ancj of him what he was
" to do. "

The chan- The manner of the chancellor's receiving this ad-
wittTittr vertisement made it evident enough that he was
the heart : struc k w j t j, j t to tne heart, and had never had the

least jealousy or apprehension of it. He broke out
into a very immoderate passion against the wicked-
ness of his daughter, and said with all imaginable
earnestness, " that as soon as he came home he
" would turn her out of his house, as a strumpet, to
" shift for herself, and would never see her again. "
They told him, " that his passion was too violent to
" administer good counsel to him, that they thought
" that the duke was married to his daughter, and
" that there were other measures to be taken than
" those which the disorder he was in had suggested
" to him. " Whereupon he fell into new commo-
tions, and said, " if that were true, he was well pre-
And breaks pared to advise what was to be done : that he had

out into a

very immo- " much rather his daughter should be the duke's
ion. " whore than his wife : in the former case nobody
" could blame him for the resolution he had taken,
" for he was not obliged to keep a whore for the
" greatest prince alive ; and the indignity to him-
" self he would submit to the good pleasure of God.



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 379

" But if there were any reason to suspect the other, 1660.
" he was ready to give a positive judgment, in which
" he hoped their lordships would concur with him ;
" that the king should immediately cause the wo-
'* man to be sent to the Tower, and to be cast into
" a dungeon, under so strict a guard, that no per-
" son living should be admitted to come to her ;
" and then that an act of parliament should be im-
" mediately passed for the cutting off her head, to
" which he would not only give his consent, but
" would very willingly be the first man that should
" propose it :" and whoever knew the man, will be-
lieve that he said all this very heartily.

In this point of time the king entered the room,
and sat down at the table ; and perceiving by his
countenance the agony the chancellor was in, and
his swollen eyes from whence a flood of tears were
fallen, he asked the other lords, " what they had done,
" and whether they had resolved on any thing. "
The earl of Southampton said, " his majesty must
" consult with soberer men ; that he" (pointing to
the chancellor) " was mad, and had proposed such
" extravagant things, that he was no more to be
" consulted with. " Whereupon his majesty, look-
ing upon him with a wonderful benignity, said,
" Chancellor, I knew this business would trouble
" you, and therefore I appointed your two friends
" to confer first with you upon it, before I would
" speak with you myself: but you must now lay
" aside all passion that disturbs you, and consider
" that this business will not do itself; that it will
" quickly take air ; and therefore it is fit that I first
" resolve what to do, before other men uncalled pre-
" sume to give their counsel : tell me therefore



380 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

1660. " what you would have me do, and I will follow
~~" your advice. " Then his majesty enlarged upon
the passion of his brother, and the expressions he
had often used, " that he was not capable of having
" any other wife, and the like. " Upon which the
chancellor arose, and with a little composedness
said, " Sir, I hope I need make no apology to you
" for myself, and of my own in this matter, upon
" which I look with so much detestation, that
" though I could have wished that your brother
" had not thought it fit to have put this disgrace
"upon me, I had much rather submit and bear it
" with all humility, than that it should be repaired
" by making her his wife ; the thought whereof I
" do so much abominate, that I had much rather
" see her dead, with all the infamy that is due to
" her presumption. " And then he repeated all that
he had before said to the lords, of sending her pre-
sently to the Tower, and the rest ; and concluded,
" Sir, I do upon all my oaths which I have taken to
" you Jto give you faithful counsels, and from all the
" sincere gratitude I stand obliged to you for so
" many obligations, renew this counsel to you ; and
" do beseech you to pursue it, as the only expedient
" that can free you from the evils that this business
" will otherwise bring upon you. " And observing
by the king's countenance, that he was not pleased
with his advice, he continued and said, " I am the
" dullest creature alive, if, having been with your
" majesty so many years, I do not know yoiir infirm-
" ities better than other men. You are of too
" easy and gentle a nature to contend with those
" rough affronts, which the iniquity and license of
" the late times is like to put upon you, before it



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 381

" be subdued and reformed. The presumption all 1660.
" kind of men have upon your temper is too noto-~~
" rious to all men, and lamented by all who wish
" you well : and, trust me, an example of the
" highest severity in a case that so nearly concerns
" you, and that relates to the person who is nearest
" to you, will be so seasonable, that your reign, dur-
" ing the remaining part of your life, will be the
" easier to you, and all men will take heed how
" they impudently offend you. "

He had scarce done speaking, when the duke of
York came in ; whereupon the king spake of some
other business, and shortly after went out of the
roOm with his brother, whom (as was shortly known)
he informed of all that the chancellor had said, who,
as soon as he came to his house, sent his wife to
command his daughter to keep her chamber, and
not to admit any visits ; whereas before she had al-
ways been at dinner and supper, and had much
company resorting to her : which was all that he
thought fit to do upon the first assault, and till he
had slept upon it, (which he did very unquietly,) and
reflected upon what was like to be the effect of so
extravagant a cause. And this was quickly known
to the duke, who was exceedingly offended at it,
and complained to the king, " as of an indignity of-
" fered to him. " And the next morning the king
chid the chancellor for proceeding with so much
precipitation, and required him " to take off that re-
" straint, and to leave her to the liberty she had
" been accustomed to. " To which he replied, " that
" her having not discharged the duty of a daughter
" ought not to deprive him of the authority of a
" father ; and therefore he must humbly beg his ma-



1660. "jesty not to interpose his commands against his
~" " doing any thing that his own dignity required :
" that he only expected what his majesty would do
" upon the advice he had humbly offered to him,
" and when he saw that, he would himself proceed
" as he was sure would become him :" nor did he
take off any of the restraint he had imposed. Yet
he discovered after, that even in that time the duke
had found ways to come to her, and to stay whole
nights with her, by the administration of those
who were not suspected by him, and who had
the excuse, " that they knew that they were mar-
" ried. "

This affair This subject was quickly the matter of all men's
not those discourse, and did not produce those murmurs and
murmurs discontented reflections which were expected. The

and discon-
tents the parliament was sitting, and took not the least no-

chancellor

expected, tice of it ; nor could it be discerned that many were
scandalized, at it. The chancellor received the same
respects from all men which he had been accus-
tomed to : and the duke himself, in the house of
peers, frequently sat by him upon the woolsack,
that he might the more easily confer with him upon
the matters which were debated, and receive his ad-
vice how to behave himself; which made all men
believe that there had been a good understanding
between them. And yet it is very true, that, in all
that time, the duke never spake one word to him
of that affair. The king spake every day about it^
and told the chancellor, " that he must behave him-
" self wisely, for that the thing was remediless ; and
" that his majesty knew that they were married,
" which would quickly appear to all men, who
" knew that nothing could be done upon it. " In



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON 383

this time the chancellor had conferred with his 1660.
daughter, without any thing of indulgence, and not"
only discovered that they were unquestionably mar-
ried, but by whom, and who were present at it,
who would be ready to avow it ; which pleased him
not, though it diverted him from using some of
that rigour which he intended. And he saw no
other remedy could be applied, but that which he
had proposed to the king, who thought of nothing
like it.

At this time there was news of the princess
royal's embarkation in Holland, which obliged the
king and the duke of York to make a journey to
Dover to receive her, who came for no other reason,
but to congratulate with the king her brother, and
to have her share in the public joy. The morning
that they began their journey, the king and the
duke came to the chancellor's house ; and the king,
after he had spoken to him of some business that
was to be done in his absence, going out of the
room, the duke stayed behind, and whispered the
chancellor in the ear, because there were others at a
little distance, "that he knew that he had heard of
" the business between him and his daughter, and
" of which he confessed he ought to have spoken
" with him before ; but that when he returned
" from Dover, he would give him full satisfaction :
" in the mean time," he desired him, " not to be of-
" fended with his daughter. " To which the chan-
cellor made no other answer, than " that it was a
" matter too great for him to speak of. "

When the princess royal came to the town, there
grew to be a great silence in that affair. The duke
said nothing to the chancellor, nor came nor sent to



384 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF
1 660. his daughter, as he had constantly used to do : and



it was industriously published about the town, that
that business was broken off, and that the duke was
resolved never to think more of it. The queen had
before written a very sharp letter to the duke, full
of indignation, that he should have so low thoughts
as to marry such a woman ; to whom he shewed
The quen the letter, as not moved by it.
And now she sent
in- the king word, " that she was on the way to Eng-



censed at f( \ an ^ t o prevent, with her authority, so great a
" stain and dishonour to the crown ;" and used
many threats and passionate expressions upon the
subject. The chancellor sat unconcerned in all the
rumours which were spread, " that the queen was
" coming with a purpose to complain to the parlia-
" ment against the chancellor, and to apply the
" highest remedies to prevent so great a mischief. "

In the mean time it was reported abroad, that
the duke had discovered some disloyalty in the lady,
which he had never suspected, but had now so full
evidence of it, that he was resolved never more to
see her ; and that he was not married. And all his
family, whereof the lord Berkley and his nephew
were the chief, who had long hated the chancellor,
The king spake very loudly and scandalously of it. The king
sei7with im carried himself with extraordinary grace towards
the chancellor, and was with him more, and spake



towards the U p 0n all occasions and before all persons more gra-

chancellor. r

ciously of him, than ever. He told him with much
trouble, " that his brother was abused ; and that
" there was a wicked conspiracy set on foot by vil-
" lains, which, in the end, must prove of more dis-
" honour to the duke than to any body else. "

The queen was now ready to embark, inflamed



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 385

and hastened by this occasion ; and it was fit for 1 G60.
the king and the duke to wait on her at the shore. ~"
But before his majesty's going, he resolved of him-
self to do a grace to the chancellor, that should
publish how far he was from being shaken in his fa-
vour towards him, and to do it with such circum-
stances as gave it great lustre. From the time of
his coming into England, he had often offered the
chancellor to make him a baron, and told him, " that
" he was assured by many of the lords, that it was
" most necessary for his service in the parliament. "
But he had still refused it, and besought his ma-
jesty " not to think of it ; that it would increase
" the envy against him if he should confer that ho-
" nour upon him so soon ; but that hereafter, when
** his majesty's affairs should be settled, and he, out
" of the extraordinary perquisites of his office, should
** be able to make some addition to his small for-
" tune, he would, with that humility that became
" him, receive that honour from him. " The king,
in few days after, coming to him, and being alone
with him in his cabinet, at going away gave him a Makes inm
little billet into his hand, that contained a warrant twenty"
of his own handwriting to sir Stephen Fox, to pay to J^,;? " d
the chancellor the sum of twenty thousand pounds ;
which was part of the money which the parliament
had presented to the king at the Hague, and for
which he had been compelled to take bills of ex-
change again from Amsterdam upon London ; which
was only known to the king, the chancellor, and sir
Stephen Fox, who was intrusted to receive it, as he
had done all the king's monies for many years be-
yond the seas. This bounty flowing immediately
from the king at such a melancholic conjuncture,
VOL. I. c c



386 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

1660. and of which nobody could have notice, could not
~~ but much raise the spirits of the chancellor. Nor
did the king's goodness rest here; but the night
before he began his journey towards the queen, he
sent for the attorney general, whom he knew to be
most devoted to the chancellor, and told him, " that
" he must intrust him in an affair that he must
" not impart to the chancellor :" and then gave him
a warrant signed for the creation of him a baron,
which he commanded " to be ready to pass the seal
" against the hour of his majesty's return, and he
" would then see it sealed himself; but if the chan-
" cellor came first to know it, he would use great
** importunity to stop it. " The attorney said, " it
" would be impossible to conceal it from him, be-
" cause, without his privity and direction, he knew
" not what title to give him for his barony. " The
king replied with warmth, " that he should confer
" with some of his . friends of the way ; but that he
" would take it ill of him, if there were any delay
" in it, and if it were not ready for the seal at the
" time of his return, which would be in few days. "
The attorney came to the chancellor and told him,
" he would break a trust to do him a service ; and
" therefore he presumed, that he would not be so
" unjust to let him suffer by it :" and then told
him all that had passed between the king and him.
And the chancellor confessed, " that the king's ob-
" liging manner of proceeding s , and the conjunc-
" ture in which this honour was given," though he
had before refused it with obstinacy, " made it now

6 obliging manner of proceeding] manner of proceeding was so
obliging fv



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 387

" very grateful to him :" and so without hesitation 1 6GO.
he told him what title he would assume. And all And crcMps
was ready against the king's return, and signed by [ *
him, and sealed the same night.

The queen had expressed her indignation to the
king and duke, with her natural passion, from the
time of their meeting; and the duke had asked
her pardon " for having placed his affection so un-
" equally, of which he was sure there was now an
" end ; that he was not married, and had now such
" evidence of her unworthiness, that he should no
" more think of her. " And it was now avowedly
said, that sir Charles Berkley, who was captain of
his guard, and in much more credit and favour with
the duke than his uncle, (though a young man of a
dissolute life, and prone to all wickedness in the
judgment of all sober men,) had informed the duke,
" that he was bound in conscience to preserve him sir charies

r> i >ft i it i Berkley tra-

" irom taking to wife a woman so wholly unworthy duces the



" of him; that he himself had lain with her; and

" that for his sake he would be content to many i iutation -

" her, though he knew well the familiarity the duke

" had with her. " This evidence, with so solemn

oaths presented by a person so much loved and

trusted by him, made a wonderful impression in the

duke ; and now confirmed by the commands of his

mother, as he had been before prevailed upon by his

sister, he resolved to deny that he was married, and up winch

* - the duke re-

never to see the woman again, who had been so false solves to
to him. And the queen being satisfied with this marriage.
resolution, they came all to London, with a full
hope that they should prevail to the utter overthrow
of the chancellor ; the king having, without any re-
ply or debate, heard all they said of the other af-

cc 2



388 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

1660. fair, and his mother's bitterness against him. But
~ when, the very next morning after their arrival at
London, they saw the chancellor (who had not seen
the king) appear in the parliament in the robes of a
peer ; they thought it to no purpose to prosecute their
design against him, whom his majesty was resolved
to protect from any unjust persecution. But the
other resolution was pursued with noise and much
defamation.

The next day after the queen's arrival, all the
privy council in a body waited upon the queen to
congratulate her return into England; and the
chancellor was obliged to go in the head of them,
and was received with the same countenance that
the rest were, which was very cheerful, and with
many gracious expressions. And from this time he
put not himself in her majesty's presence, nor ap-
peared at all concerned at the scandalous discourses
against his daughter. The earl of St. Alban's, and
all who were near the queen in any trust, and the
lord Berkley and his faction about the duke, lived in
defiance of the chancellor ; and so imprudently, that
they did him no harm, but underwent the reproach
of most sober men. The king continued his grace
towards him without the least diminution, and not
only to him, but to many others who were trusted
by him ; which made it evident that he believed no-
thing of what sir Charles Berkley avowed, and
looked on him as a fellow of great wickedness :
which opinion the king was long known to have of
him before his coming into England, and after.

In the mean time, the season of his daughter's de-
livery was at hand. And it was the king's chance
to be at his house with the committee of council,



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 389

when she fell in labour : of -which being advertised 1 6GO.

by her father, the king directed him " to send for ~~

" the lady marchioness of Ormond, the countess of

" Sunderland, and other ladies of known honour

" and fidelity to the crown, to be present with her :"

who all came, and were present till she was deli- The duchess

i n mi i i n -r-rr' -, delivered of

vered of a son. The bishop of Winchester, in the a son.
interval of her greatest pangs, and sometimes when
they were upon her, was present, and asked her
such questions as were thought fit for the occasion ;
" whose the child was of which she was in labour,"
whom she averred, with all protestations, to be the
duke's ; " whether she had ever known any other
" man ;" which she renounced with all vehemence,
saying, " that she was confident the duke did not
"think she had;" and being asked " whether she
" were married to the duke," she answered, " she
" was, and that there were witnesses enough, who
" in due time, she was confident, would avow it. "
In a word, her behaviour was such as abundantly sa-
tisfied the ladies who were present, of her innocence
from the reproach ; and they were not reserved in
the declaration of it, even before the persons who
were least pleased with their testimony. And the
lady marchioness of Ormond took an opportunity to
declare it fully to the duke himself, and perceived in %
him such a kind of tenderness, that persuaded her
that he did not believe any thing amiss. And the
king enough published his opinion and judgment of
the scandal.

The chancellor's own carriage, that is, his doing
nothing, nor saying any thing from whence they
might take advantage, exceedingly vexed them.
Yet they undertook to know, and informed the duke

c c 3



390 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE 'OF

1660. confidently, " that the chancellor had a great party
~~ " in the parliament ;" and that " he was resolved
" within few days to complain there, and to produce
" the witnesses, who were present at the marriage,
"to be examined, that their testimony might re-
" main there ; which would be a great affront to
" him ;" with many other particulars, which might
incense his highness. Whereupon the duke, who
had been observed never to have spoken to him in
the house of peers, or any where else, since the time
of his going to meet his sister, finding the chancellor
one day in the privy lodgings, whispered him in the
ear, " that he would be glad to confer with him in
" his lodging," whither he was then going. The
other immediately followed ; and being come thi-
ther, the duke sent all his servants out of distance ;
and then told him with much warmth, " what he
" had been informed of his purpose to complain to
" the parliament against him, which he did not va-
" lue or care for : however, if he should prosecute
" any such course, it should be the worse for him ;"
implying some threats, " what he would do before he
" would bear such an affront ;" adding then, " that
" for his daughter, she had behaved herself so foully,
" (of which he had such evidence as was as con-
" vincing as his own eyes, and of which he could
" make no doubt,) that nobody could blame him for
" his behaviour towards her ;" concluding with some
other threats, " that he should repent it, if he pur-
" sued his intention of appealing to the paiiia-
" ment. "

As soon as the duke discontinued his discourse,
the chancellor told him, " that he hoped he would
" discover the untruth of other reports which had



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 391

" been made to him by the falsehood of this, which j 660.
" had been raised without the least ground or sha- ~~
" dow of truth. That though he did not pretend to
" much wisdom, yet no man took him to be such a
" fool, as he must be, if he intended to do such an
"" act as he was informed. That if his highness had
" done any thing towards or against him, which he
" ought not to have done, there was one who is as
" much above him, as his highness was above him,
" and who could both censure and punish it. For
" his own part, he knew too well whose son he was,
" and whose brother he is, to behave himself to-
" wards him with less duty and submission than was
" due to him, and should be always paid by him. " He
said, " he was not concerned to vindicate his daugh-
" ter from any the most improbable scandals and
" aspersions : she had disobliged and deceived him
" too much, for him to be over-confident that she
" might not deceive any other man : and therefore
" he would leave that likewise to God Almighty,
" upon whose blessing he would always depend,
" whilst himself remained innocent, and no longer. "
The duke replied not, nor from that time men-
tioned the chancellor with any displeasure ; and re-
lated to the king, and some other persons, the dis-
course that had passed, very exactly.

There did not after all this appear, in the dis-
courses of men, any of that humour and indigna-
tion which was expected. On the contrary, men of
the greatest name and reputation spake of the foul-
ness of the proceeding with great freedom, and with
all the detestation imaginable against sir Charles
Berkley, whose testimony nobody believed; not
without some censure of . the chancellor, for not

c c 4



392 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

1 660. enough appearing and prosecuting the indignity :
~" but he was not to be moved by any instances, which
he never afterwards repented. The queen's implac-
able displeasure continued in the full height, doing
all she could to keep the duke firm to his resolution,
and to give all countenance to the calumny. As be-
fore the discovery of this engagement of the duke's
affection, the duke of Gloucester had died of the
smallpox, to the extraordinary grief of the king and
the whole kingdom ; so at this time it pleased God
to visit the princess royal with the same disease, and
of which she died within few days ; having in her
last agonies expressed a dislike of the proceedings in
that affair, to which she had contributed too much.
The duke The duke himself grew melancholic and dispirited,
faudioiTc! and cared not for company, nor those divertisements
in which he formerly delighted : which was observed
by every body, and which in the end wrought so far
upon the conscience of the lewd informer, that he,
sir Charles Berkley, came to the duke, and clearly
sir Charles declared to him, " that the general discourse of men,
&>n(esLs " of what inconvenience and mischief, if not absolute
hoo<fof e ~ " rum > such a marriage would be to his royal high-
his charge ness, had prevailed with him to use all the power

against the

duchess. " he had to dissuade him from it ; and when he found
" he could not prevail with him, he had formed that
" accusation, which he presumed could not but pro-
" duce the effect he wished ; which he now con-
" fessed to be false, and without the least ground ;
'* and that he was very confident of her virtue :"
and therefore besought his highness " to pardon a
** fault, that was committed out of pure devotion to
" him ; and that he would not suffer him to be
-" ruined by the power of those, whom he had so un-



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 393

" worthily provoked ; and of which he had so much 1 660.
" shame, that he had not confidence to look upon
" them. " The duke found himself so much relieved
in that part that most afflicted him, that he em-
braced him, and made a solemn promise, " that he
" should not suffer in the least degree in his own
" affection, for what had proceeded so absolutely
" from his good-will to him ; and that he would
" take so much care of him, that in the compound-
" ing that affair he should be so comprehended,
" that he should receite no disadvantage. "

And now the duke appeared with another coun- The duke
tenance, writ to her whom he had injured, " that
" he would speedily visit her," and gave her charge con
" to have a care of his son. " He gave the king a
full account of all, without concealing his joy ; and
took most pleasure in conferring with them, who had
seemed least of his mind when he had been most
transported, and who had always argued against
the probability of the testimony which had wrought
upon him. The queen was not pleased with this
change, though the duke did not yet own to her
that he had altered his resolution. She was always
very angry at the king's coldness, who had been so
far from that aversion which she expected, that he
found excuses for the duke, and endeavoured to di-
vert her passions ; and now pressed the discovery of
the truth by sir Charles Berkley's confession, as a
thing that pleased him. They about her, and who
had most inflamed and provoked her to the sharpest
resentment, appeared more calm in their discourses,
and either kept silence, or spake to another tune
than they had done formerly, and wished that the
business was well composed ; all which mightily in-



394 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

1660. creased the queen's passion. And having come to
~ know that the duke had made a visit at the place
she most abhorred, she brake into great passion,
The queen and publicly declared, " that whenever that woman
fended at " should be brought into Whitehall by one door,
e. " ner majesty would go out of it by another door,
" and never come into it again. " And for several
days her majesty would not suffer the duke to be in
her presence ; at least, if he came with the king, she
forbore to speak to him, or to take any notice of
him. Nor could they, who had used to have most
credit with her, speak to her with any acceptation ;
though they were all weary of the distances they
had kept, and discerned well enough where the
matter must end. And many desired to find some
expedient, how the work might be facilitated, by
some application and address from the chancellor to
the queen : but he absolutely refused to make the
least advance towards it, or to contribute to her in-
dignation by putting himself into her majesty's pre-
sence. He declared, " that the queen had great
" reason for the passion she expressed for the indig-
" nity that had been done to her, and which he
" would never endeavour to excuse ; and that as
" far as his low quality was capable of receiving an
" injury from so great a prince, he had himself to
" complain of a transgression that exceeded the
" limits of all justice, divine and human. "

The queen had made this journey out of France
into England much sooner than she intended, and
only, upon this occasion, to prevent a mischief she
had great reason to deprecate. And so, upon her
arrival, she had declared, " that she would stay a
" very short time, being obliged to return into



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 895

" France for her health, and to use the waters of 1660.
" Bourbon, which had already done her much good,
" that the ensuing season would with God's blessing
" make perfect. " And the time was now come,
that orders were sent for the ships to attend her
embarkation at Portsmouth ; and the day was ap-
pointed for the beginning her journey from White-
hall : so that the duke's affair, which he now took
to heart, was (as every body thought) to be left in
the state it was, at least under the renunciation and
interdiction of a mother. When on a sudden, of
which nobody then knew the reason, her majesty's
countenance and discourse was changed ; she treated
the duke with her usual kindness, and confessed to
him, "that the business that had offended her



" much, she perceived was proceeded so far, that no alters her y
" remedy could be applied to it ; and therefore that behaviour>
" she would trouble herself no further in it, but
" pray to God to bless him, and that he might be
" happy :" so that the duke had now nothing to
wish, but that the queen would be reconciled to his
wife, who remained still at her father's, where the
king had visited her often ; to which the queen was
not averse, and spake graciously of the chancellor,
and said, " she would be good friends with him. "
But both these required some formalities ; and they
who had behaved themselves the most disobligingly,
expected to be comprehended in any atonement
that should be made. And it was exceedingly la-
boured, that . the chancellor would make the first ap-
proach, by visiting the earl of St. Alban's ; which
he absolutely refused to do : and very well ac-
quainted with the arts of that court, whereof dissi-
mulation was the soul, did not believe that those



396 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

1660. changes, for which he saw no reasonable motive,
~~ could be real, until abbot Mountague (who had so
far complied with the faction of that court as not to
converse with an enemy) visited him with all open-
ness, and told him, " that this change in the queen
" had proceeded from a letter she had newly re-
" ceived from the cardinal, in which he had plainly
The cause " told her, that she would not receive a good wel-
in " come in France, if she left her sons in her dis-



16 qneen> " pleasure, and professed an animosity against those
" ministers who were most trusted by the king.
" He extolled the services done by the chancellor,
" and advised her to comply with what could not
" be avoided, and to be perfectly reconciled to her
*' children, and to those who were nearly related to
" them, or were intrusted by them : and that he
" did - this in so powerful a style, and, with such
" powerful reasons, that her majesty's passions were
" totally subdued. And this," he said, " was the
" reason of the sudden change that every body had
" observed ; and therefore that he ought to believe
" the sincerity of it, and to perform that part which
" might be expected from him, in compliance with
" the queen's inclinations to have a good intelligence
" with him. "

The chancellor had never looked upon the abbot
as his enemy, and gave credit to all he said, though
he did little understand from what fountain that
good-will of the cardinal had proceeded, who had
never been propitious to him. He made all those
professions of duty to the queen that became him,
and " how happy he should think himself in her
" protection, which he had need of, and did with all
" humility implore ; and that he would gladly cast



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 397
himself at her majesty's feet, when she would 1G60.



" vouchsafe to admit it. " But for the adjusting
this, there was to be more formality ; for it was ne-
cessary that the earl of St. Alban's (between whom
and the chancellor there had never been any friend-
ship) should have some part in this composition,
and do many good offices towards it, which were to
precede the final conclusion. The duke had brought
sir Charles Berkley to the duchess, at whose feet he
had cast himself, with all the acknowledgment and
penitence he could express ; and she, according to
the command of the duke, accepted his submission,
and promised to forget the offence. He came like-
wise to the chancellor with those professions which
he could easily make ; and the other was obliged to
receive him civilly. And then his uncle, the lord
Berkley, waited upon the duchess ; and afterwards
visited her father, like a man (which he could not
avoid) who had done very much towards the bring-
ing so difficult a matter to so good an end, and ex-
pected thanks from all ; having that talent in some
perfection, that after he had crossed and puzzled
any business, as much as was in his power, he would
be thought the only man who had united 1 all knots,
and made the way smooth, and removed all obstruc-
tions.

The satisfaction the king and the duke had in The king
this disposition of the queen was visible to all men ; . greati" e
And they both thought the chancellor too reserved ^ e t j lis
in contributing his part towards, or in meeting, the chan s e n
queen's favour, which he could not but discern was
approaching towards him ; and that he did not en-

1 united] untied



398 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

1G60. tertain any discourses, which had been by many
entered upon to him upon that subject, with that
cheerfulness and serenity of mind that might justly
be expected. And of this the duke made an ob-
servation, and a kino! of complaint, to the king, who
thereupon came one day to the chancellor's house ;
and being alone with him, his majesty told him
many particulars which had passed between him
and the queen, and the good humour her majesty
was in ; " that the next day the earl of St. Alban's
" would visit him, and offer him his service in ac-
" companying him to the queen ; which he conjured
" him to receive with all civility, and expressions of
" the joy he took in it ; in which," he told him, " he
" was observed to be too sullen, and that when all
" other men's minds appeared to be cheerful, his
" alone appeared to be more cloudy than it had
" been, when that affair seemed most desperate ;
" which was the more taken notice of, because it
" was not natural to him. "

The chancellor answered, " that he did not know
" that he had failed in any thing, that in good man-
" ners or decency dould be required from him : but
" he confessed, that lately his thoughts were more
** perplexed and troublesome to himself, than they
" had ever been before ; and therefore it was no
" wonder, if his looks were not the same they had
" used to be. That though he had been surprised to
" amazement, upon the first notice of that business,
" yet he had been shortly able to recollect himself;
" and, upon the testimony of his own conscience, to
" compose his mind and spirits, and without any
" reluctancy to abandon any thought of his daugh-
" ter, and to leave her to that misery she had de-



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 399

" served and brought upon herself. Nor did the vi-
" cissitudes which occurred after in that transaction,
" or the displeasure and menaces of the duke, make
" any other impression upon him, than to know how
" unable he was to enter into any contest in that
" matter, (which in all respects was too difficult and
" superior to his understanding and faculties,) and
" to leave it entirely to the direction and disposal of
" God Almighty : and in this acquiescence he had
" enjoyed a repose with much tranquillity of mind,
" being prepared to undergo any misfortune that
" might befall him from thence. But that now he
" was awakened by other thoughts and reflections,
" which he could less range and govern. He saw those
" difficulties removed, which he had thought insu-
" perable ; that his own condition must be thought
" exalted above what he thought possible ; and that
" he was far less able to bear the envy, that was un-
" avoidable, than the indignation and contempt, that
" alone had threatened him. That his daughter
" was now received in the royal family, the wife of
" the king's only brother, and the heir apparent of
" the crown, whilst his majesty himself remained un-
" married. The great trust his majesty reposed in
" him, infinitely above and contrary to his desire, was
" in itself liable to envy ; and how insupportable that
" envy must be, upon this new relation, he could not
" but foresee ; together with the jealousies which
" artificial men would be able to insinuate into his
" majesty, even when they seemed to have all pos-
" sible confidence in the integrity of the chancel-
*' lor, and when they extolled him most ; and that
" how firm and constant soever his majesty's grace
" and favour^ was to him at present, (of which he



400 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

I G60. " had lately given such lively testimony,) and how
" resolved soever he was to continue it, his majesty
'* himself could not know how far some jealousies,
" cunningly suggested by some men, might by de-
" grees be entertained by him. And therefore that,
" upon all the revolvings he had with himself, he
" could not think of any thing that could contribute
" equally to his majesty's service, and his quiet, and
" to the happiness and security of himself, as for
" him to retire from the active station he was in, to
" an absolute solitude, and visible inactivity in all
" matters relating to the state : and which he
" thought could not be so well, under any retire-
" ment into the country, or any part of the king-
" dom, as by his leaving the kingdom, and fixing
" himself in some place beyond the seas remote
" from any court. " And having said all this, or
words to the same effect, he fell on his knees ; and
with all possible earnestness desired the king, " that
" he would consent to his retirement, as a thing
" most necessary for his service, and give his pass,
" to go and reside in any such place beyond the seas
" as his majesty would make choice of. "

The king heard him patiently, yet with evidence
enough that he was not pleased with what he said ;
and when he kneeled, took him up with some pas-
sion ; " He did not expect this from him, and that
" he had so little kindness for him, as to leave him
" in a time, when he could not but know that he
" was very necessary for his service. That he had
" reason to be very well assured, that it could never
" be in any man's power to lessen his kindness to-
" wards him, or confidence in him ; and if any should
" presume to attempt it, they would find cause to re-



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 401

"pent their presumption. " He said, " there were JGGO.
" many reasons, why he could never have designed
" or advised his brother to this marriage ; yet since
" it was past, and all things so well reconciled, he
" would not deny that he was glad of it, and pro-
" raised himself much benefit from it. " He told
him, " his daughter was a woman of a great wit
" and excellent parts, and would have a great power
" with his brother ; and that he knew that she had
" an entire obedience for him, her father, who he
" knew would always give her good counsel ; by
" which," he said, " he was confident, that naughty
" people, which had too much credit with his bro-
" ther, and which had so often misled him, would
" be no more able to corrupt him ; but that she
" would pi-event all ill and unreasonable attempts :
" and therefore he again confessed that he was glad of
" it ;" and so concluded with many gracious expres-
sions ; and conjured the chancellor, " never more to .
" think of those unreasonable things, but to attend
" and prosecute his business with his usual alacrity,
" since his kindness could never fail him. "

The next morning, which was of the last day
that the queen was to stay, the earl of St. Alban's
visited the chancellor with all those compliments,
professions, and protestations, which were natural,
and which he did really believe every body else
thought to be very sincere ; for he had that kind-
ness for himself, that he thought every body did be-
lieve him. He expressed " a wonderful joy, that the
" queen would now leave the court united, and all
" the king's affairs in a very hopeful condition, m
" which the queen confessed that the chancellor's
" counsels had been very prosperous, and that she
VOL. i. D d



1660. " was resolved to part with great and a sincere kind-
~" ness towards him ; and that he had authority from
" her to assure him so much, which she would do
" herself when she saw him :" and so offered *' to go
" with him to her majesty, at such an hour in the
" afternoon as she should appoint. " The other made
such returns to all the particulars as were fit, and
" that he would be ready to attend the queen at the
" time she should please to assign :" and in the after-
noon the earl of St. Alban's came again to him ; and
they went together to Whitehall, where they found
the queen in her bedchamber, where many ladies
were present, who came then to take their leave of
her majesty, before she begun her journey.
The queen The duke of York had before presented his wife

reconciled -i

to the to* his mother, who received her without the least
shew of regret, or rather with the same grace as if
she had liked it from the beginning, and made her
sit down by her. When the chancellor came in, the
queen rose from her chair, and received him with a
countenance very serene. The ladies, and others
who were near, withdrawing, her majesty told him,
" that he could not wonder, much less take it ill,
" that she had been much offended with the duke,
" and had no inclination to give her consent to his
" marriage ; and if she had, in the passion that could
" not be condemned in her, spake any thing of him
" that he had taken ill, he ought to impute it to the
" provocation she had received, though not from
" him. She was now informed by the king, and well
" assured, that he had no hand in contriving that
" friendship, but was offended with that passion that
" really was worthy of him. That she could not
" but confess, that his fidelity to the king her hus-



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 403

" band was very eminent, and that he had served IGGO.

" the king her son with equal fidelity and extraor-~~

" dinary success. And therefore, as she had received

" his daughter as her daughter, and heartily forgave

" the duke and her, and was resolved ever after to

" live with all the affection of a mother towards

" them ; so she resolved to make a friendship with Alld to tlie

i 11 /v. chancellor.

:< him, and hereafter to expect all the offices from
" him, which her kindness should deserve. " And
when the chancellor had made all those acknow-
ledgments which lie ought to do, and commended
her wisdom and indignation in a business, " in which
" she could not shew too much anger and aversion,
" and had too much forgotten her own honour and
" dignity, if she had been less offended ;" and mag-
nified her mercy and generosity, " in departing so
" soon from her necessary severity, and pardoning a
" crime in itself so unpardonable ;" he made those
professions of duty to her which were due to her,
and " that he should always depend upon her pro-
" tection as his most gracious mistress, and pay all
" obedience to her commands. " The queen appeared
well pleased, and said " she should remain very con-
" fident of his affection," and so discoursed of some
particulars; and then opening a paper that she had
in her hand, she recommended the despatch of some
things to him, which immediately related to her
own service and interest, and then some persons,
who had either some suits to the king, or some con-
troversies depending in chancery. And the evening
drawing on, and very many ladies and others wait-
ing without to kiss her majesty's hand, he thought
it time to take his leave ; and after having repeated
some short professions of his duty, he kissed her ma-

D d 2



404 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

1660. jesty's hand: and from that time there did never
""appear any want of kindness in the queen towards
him, whilst he stood in no need of it, nor until it
might have done him good.

Thus an intrigue, that without doubt had been
entered into and industriously contrived by those
who designed to affront and bring dishonour upon
the chancellor and his family, was, by God's good
pleasure, turned to their shame and reproach, and to
the increase of the chancellor's greatness and pros-
perity. And so we return to the time from whence
this digression led us, and shall take a particular
view of all those accidents, which had an influence
upon the quiet of the kingdom, or which were the
cause of all the chancellor's misfortunes; which,
though the effect of them did not appear in many
years, were discerned by himself as coming and un-
avoidable, and foretold by him to his two bosom-
friends, the marquis of Ormond and the earl of
Southampton, who constantly adhered to him with
all the integrity of true friendship.
The chan- The greatness and power of the chancellor, by

cellor not r . . .

elated with this marriage of his daughter, with all the circum-
riagef r his stances which had accompanied and attended it,
daughter. seeme j t o a \[ men ^ o have established his fortune,
and that of his family ; I say, to all men but to him-
self, who was not in the least degree exalted with it.
He knew well upon how slippery ground he stood,
and how naturally averse the nation was from ap-
proving an exorbitant power in any subject. He
saw that the king grew every day more inclined to
his pleasures, which involved him in expense, and
company that did not desire that he should intend his
business, or be conversant with sober men. He



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 405

knew well that the servants who were about the 1660.
duke were as much his enemies as ever, and intended ~~
their own profit only, by what means soever, with-
out considering his honour; that they formed his
household, officers, and equipage, by the model of
France, and against all the rules and precedents of
England for a brother of the crown ; and every day
put into his head, " that if he were not supplied for all
" those expenses, it was the chancellor's fault, who
" could effect it if he would. " Nor was he able to
prevent those infusions, nor the effects of them, be-
cause they were so artificially administered, as if
their end was to raise a confidence in him of the
chancellor, not to weaken it ; though he knew well
that their design was to create by degrees in him a
jealousy of his power and credit with the king, as
if it eclipsed his. But this was only in their own
dark purposes, which had been all blasted, if they
had been apparent ; for the duke did not only profess
a very great affection for the chancellor, but gave
all the demonstration of it that was possible, and
desired nothing more, than that it should be mani-
fest to all men, that he had an entire trust from the
king in all his affairs, and that he would employ all
his interest to support that trust : whilst the chan-
cellor himself declined all the occasions, which were
offered for the advancement of his fortune, and de-
sired wholly to be left to the discharge of his office,
and that all other officers might diligently look to
their own provinces, and be accountable for them ;
and detested nothing more than that title and appel-
lation, which he saw he should not always be able
to avoid, of principal minister or favourite, and
which was never cast on him by any designation of



406 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

lf>60. the king, (who abhorred to be thought to be go-

verned by any single person,) but by his preferring

his pleasures before his business, and so sending all
men to the chancellor to receive advice. And here-
by the secretaries of state, not finding a present
access to him, when the occasions pressed, resorted
to the chancellor, with whom his majesty spent most
time, to be resolved by him ; which method exceed-
ingly grieved him, and to which he endeavoured to
apply a remedy, by putting all things in their pro-
per channel, and by prevailing with the king, when
he should be a little satiated with the divertisements
he affected, to be vacant to so much of his business,
as could not be managed and conducted by any body
else.
some in- And here it may be seasonable to insert at large

stances of , ' t >

hisdisin- some instances, which I promised before, and by
ness! eC which it will be manifest, how far the chancellor was
from an immoderate appetite to be rich, and to raise
his fortune, which he proposed only to do by the
perquisites of his office, which were considerable at
the first, and by such bounty of the king as might
hereafter, without noise or scandal, be conferred on
him in proper seasons and occurrences ; and that he
was y as far from affecting such an unlimited power
as he was believed afterwards to be possessed of,
(and of which no footsteps could ever be discovered
in any of his actions, or in any one particular that
was the effect of such power,) or from desiring 7 - any
other extent of power than was agreeable to the great
office he held, and which had been enjoyed by most
of those who had been his predecessors in that trust.

y that he was] Not in MS.

' or from desiring] or that he did desire



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 407

The king had not been many weeks in England, 1 660.
when the marquis of Ormond came to him with his He refused
usual friendship, and asked him, " Whether it would > n w r -

able offer

" not be now time to think of making a fortune, that of crown -
" he might be able to leave to his wife and children,
" if he should die ? " And when he found that he
was less sensible of what he proposed than he ex-
pected, and that he only answered, " that he knew
" not which way to go about it," the marquis told
him, " that he thought he could commend a proper
" suit for him to make to the king ; and if his mo-
" desty would not permit him to move the king for
" himself, he would undertake to move it for him,
" and was confident that the king would willingly
" grant it :" and thereupon shewed him a paper,
which contained the king's just title to ten thou-
sand acres of land in the Great Level of the Fens,
which would be of a good yearly value; or they,
who were unjustly possessed of it, would be glad to
purchase the king's title with a very considerable
sum of money. And, in the end, he frankly told
him, " that he made this overture to him with the
" king's approbation, who had been moved in it,
" and thought at the first sight, out of his own
" goodness, that it might be fit for him, and wished
" the marquis to propose it to him. "

When the chancellor had extolled the king's gene-
rosity, that he could, in so great necessities of his
own, think of dispensing so great a bounty Upon a
poor servant, who was already recompensed beyond
what he could be ever able to deserve, he said,
" that he knew very well the king's title to that
" land, of which he was in possession before the re-
" bellion began, which the old and new adventurers

D d 4



408 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

1660. " now claimed by a new contract, confirmed by an
~~" ordinance of parliament, which could not deprive
" the crown of its right ; which all the adventurers
" (who for the greatest part were worthy men) well
" knew, and would for their own sakes not dispute,
" since it would inevitably produce a new inunda-
" tion, which all their unity and consent in main-
" taining the banks would and could with difficulty
" enough but prevent. That he would advise his
" majesty to give all the countenance he could to
" the carrying on and perfecting that great work,
" which was of great benefit as well as honour to
" the public, at the charge of private gentlemen,
" who had paid dear for the land they had re-
" covered ; but that he would never advise him to
" begin his reign - with the alienation of such a par-
" eel of land from the crown to any one particular
" subject, who could never bear the envy of it.
" That his majesty ought to reserve that revenue to
" himself, which was great, though less than it was
" generally reputed to be ; at least till the value
" thereof should be clearly understood, (and the de-
" taining it in his own hands for some time would
" be the best expedient towards the finishing all the
" banks, when the season should be fit, which else
" would be neglected by the discord among the ad-
" venturers,) and the king knew what he gave. He
" must remember, that he had two brothers," (for
the duke of Gloucester was yet alive,) " who were
'* without any revenue, and towards whom his
" bounty was to be first extended ; and that this
" land would be a good ingredient towards an ap-
" panage for them both. And that till they were
" reasonably provided for, no private man in his



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 409

" wits would be the object of any extraordinary
" bounty from the king, which would unavoidably
" make him the object of an universal envy and ha-
" tred. That, for his own part, he held by the
" king's favour the greatest office of the kingdom
" in place ; and though it was not near the value
" it was esteemed to be, and that many other offices
" were more profitable, yet it was enough for him,
" and would be a good foundation to improve his
" fortune : so that," he said, " he had made a reso-
" lution to himself, which he thought he should not
" alter, not to make haste to be rich. That it was
" the principal part or obligation of his office, to dis-
" suade the king from making any grants of such a
" nature, (except where the necessity or conveni-
" ence was very notorious,) and even to stop those
" which should be made of that kind, and not to
" suffer them to pass the seal, till he had again
" waited upon the king, and informed him of the
" evil consequence of those grants ; which discharge
" of his duty could not but raise him many enemies,
" who should not have that advantage, to say that
" he obstructed the king's bounty towards other
" men, when he made it very profuse towards him-
" self. And therefore, that he would never receive
" any crown-lands from the king's gift, and did not
" wish to have any other honour or any advantage,
" but what his office brought him, till seven years
" should pass; in which all the distractions of the
" kingdom might be composed, and the necessities
** thereof so provided for, that the king might be
" able, without hurting himself, to exercise some li-
" berality towards his servants who had served him
" well. " How he seemed to part from this resolu-



410 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

Hif>0. tion in some particulars afterwards, and why he
~~ did so, may be collected out of what hath been truly
set down before.

When the marquis of Ormond had given the
king a large account of the conference between him
and the chancellor, and " that he absolutely refused
" to receive that grant ;" his majesty said, " he was
" a fool for his labour, and that he would be much
" better in being envied than in being pitied. " And
though the inheritance of those lands was after-
wards given to the duke, yet there were such es-
tates granted for years to many particular persons,
most whereof had never merited by any service,
that half the value thereof never came to his high-
ness.

1661. As soon as the king and duke returned from Ports-
mouth, where they had seen the queen embarked



knight of f or France, the king had appointed a chapter, for

the garter.

the electing some knights of the garter into the
places vacant. Upon which the duke desired him
" to nominate the chancellor," which his majesty
said "he would willingly do, but he knew not
" whether it would be grateful to him ; for he had
" refused so many things, that he knew not what
" he would take ;" and therefore wished him " to
" take a boat to Worcester-house, and propose it to
" him, and he would not go to the chapter till his
** highness returned. " The duke told the chancel-
lor what had passed between the king and him, and
" that he was come only to know his mind, and
" could not imagine but that such an honour would
"please him. " The chancellor, after a million of
humble acknowledgments of the duke's grace and
of "the king's condescension, said, " that the honour



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 411

" was indeed too great by much for him to sus- 1661,
" tain ; that there were very many worthy men, ~
" who well remembered him of their own condi-
" tion, when he first entered into his father's service,
" and believed that he was advanced too much be-
" fore them. " He besought his highness, " that his
<c favours and protection might not expose him to
" envy, that would break him to pieces.