No More Learning

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. " He asked
" what knights the king meant to make ;" the duke
named them, all persons very eminent : the chancel-
lor said, "no man could except against the king's
" choice ; many would justly, if he were added to
" the number. " He desired his highness " to put
" the king in mind of the earl of Lindsey, lord high
,'* chamberlain of England," (with whom he was
known to have no friendship ; on the contrary, that
there had been disgusts between them in the last
king's time ;) " that his father had lost his life with
" the garter about his neck, when this gentleman,
" his son, endeavouring to relieve him, was taken
" prisoner ; that he had served the king to the end
" of the war with courage and fidelity, being an ex-
" cellent officer : for all which, the king his father
" had admitted him a gentleman of his bedchamber,
" which office he was now without : and not to
" have the garter now, upon his majesty's return,
" would in all men's eyes look like a degradation,
" and an instance of his majesty's disesteem ; espe-
" dally if the chancellor should supply the place,
" who was not thought his friend :" and, upon the
whole matter, entreated the duke " to reserve his
" favour towards him for some other occasion, and
" excuse him to the king for the declining this ho-
" nour, which he could not support. " The duke



412 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

1661. replied, with an offended countenance, "that he
~~" saw he would not accept any honour from the
" king, that proceeded by his mediation ;" and so
left him in apparent displeasure. However, at that
chapter the earl of Lindsey was created knight
of the garter, with the rest; and coming after-
wards to hear by what chance it was, he ever lived
with great civility towards the chancellor to his
death.

And when the chancellor afterwards complained
to his majesty " of his want of care of him, in his so
" easily gratifying his brother in a particular that
" would be of so much prejudice to him," and so en-
larged upon the subject, and put his majesty in
mind of Solomon's interrogation, " Who can stand
" against envy? " the king said no more, than "that
" he did really believe, when he sent his brother,
" that he would refuse it ;" and added, " I tell you,
" chancellor, that you are too strict and apprehen-
" sive in those things ; and trust me, it is better to
" be envied than pitied. " The duke did not dis-
semble his resentment, and told his wife, " that he
" took it very ill ; that he desired that the world
" might take notice of his friendship to her father,
" and that, after former unkindness, he was heartily
" reconciled to him ; but that her father cared not
" to have that believed, nor would have it believed
" that his interest in the king was not enough, to
" have no need of good offices from the duke :"
which discourse he used likewise to the marquis of
Ormond and others, who he thought would inform
the chancellor of it. And the duchess was much
troubled at it, and took it unkindly of her father,
who thought himself obliged to wait upon his royal



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 413

highness, and to vindicate himself from that folly he icfil.
was charged with ; in which he protested to him,
" that he so absolutely and entirely depended upon
" his protection, that he would never receive any
" favour from the king, but by his mediation and
" interposition :" to which the duke answered, " that
" he should see whether he would have that defer-
" ence to him shortly. "

And it was not long before the day for the coro- He refused
nation was appointed, when the king had appointed * e a r " iad
to make some barons, and to raise some who were
barons to higher degrees of honour ; most of whom
were men not very grateful, because they had been
faulty, though they had afterwards redeemed what
was past, by having performed very signal services
to his majesty, and were able to do him more : upon
which the king had resolved to confer those honours
upon them, and in truth had promised it to them, or
to some of their friends, before he came from beyond
the seas. At this time the duke came to the chan-
cellor, and said, " he should now discover whether
" he would be as good as his word ;" and so gave
him a paper, which was a warrant under the king's
sign manual to the attorney general, to prepare a
grant, by which the chancellor should be created an
earl. To which, upon the reading, he began to
make objections ; when the duke said, " My lord, I
" have thought fit to give you this earnest of my
" friendship ; you may reject it, if you think fit ;"
and departed. And the chancellor, upon recollec-
tion, and conference with his two friends, the trea-
surer and the marquis of Ormond, found he could
not prudently refuse it. And so, the day or two
before the coronation, he was with the others created



414 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

IGOI. an earl by the king in the banqueting-house ; and,
^ in the very minute of his creation, had an earnest of



length un- ^he envy that would ensue, in the murmurs of some,

willingly J

consented, who were ancienter barons, at the precedence given
to him before them, of which he was totally igno-
rant, it being resolved by the king upon the place,
and the view of the precedents of all times, when
any officers of state were created with others. Yet
one of the lords concerned swore in the ears of two
or three of his friends, at the same time, " that he
" would be revenged for that affront ;" which re-
lated not to the chancellor's precedence, for the other
was no baron, but for the precedence given to an-
other, whom he thought his inferior, and imputed
the partiality to his power, who had not the least
hand in it, nor knew it before it was determined.
Yet the other was as good as his word, and took
the very first opportunity that was offered for his re-
venge.

I will add one instance more, sufficient, if the
other were away, to convince all men how far he
was from being transported with that ambition, of
which he was accused, and for which he was con-
demned. After the firm conjunction in the royal
family was notorious, and all the neighbour princes
had sent their splendid embassies of congratulation
to the king, and desired to renew all treaties with
this crown, and the parliament proceeded, how
slowly soever, with great duty and reverence to-
wards the king ; the marquis of Ormond (whom the
king had by this time made duke of Ormond) came
one day to him, and, being in private, said, " he
" came to speak to him of himself, and to let him
" know, not only his own opinion, but the opinion of



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 415

" his best friends, with whom he had often conferred 1G61.
" upon the argument; and that they all wondered,"
" that he so much affected the post he was in, as to
" continue in the office of chancellor, which took up
" most of his time, especially all the mornings, in
" business that many other men could discharge as
" well as he. Whereas he ought to leave that to He was

. strongly

" such a man as he thought fit for it, and to betake urged to

" himself to that province, which nobody knew so offic^of ' S

well how to discharge. That the credit he had cliancellor -

" with the king was known to all men, and that he

" did in truth remit that province to him, which he

" would not own, and could not discharge, by the

" multiplicity of the business of his office, which was

" not of that moment. That the king every day

" took less care of his affairs, and affected those

" pleasures most, which made him averse from the

" other. That he spent most of his time with confi-

" dent young men, who abhorred all discourse that

" was serious, and, in the liberty they assumed in

" drollery and raillery, preserved no reverence to-

" wards God or man, but laughed at all sober men,

" and even at religion itself; and that the custom of

" this license, that did yet only make the king merry

" for the present, by degrees a would grow accept-

" able to him ; and that these men would by degrees

" have the presumption (which yet they had not,

"nor would he in truth then suffer it) to enter into

" his business, and by administering to those ex-

" cesses, to which his nature and constitution most

" inclined him, would not only powerfully foment

" those inclinations, but intermeddle and obstruct

a by degrees] yet by degrees



416 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

iCfil. " his most weighty counsels. That, for the preven-

~ " tion of all this mischief, and the preserving the

" excellent nature and understanding of the king

" from being corrupted by such lewd instruments,

" who had only a scurrilous kind of wit to procure

" laughter, but had no sense of religion, or reverence

And to as- f OT fae \ aws there was no remedy in view, but

suine the *

character of his giving up his office, and betaking himself

prime niin- , ,7 . , , .

ister. " wholly to wait upon the person of the king, and
" to be with him in those seasons, when that loose
" people would either abstain from coming, or, if
" they were present, would not have the confidence
" to say or do those things which they had been ac-
" customed to do before the king. By this means,
" he would find frequent opportunities to inform the
" king of the true state of his affairs, and the dan-
" ger he incurred, by not throughly understanding
" them, and by being thought to be negligent in the
" duties of religion, and settling the distractions in
" the church ; at least, he would do some good in all
" these particulars, or keep the license from spread-
" ing further, which in time it would do, to the rob-
" bing him of the hearts, of his people. That the
" king, from the long knowledge of his fidelity, and
" the esteem he had of his virtue, received any ad-
" vertisements and animadversions, and even suf-
" fered reprehensions, from him, better than from
" any other man ; therefore he would be able to do
" much good, and to deserve more than ever he had
" done from the whole kingdom. And he did verily
" believe b , that this would be acceptable to the king
" himself, who knew he could not enough attend to c

b believe] Omitted in MS. c attend to] Omitted in MS.



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 417

" the many things, which, being left undone, must 1661
*' much disorder the whole machine of his govern- ~~
" ment, or, being ill done, would in time dissolve it ;
** and that his majesty would assign such a liberal which
" allowance for this service, that he should find more be



" himself well rewarded, and a great gainer by ac- f,| 1(
" cepting it and putting off his office. "

He concluded, " that was the desire and advice
" of all his friends ; and that the duke was so far of
" the same judgment, that he resolved to be very
" instant with him upon it, and only wished that he
" should first break the matter to him, that he might
** not be surprised when his royal highness entered
" upon the discourse. " And he added, " that this
" province must inevitably at last be committed to
" some one man, who probably would be without
" that affection to the king's person, that experience
" in affairs, and that knowledge of the laws and
" constitution of the kingdom, as all men knew to be
" in the chancellor. "

When the marquis had ended, with the warmth
of friendship which was superior to any temptation,
and in which no man ever excelled him, nor de-
livered what he had a mind to say more clearly, or
with a greater weight of words ; the chancellor said,
*' that he did not much wonder that many of his
" friends, who had not the opportunity to know him
" enough, and who might propose to themselves
" some benefit from his unlimited greatness, might
" in truth, out of their partiality to him, and by
" their not knowing the king's nature, believe, that
" his wariness and integrity, and his knowledge of
" the constitution of the government and the nature
" of the people, would conduct the king's counsels

VOL. I. EC



418 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

I6fil. "in such a way, as would lead best to his power
~ " and greatness, and to the good and happiness of
" the nation, which would be the only secure sup-
" port of his power and authority. But that he,
" who knew both the king and him so well, that no
" man living knew either of them so well, should be
" of that opinion he had expressed, was matter of
" admiration and surprisal to him. " He appealed to
him, " how often he had heard him say to the king
" in France, Germany, and Flanders, when they two
" took all the pains they could to fix the king's
" mind to a lively sense of his condition ; that he
" must not think now to recover his three kingdoms
" by the dead title of his descent and right, which
" had been so notoriously baffled and dishonoured,
" but by the reputation of his virtue, courage, piety,
" and industry ; that all these virtues must centre in
" himself, for that his fate depended upon his per-
" son ; and that the English nation would sooner
te submit to the government of Cromwell, than to
" any other subject who should be thought to go-
" vern the king. That England would not bear a
" favourite, nor any one man, who should out of his
" ambition engross to himself the disposal of the
" public affairs. "

But this he He said, " he was more now of the same mind,
refused. ' 7 " an d was confident that no honest man, of a com-
" petent understanding, would undertake that pro-
" vince ; and that for his own part, if a gallows were
' erected, and if he had only the choice to be hanged
" or to execute that office, he would rather submit
" to the first than the last. In the one, he should
" end his life with the reputation of an honest man ;
" in the other, he should die with disgrace and in-



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 419

" faray, let his innocence be what it would. " He 1661,
put the marquis in mind, " how far the king was ~~
" from observing the rules he had prescribed to him-
" self, before he came from beyond the seas ; and
" was so totally unbent from his business, and ad-
" dieted to pleasures, that the people generally be-
" gan to take notice of it ; that there was little care
" taken to regulate expenses, even when he was
" absolutely without supply ; that he would on a
" sudden be overwhelmed with such debts, as would
tf disquiet him, and dishonour his counsels ;" of
which the lord treasurer was so sensible, that he was
already weary of his staff, before it had been in his
hands three months. " That the confidence the
" king had in him, besides the assurance he had of
" his integrity and industry, proceeded more from
" his aversion to be troubled with the intricacies of
" his affairs, than from any violence of affection,
" which was not so fixed in his nature as to be like
" to transport him to any one person : and that as
" he could not, in so short a time, be acquainted
" with many men, whom in his judgment he could
" prefer before the chancellor for the managery of
" his business, who had been so long acquainted with
" it ; so he would, in a short time, be acquainted
" with many, who would, by finding fault with all
" that was done, be thought much wiser men ; it
" being one of his majesty's greatest infirmities,
" that he was apt to think too well of men at the
" first or second sight. "

He said, " whilst he kept the office he had, (which
" could better bear the envy of the bulk of the af-
" fairs, than any other qualification could,) and that
" it supported him in the execution of it, the king

E e 21



420 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

1661 felt not the burden of it; because little of the
" profit of it proceeded out of his own purse, and, if
** he were dead to-morrow, the place still must be
" conferred upon another. Whereas, if he gave over
" that administration, and had nothing to rely upon
" for the support of himself and family, but an ex-
" traordinary pension out of the exchequer, under no
" other title or pretence but of being first minister,
" (a title so newly translated out of French into Eng-
" lish, that it was not enough understood to b
" liked, and every man would detest it for the bur-
" den it was attended with,) the king himself who
" was not by nature immoderately inclined to give,
" would be quickly weary of so chargeable an officer,
" and be very willing to be freed from the reproach
" of being governed by any, (the very suspicion
" whereof he doth exceedingly abhor,) at the price
" and charge of the man, who had been raised by
" him to that inconvenient height above other men.
" That whilst he had that seal, he could have ad-
" mission to his majesty as often as he desired, be-
" cause it was more ease to receive an account of
" his business from him, than to be present at the
" whole debate of it ; and he well knew, the chan-
" cellor had too much business to desire audiences
" from his majesty without necessary reason. But
" if the office were in another hand, and he should
" haunt his presence with the same importunity as
" a spy upon his pleasures, and a disturber of the
" jollities of his meetings ; his majesty would quickly
" be nauseated with his company, which for the pre-
" sent he liked in some seasons ; and they, who for
"the present had submitted to some constraint by
" the gravity of his countenance, would quickly dis-



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 421

" cover that their talents were more acceptable, and 1661.
" by degrees make him appear grievous to his ma-~
" jesty, and soon after ridiculous. That all his hope
" was, that the king would shortly find some lady
" fit to be his wife, which all honest men ought to
" persuade him to, and that being married, he made
" no doubt he would decline many of those delights
" to which he was yet exposed, and which exposed
" him too much ; and till that time he could not
" think that his best servants could enjoy any plea-
" sant lives. That he presumed the parliament
" would, after they had raised money enough to
" disband the armies, and to pay off the seamen,"
(towards both which somewhat was every day done,
and both which amounted to an incredible and in-
supportable charge,) " settle such a revenue upon
" the crown, as the king might conform his expense
" to; and that it should not be in any 'body's power
" to make that revenue be esteemed by him to be
" greater, than in truth it would be. That when
" these two things should be brought to pass, he did
" hope, that the king would take pleasure in making
" himself master of every part of his business, and
" not charge any one man with a greater share of it
" than he can discharge, or than will agree with his
" own dignity and honour. In the mean time," he
besought the marquis, " that he would convert the
" duke of York and all other persons from that
" opinion, which could not but appear erroneous to
" himself, by the reasons he had heard ; and that if
" he could be brought to consent to what had been
" proposed to him, (and which rather than he would
" do, he would suffer a thousand deaths,) as it would
" inevitably prove his own ruin and destruction, so

e 3



1661. " it would bring an irreparable damage to the king. "
""And therefore he conjured him " to invite the king
" by his own example, and by assuming his own
" share of the' work," which for some time he had
declined since the return into England ; and by being
" himself constantly with his majesty, to whom he
" was acceptable at all hours, he would obstruct the
" operation of that ill company, which neither knew
" how to behave themselves, nor could reasonably
" propose so much benefit to themselves, as by the
" propagation of their follies and villanies, and by
" degrees induce his majesty more proportjonably to
" mingle his business with his pleasures, which he
" could not yet totally abandon. "

The marquis could not deny, but that many of
the reasons alleged by the chancellor were of that
weight as ought to prevail with him ; and therefore
forbore ever after to press him upon the same par-
ticular. And the duke of York shortly undertook a
conference with him upon the same argument, upon
which the other durst not enlarge with the same
freedom as he had done to the marquis ; both be-
cause his eyes could not bear the prospect of so
many things at once, as likewise that he knew he
communicated with some persons, who, whatever
they pretended, had nothing like good affection for
him : so that he rather pacified his royal highness
upon that subject, and diverted him from urging it,
than satisfied him with his grounds. And others
who wished well to him, and better to the public,
acquiesced with his peremptory resolution, without
believing that he resolved well either for his own
particular, or the king's affairs ; and did always think
that he might have prevented his own fate, if he had



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 423

at that time submitted to the judgment of his best 1661.

friends ; though himself remained so positive to the ~~

contrary, that he often said, " that he would not

" have redeemed himself by that expedient ; and

" that he could never have borne that fate with that

" tranquillity of mind, which God enabled him to

" do, if he had passed to it through that province. "



Whilst the general affairs of England, by the long c
debates in parliament, remained thus unsettled, the Io Jh
king was no less troubled and perplexed how to['j a s n c j t ~
compose his two Other kingdoms of Scotland and lrelftnd -
Ireland; from both which there were several per-
sons of the best condition of either kingdom sent,
with the tender and presentation of their allegiance
to his majesty, and expected his immediate direction
to free them from the distractions they were in ; and
by taking the government upon himself, into his own
hands, to be freed from those extraordinary com-
missions, under which they had been both governed
with a rod of iron by the late powers ; the shifting
of which from one faction to another had adminis-
tered no kind of variety to them, but they had re-
mained still under the same full extent of tyranny.

The whole frame of the ancient government of*^ 6

of Scotland

Scotland had been so entirely confounded by Crom-atthat
well, and new modelled by the laws and customs of u
England, that is, those laws and customs which the
commonwealth had established ; that he had hardly
left footsteps by which the old might be traced out
again. The power of the nobility was so totally sup-
pressed and extinguished, that their persons found
no more respect or distinction from the common
people, than the acceptation they found from Crom-
well, and the credit he gave them by some particular

E e 4



424 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

1 66 1 . trust, drew to them. Their beloved presbytery was
~~ become a term of reproach, and ridiculous ; the
pride and activity of their preachers subdued, and
reduced to the lowest contempt; and the standard
of their religion d remitted to the sole order and di-
rection of their commander in chief. All criminal
cases (except where the general thought it more ex-
pedient to proceed by martial law) were tried and
punished before judges sent from England, and by
the laws of England ; and matters of civil interest
before itinerant judges, who went twice a year in
circuits through the kingdom, and determined all
matters of right by the rules and customs which
were observed in England. They had liberty to
send a particular number, that was assigned to them,
to sit in the parliament of England, and to vote
there with all liberty ; which they had done. And
in recompense thereof, all such monies were levied
in Scotland, as were given by the parliament of Eng-
land, by which such contributions were raised, as
were proportionable to the expense, which the army
and garrisons which subdued them put the kingdom
of England to. Nor was there any other authority
to raise money in Scotland, but what was derived
from the parliament or general of England.

And all this prodigious mutation and transforma-
tion had been submitted to with the same resigna-
tion and obedience, as if the same had been trans-
mitted by an uninterrupted succession from king
Fergus : and it might well be a question, whether
the generality of the nation was not better contented
with it, than to return into the old road of subjec-

d religion] Omitted in MS.



EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON. 425

tion. But the king would not build according to 1661,
Cromwell's models, and had . many reasons to con-~
tinue Scotland within its own limits and bounds,
and sole dependance upon himself, rather than unite
it to England, with so many hazards and dangers as
would inevitably have accompanied it, under any
government less tyrannical than that of Cromwell.
And the resettling that kingdom was to be done
with much less difficulty, than the other of Ireland,
by reason that all who appeared concerned in it or
for it, as a committee for that kingdom, were united
between themselves, and did, or did pretend to de-
sire the same things. They all appeared under the
protection and recommendation of the general ; and
their dependance was the more upon him, because
he still commanded those garrisons and forces in
Scotland, which kept them to their obedience. And
he was the more willing to give them a testimony of
their affection to the king, and that without their
help he could not have been able to have marched
into England against Lambert, that they might
speak the more confidently, " that they gave him
" that assistance, because they were well assured
" that his intention was to serve the king :" whereas
they did indeed give him only what they could not
keep from him, nor did they know any of his inten-
tions, or himself at that time intend any thing for
the king. But it is very true, they were all either
men who had merited best from the king, or had
suffered most for him, or at least had acted least
against him, and (which they looked upon as the
most valuable qualification) they were all, or pre-
tended to be, the most implacable enemies to the
marquis of Argyle ; which was the " shibboleth" by



426 CONTINUATION OF THE LIFE OF

1661. which the affections of that whole nation were best

distinguished.
Some ac- The chief of the commissioners was the lord Sel-

< i unit of .