No More Learning

But great numbers
who protested that they were innocent of all disloyalty, and some
persons who boasted that their loyalty had been signally displayed,
obtained neither restitution nor compensation, and filled France and
Spain with outcries against the injustice and ingratitude of the House
of Stuart.

Meantime the government had, even in England, ceased to be popular. The
Royalists had begun to quarrel with the court and with each other; and
the party which had been vanquished, trampled down, and, as it seemed,
annihilated, but which had still retained a strong principle of life,
again raised its head, and renewed the interminable war.

Had the administration been faultless, the enthusiasm with which the
return of the King and the termination of the military tyranny had been
hailed could not have been permanent. For it is the law of our nature
that such fits of excitement shall always be followed by remissions. The
manner in which the court abused its victory made the remission speedy
and complete. Every moderate man was shocked by the insolence, cruelty,
and perfidy with which the Nonconformists were treated. The penal laws
had effectually purged the oppressed party of those insincere members
whose vices had disgraced it, and had made it again an honest and
pious body of men. The Puritan, a conqueror, a ruler, a persecutor,
a sequestrator, had been detested. The Puritan, betrayed and evil
entreated, deserted by all the timeservers who, in his prosperity, had
claimed brotherhood with him, hunted from his home, forbidden under
severe penalties to pray or receive the sacrament according to his
conscience, yet still firm in his resolution to obey God rather than
man, was, in spite of some unpleasing recollections, an object of pity
and respect to well constituted minds. These feelings became stronger
when it was noised abroad that the court was not disposed to treat
Papists with the same rigour which had been shown to Presbyterians. A
vague suspicion that the King and the Duke were not sincere Protestants
sprang up and gathered strength. Many persons too who had been disgusted
by the austerity and hypocrisy of the Saints of the Commonwealth began
to be still more disgusted by the open profligacy of the court and of
the Cavaliers, and were disposed to doubt whether the sullen preciseness
of Praise God Barebone might not be preferable to the outrageous
profaneness and licentiousness of the Buckinghams and Sedleys. Even
immoral men, who were not utterly destitute of sense and public spirit,
complained that the government treated the most serious matters as
trifles, and made trifles its serious business. A King might be
pardoned for amusing his leisure with wine, wit, and beauty. But it was
intolerable that he should sink into a mere lounger and voluptuary, that
the gravest affairs of state should be neglected, and that the public
service should be starved and the finances deranged in order that
harlots and parasites might grow rich.

A large body of Royalists joined in these complaints, and added many
sharp reflections on the King's ingratitude. His whole revenue, indeed,
would not have sufficed to reward them all in proportion to their own
consciousness of desert. For to every distressed gentleman who
had fought under Rupert or Derby his own services seemed eminently
meritorious, and his own sufferings eminently severe. Every one had
flattered himself that, whatever became of the rest, he should be
largely recompensed for all that he had lost during the civil troubles,
and that the restoration of the monarchy would be followed by the
restoration of his own dilapidated fortunes. None of these expectants
could restrain his indignation, when he found that he was as poor under
the King as he had been under the Rump or the Protector. The negligence
and extravagance of the court excited the bitter indignation of these
loyal veterans. They justly said that one half of what His Majesty
squandered on concubines and buffoons would gladden the hearts of
hundreds of old Cavaliers who, after cutting down their oaks and melting
their plate to help his father, now wandered about in threadbare suits,
and did not know where to turn for a meal.

At the same time a sudden fall of rents took place. The income of every
landed proprietor was diminished by five shillings in the pound. The cry
of agricultural distress rose from every shire in the kingdom; and
for that distress the government was, as usual, held accountable. The
gentry, compelled to retrench their expenses for a period, saw with
indignation the increasing splendour and profusion of Whitehall, and
were immovably fixed in the belief that the money which ought to have
supported their households had, by some inexplicable process, gone to
the favourites of the King.

The minds of men were now in such a temper that every public act excited
discontent. Charles had taken to wife Catharine Princess of Portugal.
The marriage was generally disliked; and the murmurs became loud when it
appeared that the King was not likely to have any legitimate posterity.
Dunkirk, won by Oliver from Spain, was sold to Lewis the Fourteenth,
King of France. This bargain excited general indignation. Englishmen
were already beginning to observe with uneasiness the progress of the
French power, and to regard the House of Bourbon with the same feeling
with which their grandfathers had regarded the House of Austria. Was it
wise, men asked, at such a time, to make any addition to the strength of
a monarchy already too formidable? Dunkirk was, moreover, prized by
the people, not merely as a place of arms, and as a key to the Low
Countries, but also as a trophy of English valour. It was to the
subjects of Charles what Calais had been to an earlier generation, and
what the rock of Gibraltar, so manfully defended, through disastrous and
perilous years, against the fleets and armies of a mighty coalition, is
to ourselves. The plea of economy might have had some weight, if it had
been urged by an economical government. But it was notorious that the
charges of Dunkirk fell far short of the sums which were wasted at court
in vice and folly. It seemed insupportable that a sovereign, profuse
beyond example in all that regarded his own pleasures, should be
niggardly in all that regarded the safety and honour of the state.

The public discontent was heightened, when it was found that, while
Dunkirk was abandoned on the plea of economy, the fortress of Tangier,
which was part of the dower of Queen Catharine, was repaired and kept up
at an enormous charge. That place was associated with no recollections
gratifying to the national pride: it could in no way promote the
national interests: it involved us in inglorious, unprofitable, and
interminable wars with tribes of half savage Mussulmans and it was
situated in a climate singularly unfavourable to the health and vigour
of the English race.

But the murmurs excited by these errors were faint, when compared with
the clamours which soon broke forth. The government engaged in war with
the United Provinces. The House of Commons readily voted sums unexampled
in our history, sums exceeding those which had supported the fleets and
armies of Cromwell at the time when his power was the terror of all
the world. But such was the extravagance, dishonesty, and incapacity of
those who had succeeded to his authority, that this liberality proved
worse than useless. The sycophants of the court, ill qualified to
contend against the great men who then directed the arms of Holland,
against such a statesman as De Witt, and such a commander as De Ruyter,
made fortunes rapidly, while the sailors mutinied from very hunger,
while the dockyards were unguarded, while the ships were leaky and
without rigging. It was at length determined to abandon all schemes of
offensive war; and it soon appeared that even a defensive war was a task
too hard for that administration. The Dutch fleet sailed up the Thames,
and burned the ships of war which lay at Chatham. It was said that, on
the very day of that great humiliation, the King feasted with the ladies
of his seraglio, and amused himself with hunting a moth about the supper
room. Then, at length, tardy justice was done to the memory of Oliver.
Everywhere men magnified his valour, genius, and patriotism. Everywhere
it was remembered how, when he ruled, all foreign powers had trembled
at the name of England, how the States General, now so haughty, had
crouched at his feet, and how, when it was known that he was no more,
Amsterdam was lighted up as for a great deliverance, and children
ran along the canals, shouting for joy that the Devil was dead. Even
Royalists exclaimed that the state could be saved only by calling the
old soldiers of the Commonwealth to arms. Soon the capital began to feel
the miseries of a blockade. Fuel was scarcely to be procured. Tilbury
Fort, the place where Elizabeth had, with manly spirit, hurled foul
scorn at Parma and Spain, was insulted by the invaders. The roar of
foreign guns was heard, for the first time, by the citizens of London.
In the Council it was seriously proposed that, if the enemy advanced,
the Tower should be abandoned. Great multitudes of people assembled in
the streets crying out that England was bought and sold. The houses and
carriages of the ministers were attacked by the populace; and it seemed
likely that the government would have to deal at once with an invasion
and with an insurrection. The extreme danger, it is true, soon passed
by. A treaty was concluded, very different from the treaties which
Oliver had been in the habit of signing; and the nation was once more
at peace, but was in a mood scarcely less fierce and sullen than in the
days of shipmoney.

The discontent engendered by maladministration was heightened by
calamities which the best administration could not have averted. While
the ignominious war with Holland was raging, London suffered two great
disasters, such as never, in so short a space of time, befel one city.
A pestilence, surpassing in horror any that during three centuries
had visited the island, swept away, in six mouths, more than a hundred
thousand human beings. And scarcely had the dead cart ceased to go its
rounds, when a fire, such as had not been known in Europe since the
conflagration of Rome under Nero, laid in ruins the whole city, from the
Tower to the Temple, and from the river to the purlieus of Smithfield.

Had there been a general election while the nation was smarting under so
many disgraces and misfortunes, it is probable that the Roundheads would
have regained ascendency in the state. But the Parliament was still
the Cavalier Parliament, chosen in the transport of loyalty which had
followed the Restoration. Nevertheless it soon became evident that no
English legislature, however loyal, would now consent to be merely what
the legislature had been under the Tudors. From the death of Elizabeth
to the eve of the civil war, the Puritans, who predominated in the
representative body, had been constantly, by a dexterous use of the
power of the purse, encroaching on the province of the executive
government. The gentlemen who, after the Restoration, filled the Lower
House, though they abhorred the Puritan name, were well pleased to
inherit the fruit of the Puritan policy. They were indeed most willing
to employ the power which they possessed in the state for the purpose of
making their King mighty and honoured, both at home and abroad: but
with the power itself they were resolved not to part. The great English
revolution of the seventeenth century, that is to say, the transfer of
the supreme control of the executive administration from the crown to
the House of Commons, was, through the whole long existence of this
Parliament, proceeding noiselessly, but rapidly and steadily. Charles,
kept poor by his follies and vices, wanted money. The Commons alone
could legally grant him money. They could not be prevented from putting
their own price on their grants. The price which they put on their
grants was this, that they should be allowed to interfere with every one
of the King's prerogatives, to wring from him his consent to laws which
he disliked, to break up cabinets, to dictate the course of foreign
policy, and even to direct the administration of war. To the royal
office, and the royal person, they loudly and sincerely professed the
strongest attachment. But to Clarendon they owed no allegiance; and they
fell on him as furiously as their predecessors had fallen on Strafford.
The minister's virtues and vices alike contributed to his ruin. He
was the ostensible head of the administration, and was therefore held
responsible even for those acts which he had strongly, but vainly,
opposed in Council. He was regarded by the Puritans, and by all who
pitied them, as an implacable bigot, a second Laud, with much more than
Laud's understanding. He had on all occasions maintained that the Act of
indemnity ought to be strictly observed; and this part of his conduct,
though highly honourable to him, made him hateful to all those Royalists
who wished to repair their ruined fortunes by suing the Roundheads for
damages and mesne profits. The Presbyterians of Scotland attributed to
him the downfall of their Church. The Papists of Ireland attributed to
him the loss of their lands. As father of the Duchess of York, he had
an obvious motive for wishing that there might be a barren Queen; and he
was therefore suspected of having purposely recommended one. The sale
of Dunkirk was justly imputed to him. For the war with Holland, he
was, with less justice, held accountable. His hot temper, his arrogant
deportment, the indelicate eagerness with which he grasped at riches,
the ostentation with which he squandered them, his picture gallery,
filled with masterpieces of Vandyke which had once been the property of
ruined Cavaliers, his palace, which reared its long and stately front
right opposite to the humbler residence of our Kings, drew on him much
deserved, and some undeserved, censure. When the Dutch fleet was in the
Thames, it was against the Chancellor that the rage of the populace was
chiefly directed. His windows were broken; the trees of his garden were
cut down; and a gibbet was set up before his door. But nowhere was he
more detested than in the House of Commons. He was unable to perceive
that the time was fast approaching when that House, if it continued to
exist at all, must be supreme in the state, when the management of that
House would be the most important department of politics, and when,
without the help of men possessing the ear of that House, it would
be impossible to carry on the government. He obstinately persisted in
considering the Parliament as a body in no respect differing from the
Parliament which had been sitting when, forty years before, he first
began to study law at the Temple. He did not wish to deprive the
legislature of those powers which were inherent in it by the old
constitution of the realm: but the new development of those powers,
though a development natural, inevitable, and to be prevented only by
utterly destroying the powers themselves, disgusted and alarmed him.
Nothing would have induced him to put the great seal to a writ for
raising shipmoney, or to give his voice in Council for committing a
member of Parliament to the Tower, on account of words spoken in debate:
but, when the Commons began to inquire in what manner the money voted
for the war had been wasted, and to examine into the maladministration
of the navy, he flamed with indignation. Such inquiry, according to him,
was out of their province. He admitted that the House was a most loyal
assembly, that it had done good service to the crown, and that its
intentions were excellent. But, both in public and in the closet, he,
on every occasion, expressed his concern that gentlemen so sincerely
attached to monarchy should unadvisedly encroach on the prerogative of
the monarch. Widely as they differed in spirit from the members of the
Long Parliament, they yet, he said, imitated that Parliament in meddling
with matters which lay beyond the sphere of the Estates of the realm,
and which were subject to the authority of the crown alone. The country,
he maintained, would never be well governed till the knights of shires
and the burgesses were content to be what their predecessors had been
in the days of Elizabeth. All the plans which men more observant
than himself of the signs of that time proposed, for the purpose of
maintaining a good understanding between the Court and the Commons,
he disdainfully rejected as crude projects, inconsistent with the
old polity of England. Towards the young orators, who were rising
to distinction and authority in the Lower House, his deportment was
ungracious: and he succeeded in making them, with scarcely an exception,
his deadly enemies. Indeed one of his most serious faults was
an inordinate contempt for youth: and this contempt was the more
unjustifiable, because his own experience in English politics was by no
means proportioned to his age. For so great a part of his life had been
passed abroad that he knew less of that world in which he found himself
on his return than many who might have been his sons.

For these reasons he was disliked by the Commons. For very different
reasons he was equally disliked by the Court. His morals as well as his
polities were those of an earlier generation. Even when he was a young
law student, living much with men of wit and pleasure, his natural
gravity and his religious principles had to a great extent preserved
him from the contagion of fashionable debauchery; and he was by no means
likely, in advanced years and in declining health, to turn libertine.
On the vices of the young and gay he looked with an aversion almost as
bitter and contemptuous as that which he felt for the theological errors
of the sectaries. He missed no opportunity of showing his scorn of
the mimics, revellers, and courtesans who crowded the palace; and the
admonitions which he addressed to the King himself were very sharp,
and, what Charles disliked still more, very long. Scarcely any voice was
raised in favour of a minister loaded with the double odium of faults
which roused the fury of the people, and of virtues which annoyed and
importuned the sovereign. Southampton was no more. Ormond performed
the duties of friendship manfully and faithfully, but in vain. The
Chancellor fell with a great ruin. The seal was taken from him: the
Commons impeached him: his head was not safe: he fled from the country:
an act was passed which doomed him to perpetual exile; and those who had
assailed and undermined him began to struggle for the fragments of his
power.

The sacrifice of Clarendon in some degree took off the edge of the
public appetite for revenge. Yet was the anger excited by the profusion
and negligence of the government, and by the miscarriages of the late
war, by no means extinguished. The counsellors of Charles, with the fate
of the Chancellor before their eyes, were anxious for their own safety.
They accordingly advised their master to soothe the irritation which
prevailed both in the Parliament and throughout the country, and for
that end, to take a step which has no parallel in the history of the
House of Stuart, and which was worthy of the prudence and magnanimity of
Oliver.

We have now reached a point at which the history of the great English
revolution begins to be complicated with the history of foreign
politics. The power of Spain had, during many years, been declining.
She still, it is true held in Europe the Milanese and the two Sicilies,
Belgium, and Franche Comte. In America her dominions still spread, on
both sides of the equator, far beyond the limits of the torrid zone. But
this great body had been smitten with palsy, and was not only
incapable of giving molestation to other states, but could not, without
assistance, repel aggression. France was now, beyond all doubt,
the greatest power in Europe. Her resources have, since those days,
absolutely increased, but have not increased so fast as the resources
of England. It must also be remembered that, a hundred and eighty years
ago, the empire of Russia, now a monarchy of the first class, was as
entirely out of the system of European politics as Abyssinia or Siam,
that the House of Brandenburg was then hardly more powerful than the
House of Saxony, and that the republic of the United States had not
then begun to exist. The weight of France, therefore, though still very
considerable, has relatively diminished. Her territory was not in the
days of Lewis the Fourteenth quite so extensive as at present: but
it was large, compact, fertile, well placed both for attack and for
defence, situated in a happy climate, and inhabited by a brave, active,
and ingenious people. The state implicitly obeyed the direction of a
single mind. The great fiefs which, three hundred years before, had
been, in all but name, independent principalities, had been annexed to
the crown. Only a few old men could remember the last meeting of the
States General. The resistance which the Huguenots, the nobles, and the
parliaments had offered to the kingly power, had been put down by the
two great Cardinals who had ruled the nation during forty years. The
government was now a despotism, but, at least in its dealings with the
upper classes, a mild and generous despotism, tempered by courteous
manners and chivalrous sentiments. The means at the disposal of the
sovereign were, for that age, truly formidable. His revenue, raised, it
is true, by a severe and unequal taxation which pressed heavily on the
cultivators of the soil, far exceeded that of any other potentate. His
army, excellently disciplined, and commanded by the greatest generals
then living, already consisted of more than a hundred and twenty
thousand men. Such an array of regular troops had not been seen in
Europe since the downfall of the Roman empire. Of maritime powers France
was not the first. But, though she had rivals on the sea, she had not
yet a superior. Such was her strength during the last forty years of the
seventeenth century, that no enemy could singly withstand her, and that
two great coalitions, in which half Christendom was united against her,
failed of success.

The personal qualities of the French King added to the respect inspired
by the power and importance of his kingdom. No sovereign has ever
represented the majesty of a great state with more dignity and grace. He
was his own prime minister, and performed the duties of a prime minister
with an ability and industry which could not be reasonably expected from
one who had in infancy succeeded to a crown, and who had been surrounded
by flatterers before he could speak. He had shown, in an eminent degree,
two talents invaluable to a prince, the talent of choosing his servants
well, and the talent of appropriating to himself the chief part of the
credit of their acts. In his dealings with foreign powers he had some
generosity, but no justice. To unhappy allies who threw themselves
at his feet, and had no hope but in his compassion, he extended his
protection with a romantic disinterestedness, which seemed better suited
to a knight errant than to a statesman. But he broke through the most
sacred ties of public faith without scruple or shame, whenever they
interfered with his interest, or with what he called his glory. His
perfidy and violence, however, excited less enmity than the insolence
with which he constantly reminded his neighbours of his own greatness
and of their littleness. He did not at this time profess the austere
devotion which, at a later period, gave to his court the aspect of a
monastery. On the contrary, he was as licentious, though by no means as
frivolous and indolent, as his brother of England. But he was a sincere
Roman Catholic; and both his conscience and his vanity impelled him to
use his power for the defence and propagation of the true faith, after
the example of his renowned predecessors, Clovis, Charlemagne, and Saint
Lewis.

Our ancestors naturally looked with serious alarm on the growing power
of France. This feeling, in itself perfectly reasonable, was mingled
with other feelings less praiseworthy. France was our old enemy. It was
against France that the most glorious battles recorded in our annals
had been fought. The conquest of France had been twice effected by the
Plantagenets. The loss of France had been long remembered as a great
national disaster. The title of King of France was still borne by our
sovereigns. The lilies of France still appeared, mingled with our own
lions, on the shield of the House of Stuart. In the sixteenth century
the dread inspired by Spain had suspended the animosity of which France
had anciently been the object. But the dread inspired by Spain had given
place to contemptuous compassion; and France was again regarded as our
national foe. The sale of Dunkirk to France had been the most generally
unpopular act of the restored King. Attachment to France had been
prominent among the crimes imputed by the Commons to CIarendon. Even in
trifles the public feeling showed itself. When a brawl took place in the
streets of Westminster between the retinues of the French and Spanish
embassies, the populace, though forcibly prevented from interfering,
had given unequivocal proofs that the old antipathy to France was not
extinct.

France and Spain were now engaged in a more serious contest. One of the
chief objects of the policy of Lewis throughout his life was to extend
his dominions towards the Rhine. For this end he had engaged in war
with Spain, and he was now in the full career of conquest. The United
Provinces saw with anxiety the progress of his arms. That renowned
federation had reached the height of power, prosperity, and glory. The
Batavian territory, conquered from the waves and defended against them
by human art, was in extent little superior to the principality of
Wales. But all that narrow space was a busy and populous hive, in which
new wealth was every day created, and in which vast masses of old
wealth were hoarded. The aspect of Holland, the rich cultivation, the
innumerable canals, the ever whirling mills, the endless fleets of
barges, the quick succession of great towns, the ports bristling with
thousands of masts, the large and stately mansions, the trim villas, the
richly furnished apartments, the picture galleries, the summer rouses,
the tulip beds, produced on English travellers in that age an effect
similar to the effect which the first sight of England now produces on a
Norwegian or a Canadian. The States General had been compelled to humble
themselves before Cromwell. But after the Restoration they had taken
their revenge, had waged war with success against Charles, and had
concluded peace on honourable terms. Rich, however, as the Republic
was, and highly considered in Europe, she was no match for the power of
Lewis. She apprehended, not without good cause, that his kingdom
might soon be extended to her frontiers; and she might well dread
the immediate vicinity of a monarch so great, so ambitious, and so
unscrupulous. Yet it was not easy to devise any expedient which might
avert the danger. The Dutch alone could not turn the scale against
France. On the side of the Rhine no help was to be expected. Several
German princes had been gained by Lewis; and the Emperor himself was
embarrassed by the discontents of Hungary. England was separated from
the United Provinces by the recollection of cruel injuries recently
inflicted and endured; and her policy had, since the restoration, been
so devoid of wisdom and spirit, that it was scarcely possible to expect
from her any valuable assistance

But the fate of Clarendon and the growing ill humour of the Parliament
determined the advisers of Charles to adopt on a sudden a policy which
amazed and delighted the nation.

The English resident at Brussels, Sir William Temple, one of the most
expert diplomatists and most pleasing writers of that age, had already
represented to this court that it was both desirable and practicable
to enter into engagements with the States General for the purpose of
checking the progress of France. For a time his suggestions had been
slighted; but it was now thought expedient to act on them. He was
commissioned to negotiate with the States General. He proceeded to the
Hague, and soon came to an understanding with John De Witt, then the
chief minister of Holland. Sweden, small as her resources were, had,
forty years before, been raised by the genius of Gustavus Adolphus to
a high rank among European powers, and had not yet descended to her
natural position. She was induced to join on this occasion with England
and the States. Thus was formed that coalition known as the Triple
Alliance. Lewis showed signs of vexation and resentment, but did not
think it politic to draw on himself the hostility of such a confederacy
in addition to that of Spain. He consented, therefore, to relinquish
a large part of the territory which his armies had occupied. Peace was
restored to Europe; and the English government, lately an object of
general contempt, was, during a few months, regarded by foreign powers
with respect scarcely less than that which the Protector had inspired.

At home the Triple Alliance was popular in the highest degree. It
gratified alike national animosity and national pride. It put a limit
to the encroachments of a powerful and ambitious neighbour. It bound
the leading Protestant states together in close union. Cavaliers and
Roundheads rejoiced in common: but the joy of the Roundhead was even
greater than that of the Cavalier. For England had now allied herself
strictly with a country republican in government and Presbyterian in
religion, against a country ruled by an arbitrary prince and attached
to the Roman Catholic Church.
The House of Commons loudly applauded the
treaty; and some uncourtly grumblers described it as the only good thing
that had been done since the King came in.

The King, however, cared little for the approbation of his Parliament
or of his people. The Triple Alliance he regarded merely as a temporary
expedient for quieting discontents which had seemed likely to become
serious. The independence, the safety, the dignity of the nation
over which he presided were nothing to him. He had begun to find
constitutional restraints galling. Already had been formed in the
Parliament a strong connection known by the name of the Country Party.
That party included all the public men who leaned towards Puritanism
and Republicanism, and many who, though attached to the Church and to
hereditary monarchy, had been driven into opposition by dread of Popery,
by dread of France, and by disgust at the extravagance, dissoluteness,
and faithlessness of the court. The power of this band of politicians
was constantly growing. Every year some of those members who had been
returned to Parliament during the loyal excitement of 1661 had dropped
off; and the vacant seats had generally been filled by persons less
tractable. Charles did not think himself a King while an assembly of
subjects could call for his accounts before paying his debts, and
could insist on knowing which of his mistresses or boon companions had
intercepted the money destined for the equipping and manning of the
fleet. Though not very studious of fame, he was galled by the taunts
which were sometimes uttered in the discussions of the Commons, and on
one occasion attempted to restrain the freedom of speech by disgraceful
means. Sir John Coventry, a country gentleman, had, in debate, sneered
at the profligacy of the court. In any former reign he would probably
have been called before the Privy Council and committed to the Tower. A
different course was now taken. A gang of bullies was secretly sent to
slit the nose of the offender. This ignoble revenge, instead of quelling
the spirit of opposition, raised such a tempest that the King was
compelled to submit to the cruel humiliation of passing an act which
attainted the instruments of his revenge, and which took from him the
power of pardoning them.

But, impatient as he was of constitutional restraints, how was he to
emancipate himself from them? He could make himself despotic only by the
help of a great standing army; and such an army was not in existence.
His revenues did indeed enable him to keep up some regular troops:
but those troops, though numerous enough to excite great jealousy and
apprehension in the House of Commons and in the country, were scarcely
numerous enough to protect Whitehall and the Tower against a rising of
the mob of London. Such risings were, indeed to be dreaded; for it
was calculated that in the capital and its suburbs dwelt not less than
twenty thousand of Oliver's old soldiers.

Since the King was bent on emancipating himself from the control of
Parliament, and since, in such an enterprise, he could not hope for
effectual aid at home, it followed that he must look for aid abroad.
The power and wealth of the King of France might be equal to the arduous
task of establishing absolute monarchy in England. Such an ally would
undoubtedly expect substantial proofs of gratitude for such a service.
Charles must descend to the rank of a great vassal, and must make peace
and war according to the directions of the government which protected
him. His relation to Lewis would closely resemble that in which
the Rajah of Nagpore and the King of Oude now stand to the British
Government. Those princes are bound to aid the East India Company in
all hostilities, defensive and offensive, and to have no diplomatic
relations but such as the East India Company shall sanction. The
Company in return guarantees them against insurrection. As long as they
faithfully discharge their obligations to the paramount power, they
are permitted to dispose of large revenues, to fill their palaces with
beautiful women, to besot themselves in the company of their favourite
revellers, and to oppress with impunity any subject who may incur their
displeasure. [18] Such a life would be insupportable to a man of high
spirit and of powerful understanding. But to Charles, sensual, indolent,
unequal to any strong intellectual exertion, and destitute alike of
all patriotism and of all sense of personal dignity, the prospect had
nothing unpleasing.

That the Duke of York should have concurred in the design of degrading
that crown which it was probable that he would himself one day wear may
seem more extraordinary. For his nature was haughty and imperious; and,
indeed, he continued to the very last to show, by occasional starts and
struggles, his impatience of the French yoke. But he was almost as much
debased by superstition as his brother by indolence and vice. James
was now a Roman Catholic. Religious bigotry had become the dominant
sentiment of his narrow and stubborn mind, and had so mingled
itself with his love of rule, that the two passions could hardly be
distinguished from each other. It seemed highly improbable that, without
foreign aid, he would be able to obtain ascendency, or even toleration,
for his own faith: and he was in a temper to see nothing humiliating in
any step which might promote the interests of the true Church.

A negotiation was opened which lasted during several months. The chief
agent between the English and French courts was the beautiful, graceful,
and intelligent Henrietta, Duchess of Orleans, sister of Charles, sister
in law of Lewis, and a favourite with both. The King of England offered
to declare himself a Roman Catholic, to dissolve the Triple Alliance,
and to join with France against Holland, if France would engage to lend
him such military and pecuniary aid as might make him independent of
his parliament. Lewis at first affected to receive these propositions
coolly, and at length agreed to them with the air of a man who is
conferring a great favour: but in truth, the course which he had
resolved to take was one by which he might gain and could not lose.

It seems certain that he never seriously thought of establishing
despotism and Popery in England by force of arms. He must have been
aware that such an enterprise would be in the highest degree arduous and
hazardous, that it would task to the utmost all the energies of France
during many years, and that it would be altogether incompatible with
more promising schemes of aggrandisement, which were dear to his heart.
He would indeed willingly have acquired the merit and the glory of doing
a great service on reasonable terms to the Church of which he was a
member. But he was little disposed to imitate his ancestors who, in the
twelfth and thirteenth centuries, had led the flower of French chivalry
to die in Syria and Egypt: and he well knew that a crusade against
Protestantism in Great Britain would not be less perilous than the
expeditions in which the armies of Lewis the Seventh and of Lewis the
Ninth had perished. He had no motive for wishing the Stuarts to be
absolute. He did not regard the English constitution with feelings at
all resembling those which have in later times induced princes to make
war on the free institutions of neighbouring nations. At present a
great party zealous for popular government has ramifications in every
civilised country. And important advantage gained anywhere by that party
is almost certain to be the signal for general commotion. It is not
wonderful that governments threatened by a common danger should combine
for the purpose of mutual insurance. But in the seventeenth century no
such danger existed. Between the public mind of England and the public
mind of France, there was a great gulph. Our institutions and our
factions were as little understood at Paris as at Constantinople. It may
be doubted whether any one of the forty members of the French Academy
had an English volume in his library, or knew Shakespeare, Jonson, or
Spenser, even by name. A few Huguenots, who had inherited the mutinous
spirit of their ancestors, might perhaps have a fellow feeling with
their brethren in the faith, the English Roundheads: but the Huguenots
had ceased to be formidable. The French, as a people, attached to the
Church of Rome, and proud of the greatness of their King and of their
own loyalty, looked on our struggles against Popery and arbitrary power,
not only without admiration or sympathy, but with strong disapprobation
and disgust. It would therefore be a great error to ascribe the conduct
of Lewis to apprehensions at all resembling those which, in our age,
induced the Holy Alliance to interfere in the internal troubles of
Naples and Spain.

Nevertheless, the propositions made by the court of Whitehall were
most welcome to him. He already meditated gigantic designs, which were
destined to keep Europe in constant fermentation during more than forty
years. He wished to humble the United Provinces, and to annex Belgium,
Franche Comte, and Loraine to his dominions. Nor was this all. The King
of Spain was a sickly child. It was likely that he would die without
issue. His eldest sister was Queen of France. A day would almost
certainly come, and might come very soon, when the House of Bourbon
might lay claim to that vast empire on which the sun never set. The
union of two great monarchies under one head would doubtless be opposed
by a continental coalition. But for any continental coalition France
singlehanded was a match. England could turn the scale. On the course
which, in such a crisis, England might pursue, the destinies of the
world would depend; and it was notorious that the English Parliament
and nation were strongly attached to the policy which had dictated the
Triple Alliance. Nothing, therefore, could be more gratifying to Lewis
than to learn that the princes of the House of Stuart needed his help,
and were willing to purchase that help by unbounded subserviency. He
determined to profit by the opportunity, and laid down for himself a
plan to which, without deviation, he adhered, till the Revolution of
1688 disconcerted all his politics. He professed himself desirous to
promote the designs of the English court. He promised large aid. He from
time to time doled out such aid as might serve to keep hope alive, and
as he could without risk or inconvenience spare. In this way, at an
expense very much less than that which he incurred in building and
decorating Versailles or Marli, he succeeded in making England, during
nearly twenty years, almost as insignificant a member of the political
system of Europe as the republic of San Marino.

His object was not to destroy our constitution, but to keep the various
elements of which it was composed in a perpetual state of conflict,
and to set irreconcilable enmity between those who had the power of the
purse and those who had the power of the sword. With this view he bribed
and stimulated both parties in turn, pensioned at once the ministers
of the crown and the chiefs of the opposition, encouraged the court to
withstand the seditious encroachments of the Parliament, and conveyed to
the Parliament intimations of the arbitrary designs of the court.

One of the devices to which he resorted for the purpose of obtaining an
ascendency in the English counsels deserves especial notice. Charles,
though incapable of love in the highest sense of the word, was the
slave of any woman whose person excited his desires, and whose airs and
prattle amused his leisure. Indeed a husband would be justly derided
who should bear from a wife of exalted rank and spotless virtue half the
insolence which the King of England bore from concubines who, while they
owed everything to his bounty, caressed his courtiers almost before his
face. He had patiently endured the termagant passions of Barbara Palmer
and the pert vivacity of Eleanor Gwynn. Lewis thought that the
most useful envoy who could be sent to London, would be a handsome,
licentious, and crafty Frenchwoman. Such a woman was Louisa, a lady of
the House of Querouaille, whom our rude ancestors called Madam Carwell.
She was soon triumphant over all her rivals, was created Duchess of
Portsmouth, was loaded with wealth, and obtained a dominion which ended
only with the life of Charles.

The most important conditions of the alliance between the crowns were
digested into a secret treaty which was signed at Dover in May, 1670,
just ten years after the day on which Charles had landed at that very
port amidst the acclamations and joyful tears of a too confiding people.

By this treaty Charles bound himself to make public profession of the
Roman Catholic religion, to join his arms to those of Lewis for the
purpose of destroying the power of the United Provinces, and to employ
the whole strength of England, by land and sea, in support of the rights
of the House of Bourbon to the vast monarchy of Spain. Lewis, on the
other hand, engaged to pay a large subsidy, and promised that, if any
insurrection should break out in England, he would send an army at his
own charge to support his ally.

This compact was made with gloomy auspices. Six weeks after it had
been signed and sealed, the charming princess, whose influence over her
brother and brother in law had been so pernicious to her country, was
no more. Her death gave rise to horrible suspicions which, for a moment,
seemed likely to interrupt the newly formed friendship between the
Houses of Stuart and Bourbon: but in a short time fresh assurances of
undiminished good will were exchanged between the confederates.

The Duke of York, too dull to apprehend danger, or too fanatical to care
about it, was impatient to see the article touching the Roman Catholic
religion carried into immediate execution: but Lewis had the wisdom
to perceive that, if this course were taken, there would be such an
explosion in England as would probably frustrate those parts of the plan
which he had most at heart. It was therefore determined that Charles
should still call himself a Protestant, and should still, at high
festivals, receive the sacrament according to the ritual of the Church
of England. His more scrupulous brother ceased to appear in the royal
chapel.

About this time died the Duchess of York, daughter of the banished
Earl of Clarendon. She had been, during some years, a concealed Roman
Catholic. She left two daughters, Mary and Anne, afterwards successively
Queens of Great Britain. They were bred Protestants by the positive
command of the King, who knew that it would be vain for him to profess
himself a member of the Church of England, if children who seemed likely
to inherit his throne were, by his permission, brought up as members of
the Church of Rome.

The principal servants of the crown at this time were men whose names
have justly acquired an unenviable notoriety. We must take heed,
however, that we do not load their memory with infamy which of right
belongs to their master. For the treaty of Dover the King himself is
chiefly answerable. He held conferences on it with the French agents:
he wrote many letters concerning it with his own hand: he was the person
who first suggested the most disgraceful articles which it contained;
and he carefully concealed some of those articles from the majority of
his Cabinet.

Few things in our history are more curious than the origin and growth of
the power now possessed by the Cabinet. From an early period the
Kings of England had been assisted by a Privy Council to which the law
assigned many important functions and duties. During several centuries
this body deliberated on the gravest and most delicate affairs. But
by degrees its character changed. It became too large for despatch and
secrecy. The rank of Privy Councillor was often bestowed as an honorary
distinction on persons to whom nothing was confided, and whose opinion
was never asked. The sovereign, on the most important occasions,
resorted for advice to a small knot of leading ministers. The advantages
and disadvantages of this course were early pointed out by Bacon,
with his usual judgment and sagacity: but it was not till after the
Restoration that the interior council began to attract general notice.
During many years old fashioned politicians continued to regard the
Cabinet as an unconstitutional and dangerous board. Nevertheless, it
constantly became more and more important. It at length drew to itself
the chief executive power, and has now been regarded, during several
generations as an essential part of our polity. Yet, strange to say, it
still continues to be altogether unknown to the law: the names of the
noblemen and gentlemen who compose it are never officially announced to
the public: no record is kept of its meetings and resolutions; nor has
its existence ever been recognised by any Act of Parliament.

During some years the word Cabal was popularly used as synonymous with
Cabinet. But it happened by a whimsical coincidence that, in 1671, the
Cabinet consisted of five persons the initial letters of whose names
made up the word Cabal; Clifford, Arlington, Buckingham, Ashley, and
Lauderdale. These ministers were therefore emphatically called the
Cabal; and they soon made that appellation so infamous that it has never
since their time been used except as a term of reproach.

Sir Thomas Clifford was a Commissioner of the Treasury, and had greatly
distinguished himself in the House of Commons. Of the members of the
Cabal he was the most respectable. For, with a fiery and imperious
temper, he had a strong though a lamentably perverted sense of duty and
honour.

Henry Bennet, Lord Arlington, then Secretary of State, had since he came
to manhood, resided principally on the Continent, and had learned that
cosmopolitan indifference to constitutions and religions which is often
observable in persons whose life has been passed in vagrant diplomacy.
If there was any form of government which he liked it was that of
France. If there was any Church for which he felt a preference, it was
that of Rome. He had some talent for conversation, and some talent also
for transacting the ordinary business of office. He had learned, during
a life passed in travelling and negotiating, the art of accommodating
his language and deportment to the society in which he found himself.
His vivacity in the closet amused the King: his gravity in debates and
conferences imposed on the public; and he had succeeded in attaching to
himself, partly by services and partly by hopes, a considerable number
of personal retainers.

Buckingham, Ashley, and Lauderdale were men in whom the immorality which
was epidemic among the politicians of that age appeared in its most
malignant type, but variously modified by greet diversities of temper
and understanding. Buckingham was a sated man of pleasure, who had
turned to ambition as to a pastime. As he had tried to amuse himself
with architecture and music, with writing farces and with seeking for
the philosopher's stone, so he now tried to amuse himself with a secret
negotiation and a Dutch war. He had already, rather from fickleness
and love of novelty than from any deep design, been faithless to every
party. At one time he had ranked among the Cavaliers. At another
time warrants had been out against him for maintaining a treasonable
correspondence with the remains of the Republican party in the city. He
was now again a courtier, and was eager to win the favour of the King
by services from which the most illustrious of those who had fought and
suffered for the royal house would have recoiled with horror.

Ashley, with a far stronger head, and with a far fiercer and more
earnest ambition, had been equally versatile. But Ashley's versatility
was the effect, not of levity, but of deliberate selfishness. He had
served and betrayed a succession of governments. But he had timed all
his treacheries so well that through all revolutions, his fortunes
had constantly been rising. The multitude, struck with admiration by
a prosperity which, while everything else was constantly changing,
remained unchangeable, attributed to him a prescience almost miraculous,
and likened him to the Hebrew statesman of whom it is written that his
counsel was as if a man had inquired of the oracle of God.

Lauderdale, loud and coarse both in mirth and anger, was, perhaps, under
the outward show of boisterous frankness, the most dishonest man in the
whole Cabal. He had made himself conspicuous among the Scotch insurgents
of 1638 by his zeal for the Covenant. He was accused of having been
deeply concerned in the sale of Charles the First to the English
Parliament, and was therefore, in the estimation of good Cavaliers, a
traitor, if possible, of a worse description than those who had sate in
the High Court of Justice. He often talked with a noisy jocularity
of the days when he was a canter and a rebel. He was now the chief
instrument employed by the court in the work of forcing episcopacy
on his reluctant countrymen; nor did he in that cause shrink from the
unsparing use of the sword, the halter, and the boot. Yet those who knew
him knew that thirty years had made no change in his real sentiments,
that he still hated the memory of Charles the First, and that he still
preferred the Presbyterian form of church government to every other.

Unscrupulous as Buckingham, Ashley, and Lauderdale were, it was not
thought safe to intrust to them the King's intention of declaring
himself a Roman Catholic. A false treaty, in which the article
concerning religion was omitted, was shown to them. The names and seals
of Clifford and Arlington are affixed to the genuine treaty. Both these
statesmen had a partiality for the old Church, a partiality which the
brave and vehement Clifford in no long time manfully avowed, but which
the colder and meaner Arlington concealed, till the near approach of
death scared him into sincerity. The three other cabinet ministers,
however, were not men to be kept easily in the dark, and probably
suspected more than was distinctly avowed to them. They were certainly
privy to all the political engagements contracted with France, and were
not ashamed to receive large gratifications from Lewis.

The first object of Charles was to obtain from the Commons supplies
which might be employed in executing the secret treaty. The Cabal,
holding power at a time when our government was in a state of
transition, united in itself two different kinds of vices belonging
to two different ages and to two different systems. As those five evil
counsellors were among the last English statesmen who seriously thought
of destroying the Parliament, so they were the first English statesmen
who attempted extensively to corrupt it. We find in their policy at once
the latest trace of the Thorough of Strafford, and the earliest trace of
that methodical bribery which was afterwards practiced by Walpole. They
soon perceived, however, that, though the House of Commons was chiefly
composed of Cavaliers, and though places and French gold had been
lavished on the members, there was no chance that even the least odious
parts of the scheme arranged at Dover would be supported by a majority.
It was necessary to have recourse to fraud. The King professed great
zeal for the principles of the Triple Alliance, and pretended that, in
order to hold the ambition of France in check, it would be necessary to
augment the fleet. The Commons fell into the snare, and voted a grant of
eight hundred thousand pounds. The Parliament was instantly prorogued;
and the court, thus emancipated from control, proceeded to the execution
of the great design.

The financial difficulties however were serious. A war with Holland
could be carried on only at enormous cost. The ordinary revenue was not
more than sufficient to support the government in time of peace. The
eight hundred thousand pounds out of which the Commons had just been
tricked would not defray the naval and military charge of a single year
of hostilities. After the terrible lesson given by the Long Parliament,
even the Cabal did not venture to recommend benevolences or shipmoney.
In this perplexity Ashley and Clifford proposed a flagitious breach of
public faith. The goldsmiths of London were then not only dealers in the
precious metals, but also bankers, and were in the habit of advancing
large sums of money to the government. In return for these advances they
received assignments on the revenue, and were repaid with interest as
the taxes came in. About thirteen hundred thousand pounds had been
in this way intrusted to the honour of the state. On a sudden it was
announced that it was not convenient to pay the principal, and that the
lenders must content themselves with interest. They were consequently
unable to meet their own engagements. The Exchange was in an uproar:
several great mercantile houses broke; and dismay and distress
spread through all society. Meanwhile rapid strides were made towards
despotism. Proclamations, dispensing with Acts of Parliament, or
enjoining what only Parliament could lawfully enjoin, appeared in rapid
succession. Of these edicts the most important was the Declaration of
Indulgence. By this instrument the penal laws against Roman Catholics
were set aside; and, that the real object of the measure might not
be perceived, the laws against Protestant Nonconformists were also
suspended.

A few days after the appearance of the Declaration of Indulgence, war
was proclaimed against the United Provinces. By sea the Dutch maintained
the struggle with honour; but on land they were at first borne down by
irresistible force. A great French army passed the Rhine. Fortress
after fortress opened its gates. Three of the seven provinces of the
federation were occupied by the invaders. The fires of the hostile camp
were seen from the top of the Stadthouse of Amsterdam. The Republic,
thus fiercely assailed from without, was torn at the same time by
internal dissensions. The government was in the hands of a close
oligarchy of powerful burghers. There were numerous selfelected Town
Councils, each of which exercised within its own sphere, many of the
rights of sovereignty. These councils sent delegates to the Provincial
States, and the Provincial States again sent delegates to the States
General. A hereditary first magistrate was no essential part of this
polity. Nevertheless one family, singularly fertile of great men, had
gradually obtained a large and somewhat indefinite authority. William,
first of the name, Prince of Orange Nassau, and Stadtholder of Holland,
had headed the memorable insurrection against Spain. His son Maurice had
been Captain General and first minister of the States, had, by eminent
abilities and public services, and by some treacherous and cruel
actions, raised himself to almost kingly power, and had bequeathed
a great part of that power to his family. The influence of the
Stadtholders was an object of extreme jealousy to the municipal
oligarchy. But the army, and that great body of citizens which was
excluded from all share in the government, looked on the Burgomasters
and Deputies with a dislike resembling the dislike with which the
legions and the common people of Rome regarded the Senate, and were as
zealous for the House of Orange as the legions and the common people of
Rome for the House of Caesar. The Stadtholder commanded the forces of
the commonwealth, disposed of all military commands, had a large share
of the civil patronage, and was surrounded by pomp almost regal.

Prince William the Second had been strongly opposed by the oligarchical
party. His life had terminated in the year 1650, amidst great civil
troubles. He died childless: the adherents of his house were left for
a short time without a head; and the powers which he had exercised were
divided among the Town Councils, the Provincial States, and the States
General.

But, a few days after William's death, his widow, Mary, daughter of
Charles the first, King of Great Britain, gave birth to a son, destined
to raise the glory and authority of the House of Nassau to the highest
point, to save the United Provinces from slavery, to curb the power
of France, and to establish the English constitution on a lasting
foundation.

This Prince, named William Henry, was from his birth an object of
serious apprehension to the party now supreme in Holland, and of loyal
attachment to the old friends of his line. He enjoyed high consideration
as the possessor of a splendid fortune, as the chief of one of the most
illustrious houses in Europe, as a Magnate of the German empire, as a
prince of the blood royal of England, and, above all, as the descendant
of the founders of Batavian liberty. But the high office which had once
been considered as hereditary in his family remained in abeyance; and
the intention of the aristocratical party was that there should never
be another Stadtholder. The want of a first magistrate was, to a great
extent, supplied by the Grand Pensionary of the Province of Holland,
John De Witt, whose abilities, firmness, and integrity had raised him to
unrivalled authority in the councils of the municipal oligarchy.

The French invasion produced a complete change. The suffering and
terrified people raged fiercely against the government. In their madness
they attacked the bravest captains and the ablest statesmen of the
distressed commonwealth.