A History of the Early Part of the Reign of James the Second Part 1

A History of the Early Part of the Reign of James the Second.

by Charles James Fox.

INTRODUCTION.

Fox's "History of the Reign of James II.," which begins with his view of the reign of Charles II. and breaks off at the execution of Monmouth, was the beginning of a History of England from the Revolution, upon which he worked in the last years of his life, for which he collected materials in Paris after the Peace of Amiens, in 1802--he died in September, 1806--and which was first published in 1808.

The grandfather of Charles James Fox was Stephen, son of William Fox, of Farley, in Wilts.h.i.+re. Stephen Fox was a young royalist under Charles I.

He was twenty-two at the time of the king's execution, went into exile during the Commonwealth, came back at the Restoration, was appointed paymaster of the first two regiments of guards that were raised, and afterwards Paymaster of all the Forces. In that office he made much money, but rebuilt the church at Farley, and earned lasting honour as the actual founder of Chelsea Hospital, which was opened in 1682 for wounded and superannuated soldiers. The ground and buildings had been appointed by James I., in 1609, as Chelsea College, for the training of disputants against the Roman Catholics. Sir Stephen Fox himself contributed thirteen thousand pounds to the carrying out of this design. Fox's History dealt, therefore, with times in which his grandfather had played a part.

In 1703, when his age was seventy-six, Stephen Fox took a second wife, by whom he had two sons, who became founders of two families; Stephen, the elder, became first Earl of Ilchester; Henry, the younger, who married Georgina, daughter of the Duke of Richmond, and was himself created, in 1763, Baron Holland of Farley. Of the children of that marriage Charles James Fox was the third son, born on the 24th of January, 1749. The second son had died in infancy.

Henry Fox inherited Tory opinions. He was regarded by George II. as a good man of business, and was made Secretary of War in 1754, when Charles James, whose cleverness made him a favoured child, was five years old. In the next year Henry Fox was Secretary of State for the Southern Department. The outbreak of the Seven Years' War bred discontent and change of Ministry. The elder Fox had then to give place to the elder Pitt. But Henry Fox was compensated by the office of Paymaster of the Forces, from which he knew even better than his father had known how to extract profit. He rapidly acquired the wealth which he joined to his t.i.tle as Lord Holland of Farley, and for which he was attacked vigorously, until two hundred thousand pounds--some part of the money that stayed by him--had been refunded.

Henry Fox, Lord Holland, found his boy, Charles James, brilliant and lively, made him a companion, and indulged him to the utmost. Once he expressed a strong desire to break a watch that his father was winding up: his father gave it him to dash upon the floor. Once his father had promised that when an old garden wall at Holland House was blown down with gunpowder before replacing it with iron railings, he should see the explosion. The workmen blew it down in the boy's absence: his father had the wall rebuilt in its old form that it might be blown down again in his presence, and his promise kept. He was sent first to Westminster School, and then to Eton. At home he was his father's companion, joined in the talk of men at his father's dinner-parties, travelled at fourteen with his father to the Continent, and is said to have been allowed five guineas a night for gambling-money. He grew up reckless of the worth of money, and for many years the excitement of gambling was to him as one of the necessaries of life. His immense energy at school and college made him work as hard as the most diligent man who did nothing else, and devote himself to gambling, horse-racing, and convivial pleasures as vigorously as if he were the weak man capable of nothing else. The Eton boys all prophesied his future fame. At Oxford, where he entered Hertford College, he was one of the best men of his time, and one of the wildest. A clergyman, strong in Greek, was arguing with young Fox against the genuineness of a verse of the Iliad because its measure was unusual. Fox at once quoted from memory some twenty parallels.

From college he went on the usual tour of Europe, spending lavishly, incurring heavy debts, and sending home large bills for his father to pay. One bill alone, paid by his father to a creditor at Naples, was for sixteen thousand pounds. He came back in raiment of the highest fas.h.i.+on, and was put into Parliament in 1768, not yet twenty years old, as member for Midhurst. He began his political life with the family opinions, defended the Ministry against John Wilkes, and was provided promptly with a place as Paymaster of the Pensions to the Widows of Land Officers, and then, when he had reached the age of twenty-one, there was a seat found for him at the Board of Admiralty.

At once Fox made his mark in the House as a brilliant debater with an intellectual power and an industry that made him master of the subjects he discussed. Still also he was scattering money, and incurring debt, training race-horses, and staking heavily at gambling tables. When a n.o.ble friend, who was not a gambler, offered to bet fifty pounds upon a throw, Fox declined, saying, "I never play for pence."

After a few years of impatient submission to Lord North, Fox broke from him, and it was not long before he had broken from Lord North's opinions and taken the side of the people in all leading questions. He became the friend of Burke; and joined in the attack upon the policy of Coercion that destroyed the union between England and her American colonies. In 1774, at the age of twenty-five, Fox lost by death his father, his mother, and his elder brother, who had succeeded to the t.i.tle, and who had left a little son to be his heir. In February of that year Lord North had finally broken with Fox by causing a letter to be handed to him in the House of Commons while he was sitting by his side on the Treasury Bench.

"His Majesty has thought proper to order a new commission of the Treasury to be made out, in which I do not perceive your name. NORTH."

By the end of the year he was member for Malmesbury, and one of the chiefs in opposition. When Lord North opened the session of 1775 with a speech arguing the need of coercion, Fox compared what ought to have been done with what was done, and said that Lord Chatham, the King of Prussia, nay, even Alexander the Great, never gained more in one campaign than Lord North had lost. He had lost a whole continent. When Lord North's ministry fell in 1782, Fox became a Secretary of State, resigning on the death of Rockingham. In coalition with Lord North, Fox brought in an India Bill, which was rejected by the Lords, and caused a resignation of the Ministry. Pitt then came into office, and there was rivalry between a Pitt and a Fox of the second generation, with some reversal in each son of the political bias of his father.

In opposing the policy that caused the American Revolution Fox and Burke were of one mind. He opposed the slave trade. After the outbreak of the French Revolution he differed from Burke, and resolutely opposed Pitt's policy of interference by armed force.

William Pitt died on the 23rd January, 1806. Charles James Fox became again a Secretary of State, and had set on foot negotiations for a peace with France before his own death, eight months later, at the age of fifty- seven.

During the last ten or twelve years of his life Fox had withdrawn from the dissipations of his earlier years. His interest in horse-racing flagged after the death, in 1793, of his friend Lord Foley, a kindly, honourable man, upon whose judgment in such matters Fox had greatly relied. Lord Foley began his sporting life with a clear estate of 1,800 pounds a year, and 100,000 pounds in ready money. He ended his sporting and his earthly life with an estate heavily enc.u.mbered and an empty pocket.

H. M.

INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER.

Introductory observations--First period, from Henry VII. to the year 1588--Second period, from 1588 to 1640--Meeting of Parliament--Redress of grievances--Strafford's attainder--The commencement of the Civil War--Treaty from the Isle of Wight--The king's execution--Cromwell's power; his character--Indifference of the nation respecting forms of government--The Restoration--Ministry of Clarendon sod Southampton--Cabal--Dutch War--De Witt--The Prince of Orange--The Popish plot--The Habeas Corpus Act--The Exclusion Bill--Dissolution of Charles the Second's last Parliament--His power; his tyranny in Scotland; in England--Exorbitant fines--Executions--Forfeitures of charters--Despotism established--Despondency of good men--Charles's death; his character--Reflections upon the probable consequences of his reign and death.

In reading the history of every country there are certain periods at which the mind naturally pauses to meditate upon, and consider them, with reference, not only to their immediate effects, but to their more remote consequences. After the wars of Marius and Sylla, and the incorporation, as it were, of all Italy with the city of Rome, we cannot but stop to consider the consequences likely to result from these important events; and in this instance we find them to be just such as might have been expected.

The reign of our Henry VII. affords a field of more doubtful speculation.

Every one who takes a retrospective view of the wars of York and Lancaster, and attends to the regulations effected by the policy of that prince, must see they would necessarily lead to great and important changes in the government; but what the tendency of such changes would be, and much more, in what manner they would be produced, might be a question of great difficulty. It is now the generally received opinion, and I think a probable opinion, that to the provisions of that reign we are to refer the origin, both of the unlimited power of the Tudors and of the liberties wrested by our ancestors from the Stuarts; that tyranny was their immediate, and liberty their remote, consequence; but he must have great confidence in his own sagacity who can satisfy himself that, unaided by the knowledge of subsequent events, he could, from a consideration of the causes, have foreseen the succession of effects so different.

Another period that affords ample scope for speculation of this kind is that which is comprised between the years 1588 and 1640, a period of almost uninterrupted tranquillity and peace. The general improvement in all arts of civil life, and, above all, the astonis.h.i.+ng progress of literature, are the most striking among the general features of that period, and are in themselves causes sufficient to produce effects of the utmost importance. A country whose language was enriched by the works of Hooker, Raleigh, and Bacon, could not but experience a sensible change in its manners and in its style of thinking; and even to speak the same language in which Spenser and Shakespeare had written seemed a sufficient plea to rescue the commons of England from the appellation of brutes, with which Henry VIII. had addressed them. Among the more particular effects of this general improvement the most material and worthy to be considered appear to me to have been the frequency of debate in the House of Commons, and the additional value that came to be set on a seat in that a.s.sembly.

From these circ.u.mstances a sagacious observer may be led to expect the most important revolutions; and from the latter he may be enabled to foresee that the House of Commons will be the princ.i.p.al instrument in bringing them to pa.s.s. But in what manner will that house conduct itself? Will it content itself with its regular share of legislative power, and with the influence which it cannot fail to possess whenever it exerts itself upon the other branches of the legislative, and on the executive power; or will it boldly (perhaps rashly) pretend to a power commensurate with the natural rights of the representative of the people?

If it should, will it not be obliged to support its claims by military force? And how long will such a force be under its control? How long before it follows the usual course of all armies, and ranges itself under a single master? If such a master should arise, will he establish an hereditary or an elective government? If the first, what will be gained but a change of dynasty? If the second, will not the military force, as it chose the first king or protector (the name is of no importance), choose in effect all his successors? Or will he fail, and shall we have a restoration, usually the most dangerous and worst of all revolutions?

To some of these questions the answers may, from the experience of past ages, be easy, but to many of them far otherwise. And he will read history with most profit who the most canva.s.ses questions of this nature, especially if he can divest his mind for the time of the recollection of the event as it in fact succeeded.

The next period, as it is that which immediately precedes the commencement of this history, requires a more detailed examination; nor is there any more fertile of matter, whether for reflection or speculation. Between the year 1640 and the death of Charles II. we have the opportunity of contemplating the state in almost every variety of circ.u.mstance. Religious dispute, political contest in all its forms and degrees, from the honest exertions of party and the corrupt intrigues of faction to violence and civil war; despotism, first, in the person of a usurper, and afterwards in that of an hereditary king; the most memorable and salutary improvements in the laws, the most abandoned administration of them; in fine, whatever can happen to a nation, whether of glorious of calamitous, makes a part of this astonis.h.i.+ng and instructive picture.

The commencement of this period is marked by exertions of the people, through their representatives in the House of Commons, not only justifiable in their principle, but directed to the properest objects, and in a manner the most judicious. Many of their leaders were greatly versed in ancient as well as modern learning, and were even enthusiastically attached to the great names of antiquity; but they never conceived the wild project of a.s.similating the government of England to that of Athens, of Sparta, or of Rome. They were content with applying to the English const.i.tution, and to the English laws, the spirit of liberty which had animated and rendered ill.u.s.trious the ancient republics. Their first object was to obtain redress of past grievances, with a proper regard to the individuals who had suffered; the next, to prevent the recurrence of such grievances by the abolition of tyrannical tribunals acting upon arbitrary maxims in criminal proceedings, and most improperly denominated courts of justice. They then proceeded to establish that fundamental principle of all free government, the preserving of the purse to the people and their representatives. And though there may be more difference of opinion upon their proposed regulations in regard to the militia, yet surely, when a contest was to be foreseen, they could not, consistently with prudence, leave the power of the sword altogether in the hands of an adverse party.

The prosecution of Lord Strafford, or rather, the manner in which it was carried on, is less justifiable. He was, doubtless, a great delinquent, and well deserved the severest punishment; but nothing short of a clearly proved case of self-defence can justify, or even excuse, a departure from the sacred rules of criminal justice. For it can rarely indeed happen that the mischief to be apprehended from suffering any criminal, however guilty, to escape, can be equal to that resulting from the violation of those rules to which the innocent owe the security of all that is dear to them. If such cases have existed they must have been in instances where trial has been wholly out of the question, as in that of Caesar and other tyrants; but when a man is once in a situation to be tried, and his person in the power of his accusers and his judges, he can no longer be formidable in that degree which alone can justify (if anything can) the violation of the substantial rules of criminal proceedings.

At the breaking out of the Civil War, so intemperately denominated a rebellion by Lord Clarendon and other Tory writers, the material question appears to me to be, whether or not sufficient attempts were made by the Parliament and their leaders to avoid bringing affairs to such a decision? That, according to the general principles of morality, they had justice on their side cannot fairly be doubted; but did they sufficiently attend to that great dictum of Tully in questions of civil dissension, wherein he declares his preference of even an unfair peace to the most just war? Did they sufficiently weigh the dangers that might ensue even from victory; dangers, in such cases, little less formidable to the cause of liberty than those which might follow a defeat? Did they consider that it is not peculiar to the followers of Pompey, and the civil wars of Rome, that the event to be looked for is, as the same Tully describes it, in case of defeat--proscription; in that of victory--servitude? Is the failure of the negotiation when the king was in the Isle of Wight to be imputed to the suspicions justly entertained of his sincerity, or to the ambition of the parliamentary leaders? If the insincerity of the king was the real cause, ought not the mischief to be apprehended from his insincerity rather to have been guarded against by treaty than alleged as a pretence for breaking off the negotiation?

Sad, indeed, will be the condition of the world if we are never to make peace with an adverse party whose sincerity we have reason to suspect.

Even just grounds for such suspicions will but too often occur, and when such fail, the p.r.o.neness of man to impute evil qualities, as well as evil designs, to his enemies, will suggest false ones. In the present case the suspicion of insincerity was, it is true, so just, as to amount to a moral certainty. The example of the pet.i.tion of right was a satisfactory proof that the king made no point of adhering to concessions which he considered as extorted from him; and a philosophical historian, writing above a century after the time, can deem the pretended hard usage Charles met with as a sufficient excuse for his breaking his faith in the first instance, much more must that prince himself, with all his prejudices and notions of his divine right, have thought it justifiable to retract concessions, which to him, no doubt, appeared far more unreasonable than the pet.i.tion of right, and which, with much more colour, he might consider as extorted. These considerations were probably the cause why the Parliament so long delayed their determination of accepting the king's offer as a basis for treaty; but, unfortunately, they had delayed so long that when at last they adopted it they found themselves without power to carry it into execution. The army having now ceased to be the servants, had become the masters of the Parliament, and, being entirely influenced by Cromwell, gave a commencement to what may, properly speaking, be called a new reign. The subsequent measures, therefore, the execution of the king, as well as others, are not to be considered as acts of the Parliament, but of Cromwell; and great and respectable as are the names of some who sat in the high court, they must be regarded, in this instance, rather as ministers of that usurper than as acting from themselves.

The execution of the king, though a far less violent measure than that of Lord Strafford, is an event of so singular a nature that we cannot wonder that it should have excited more sensation than any other in the annals of England. This exemplary act of substantial justice, as it has been called by some, of enormous wickedness by others, must be considered in two points of view. First, was it not in itself just and necessary?

Secondly, was the example of it likely to be salutary or pernicious? In regard to the first of these questions, Mr. Hume, not perhaps intentionally, makes the best justification of it by saying that while Charles lived the projected republic could never be secure. But to justify taking away the life of an individual upon the principle of self- defence, the danger must be not problematical and remote, but evident and immediate. The danger in this instance was not of such a nature, and the imprisonment or even banishment of Charles might have given to the republic such a degree of security as any government ought to be content with. It must be confessed, however, on the other aide, that if the republican government had suffered the king to escape, it would have been an act of justice and generosity wholly unexampled; and to have granted him even his life would have been one among the more rare efforts of virtue. The short interval between the deposal and death of princes is become proverbial, and though there may be some few examples on the other side as far as life is concerned, I doubt whether a single instance can be found where liberty has been granted to a deposed monarch. Among the modes of destroying persons in such a situation, there can be little doubt but that that adopted by Cromwell and his adherents is the least dishonourable. Edward II., Richard II., Henry VI., Edward V., had none of them long survived their deposal, but this was the first instance, in our history at least, where, of such an act, it could be truly said that it was not done in a corner.

As to the second question, whether the advantage to be derived from the example was such as to justify an act of such violence, it appears to me to be a complete solution of it to observe that, with respect to England (and I know not upon what ground we are to set examples for other nations; or, in other words, to take the criminal justice of the world into our hands) it was wholly needless, and therefore unjustifiable, to set one for kings at a time when it was intended the office of king should be abolished, and consequently that no person should be in the situation to make it the rule of his conduct. Besides, the miseries attendant upon a deposed monarch seem to be sufficient to deter any prince, who thinks of consequences, from running the risk of being placed in such a situation; or, if death be the only evil that can deter him, the fate of former tyrants deposed by their subjects would by no means encourage him to hope he could avoid even that catastrophe. As far as we can judge from the event, the example was certainly not very effectual, since both the sons of Charles, though having their father's fate before their eyes, yet feared not to violate the liberties of the people even more than he had attempted to do.

If we consider this question of example in a more extended view, and look to the general effect produced upon the minds of men, it cannot be doubted but the opportunity thus given to Charles to display his firmness and piety has created more respect for his memory than it could otherwise have obtained. Respect and pity for the sufferer on the one hand, and hatred to his enemies on the other, soon produce favour and aversion to their respective causes; and thus, even though it should be admitted (which is doubtful) that some advantage may have been gained to the cause of liberty by the terror of the example operating upon the minds of princes, such advantage is far outweighed by the zeal which admiration for virtue, and pity for sufferings, the best pa.s.sions of the human heart, have excited in favour of the royal cause. It has been thought dangerous to the morals of mankind, even in fiction and romance, to make us sympathise with characters whose general conduct is blameable; but how much greater must the effect be when in real history our feelings are interested in favour of a monarch with whom, to say the least, his subjects were obliged to contend in arms for their liberty? After all, however, notwithstanding what the more reasonable part of mankind may think upon this question, it is much to be doubted whether this singular proceeding has not as much as any other circ.u.mstance, served to raise the character of the English nation in the opinion of Europe in general. He who has read, and still more, he who has heard in conversation discussions upon this subject by foreigners, must have perceived that, even in the minds of those who condemn the act, the impression made by it has been far more that of respect and admiration than that of disgust and horror. The truth is that the guilt of the action--that is to say, the taking away of the life of the king, is what most men in the place of Cromwell and his a.s.sociates would have incurred; what there is of splendour and of magnanimity in it, I mean the publicity and solemnity of the act, is what few would be capable of displaying. It is a degrading fact to human nature, that even the sending away of the Duke of Gloucester was an instance of generosity almost unexampled in the history of transactions of this nature.

From the execution of the king to the death of Cromwell, the government was, with some variation of forms, in substance monarchical and absolute, as a government established by a military force will almost invariably be, especially when the exertions of such a force are continued for any length of time. If to this general rule our own age, and a people whom their origin and near relation to us would almost warrant us to call our own nation, have afforded a splendid and perhaps a solitary exception, we must reflect not only that a character of virtues so happily tempered by one another, and so wholly unalloyed with any vices, as that of Was.h.i.+ngton, is hardly to be found in the pages of history, but that even Was.h.i.+ngton himself might not have been able to act his most glorious of all parts without the existence of circ.u.mstances uncommonly favourable, and almost peculiar to the country which was to be the theatre of it.

Virtue like his depends not indeed upon time or place; but although in no country or time would he have degraded himself into a Pisistratus, or a Caesar, or a Cromwell, he might have shared the fate of a Cato, or a De Witt; or, like Ludlow and Sidney, have mourned in exile the lost liberties of his country.

With the life of the protector almost immediately ended the government which he had established. The great talents of this extraordinary person had supported during his life a system condemned equally by reason and by prejudice: by reason, as wanting freedom; by prejudice, as a usurpation; and it must be confessed to be no mean testimony to his genius, that notwithstanding the radical defects of such a system, the splendour of his character and exploits render the era of the protectors.h.i.+p one of the most brilliant in English history. It is true his conduct in foreign concerns is set off to advantage by a comparison of it with that of those who preceded and who followed him. If he made a mistake in espousing the French interest instead of the Spanish, we should recollect that in examining this question we must divest our minds entirely of all the considerations which the subsequent relative state of those two empires suggest to us before we can become impartial judges in it; and at any rate we must allow his reign, in regard to European concerns, to have been most glorious when contrasted with the pusillanimity of James I., with the levity of Charles I., and the mercenary meanness of the two last princes of the house of Stuart. Upon the whole, the character of Cromwell must ever stand high in the list of those who raised themselves to supreme power by the force of their genius; and among such, even in respect of moral virtue, it would be found to be one of the least exceptionable if it had not been tainted with that most odious and degrading of all human vices, hypocrisy.

The short interval between Cromwell's death and the restoration exhibits the picture of a nation either so wearied with changes as not to feel, or so subdued by military power as not to dare to show, any care or even preference with regard to the form of their government. All was in the army; and that army, by such a concurrence of fortuitous circ.u.mstances as history teaches us not to be surprised at, had fallen into the hands of a man than whom a baser could not be found in its lowest ranks. Personal courage appears to have been Monk's only virtue; reserve and dissimulation made up the whole stock of his wisdom. But to this man did the nation look up, ready to receive from his orders the form of government he should choose to prescribe. There is reason to believe that, from the general bias of the Presbyterians, as well as of the Cavaliers, monarchy was the prevalent wish; but it is observable that although the Parliament was, contrary to the principle upon which it was pretended to be called, composed of many avowed royalists, yet none dared to hint at the restoration of the king till they had Monk's permission, or rather command to receive and consider his letters. It is impossible, in reviewing the whole of this transaction, not to remark that a general who had gained his rank, reputation, and station in the service of a republic, and of what he, as well as others, called, however falsely, the cause of liberty, made no scruple to lay the nation prostrate at the feet of a monarch, without a single provision in favour of that cause; and if the promise of indemnity may seem to argue that there was some attention, at least, paid to the safety of his a.s.sociates in arms, his subsequent conduct gives reason to suppose that even this provision was owing to any other cause rather than to a generous feeling of his breast. For he afterwards not only acquiesced in the insults so meanly put upon the ill.u.s.trious corpse of Blake, under whose auspices and command he had performed the most creditable services of his life, but in the trial of Argyle produced letters of friends.h.i.+p and confidence to take away the life of a n.o.bleman, the zeal and cordiality of whose co-operation with him, proved by such doc.u.ments, was the chief ground of his execution; thus gratuitously surpa.s.sing in infamy those miserable wretches who, to save their own lives, are sometimes persuaded to impeach and swear away the lives of their accomplices.

The reign of Charles II. forms one of the most singular as well as of the most important periods of history. It is the era of good laws and bad government. The abolition of the court of wards, the repeal of the writ De Heretico Comburendo, the Triennial Parliament Bill, the establishment of the rights of the House of Commons in regard to impeachment, the expiration of the Licence Act, and, above all, the glorious statute of Habeas Corpus, have therefore induced a modern writer of great eminence to fix the year 1679 as the period at which our const.i.tution had arrived at its greatest theoretical perfection; but he owns, in a short note upon the pa.s.sage alluded to, that the times immediately following were times of great practical oppression. What a field for meditation does this short observation from such a man furnis.h.!.+ What reflections does it not suggest to a thinking mind upon the inefficacy of human laws and the imperfection of human const.i.tutions! We are called from the contemplation of the progress of our const.i.tution, and our attention fixed with the most minute accuracy to a particular point, when it is said to have risen to its utmost perfection. Here we are, then, at the best moment of the best const.i.tution that ever human wisdom framed. What follows? A tide of oppression and misery, not arising from external or accidental causes, such as war, pestilence, or famine, nor even from any such alteration of the laws as might be supposed to impair this boasted perfection, but from a corrupt and wicked administration, which all the so much admired checks of the const.i.tution were not able to prevent. How vain, then, how idle, how presumptuous is the opinion that laws can do everything! and how weak and pernicious the maxim founded upon it, that measures, not men, are to be attended to.

The first years of this reign, under the administration of Southampton and Clarendon, form by far the least exceptionable part of it; and even in this period the executions of Argyle and Vane and the whole conduct of the Government with respect to church matters, both in England and in Scotland, were gross instances of tyranny. With respect to the execution of those who were accused of having been more immediately concerned in the king's death, that of Scrope, who had come in upon the proclamation, and of the military officers who had attended the trial, was a violation of every principle of law and justice. But the fate of the others, though highly dishonourable to Monk, whose whole power had arisen from his zeal in their service, and the favour and confidence with which they had rewarded him, and not, perhaps, very creditable to the nation, of which many had applauded, more had supported, and almost all had acquiesced in the act, is not certainly to be imputed as a crime to the king, or to those of his advisers who were of the Cavalier party. The pa.s.sion of revenge, though properly condemned both by philosophy and religion, yet when it is excited by injurious treatment of persons justly dear to us, is among the most excusable of human frailties; and if Charles, in his general conduct, had shown stronger feelings of grat.i.tude for services performed to his father, his character, in the eyes of many, would be rather raised than lowered by this example of severity against the regicides. Clarendon is said to have been privy to the king's receiving money from Louis XIV.; but what proofs exist of this charge (for a heavy charge it is) I know not. Southampton was one of the very few of the Royalist party who preserved any just regard for the liberties of the people; and the disgust which a person possessed of such sentiments must unavoidably feel is said to have determined him to quit the king's service, and to retire altogether from public affairs. Whether he would have acted upon this determination, his death, which happened in the year 1667, prevents us now from ascertaining.

After the fall of Clarendon, which soon followed, the king entered into that career of misgovernment which, that he was able to pursue it to its end, is a disgrace to the history of our country. If anything can add to our disgust at the meanness with which he solicited a dependence upon Louis XIV., it is, the hypocritical pretence upon which he was continually pressing that monarch. After having pa.s.sed a law, making it penal to affirm (what was true) that he was a papist, he pretended (which was certainly not true) to be a zealous and bigoted papist; and the uneasiness of his conscience at so long delaying a public avowal of his conversion, was more than once urged by him as an argument to increase the pension, and to accelerate the a.s.sistance, he was to receive from France. In a later period of his reign, when his interest, as he thought, lay the other way, that he might at once continue to earn his wages, and yet put off a public conversion, he stated some scruples, contracted, no doubt, by his affection to the Protestant churches, in relation to the popish mode of giving the sacrament, and pretended a wish that the pope might be induced by Louis to consider of some alterations in that respect, to enable him to reconcile himself to the Roman church with a clear and pure conscience.

The ministry known by the name of the Cabal seems to have consisted of characters so unprincipled, as justly to deserve the severity with which they have been treated by all writers who have mentioned them; but if it is probable that they were ready to betray their king, as well as their country, it is certain that the king betrayed them, keeping from them the real state of his connexion with France, and from some of them, at least, the secret of what he was pleased to call his religion. Whether this concealment on his part arose from his habitual treachery, and from the incapacity which men of that character feel of being open and honest, even when they know it is their interest to be so, or from an apprehension that they might demand for themselves some share of the French money, which he was unwilling to give them, cannot now be determined. But to the want of genuine and reciprocal confidence between him and those ministers is to be attributed, in a great measure, the escape which the nation at that time experienced--an escape, however, which proved to be only a reprieve from that servitude to which they were afterwards reduced in the latter years of the reign.

The first Dutch war had been undertaken against all maxims of policy as well as of justice; but the superior infamy of the second, aggravated by the disappointment of all the hopes entertained by good men from the triple alliance, and by the treacherous attempt at piracy with which it was commenced, seems to have effaced the impression of it, not only from the minds of men living at the time, but from most of the writers who have treated of this reign. The principle, however, of both was the same, and arbitrary power at home was the object of both. The second Dutch war rendered the king's system and views so apparent to all who were not determined to shut their eyes against conviction, that it is difficult to conceive how persons who had any real care or regard either for the liberty or honour of the country, could trust him afterwards. And yet even Sir William Temple, who appears to have been one of the most honest, as well as of the most enlightened, statesmen of his time, could not believe his treachery to be quite so deep as it was in fact, and seems occasionally to have hoped that he was in earnest in his professed intentions of following the wise and just system that was recommended to him. Great instances of credulity and blindness in wise men are often liable to the suspicion of being pretended, for the purpose of justifying the continuing in situations of power and employment longer than strict honour would allow. But to Temple's sincerity his subsequent conduct gives abundant testimony. When he had reason to think that his services could no longer be useful to his country he withdrew wholly from public business, and resolutely adhered to the preference of philosophical retirement, which, in his circ.u.mstances, was just, in spite of every temptation which occurred to bring him back to the more active scene. The remainder of his life he seems to have employed in the most n.o.ble contemplations and the most elegant amus.e.m.e.nts; every enjoyment heightened, no doubt, by reflecting on the honourable part he had acted in public affairs, and without any regret on his own account (whatever he might feel for his country) at having been driven from them.

Besides the important consequences produced by this second Dutch war in England, it gave birth to two great events in Holland; the one as favourable as the other was disastrous to the cause of general liberty.

The catastrophe of De Witt, the wisest, best, and most truly patriotic minister that ever appeared upon the public stage, as it was an act of the most crying injustice and ingrat.i.tude, so, likewise, is it the most completely discouraging example that history affords to the lovers of liberty. If Aristides was banished, he was also recalled; if Dion was repaid for his services to the Syracusans by ingrat.i.tude, that ingrat.i.tude was more than once repented of; if Sidney and Russell died upon the scaffold, they had not the cruel mortification of falling by the hands of the people; ample justice was done to their memory, and the very sound of their names is still animating to every Englishman attached to their glorious cause. But with De Witt fell also his cause and his party; and although a name so respected by all who revere virtue and wisdom, when employed in their n.o.blest sphere, the political service of the public, must undoubtedly be doubly dear to his countrymen, yet I do not know that, even to this day, any public honours have been paid by them to his memory.

On the other hand, the circ.u.mstances attending the first appearance of the Prince of Orange in public affairs, were, in every respect, most fortunate for himself, for England, for Europe. Of an age to receive the strongest impressions, and of a character to render such impressions durable, he entered the world in a moment when the calamitous situation of the United Provinces could not but excite in every Dutchman the strongest detestation of the insolent ambition of Louis XIV., and the greatest contempt of an English government, which could so far mistake or betray the interests of the country as to lend itself to his projects.

Accordingly, the circ.u.mstances attending his outset seem to have given a lasting bias to his character; and through the whole course of his life the prevailing sentiments of his mind seem to have been those which he imbibed at this early period. These sentiments were most peculiarly adapted to the positions in which this great man was destined to be placed. The light in which he viewed Louis rendered him the fittest champion of the independence of Europe; and in England, French influence and arbitrary power were in those times so intimately connected, that he who had not only seen with disapprobation, but had so sensibly felt the baneful effects of Charles's connection with France, seemed educated, as it were, to be the defender of English liberty. This prince's struggles in defence of his country, his success in rescuing it from a situation to all appearance so desperate, and the consequent failure and mortification of Louis XIV., form a scene in history upon which the mind dwells with unceasing delight. One never can read Louis's famous declaration against the Hollanders, knowing the event which is to follow, without feeling the heart dilate with exultation, and a kind of triumphant contempt, which, though not quite consonant to the principles of pure philosophy, never fails to give the mind inexpressible satisfaction. Did the relation of such events form the sole, or even any considerable part of the historian's task, pleasant indeed would be his labours; but, though far less agreeable, it is not a less useful or necessary part of his business, to relate the triumphs of successful wickedness, and the oppression of truth, justice, and liberty.

The interval from the separate peace between England and the United Provinces, to the peace of Nymwegen, was chiefly employed by Charles in attempts to obtain money from France and other foreign powers, in which he was sometimes more, sometimes less successful; and in various false professions, promises, and other devices to deceive his parliament and his people, in which he uniformly failed. Though neither the nature and extent of his connection with France, nor his design of introducing popery into England, were known at that time as they now are, yet there were not wanting many indications of the king's disposition, and of the general tendency of his designs. Reasonable persons apprehended that the supplies asked were intended to be used, not for the specious purpose of maintaining the balance of Europe, but for that of subduing the parliament and people who should give them; and the great antipathy of the bulk of the nation to popery caused many to be both more clear-sighted in discovering, and more resolute in resisting the designs of the court, than they would probably have shown themselves, if civil liberty alone had been concerned.

When the minds of men were in the disposition which such a state of things was naturally calculated to produce, it is not to be wondered at that a ready, and, perhaps, a too facile belief should have been accorded to the rumour of a popish plot. But with the largest possible allowance for the just apprehensions which were entertained, and the consequent irritation of the country, it is wholly inconceivable how such a plot as that brought forward by Tongue and Oates could obtain any general belief.

Nor can any stretch of candour make us admit it to be probable, that all who pretended a belief of it did seriously entertain it. On the other hand, it seems an absurdity, equal almost in degree to the belief of the plot itself, to suppose that it was a story fabricated by the Earl of Shaftesbury and the other leaders of the Whig party; and it would be highly unjust, as well as uncharitable, not to admit that the generality of those who were engaged in the prosecution of it were probably sincere in their belief of it, since it is unquestionable that at the time very many persons, whose political prejudices were of a quite different complexion, were under the same delusion. The unanimous votes of the two houses of parliament, and the names, as well as the number of those who p.r.o.nounced Lord Strafford to be guilty, seem to put this beyond a doubt.