# Cassell's Illustrated History of England/Volume 3/Chapter 11

CHAPTER XI.
REIGN OF CHARLES II. (Continued).
The career of vice which Charles had run since his restoration to the throne of England, the scandalous "scenes and ruinous extravagance at court, the loose women and debauched courtiers who figured there, and the great calamities which had latterly fallen on the nation, and, as it was generally believed, in consequence of the flagrant wickedness of the ruling persons, had by this time produced a profound impression on the public mind. Unprecedented sums had been voted for the prosecution of the Dutch war, and some terrible battles had been fought at sea; but these, be far from bringing any solid advantage to the nation, had ruined its finances, and greatly damaged the navy. Besides this, there was a general and well-fouuled belief, that the money which should have gone to fit out the nay and pay the brave seamen, had been squandered on and peculated by the royal mistresses and minions. The sailors had been left in destitution, and remained so; their tickets, which had been given them as tokens of their demands for wages, had to a great extent never been redeemed, whilst the effeminate courtiers made fortunes.
When parliament met again on the 21st of September of this year, more money was demanded, and the commons liberally voted one million eight hundred thousand pounds, but on several conditions—namely, that the laws should be put in force against the catholics, who were suspected to have fired the capital; and though a committee of inquiry was appointed into that particular, which signally failed, yet the cry remained, and Charles was compelled to order by proclamation all priests and Jesuits to quit the kingdom; all recusants to be proceeded against according to the law; all papists to be disarmed, and officers and soldiers to be dismissed from the army who should refuse the oaths of allegiance and supremacy. 2ndly, There was a demand from the aristocracy and their tenants in England in 1663, to prevent the importation of cattle from Ireland. This was one of those aristocratic and agricultural pieces of selfishness which in our time produced the corn laws. The landlords wanted high rents, and the tenants cried out that they could not pay them if they were to be undersold by the Irish; as if Ireland were not a part of the empire as well as England, and justly entitled to the same privileges. It was in vain that the more liberal and enlightened members asked how Ireland was to purchase our manufactured goods, if we ​would not take her raw produce. The bill was passed, and sixty thousand beeves and a large quantity of sheep were thus refused entrance annually at our ports. To obviate this difficulty, the Irish slaughtered the cattle, and sent them over as dead carcasses. This was violently opposed, and this session a bill passed, also excluding the meat. But the 3rd and last demand on Charles was the most alarming. It was no other than that a parliamentary commission should be appointed to examine and audit the public accounts. It was well known that not only the king's mistresses, but many other persons about the court had made very free with the public revenue with the connivance of Charles. Lady Castlemaine was commonly declared to carry on a great trade in selling favours, and receiving bribes from the subjects, and lavish grants from the king.
The alarm which the passing of a bill for this commission of inquiry through the commons carried into all the courtly recesses of corruption, was excessive. The whole court was in a turmoil of consternation; there was a terrible outcry that if this were allowed, there was an end of the prerogative. Lord Ashley, the treasurer of the prize money, and Carteret, the treasurer of the navy, were aghast, and implored Charles to declare openly that he would never consent to it. The grave and virtuous lord Clarendon strenuously supported them, telling the king that he must not "suffer parliament to extend their jurisdiction to cases that they had nothing to do with." That "this was such a new encroachment as had no bottom; and that the scars were yet too fresh and green of those wounds which had been inflicted on the kingdom from such a usurpation." He desired the king to "be firm in the resolution he had taken, and not to be put from it." And he promised when the bill came into the lords he would oppose it with all his power. And this was the advice of a man who himself tells you in his "Life" of the corruptions practised—of the corruptions of these very men, Ashley and Carteret; of the good round sums taken from the privy purse by "the lady," as she was called, and of the extensive grants to her of lands in Ireland, where they were not so likely to be inquired about; of the miserable condition of the navy, the dissolute life of the king, his own remonstrances, and the constant endeavours of the courtiers to divert the king's attention from anything serious.
But there was a cause much more influential than public good or public virtue which forwarded the bill, spite of the court. The duke of Buckingham had a quarrel with "the lady," and the lady prejudiced the king against him, and the duke was determined to have his revenge by exposing "the lady's" gross peculations. The bill, therefore, passed the commons, and came into the lords, where Buckingham and his party supported it, and Clarendon and the guilty courtiers opposed it. Buckingham himself was as dissolute and unprincipled a man as any about court, not even excepting the king and the licentious lord Rochester. He knew all the secrets of that den of loathly creatures—the court, and therefore was the more dangerous. The bill passed, and the king, in his resentment, disgraced Buckingham, deprived him of all his employments, and ordered his committal to the Tower, which he only avoided by absconding. Buckingham, however once out of the way, the king and his virtuous chancellor soon managed to be allowed to appoint the commission of inquiry themselves, by which the whole affair was converted into a mockery, and came to nothing, for, says Clarendon, the king "was not willing that such a strict account or examination should be made, especially into the receipts of lord Ashley for the prizes, that all the world should know what money had been issued, and by his own immediate orders, and to whom."
During this session of parliament, wild work had been going on in the west of Scotland. The people there had resisted the ejectment of their ministers from their pulpits by episcopalian clergy; they received them with curses, and often with showers of stones. When the act against conventicles was passed, they still met with their old pastors in barns and moorlands, and then the soldiery under Sir James Turner were let loose upon them. They flew to arms and fought the soldiers, and made prisoner of Turner himself. Their ministers, Semple, Maxwell, Welsh, Guthrie, and others, incited them to wield the sword of the Lord and of Gideon, and to resist the malignants to the death. Lauderdale was in London, and the ministers told the people that the fire of London had given enough to the government to do at home. But Sharpe was in Scotland, and he put himself at the head of two troops of horse and a regiment of foot guards, and assisted by Dalziel, a man of considerable military reputation, he pursued the covenanters to Rullion Green, in the Pentlands. There, on the 28th of November, they came to a pitched battle, in which the covenanters were defeated, fifty of them being killed, and a hundred and thirty taken prisoners. The covenanters had treated Turner and all others who fell into their hands with great lenity, but none was shown to them by Sharpe. Ten of them were hanged on one gallows in Edinburgh, and thirty-five were sent to Galloway, Ayr, and Dumfries, and there gibbeted in the face of their own friends. The implacable archbishop, with all the fury of a renegade, made keen search after all who had been concerned in the affair; it was declared that eternal damnation was incurred by the rebels against the church, and all the horrors of the rack, thumb-screws, and iron boot were put rigorously into operation again. A young preacher, Maccail, whom Sir Walter Scott has represented under the name of Macbriar, was hideously tortured, but died in a rapture of joy, not a syllable of disclosure escaping him. Dalziel, a brutal and drunken captain, revelled in cruelty and outrage amongst the whigs or whiggamores, as they were called; hanged a man because he would not betray his own father, quartered his soldiers on them to ruin them, and perpetrated such atrocities that the earls of Tweeddale and Kincardine went up to court to warn the king against driving the people once more to desperation. Their representations were not without effect, but this leniency was of short duration.
The war with the Dutch and French being still continued, it was necessary for Charles to put his fleet once move in order; but his exchequer exhibited its usual emptiness, and the parliamentary supply would be some time before it reached the treasury. The usual resource had been to send for the bankers and capitalists of London, and mate over to them some branches of the public revenue for immediate advances, these advances to be at the rate of eight per ​cent., and to be repaid by the taxes till all were discharged. But the losses by the fire had incapacitated the money lenders at this crisis, and Charles, therefore, most unwisely listened to the suggestion of Sir William Coventry, to lay up the principal ships in ordinary, and send out only two light squadrons to interrupt the enemy's trade in the channel and the German Ocean. The duke of York at once declared that this was directly to invite Holland to insult the English coasts, and plunder the maritime counties; but the want of money overruled the duke, and the consequences were precisely what he foresaw.
Charles hoped to evade the danger of this unguarded state by a peace. Louis of France, who was anxious to conquer Flanders, made overtures through lord Jermyn, now earl of St. Albans, who lived at Paris, and was said to be married to the queen-mother, and he also at the same time opened negotiations with Holland, to enforce an abstinence of assistance to the Flemings from that quarter, and to make peace betwixt Holland and England. These measures effectual, he would be set free from any demands of Holland to assist them against England, and he would bind Charles to afford no aid to the Spaniards. Charles was perfectly willing to accede to these plans, so that he might not be called on for more money, and after a time it was agreed that commissioners should meet at Breda to settle the terms of peace. France was to restore the West Indian islands taken from England, and England was to oppose no obstacle to Louis's designs against Spain. But as hostilities were not suspended, De Witt, the Dutch minister, still burning for revenge for the injuries committed by the English on the coast of Holland, declared that he would still "set such a mark upon the English coast as the English had left upon that of Holland."
He knew the unprotected state of the Thames, and he ordered the Dutch fleet, to the amount of seventy sail, to draw together at the Nore. The command was intrusted to De Ruyter and the brother of De Witt. The English, roused by the danger, threw a chain across the Medway at the stakes, mounted the guns on the batteries, and got together a number of fireships: but here the consequence of the heartless conduct of the government to the seamen and workmen who had been employed by them hitherto and defrauded of their pay became apparent. No sense of patriotism could induce them to work for the government. The commissioners of the navy were nine hundred thousand pounds in debt, notwithstanding the liberal supplies of parliament, and the merchants would not furnish further stores except for ready money. One portion of the Dutch fleet sailed up as far as Gravesend, the other was ordered to destroy the shipping in the Medway. The fort at Sheerness was in such a miserable condition, that the Dutch guns quickly levelled it to the ground. Monk had been sent down to defend the mouth of the Medway, and he raised batteries, sunk fire ships in the narrowest part of the channel before the boom, and placed guard-ships for its protection. But the Dutch found out another channel accessible at high water, and running their fire-ships on the boom, broke the chain, silenced the batteries, and burnt the guard-ships. Monk retreated to Upnor Castle, but the Dutch soon appeared before it with their squadron; the castle was not supplied with powder, and few of the ships in the river had any in them. The Royal Charles was taken, the finest ship in the English fleet, the Royal James, the Oak, and the London were burnt. A still greater mortification, was to find numbers of the incensed English sailors manning the Dutch vessels, who shouted, "Before we fought for tickets, now we fight for dollars." Had De Ruyter pushed on for London, he might; have destroyed all the merchant ships in the river; but Prince Rupert at Woolwich having sunk a number of ships to block up the channel, and raised batteries to sweep the passage, it was easier to commit devastations on the southern coast, and this squadron, under Van Ghent, dropped down to the Nore and joined the main fleet. For six weeks the Hollanders sailed proudly along our coasts, harassing the inhabitants, and attempting to burn the ships at Portsmouth, Plymouth, and Torbay. Twice De Ruyter attempted again to ascend the Thames, but by this time, in addition to the force of Rupert, Sir Edward Spragge was posted with eighteen sail of the line to oppose him.
But the panic on land was inconceivable. "The people of Chatham," says Clarendon, "which is naturally an array of seamen and officers of the navy, who might and ought to have secured all those ships, which they had time enough to have done, were in distraction; their chief officers have applied all those boats and fighter vessels, which should have towed up the ships, to carry away their own goods and household stuff, and given what they left behind for lost. Nothing," he says, "would have been easier than to have destroyed Chatham, and all the ships which lay higher up the river. But London was still worse. The noise of this, and the flames of the ships which were burning, made it easily believed in London that the enemy had done all that they might have; they thought they were landed in many places, and that their fleet was come up as far as Greenwich. Nor was the confusion there less than it was in the court itself, where they who had most advanced the war, and reproached all those who had been against it as men who had no public spirit, and were not solicitous for the honour and glory of the nation—and who had never spoken of the Dutch but with scorn and contempt, as a nation rather to be cudgelled than fought with—were now the most dejected men that can be imagined; railed very bitterly at those who had advised the king to enter into that war, which had already sacrificed so many gallant men, and would probably ruin the kingdom, and wished for a peace on any terms." All the world, he says, rushed to Whitehall, and entered at pleasure, some advising the court to quit the metropolis, and "a lord, who would be thought one of the greatest soldiers in Europe, to whom the Tower was committed, lodging there only one night, declared 'that it was not tenable,' and desired not to be charged with it, whereupon those who had taken their money there, carried it away again."
This is a melancholy picture of what a weak and profligate government can reduce a great country to in less than six years. "It was said," observes Macaulay, "that 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 ho was no more, Amsterdam was lighted up 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 and last 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 ministers were attacked by the populace, and it seemed likely that the government would have to deal at once with an invasion and an insurrection."
Whilst the Dutch had thus been humiliating England, Louis XIV. had been pushing his conquests in Flanders. With an army of seventy thousand men he compelled Binche, Tournay, Oudenarde, Courtrai, and Douai to surrender; and he was besieging Lisle when the States of Holland hastened to come to terms with Finance and England to prevent the nearer approach of Louis to their own territories. On the 21st of July peace was signed betwixt England and Holland and England and France, by which the Dutch kept the disputed island of Pulerone, and ceded to the English Albany and New York. France restored Antigua, Monserrat, and part of St. Kitts, and received back Nova Scotia. Denmark, which had sided with the Dutch, also signed a treaty of peace with England.
The peace was immediately succeeded by the fall of Clarendon. He had been the companion and adviser of Charles from the very boyhood of the king, and accordingly the mischief of every measure, and the disgrace which had now fallen on the nation, were all attributed to him. With great talents Clarendon had too much virtue to approve, far less flatter, the vices and follies of the court in which he lived, and not enough to make him abandon it, and assume the character of a noble and disinterested censor. He had the sternness and gravity of Cato, but he lacked his great and patriotic principles. He began as a liberal, but went over to the royalist cause, and was a rigid advocate of the high prerogatives of the crown, and of the supremacy of the church. The puritans looked on him as a combination of Strafford and Laud. He certainly would not have so far violated public right as to countenance the raising of ship-money, or the violation of the privileges of parliament by the seizure of its members. But the puritans hated him for the support that he gave to the act of uniformity, and for so hotly resisting the king's grant of indulgence to tender consciences. On the other hand, the royalists hated him because he maintained the inviolability of the bill of indemnity, by which they were restrained from ousting the purchasers from their estates lost during the commonwealth; and they hated him not the less because he had managed to raise his daughter to the rank of duchess of York, and from himself being an insignificant commoner, apparently aiming at being not only father-in-law of the next king, but father of a line of kings. They accused him of having selected the present queen as one not likely to have children, to favour the succession of his own, and probably one of the real causes of Charles's change of feeling towards him resulted from the courtiers having inspired him with this belief. The commons hated him because he had uniformly endeavoured to repress their authority. He never could be brought to see the enlarged influence which the progress of wealth and intelligence had given to the commons; nor had all that had passed under his eyes of their extraordinary power under Charles I., opened them to the knowledge of their real position in the state. In vain did more clear-sighted men point out to him the concessions which were necessary to enable the parliament and the government to move on harmoniously together. The nobility disliked him because he had, by his influence with the king and the marriage of his daughter with the heir-apparent, placed himself above them, and, from the haughtiness of his nature, taken no pains to conceal that invidious position. The people detested him, for they believed that he ruled the king, and therefore was the author of all their miseries and disgraces. They accused him of selling Dunkirk, and therefore called his splendid palace, overlooking and everyway outshining the royal one, Dunkirk House. The chancellor, undoubtedly, had an incurable passion for money and acquisition of wealth, and for displaying it in the grandeur of his house, and the magnificent collection of his pictures. When the Dutch fleet was riding in the Thames, the enraged people turned all their fury on him. They broke his windows, destroyed the trees in his grounds, trod down his garden, and erected a gallows at his door.
HUNTING THE MOTH.(See page 443.)
Clarendon, with his characteristic pride, refused at first to resign. He waited on the king and reminded him of his long and faithful services, and told him that he would not consent to appear guilty by surrendering the seals. The king talked of the power of the parliament. Clarendon replied he did not fear parliament, and told the king that parliament could do nothing against him without his consent. But unfortunately the spirit of the censor came over him, and, entreating the king not to allow the cabal of the courtiers to prevail against him, he broke out into some severe strictures on "the lady" and her abettors. The king rose and quitted the room without saying a word, and "the lady," quickly informed of the chancellor's disgrace, rushed to a window to watch, with Arlington and May, the fallen minister retire in confusion. Charles sent Sir Orlando Bridgman for the seals, and on the assembling of parliament on the 10th of October, Buckingham and Bristol, who again came out of his hiding-place, urged his impeachment. Accordingly the commons presented seriatim articles of impeachment at the bar of the lords, charging the chancellor with cruelty and venality in his office, an unlawful accumulation of wealth, the sale of Dunkirk, the disclosure of the king's secrets, and the design of ruling by a military force. Still Clarendon stood his ground; but the king let foil an expression in the hearing of one of his friends, that he wondered what Clarendon was still doing in England, and the old man took the hint and got across the channel, though the proposal to imprison him till his trial had been overruled. He did not go, however, without leaving a written vindication of his public conduct, which so offended parliament, that it ordered the paper to be burnt by the common hangman. In this vindication he declared that he had only retired for awhile, and should return at a proper time to prove his innocence, "uncontrolled by the power and malice of men who had sworn his destruction." This caused the commons to pass a bill ordering his trial on the 1st of February, and declaring him, in default of appearance, banished for life, incapable of ever after holding office, and liable to al the penalties of high treason. Clarendon boldly prepared to face his enemies, but illness stopped him at Calais till it was too late, and he was thus doomed to exile for life. He lost his life about the time of his foil, which was a great blow to him, for they had lived in great affection. He continued to live chiefly at Montpelier and Moulines, engaged in writing his history of the rebellion and of his own life, as well as a reply to Hobbes' "Leviathan" and other works; but sighing for recall, and importuning the king to allow him to return to his native country and the society of his children. Charles, however, paid no attention to his prayers, and he died at Rouen in 1674.
Clarendon being removed, the whole of the ministry established at the restoration was broken up. Ormond was absent on his government in Ireland, Southampton was dead. Monk was grown incapacitated from drink and years, and Nicholas had retired. The new ministry acquired the notorious and appropriate name of the {{sc|cabal}], from the initials of their names. Sir Thomas Clifford, first commissioner of the treasury, afterwards lord Clifford; the earl of Arlington, secretary of state; the duke of Buckingham, master of the horse, which office he purchased from Monk; lord Ashley, chancellor of the exchequer, afterwards earl of Shaftesbury and lord chancellor; and the duke of Lauderdale. Secretary Morrice, the creature of Monk, gave way to Sir John Trevor, a creature of Buckingham's. Sir Orlando Bridgman was lord keeper, and therefore the word properly would have two B's, but Bridgman was only consulted according to convenience. Before this time the word cabal merely meant a cabinet. It is so used by Whitelock, Pepys, and Evelyn, from the year 1650. The present cabinet was styled by D'Estrades, "la cabal d'Espagne." The word became infamous from the conduct of these men, who were soon concerned in the king's sale of himself to Louis of France, and most of them received large sums from France for their most treasonable and unpatriotic services. Clifford was the most honest and honourable, but he had the knack of quarrelling with his colleagues, being of a hot and overbearing temper. Bennet, lord Arlington, was a mere courtier, had spent much time on the continent, and picked up its frivolity and vices. He could divert the king by his lively sallies in conversation, please the ladies, and assume an imposing gravity in public debate that deceived the public. He was at heart a Romanist, but took care to conceal it. As for Buckingham, he was a most thoroughly debauched and unprincipled character, not without certain talents and literary tastes. He had written farces, and was a connoisseur in music and architecture. But he was a jaded man of pleasure, and having been out of favour with the king, was now all the more bent on complying with his humour to win his favour. He and Arlington were bitter enemies, but put on an appearance of friendship now they were in office together. Ashley was a man who could change sides, but always with an eye to the main chance. He had been a zealous republican, and now was as zealous a royalist; and as for Lauderdale, he, too, had been an out and out covenanter, but was now a coarse, brutal persecutor of those of his old faith, and by his diabolical cruelties has acquired a name in history amongst the most odious of inquisitors.
One of the earliest acts of the cabal gave fairer promise of sound and good policy than their after proceedings. They sent Sir William Temple to the Hague to endeavour to heal the difference with Holland, which had inflicted such incalculable evils on both countries. Not the least of those evils was the opportunity which was afforded Louis of pushing his ambitious designs on Flanders, and ultimately on Holland and Spain. Both England and Holland saw so clearly the gross folly which they had displayed, that Sir William soon was enabled to effect terms with the States, and by the 25th of April, 1668, he had got definite treaties signed betwixt Holland and England, and of these countries with Sweden, to make common cause for checking the further advance of the French, and to induce France to make peace with Spain. There was also a secret treaty, binding each other ​to make war on France for the defence of Spain. This league became known as the Triple Alliance. Louis, who made pretences to the crown of Spain, was hoping, from the infirm health of its young monarch, Charles II., to obtain that kingdom, or to partition it betwixt himself and Leopold, the German emperor, with whom there was a secret treaty for that very purpose. So far, therefore, from opposing the plans of the new allies, he fell into them on certain conditions—namely, that he should retain the bulk of his conquests in the Netherlands. Holland beheld this arrangement with alarm, and refused to sanction it, upon which it was concluded without her approbation, and to punish the States, C'astel-Rodrigo, the Spanish governor of the Netherlands, gave up instead of Franche Comte, Lille, Tournay, Douai, Charleroi, and other places in Flanders, so that the French king advanced his frontier into the very face of Holland. Tins was settled by the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle.
But whilst Charles was thus publicly piu^uing a policy much to the satisfaction of the nation, both on account of the improved prospects for trade, and because the triple alliance was an essentially protestant one, he was secretly agitating the question whether he should not openly avow popery, and was bargaining with Louis to become his pensioner, so as to relieve himself from any need to apply to parliament, and by this means to assume absolute power. Parliament, which met on the 10th of February, made a rigid inquiry into the proceedings of the late administration. They impeached commissioner Pett for his neglect when the Dutch fleet entered the river, admiral Penn of the embezzlement of one hundred and fifteen thousand pounds worth of prize goods, and Brounker, who had absconded, of giving orders to shorten sail after the victory of the 3rd of June. They then voted three hundred and ten thousand pounds, much less than Buckingham had demanded; and Charles, having in his opening speech recommended some plan to be adopted the batter to satisfy the minds of his protestant subjects, it immediately awoke a jealousy of indulgence to the papists and dissenters. It was found that Bridgman, the lord-keeper. Sir Matthew Hale, the chief baron, bishop Wilkins, and Buckingham and Ashley had been engaged in a scheme to tolerate the presbyterians and other sects. All the old bigotry of the house burst forth; there were violent denunciations of any liberty to nonconformists, and they again voted the continuance of the conventicle act. They then adjourned from the 8th of May to the 11th of August.
Buckingham, who, during the session of parliament, had not found himself very popular, now the object of driving out Clarendon was accomplished, in seeking to strengthen his party by removing such as were not favourable to him, drove his plans almost too far. He had a dread of Clarendon returning through the influence of his daughter, the duchess of York, and he endeavoured to undermine the duke with the king. He blamed the conduct of the admiralty, at the head of which James was; he displaced James's friends, and put his own dependents into offices in James's own department, in spite of his remonstrances; he spread rumours that the duke had lost the royal favour, and was about to be dismissed from the office of lord admiral. He even affected to go about with armed followers, on the plea of being in danger from the duke. But Charles soon convinced the minister that these attempts were vain, and then Buckingham began to pay court to the duke, which were repelled with contempt. The only mode of maintaining favour with Charles was to find plenty of money, and as Buckingham had failed in that, he recommended retrenchment and economy, which suited Charles still less. For the rest, both court and minister went on their way of open profligacy, and it would have been difficult to say which was the most void of shame or principle, the king or his chief servant. Charles was surrounded by Sedley. Buckhurst, and other libertines, who treated all the decencies of life with contempt, and the monarch laughed and encouraged them. Though Miss Stewart had become duchess of Richmond, he continued his attentions to her. He had elevated actresses to places in his harem, who bore the familiar names of Moll Davies and Nell Gwynne. Moll Davies was a dancer, Nelly was an actress of much popularity, and was a gay, merry, and witty girl, who extremely amused the king by her wild sallies. By Mary Davies he had a daughter, who afterwards married into the noble family of Radclyffe. Nell was the mother of the first duke of St. Albans; and Castlemaine, who had now a whole troop of little Fitzroys, was during the next year made duchess of Cleveland. Another lady was already on the way from France, sent by the cunning Louis XIV. for his own purposes. As for Buckingham, he very successfully imitated his royal master. In January of this year he fought a duel with lord Shrewsbury, whose wife he had seduced; and Pepys says that it was reported that lady Shrewsbury, in the dress of a page, held the duke's horse whilst he killed her husband. He then took her to his own house, and on his wife remarking that it was not fit for herself and his mistress to live together, he replied, "Why, so I have been thinking madame, and therefore I have ordered your coach to carry you to your father's."
In this precious court the subject of religion was just now an interesting topic. The duke of York told Charles secretly that he could no longer remain even ostensibly a protestant, and meant to avow his popery. Charles replied that he was thinking of the very same thing, and they would consult with the lords Arundel and Arlington, and Sir Thomas Clifford. They had a private meeting in the duke's closet; but though their three counsellors were catholics open or concealed, they advised Charles to consult with Louis XIV. before taking so important a step. The French king was apprehensive that his avowal of popery would occasion disturbances amongst his subjects, but these might be put down by the assistance of French money and French troops. That was the object at which Louis knew that this abandoned king was really driving, and the price of this assistance was to be England's co-operation in Louis's schemes of boundless ambition. Instead of Charles inducing Lotus to maintain peace with Holland, it was the object of Louis to drive Charles to break again the triple alliance, and plunge once more into the horrors of a wicked and mischievous war with that country. Charles hated the Dutch for the treatment he had received in Holland whilst an exile, and for the humiliations he had received from them in the last war. Louis wanted not only to swallow up ​the bulk of that country in his vast plans of aggrandisement, but also make himself master of Spain in case of the death of the young Spanish king. The pretended desire of Charles to adopt open popery was merely a feint to secure the French king's money, and the next question which he raised was, whether he should avow himself before the rupture with Holland or afterwards. The duke of York was in earnest, Charles was only playing with the catholic scheme as a bait; and he afterwards told his sister, the duchess of Orleans, at Dover, that "he was not so well satisfied with the catholic religion, or his own condition, as to make it his faith." Lord Arundel and Sir Richard Billings were sent to Paris to secure the promised cash, and to keep up the farce of his conversion.
Whilst these infamous negotiations were going on, Buckingham was exerting himself to ruin the duke of York's prospects of the succession. He observed the king's fondness for his natural son by Lucy Walters, who had borne the name of Crofts, and he caught at the idea of Charles legitimating him. Charles had created him duke of Monmouth, and married him to the wealthy heiress of Buccleuch. Buckingham asked the king why not acknowledge a private marriage with his mother, and suggested that plenty of witnesses might be found to swear to it; but the answer of Charles destroyed this vision, who declared that he would see the lad hanged sooner than own him as his legitimate son. Buckingham, still not disconcerted, proposed an absurd scheme of carrying the queen privately to the plantations, where she would never more be heard of; and next a divorce from her on account of her barrenness, and a second marriage. Bishop Burnet, afterwards of Sarum, had decided that such cause was sufficient for divorce, and that it only wanted an act of parliament authorising the divorced parties to marry again. Charles listened sufficiently to cause them to attempt such an act. It was sought for in the case of lord Roos, whose wife was living in open adultery; but it was soon rumoured what was the ultimate object of it. The duke of York, therefore, opposed the bill with all his might, and Charles supported it with equal ardour, even taking his seat on the throne of the lords whilst it was discussed, to encourage his party. The bill was carried, and the right to marry again has always since then been recognised in bills of divorce; but Charles again disappointed Buckingham, for he showed no desire to make use of it in his own case. In fact, the temptation was gone by; the fair Stewart, that he wished to marry, was become the wife of Richmond.
Charles obtained from parliament considerable supplies in the spring session of 1670, for his consent to the renewal of the conventicle act, and the fury of persecution was let loose against the nonconformists. Spies and informers were everywhere, and many of the dissenters, to save their property, and their persons from prison, were fain to forego their usual assembling for worship in their chapels. The Society of Friends, however, scorned to concede even in appearance to this religious intolerance. They persisted in meeting as usual. They were dragged thence before magistrates, and on refusing to pay the fines were thrust into prison. No sooner were they liberated, however, than they returned, as usual, to their meetings, and when the doors were locked against them, assembled in the street, and held their meetings there. On one of these occasions, William Penn, son of admiral Penn, and afterwards the celebrated founder of Pennsylvania, was taken with William Mead, another minister of the society, at an open air meeting in Gracechurch Street. They were thrust into Newgate, and brought to trial before the recorder of London, one John Howell, and the lord mayor, Samuel Starling. This trial forms one of the most brilliant facts in the history of the independence of trial by jury, and has, in consequence, often been reprinted. Both Penn and Mead made noble defences, and terribly puzzled the recorder as to the law of the case. They demanded to know on what law the indictment was based. The recorder replied the "common law." They begged to be shown it. On this he flew into a passion, and asked them if they thought he carried the common law on his back. That it was founded on hundreds of adjudged cases, and that some of the ablest lawyers could scarcely tell what it was. Penn replied that if it was so difficult to produce, it could not be common law. He still pressed for this law, and the recorder replied, "It is lex non scripta, that which many have studied thirty or forty years to know, and would you have me tell you in a moment?" "Certainly," replied Penn, "if the common law be so hard to be understood, it is far from being common." And he proceeded to tell them what the law was, and how the rights of prisoners were secured by the acts of Henry III. and Edwards I. and III. On this the court became furious, and the lord mayor said, "My lord, if you take not some course with this pestilent fellow, to stop his mouth, we shall not be able to do anything to-night."
This was the style of treatment throughout the trial, but the prisoners stood firm, and were therefore taken away and thrust into the bail-dock whilst the recorder charged the jury. But as the prisoners could catch what he was saying, which was most grossly false, Penn shouted out that it was contrary to all law to charge the jury in the absence of the prisoners. He then told the jury that they were his judges, and that they could not return a verdict till they were fully heard. The recorder shouted, "Pull that fellow down, pull him down." Under such circumstances of violence, violence only too common in those days, the jury proceeded to bring in their verdict, which was, "Guilty of speaking in Gracechurch Street." "And is that all?" exclaimed the lord mayor. "You mean guilty of speaking to a tumultuous assembly." The foreman replied, "My lord, that is all that I have in commission." In a fury, and with much brow-beating, the jury were sent back to amend their verdict, but when again called into court, they brought it in writing, with all their signatures, only strengthening it by adding, "or preaching to an assembly." As that was no crime, the court in a rage ordered the jury to be shut up all night without meat, drink, fire, candle, tobacco, or any of the most necessary accommodations. Penn enjoined them to stand firm, and not give away their right, and one of them, named Edward Bushell, declared they never would. When brought up the next day, the jury declared they had no other verdict. This infuriated the mayor and recorder beyond their patience, and they vowed they would have a verdict out of them, or they should starve for it. Bushell replied they had acted according to their conscience, ​upon the mayor said, "That conscience of yours would cut my throat, but will cut yours as soon as I can." The recorder added, addressing Bushell, "You are a factious fellow; I will set a mark upon you, and whilst I have anything to do in the city, I will have an eye upon you." The lord mayor, addressing the jury, "Have you no more wit than to be led by such a pitiful fellow? I will cut his nose."
Penn protested against their jury being thus insulted and abused. "Unhappy," he exclaimed, "are these juries, who are threatened to be starved, fined, and ruined, if they give not in their verdict contrary to their consciences." "My lord," cried the recorder, "you must take a course with this fellow;" and the mayor shouted, "Stop his mouth! Gaoler, bring fetters and stake him to the ground!" To which Penn replied, "Do your pleasure: I matter not your fetters!" On this the recorder exclaimed, "Till now I never understood the reason of the policy and prudence of the Spaniards in suffering the inquisition among them; and certainly it will never be well with us till something like the Spanish inquisition be in England." The jury was again shut up all night under the same condition of starvation, darkness, and destitution of common conveniences; but like brave men, after being thus imprisoned and starved for two days and two nights, they shortened their verdict into "Not guilty!"
Defeated by the noble endurance of this truly English jury, the court fined every member of it forty marks, for not doing as the bench required, and committed them to prison till it was paid. They also fined Penn and Mead for contempt of court, and sent them to prison, too, till paid. The parties thus shamefully treated, however, had shown they were Englishmen, and were not likely to sit down with this tyranny quietly. They brought the case before the lord chief justice Vaughan, who pronounced the whole proceeding illegal, and from the bench delivered a noble defence of the rights of juries.
This trial is a fair specimen of the spirit and practice of those times. The greater part of the magistrates and judges took their cue from the spirit of the government; and the scenes of violence and injustice, of persecution for religion, and of robbery by officials of the outraged people, were of a kind not easily conceivable at this day. Parliament being prorogued to October, Charles was busily engaged in completing the secret treaty betwixt himself and Louis, by which he was to be an annual pensioner on France to an extent releasing him in a great measure from dependence on his own parliament. On his part, he was to employ the naval and military power of England to promote the wicked designs of Louis against his neighbours on the continent. The conditions of the treaty were these:—1st, That the king of England should profess himself catholic at such time as should seem to him most expedient, and after that profession should join Louis in a war on Holland when the French king thought proper. 2nd, That to prevent or suppress any insurrection in consequence of this public avowal, Louis should furnish him with two millions of livres, nearly one hundred thousand pounds, and an armed force of six thousand troops, if necessary. 3rd, That Louis should not violate the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, and Charles should be allowed to maintain it. 4th, That if new rights on the Spanish monarchy should accrue to Louis, Charles should aid him with all his power in obtaining those rights. 5th, That both monarchs should make war on Holland, and neither conclude the peace without the knowledge and consent of the other. 6th, The king of France to bear the charge of the war, but receiving from England a force of six thousand men. 7th, That Charles should furnish fifty, Louis thirty men-of-war, the combined fleet to be commanded by the duke of York; and that to support the charge of the war, the king of England should, during the war, receive annually three million of livres, about one hundred and fifty thousand pounds. England was to receive of the Dutch spoil Walcheren, Sluys, and the island of Cadsand, and the interests of the prince of Orange were to be guaranteed. There was also to be a treaty of commerce.
Perhaps the whole history of the world does not furnish a more infamous bargain, not even the partition of Poland in later days. Here was a king of England selling himself to the French monarch for money, to enable him to put down protestantism and parliament in this country, to do all and more than his father lost his head for attempting—for Charles I never plotted against the protestant religion. This was bad enough, but the bargain went to enable France to put its foot on the neck of this country, and to employ its forces to destroy protestantism abroad—protestantism and liberty; to throw Holland, and eventually all the Netherlands, and then Spain, into the power of France, making of it an empire so gigantic that neither freedom, nor protestantism, nor any political independence could ever more exist. Had this infamous scheme come to light in Charles's time, the Stuarts would not have been driven out in 1688, but then and there. But that this odious bargain did actually take place, and was acted on, so far as Charles's domestic vices and extravagance permitted, our times have produced the fullest evidence. The above treaty, which was deposited with Sir Thomas Clifford, still exists in the cabinet of his descendants at Chudleigh; and Sir John Dalrymple, seeking in the archives at Paris for material for his "Memoirs of Great Britain and Ireland," published in 1790, unexpectedly stumbled on the damning evidences—under the hands of Charles and his ministers themselves—of this unholy transaction and its filthy reward. The duke of York was at first said to be averse to this secret treason and slavery, but he fell into it, and received his share of the pecunium, as well as Buckingham, through whose agency a second treaty was effected, raising the annual sum to five million of livres, or nearly two hundred and fifty thousand pounds a year; the article requiring the king's change of religion being omitted altogether, Charles, meanwhile, having shown his readiness to engage in the Dutch war, which was the main question. Ashley and Lauderdale, Clifford and Arlington were also in the secret, and had their reward. Many were the suspicions of this diabolical business which oozed out, and much talk was the consequence at times; the proofs were preserved with inscrutable secrecy during the lives of the parties concerned, discovery being utter and inevitable destruction. The French copy of the treaty has hitherto escaped all research.
Louis XIV. of France.
ATTACK ON THE DUKE OF ORMOND.
The duchess left behind her one of her maids, a Mademoiselle Querouaille, or as the English came to call her, Madam Carwell, whom Louis had selected as a spy and agent, feeling assured that she would soon captivate this amorous king, which she did at once, and was in his usual way made at the same time his mistress and maid of honour to the queen. She was soon advanced to the title of duchess of Portsmouth, and so well did she serve the purposes of Louis, that in 1673 he gave her also a French title and estate. It was now thought by Charles and James that they could venture to put down the liberties, and, as James earnestly advocated, the religion of the nation. It was proposed to fortify Portsmouth, Hull, and Plymouth, by which places French soldiers might be introduced, and James having the command of the fleet, no interruption to their transit could take place. When parliament met in October, Charles observed that both Holland and France were increasing their navies—he could have told them really why—and on pretence of necessary caution, he demanded large supplies to place our own navy on a proper footing. There were complaints of prodigality and hints of popery thrown out, but a stun of no less than two million five hundred thousand pounds was voted, by taxes on land, on stock, on law proceedings, and on salaries—in fact, an income and property tax. There was a proposal to tax theatres, and when it was objected that the theatres contributed to his majesty's pleasure. Sir John Coventry asked sarcastically, "whether his majesty's pleasure lay amongst the men or the women players?"
For this remark Sir John was made to pay severely. The king and the whole court were furious at his hard hit against the Moll Davises and Nell Gwynnes. The king declared that he would send a detachment of the guards to watch in the street where Sir John Coventry lived, and set a mark upon him. The duke of York in vain endeavoured to dissuade the king; the duke of Monmouth, who was living on terms of great professed friendship with Coventry, yet undertook the execution of the business. He sent Sandys, his lieutenant, and O'Brien, the son of lord Inchiquin, with thirteen soldiers, who waited for Sir John as he returned from the parliament house on the evening of the 21st of December, and, encountering him in the Haymarket, assaulted him. Sir John placed his back to the wall, snatched the flambeau from the hands of his servant, and with that in one hand be so well plied his sword with the other, that he wounded several of the soldiers, and got more credit by his gallantry than for any action in his life. But he was overpowered by numbers in the end, beaten to the ground, and then had him nose cut to the bone with a penknife, to make a mark for life, to teach him respect for the king. They then went back to the duke of Monmouth's, where O'Brien, who was wounded in the arm, had it dressed. Coventry had his nose so well sewed up, that the trace of the outrage was scarcely discernible; but the house of commons, even such a house, resented tins dastardly attempt on one of its members, and it passed an act making it felony without benefit of clergy to cut or maim the person, and banishing for life the four principal offenders unless they surrendered before a certain day, as well as incapable of pardon even by act of parliament. But Monmouth and his assistants got out of the way, and the parliament never had the virtue to enforce its own act. In a very few weeks, Monmouth and a set of his drunken companions—young Monk, now duke of Albemarle, and eight others—attacked the watch, and killed the beadle of the ward, though he prayed earnestly that they would spare his life. Charles granted a pardon to the whole crew of murderers, to the great indignation of the public. The only visible effect on the court was that a ball at Whitehall, which was to have taken place that night, was put off. It was thus referred to by Andrew Marvell in his satires:—
   See what mishaps dare e'en invade Whitehall, The silly fellow's death puts off the ball! And disappoints the queen, poor little chuck. Who doubtless would have danced it like a duck. ***** Yet shall Whitehall, the innocent, the good, See those men dance all daubed with lace and blood.
The year 1670 was not destined to end without another extraordinary event. The duke of Ormond was returning on the 6th of December from a dinner in the city given to the young prince of Orange, and as he passed through St. James's Street, his carriage was stopped, he was dragged out, and mounted behind a man on horseback. There were five ruffians concerned, but having bound the duke behind their companion, the rest rode on to Tyburn to prepare the gallows, for hanging him upon it. But when they were gone, the duke threw himself forcibly from the horse, dragging his keeper with him. As they lay struggling on the ground footsteps were heard approaching. The duke's servants had given the alarm, and people were hurrying to the rescue. On this the villain loosened the belt which bound him to the duke, discharged two pistols at him, and made off. Fortunately the duke was not wounded except by the fall and the scuffle. The house of lords instituted an inquiry into this occurrence; the king offered one thousand pounds reward to any one giving information of the assassins, with pardon to the informant if one concerned. Nothing, however, could be traced till another affair, quite as extraordinary, took place in May of the next year.
A person habited as a clergyman, in the spring of 1671, introduced himself to Edwards, the keeper of the regalia in the Tower. He informed him of the attachment of his nephew to the keeper's daughter, and proposed a marriage between them. An acquaintance was thus commenced, and on the 9th of May the pretended clergyman brought two ​of his friends to see the regalia. The moment that they reached the regalia room, a cloak was thrown over the keeper's head, a gag was forced into his mouth, and he was then assured that no harm should happen to him if he only remained quiet. But the trusty keeper resisted with all his might, and the ruffians then knocked him down, and wounded him in the belly. The clerical-looking person then put the crown under his cossack, another concealed the globe in his breeches, and the third filed the sceptre in two and put it in a bag. But the keeper's son happening to come in at the moment, rushed away and raised an alarm. The ruffians ran for it; one then fired at the first sentinel, who, though untouched, believed himself shot and fell. They had nearly reached their horses at St. Catherine's Gate before they were seized. The ruffians refused to give any account of themselves, but Charles's curiosity being raised to see such extraordinary caitiffs, the chief of them freely avowed to him that he was a colonel Blood, and the same man who had attempted to hang, and, failing in that, to shoot the duke of Ormond. That he was of Sarney, in the county of Sleath, in Ireland, the author of a libel Called "Mene Tekel," and that his determination to kill Ormond arose from his having executed his companions for an attempt to surprise Dublin Castle, in 1663.
The king was struck with the wonderful audacity of the Villain, who not only confessed these things, but gloried in them and the artful villain told the king a story which was calculated to deter him from taking his life. He said that he was one of a band of three hundred, who had sworn to revenge each other's deaths. That on one occasion he had engaged to shoot his majesty as he went to swim in the Thames above Battersea, but that when he was about to take aim, the awe of majesty had paralysed his hand, and that he not only gave up his design, but bound his confederates to do the same. Their cause of offence was the persecution of the godly. That the king now could do as he pleased—he could execute him if he preferred it, but that he would then expose his life to the revenge of three hundred daring men, who were bound by the most solemn obligation to destroy the men, whoever they were, who put him to death. On the other hand, if he pardoned him, he would secure the gratitude and the lasting services of three hundred undaunted and faithful adherents.
The deeplaid artifice of this daring miscreant succeeded to a miracle. Charles was, on the one hand, so exquisitely flattered by "the awe of majesty," and on the other so terrified by the idea of three hundred desperadoes on the perpetual watch for his life, that he not only pardoned Blood, but, to bind him more firmly to his interests, he granted him an estate in Ireland of five hundred pounds a year, and admitted him to the court on the footing of a gentleman and a favourite. The duke of Ormond was persuaded to pardon him, and the fellow was at once familiar with all the great people about the court. Evelyn describes his seeing him there, dining at the treasurer's table with the due de Grammont and several French noblemen. Yet the marks of the scoundrel were unmistakably upon him. "The man," says Evelyn, "had not only a daring, but a villainous, unmerciful look; a false countenance, but very well spoken, and dangerously insinuating."
He was suspected of being a double spy, and was fully capable of it, both by his audacity and cunning, for the republicans and nonconformists on the one hand, and for the king on the other. Ormond, who was detested by Buckingham and his party, believed that nobleman to be at the bottom of Blood's attack on himself; and lord Ossory, Ormond's son, told him in the presence of the king, that if his father came to any untimely end in any manner, he should know on whom to take vengeance, and would do it, even though he stood behind his majesty's chair. Blood maintained his ground at court for nearly thirteen years, but at length he was thrown into prison for subpoenaing witnesses to swear a vile crime against Buckingham, and ended his days in the King's Bench. The present year, 1671, was chiefly employed in preparing for the war with Holland. Though Charles was under-condition to become an avowed catholic, he published a proclamation, declaring that as he had always adhered to the true religion as established, he would still maintain it by all the means in his power. De Witt, who was aware of what was going on, hastened to make a treaty with Spain, and Louis demanded a free passage through the Netherlands to attack Holland, or declared that he would force one at the head of sixty thousand men. Whilst war was thus impending, the duchess of York, Hyde's daughter, died. She had been for some time a professed catholic. Henrietta Maria, the mother of Charles, had died in August, 1669, at the castle of Colombe, near Paris.
Charles and his ministers of the cabal, bribed by Louis, and even the mistress of Buckingham, lady Shrewsbury, pensioned with ten thousand livres a year, prepared to rush into the war against Holland, in the hope of retrieving past disgraces, and securing some valuable prizes. At the close of the last session, on pretence of maintaining the triple alliance, the very thing they were intending to betray, and of keeping Louis of France in check, whom they were, in fact, going to assist in his aggressions, they procured eight hundred thousand pounds from the commons, and then immediately prorogued the parliament. But this most unprincipled trick was nothing to what they were preparing to perpetrate.
During the recess of parliament, it was suddenly announced by proclamation on the 2nd of January, 1672, that the exchequer was shut. To understand what was meant by this most flagitious act, we must recollect that Charles was in the habit of anticipating the supplies granted, by borrowing of the London bankers and goldsmiths, and granting them some branch of revenue, to refund themselves with interest. He had at this time obtained one million three hundred thousand pounds in this manner, but calculating that the Dutch war could not be carried on without further means than the recent parliamentary grant, it was therefore announced that government was not prepared to pay the principal borrowed, or in other terms, could grant the annual security of the incoming taxes, but the lenders must be content with the interest. This would enable the government to receive the revenue themselves, instead of paying their just debts with it. The consternation was terrible. The exchequer had hitherto kept its engagements honourably, and had thus obtained this liberal credit. The ​lenders, in their turn, could not meet the demands of their creditors. The exchange was in a panic: many of the bankers and mercantile houses failed, a great shock was given to credit throughout the kingdom, and many annuitants, widows, and orphans, who had deposited their money with them, were reduced to ruin. Ashley and Clifford were said to have been the authors of the scheme; but Ashley was a man of infinite schemes, and probably was the original inventor. Government declared that the post-ponement of payment should only be for one year; but the greater part of the money was never again repaid, and this sum, so fraudently obtained, became the nucleus of the present national debt.
The manner in which the government commenced the war on Holland was characterised by the same infamous disregard of all honourable principle. Though Charles had bound himself to make war on the Dutch, he had no cause of quarrel with them, whatever he pretended to have. When Louis menaced them with hostilities, Charles offered himself as a mediator, and the Dutch regarded him as such. Under these circumstances he sent Sir Robert Holmes with a large fleet to intercept a Dutch fleet of merchantmen coming from the Levant, and calculated to be worth a million and a half. Holmes, in going out, saw the squadron of Sir Edward Spragge at the back of the Isle of Wight, which had recently returned from destroying the Algerine navy; and though his orders were to take all the vessels along with him that he could find at Portsmouth, or should meet at sea, lest Spragge should obtain some of the glory and benefit, he passed on and gave him no summons. The next day he descried the expected Dutch fleet; but to his chagrin he found that it was well convoyed by seven men-of-war, and the merchantmen, sixty in number, were many of them well armed. The vast preparations of Louis, and some recent movements of the English, had put them on their guard. Notwithstanding Charles's hypocritical offers of friendly mediation, he had withdrawn the honourable Sir William Temple from the Hague, and sent thither the unprincipled Downing, a man so detested there, that the mob chased him away. Van Nesse, the Dutch admiral, successfully resisted the attack of Holmes, who only managed to cut off one man-of-war and four merchantmen. The chagrin of Charles was equal to the disgrace with which this base action covered him and his ministers. Both his own subjects and foreigners denounced the action in fitting terms, and Holmes was styled "the cursed beginner of the two Dutch wars."
There was nothing now for it but to declare war, which was done by both England and France. Charles mustered up a list of trumpery charges, which, bad as they were, would nave come with a better grace before attacking his allies without any notice—the detention of English traders in Surinam; the neglect to strike the Dutch flag to him in the narrow seas; and refusal to regulate their trade relations according to the treaty. Louis simply complained of insults, and declared his intention to assert his glory. Under such thin veils were put the real intentions of Louis and his bond-slave Charles.
The Dutch fleet was not long in appearing at sea with seventy-five sail under De Ruyter. On the 3rd of May the duke of York, admiral of the English fleet, descried this powerful armament posted betwixt Calais and Dover, to prevent his junction with the French fleet. He had only forty sail of the line, but he managed to pass unobserved, and join the French squadron under D'Estrées, La Rabiniere, and Du Quesne. On the 28th they came to an engagement near Southwold Bay; the battle was terrible—scarcely any of these sanguinary conflicts of those times with the Dutch more so.
Owing to the wind and tide, not more than twenty of the English sail could engage the enemy. The French squadron under D'Estrées formed in opposition to the Zeeland squadron of Banker; but they stood away under easy sail southward, and never came to action; in fact, it was the well-known policy of Louis to allow the Dutch and English to play the bulldogs with each other, and to spare his own infant navy. The duke of York, with a part of the red squadron, opposed De Ruyter; the earl of Sandwich, with part of the blue, Van Ghent and the Amsterdam fleet. The English were so surrounded by the multitudes of the enemy, that they could afford little aid to each other, and were exposed on all sides to a most merciless fire. By eleven o'clock the duke of York's ship was totally disabled, and had lost one-third of her men. He himself escaped out of a cabin window, and got on board the St. Michael, of seventy guns. Poor old admiral Montague, earl of Sandwich, in the Royal James, did marvels of valour. Surrounded by the enemy, he boarded a seventy gun ship that lay athwart his hawse, and killed Van Ghent, the Dutch admiral; but assailed by two fireships, he destroyed one, and the other destroyed him. The Royal James was blown up, and thus the old man, who had so long figured both under the commonwealth and crown, finished his career. He had a foreboding of his fate, and told Evelyn when he took leave of him to go on board, that he would see him no more. Two hundred of his men escaped.
In the afternoon the St. Michael, to which the duke had fled, was also sinking, and he had to remove to the London. In the evening the Dutch fleet drew off, and the next morning the two divisions of the English fleet joined and offered battle, but De Ruyter tacked about and a chase commenced. Twice the English were on the point of pouring their broadsides into the enemy, when a fog saved them, and on the second day the Dutch took refuge within the Wierings. The duke showed unquestionable courage on this occasion; no real advantage to the country, however, but much cost and damage resulted from this unnatural war to prostrate a protestant country, to pander to the mad ambition of the French king. Louis all this time was taking advantage of the Dutch being thus engaged. He marched upon Holland with one hundred thousand men, assisted by the military talent of Turenne, Condé, and Luxembourg. He took Orsoi, Burick, Wesel, and Rhinberg on the Rhine, crossed the river at Schenck in the face of the enemy, and overran three of the seven united provinces. The city of Amsterdam itself was in consternation, for the fires of the French camp could be seen from the top of the Stadt House. Even the great De Witt was in despair; but at this crisis Holland was saved by a youth whose family had been jealously thrust from the stadtholdership. This was William of Orange, afterwards William III. of England.
​William of Nassau w;is the nephew of Charles of England, the son of his sister. He was a young man of a sickly constitution, only then twenty-one years of age, and at that time of no experience in state or military affairs. The house of Nassau had acquired almost sovereign power in Holland, from having rescued the country from the cruel yoke of Spain, and had rendered the office of stadtholder almost synonymous with king. The municipal body, the aristocracy of the country, jealous of the powers and aims of the house of Orange, at the death of William's father had abolished for ever the office of stadtholder, and placed the government of the country in the hands of the town council, the provincial states, and the states-general. De Witt, the grand pensionary of the province of Holland, was made chief minister, and conducted the government with consummate ability. William of Orange, who was a posthumous child, was a ward of De Witt's. He was at the same time at the head of the Louvestein faction, which was violently opposed to the house of Nassau. But William of Orange stood high in the affections of the people. They regarded with as much jealousy the municipal oligarchy which ruled the country, as that did the house of Nassau. They felt that the Orange family had achieved the independence of Holland, and, being themselves shut out of all influence in the state affairs, they sympathised with the young prince. Besides, he had a princely fortune, the possession of territories entrenched behind the river Maas, and the dykes of South Holland, not easily invaded, and was not only a prince of the German empire, but of the royal blood of England.
The people, now seeing the critical condition to which the Louvestein faction had reduced their country, demanded that the command of the army should be put into the hands of William. De Witt, who could not prevent it, endeavoured to persuade the people to bind the prince by an oath never to aspire to the stadtholdership; but the Orange party now seized their opportunity to rouse the people against the oligarchy of burgers, and they did it to such effect, that De Witt and his brother were torn to pieces by the populace before the gates of the palace of the states-general at the Hague. William, who had no share in the murder, however, committed the same grave moral error as he did afterwards in England, in the case of the massacre of Glencoe—he rewarded the murderers, and accepted the office of commander-in-chief. Low as the country was reduced, its very danger was its strongest means of rescue. Germany and Spain, alarmed for the consequences to Europe, sent promises of speedy assistance, and even Charles H. seemed to perceive the folly of his proceedings. The war at sea had brought nothing but expense and bloodshed. If Spain came to a rupture with France, England would lose the benefit of its lucrative Spanish trade. Charles had sent six thousand troops, according to treaty, to assist Louis in Holland, under the command of his son Monmouth, who displayed no talents as a general, but plenty of courage—a quality of the family. With him he sent Buckingham, Arlington, and Saville as plenipotentiaries. These ministers now hastened to the Hague, and expressed the friendly feeling of England towards Holland. The dowager princess of Holland, who knew what friendliness Charles had shown towards his nephew William, who, Buckingham said, did not wish to use Holland like a mistress, but love like a wife, replied, "Truly, I believe you would love us as you do your wife!" a hard hit. From the Hague they proceeded to the camp of Louis, who, however, before he would treat with the Dutch, made the English sign a new treaty that they would not agree to any separate peace.
The terms then proposed by these allies show how little they were aware of the power yet lurking in the invalid but stubborn and subtle young prince of Orange. Charles required, on his part, the dignity of stadtholder for the prince, his nephew, the acknowledgment of England's sovereignty of the narrow seas, ten thousand pounds per annum for liberty of fishing on the English coasts, and the fortresses of Goree, Flushing, and some others as a guarantee for the payment. Louis demanded all their territory lying on the left bank of the Rhine, all such places as they had formerly wrested from Spain, seventeen millions of livres as indemnification of the costs of the war, which he had himself commenced, and an annual gold medal in acknowledgment of his surrendering the three provinces he had now taken, but in reality in retaliation for the medal which the States had cast on the formation of the triple alliance. They were also to grant freedom of worship to the catholics.
William of Orange bade them reject the whole of these conditions. He told them that even were they beaten to the last, they could transport themselves with their wealth to the Indian Archipelago, and then erect in Java and the isles a new and more resplendent Holland, with a new and vast world around them for their empire. The courage of the people rose at the dauntless spirit of their young prince, and they resolved to resist to the last man. William ordered the dikes to be cut; the invaders were obliged by a precipitate retreat to seek their own safety. Amsterdam was saved, and the different towns of Holland stood isolated amid a vast sea, which no enemy could approach without a vast fleet of flat-bottomed boats, and supplies which must be conveyed by the same mode. Meantime William, where he could reach the French, beat them in several smart actions, and thus further raised the courage of his countrymen, whilst forces from Germany were fast pouring down the Rhine to their aid.
At this first appearance of the hero who was to demolish the continental scheme of Louis's ambition, he displayed the same close and impenetrable character as accompanied him through life, and which he inherited from his ancestor, William I., whom the Spanish named "Silence." After a severe battle at Woerden, one of his officers asked him what he would attempt next. "Can you keep a secret?" asked William. "Yes," said the officer. " And so can I," replied, the prince, drily.
Louis XIV., who by no means relished a campaign of this kind, returned to Paris, and left Turenne to contend with the enemy, who, though he displayed the highest military talents, and still held many strong places, saw that the conquest of. Holland was little better than hopeless. At sea the duke of York arrived off the Dogger Bank, to intercept the Dutch East India fleet in vain, and De Ruyter lay snug in port.
At home Charles had promoted his cabal ministry, as if ​they had done some great deed, to honours and titles. Clifford was called lord Clifford of Chudleigh; lord Arlington, earl of Arlington; and Ashley, earl of Shaftesbury. Buckingham and Arlington received the honour of the garter. In order to protect the bankers whom he had kept out of their money, from the suits commenced against them by their creditors in chancery, Charles desired Bridgman to enter an injunction there, but Bridgman doubted the rectitude of the proceeding, and he was suddenly removed, and Shaftesbury Jut in his place, who at once issued the injunction, and appointed a distant day for hearing evidence against it. Ashley, as the new lord chancellor, displayed a, vanity and eccentricity which caused him to be greatly ridiculed by the lawyers. He went to preside on the bench in "an ash-coloured gown silver-laced, and full-ribboned pantaloons."
He at first acted with much self-sufficiency and conceit, but was soon brought to his senses by the lawyers, and afterwards became one of the most tame and complying judges that ever sate on the bench. Violent altercation, however, arose betwixt Ashley and Arlington, who expected Ashley's place made vacant in the treasury, which was given to Clifford.
On the 5th of February, 1673, parliament was summoned after a recess of nearly a year and a half. Ashley undertook to justify the shutting of the exchequer and the Dutch war. But the days of the cabal were numbered. The king, by their advice, had, during the recess, issued a declaration of indulgence. This was done with the hope of winning the support of the nonconformists and the papists. But of all subjects, that of indulgence of conscience in religion, at that period, was the most double-edged. The nonconformists were ready enough to enjoy indulgence, but then the eternal suspicion that it was intended only as a cloak for the indulgence of popery, made them rather satisfied to be without it than enjoy it at that peril. No sooner, therefore, had they granted Charles the liberal sum of one million two hundred thousand pounds, to be collected by eighteen monthly assessments, than the commons fell on this proclamation of indulgence. The members of the church and the nonconformists united in their denunciation of it. On the 10th of February they resolved, by a majority of one hundred and sixty-eight to one hundred and sixteen, that "penal statutes, in matters ecclesiastical, cannot be suspended except by act of parliament." Charles stood for awhile on his prerogative, but the effervescence in the house and country was so great that he gave way, and his declaration, that what he had done should not be drawn into a precedent, on the 8th of March was received with acclamations by both houses, and by rejoicings and bonfires by the people.
The cabal, seeing their error in this respect, fell into an opposite one. Arlington recommended to Charles that, to pacify the fears of the country, it would be well to have an act passed requiring every person holding any office, civil or military, not only to take the oath of allegiance and supremacy, but that he should receive the sacrament in the form prescribed by the church of England, or be incapable of receiving or continuing such office. All such persons were required also to make a declaration against transubstantiation, under a penalty of five hundred pounds, of being disabled from suing in any court of law, or of being a guardian or executor. This act was passed by both houses unanimously, the nonconformists being promised that another bill should be introduced to protect them from the operation of this. But before it was done parliament was prorogued on the 29th of March, and they were taken in their own trap.
No sooner was this act passed, which became known as the Test Act, and continued in force till the reign of George IV., than the ministers found that they had overshot themselves again. Its immediate effect was to compel lord Clifford to resign his staff: the wedge was thus introduced into the cabal, and the duke of York, who resigned his office of lord high admiral, became inimical to them. Shaftesbury had given great offence to the king by being in a hurry in the lords to pronounce the indulgence illegal, and soon after the prorogation Charles took the great seal from him, and gave it to Sir Heneage Finch. The office of lord treasurer, resigned by Clifford, was given by the king to Sir Thomas Osborne, a gentlemen of Yorkshire, who was created earl of Danby, and became in reality prime minister. The rise of Danby was the certain destruction of the cabal. His foreign policy was entirely opposed to theirs he saw clearly enough the ruinous course of aggrandising France at the expense of the protestant states of Europe; his views of domestic policy were more profound, though not less unprincipled than theirs. He saw the necessity of combining the old royalist and church interests for the support of the throne, but he set about this process by buying up the favour of the cavaliers, the nobles, the country gentlemen, and the clergy and universities. He was not the first to bribe—the cabal had done that so far as parliament members were concerned, but Danby, like Walpole, and the ministers after him, bought up any and every man that could secure his views, by direct bribes or lucrative appointments. He might be said to be the father of that system of corruption which became so universal in after times, and has yet left its prolific slime on our ministerial system.
ATTACK ON SIR JOHN COVENTRY.
Buckingham and Arlington condescended to defend themselves at the bar of the commons, for which they received a vote of censure from the peers, as derogatory to their dignity as members of the upper house; and a standing order was made that no peer should answer an accusation before the commons in person, by counsel, or by letter, on penalty of being committed to the custody of the black rod, or to the Tower, during the pleasure of the house. Buckingham threw much of the blame on Arlington, whom he hated, and Arlington retorted it on Buckingham.
Charles, however, so far displayed no disposition to remove those obnoxious ministers, but he pressed for liberal supplies, and the commons, on their part, were in no haste to grant them. They were now nearly sick of the Dutch war, from which no honour, but much expense flowed. The tide of success was now fast running in favour of the States. Spain and Austria were in the field to support William of Orange. Monteouculli, the Austrian general, had eluded Turenne, and laid siege to Bonn, and William having reduced Naerden, had formed a junction with Montecuculli; Bonn was taken, and the French army was compelled to retreat.
Charles himself not having been able in the autumn to draw his pension from Louis, and parliament now holding fast its purse-strings, he was ready to listen to terms from Holland. On this the States offered, through the Spanish ambassador, Del Fresno, the terms which they refused at the congress of Cologne. The conquests on both sides should be restored, the honour of the flag conceded to England, and eight hundred thousand crowns should be paid Charles for indemnification for the expenses of the war. Had the terms been far inferior, the fact of the money would probably have decided the matter with Charles. As to the dignity of stadtholder for William, the States themselves settled that, by conferring it on him and his heirs for ever, before the time of their treaty, and nothing whatever was said of the ten thousand pounds for liberty to fish. On the 9th of February the treaty was signed, and on the 11th announced to parliament by Charles. Louis got information of these proceedings before this announcement, and sent through Ruvigni an offer of a large sum, but it was too late. Charles said he had gone too far, but that he would still remain the friend of Louis, and endeavour to mediate betwixt him and the stadtholder. Charles had clearly broken faith with Louis, having repeatedly bound himself to make no peace without him; but then Louis had not paid the stipulated sum, and what could the poor lung do without money? On the other hand, however, though he had made peace with Holland, yet he left his army under Monmouth with the French to fight against it.
Whilst parliament continued to sit, the duke of York was in continual terror of some measure to exclude him from the throne. Such measures were attempted; a bill was proposed in the lords by Carlisle, and warmly supported by Shaftesbury and Halifax, to make the penalty for marrying a catholic the forfeiture of the throne. It was thrown out, but to prevent the introduction of some fresh scheme, James importuned Charles to prorogue parliament. The king replied that it was impossible without supplies. To obviate this the duke applied to the king of France, who, equally apprehensive of the parliament, which condemned the Dutch war, sent Charles five hundred thousand crowns, and parliament was immediately prorogued till the 10th of November. During the summer Charles, to reduce the opposition of the house of commons, concluded to dismiss Buckingham and Arlington from the ministry; but he gave to Arlington the post of chamberlain of the household. Whilst in that situation, Arlington strongly recommended to the king a marriage betwixt William of Orange and Mary, the eldest daughter of the duke of York. He represented how much this was likely to please the protestant interest. Charles readily consented to it, but the English party with whom William was in close communication, warned him against it, as likely to persuade the English people that he was in league with the king and the duke of York against their liberties. William, therefore, curtly turned aside the proposal.
Parliament reassembled on the 13th of April, 1675. Buckingham had now joined Shaftesbury and the opposition, and under this government the house of commons demanded that the English troops under Monmouth should be recalled from the continent. Dutch money was said to have stimulated this demand, and a fiery debate succeeded—so fiery, indeed, that members were very near drawing their swords on one another; but Danby applied the antidote in a liberal distribution of English money, and the patriots left Monmouth and turned their fury on Lauderdale again, but without succeeding in displacing him. Danby himself was threatened with impeachment, but he threw fresh oil on the troubled waters in the shape of more gold from the treasury, and the storm blew over.
In the lords, however, a most atrocious attempt was made by this unprincipled minister. He seized on the no-popery cry to introduce a measure which would at once enslave parliament. This was an oath as a special test for parliament; every member of which was to take, as well as all officers of state and privy councilors, the passive obedience oath already required of magistrates. Danby had secured the advocacy of the bench of bishops—bishops Morley and Ward speaking zealously in its favour. But Shaftesbury, Buckingham, and the opposition generally, resisted it with all their power. They said whilst the oath was limited, the high court of parliament remained free to define or control it; but if parliament itself took it, it became tongue-tied for ever, and the birthright of Englishmen was lost. The debate lasted seventeen days, dining which time Charles himself attended to watch its progress. He went to take his stand by the fire, and Marvell said the opposition had to fight it out with the sun, i.e., with the fireside always in their faces. Eventually ministers were compelled to alter the penalty of the oath from exclusion from parliament to a fine of five hundred pounds, and exclusion from any office or ​comission under the crown. In this form it passed the lords, but in the commons, where parties appeared nearly equally balanced, it was defeated through the ingenuity of Shaftesbury, who got up a quarrel betwixt the lords and commons on a totally different subject. Charles detected the clever hand of his quondam minister, and declared that it was the work of some one who was no friend to either him or the church; but the quarrel went on, and the king, despairing either of supplies or the resumption of the test act, prorogued the parliament, in great vexation, on the 9th of June.
On their reassembling in October they voted three hundred thousand pounds for shipbuilding, perceiving that the French navy was outgrowing our own; but they contended that according to the sum he had received from parliament the year before, and the money from Holland, he ought to have a large surplus. There was a proposal for the dissolution of this parliament, which had now continued sixteen years, and a threatened exposure of bribery and corruption; and then, on the 22nd of November, Charles prorogued parliament for fifteen months.
We may now take a brief glance at proceedings in Scotland and Ireland.
In Scotland archbishop Sharp had pursued his persecuting and coercive system to such an extent, that Charles was obliged to order him not to overstep his proper duties, but to confine himself to spiritual concerns alone. Such was the hatred which this renegade churchman had excited, that in 1668 a young man of the name of Mitchell, who had witnessed the horrible cruelties which followed the battle of Rullion Green, believed himself called upon to put Sharp to death. He therefore posted himself in front of the archbishop's palace, and as the archbishop came out with the bishop of Orkney to get into his carriage, he stepped up and fired at Sharp, who was just seated in the carriage; but at the same moment the bishop of Orkney raised his arm to enter the carriage, and received the ball in his wrist. There was a cry that a man was killed, but some one exclaimed, "It is only a bishop!" and Mitchell, coolly crossing the street, mixed with the crowd, walked away, and changed his coat; and though the council offered a large reward for his apprehension, it was six years before he was discovered.
The earl of Rothes had been removed from the office of royal commissioner, and the earl of Tweeddale, who now occupied that post, endeavoured to soften the spirit of persecution, and granted a certain indulgence. This was to admit such of the ejected ministers to their livings as were vacant, or to appoint them to others, provided they would accept collation from the bishop, and attend the presbyteries and synods. But this was to concede the question of episcopacy, and the king's supremacy in the church. The more complying of the ejected members, to the number of forty-three, accepted the offer; but they found that by so doing they had forfeited the respect of their flocks, who deserted their churches, and crowded to other preachers more stanch to their principles. Lauderdale soon after returned to Scotland, and his very first proceeding was to pass an act to appoint commissioners to co-operate with English commissioners, to endeavour to effect a union of the two kingdoms. His next was to pass another, converting the act of allegiance into an act of absolute supremacy. This at once annihilated the independence of the kirk; and a third act was to give the king a right to maintain an army, and to march it to any part of the king's dominions. This was so evidently a step towards despotism, that not only in Scotland, but in the English parliament, the indignation was great, and the English commons presented an address to the crown, praying for Lauderdale's removal. The address, however, produced no effect. Lauderdale proceeded, plausibly offering "indulgence" to such easy principled ministers as would accept livings subject to the oath of supremacy and the acknowledgment of bishops, whilst at the same time he passed an act in July, 1670, more rigorously prohibiting conventicles within private houses or in the open air. Any minister preaching or praying at such meetings was to suffer forfeiture of both life and property. The Scotch did not understand this kind of indulgence, which allowed their ministers to enter their churches by the sacrifice of their moral principles, and put them to death if they took the liberty to follow their own consciences. The people took arms and went to their meetings, determined to defend their preachers and themselves. Lauderdale then, with the aid of archbishop Leighton, extended the "indulgence" to all such ministers as would attend presbyteries, where the bishops should have no negative voice; but this did not deceive the people. The rigour against their own choice ministers and places of worship was kept up, and they declared that bishops, even without a negative voice in the presbyteries, were bishops still; that such assemblies had no resemblance to those previous to 1638; they had no power of the keys, no ordination, no jurisdiction; that the whole was but a snare to draw in unwary or self-interested ministers, and after them their flocks. To assent to such terms would be apostacy from the principles of the kirk. Lauderdale made another step in his "indulgence" in 1673. He named eighty ejected ministers, and ordered them to repair to their churches and officiate there, but nowhere else, under severe penalties. This was to lock up the conventicles in which these preachers ministered. About one-fourth of the number refused to obey, and were confined by order of the council to particular places. But this did not diminish the number of conventicles, it only excited a schism betwixt the complying and the non-complying. He next passed an act of grace, pardoning all offences against the conventicle acts committed before the 4th of March, 1674; but this only encouraged the people to fresh freedom in their attendance on conventicles. They regarded his concessions as certain proofs of his weakness, and the independent meetings, scorning any compliance with episcopacy and royal supremacy, spread and abounded more than ever. They assembled in vacant churches, where they would not have entered to listen to what they called an intrusive minister, or in the open air in glen or mountain, around a lofty pole erected as a signal. "The parish churches of the curates," says Kirton, "came to be like pest-houses, few went into any of them, and none to some; so the doors were kept locked." No policy, however severe or plausibly insinuating, could induce the wary Scots to swallow the hated pill of episcopacy.
​In Ireland, the prohibition of importing Irish cattle into England was followed by alike prohibition from the Scottish parliament, and the Irish parliament retaliated by prohibiting Scotch woollens being imported into Ireland. These illiberal measures only spread mischief and misery on all sides. So long as the duke of Ormond retained the lord-lieutenantcy, he endeavoured to mitigate these evils. He procured the liberty of a free trade betwixt Ireland and all foreign countries, whether at war or peace with England; and five hundred families of Walloons were induced to settle in Ireland and to establish the manufactory of woollen and linen clothes. But the many sufferers from the act of settlement, which confirmed the possession of the Irish lands in the hands of the English soldiers and adventurers, complained greatly of Ormond, and his enemies at court procured his removal in 1669. After him succeeded lord Robartes, and next lord Berkeley; but it mattered little who governed, nothing could induce the natives to sit down quietly under the loss of their estates, and that, too, whilst they had been often firm loyalists and the intruders rebels. In 1671 a commission was appointed to inquire into all alleged grievances, consisting of prince Rupert, Buckingham, Lauderdale, Anglesey, Ashley, and others. This lasted till March 26th, 1673, but ended in nothing. The possessors of the Irish lands were too powerful at court, and no result followed but fresh severities against the catholics, who were expelled from all corporations, and their priests banished the kingdom.
The war between France and the confederates, Holland, Austria, and Spain, had now spread all over Europe, both by land and sea. Louis poured his soldiers in torrents into the Netherlands, and excited insurrections in the dependencies of Spain. He managed to excite sedition against her in Sicily, and against Austria in Hungary. De Ruyter, the famous admiral, was despatched by the prince of Orange to assist the Spaniards in Sicily, and was killed at Messina. On the other hand, Louis's great general, Turenne, was killed in the battle of Saltzbach, on the Rhine. After his death, the Austrian general, Montecuculli, defeated the French repeatedly, and recovered Alsace. But Vaunban, who introduced a new system of fortification, recovered the ascendancy of Louis, by teaching the French how to defend towns. Louis maintained this enormous war at a cost which brought immense burdens on France, and laid the foundation of the great revolution which just preceded our time. On the other hand, William of Orange manfully maintained the conflict under many disadvantages. His authority at home was often questioned; the governors of the Spanish Netherlands frequently crossed his plans, and his German allies as frequently failed him. Yet reverse after reverse was not able to damp his spirit, or overcome his imperturbable tenacity of purpose. Charles, during this awful struggle of his nephew, was enjoying peace, but a most inglorious peace, purchased by the money of Louis, to allow him to destroy all the independent states of Europe. Not even the interests of his own subjects were protected. In the course of seven months fifty-three sail of merchantmen were captured by the French cruisers. The sufferers made loud complaints, and Charles promised to obtain restoration, but very little was ever obtained. He received his annual pension from Louis, and though he drew it through Chiffinch his pander and man of the back stairs, the transaction was well known to his ministers Danby and Lauderdale, and his brother the duke of York.
When he reassembled his parliament on the 5th of February, 1677, the country party, headed by Shaftesbury and Buckingham in the lords, contended that the parliament was legally at an end. That, by two statutes of Edward III., it was required that parliaments should be held once a year, or oftener; and this parliament having been prorogued for a period of fifteen months, had ceased to exist. But lord chancellor Finch truly replied, that by the triennial act of Charles I. the vacations were extended to three years. In the commons there was also a motion for a dissolution, but it was postponed. The motion of Buckingham in the lords to vote the present parliament effete was negatived, and he, Salisbury, Shaftesbury, and Wharton, were ordered by the house to retract their illegal opinion and beg pardon of the house and the king. They refused, and were committed to the Tower. The following day the motion of a dissolution in the commons was lost by a minority of one hundred and forty- two to one hundred and ninety-three. Defeated in the attempt to break up this corrupt pension parliament, the opposition in the lords next endavoured to secure the succession against a catholic prince. Charles had no children but illegitimate; ones, and James, therefore, was heir to the crown. The bill passed the lords, and provided that on the demise of the king, the bishops should tender a declaration against transubstantiation to the heir; and if he refused to take it, they should appoint to all bishoprics and benefices, and take charge of the education of the king's children; but the commons threw out the bill on the ground of the undue power which it conferred on the bishops; and they immediately threw out another bill of the peers for abolishing the punishment of death for popish recusancy. The two houses, however, agreed in abolishing the detestable writ de hæretico comburendo.
The present parliament has been accused of singular inconsistency in calling upon the king to declare war against France, in order to check it in its ominous progress against Holland and the Netherlands, and yet refusing him money. A very valid plea for their anxiously desiring the declaration of war, and yet shrinking from putting money into Charles's hands, might have been advanced had they been an honest parliament. The nation saw with great discontent and humiliation the growing ascendancy of France, the increase of Louis's navy, the expansion of his ambitious plans, the danger of protestant Holland, and the despicable position into which England had fallen. It had fears of popery, fears of absolutism, through a standing army. There were dark rumours, though no direct proofs, of the kings secret league with France. Whilst they, therefore would have willingly granted him money for a war with France, they dreaded to do it, knowing how it would go in folly, and believing how it would go to strengthen despotism. They did not leave him destitute; he had the excise, and they now granted six hundred thousand pounds for the building of new ships; but they took care to tie it up by proper securities to its legitimate purpose. How well they were justified, was shown by the first use which the king made of ​the money now received from France. The bulk of it went to purchase votes in the house of commons.
Unfortunately, this parliament was little more honest than the king himself; it was receiving bribes on all sides. Darlymple shows that Spanish, Dutch, German, and French money was freely distributed amongst the members. In 1673 three leaders of the opposition in the commons were bribed with six thousand pounds, to induce them freely to vote unusually large supplies, and they did it. They were now in the pay of all the chief contending countries in Europe. When they raised the cry of war on this occasion, the king expressed his readiness, but demanded six hundred thousand pounds at the least for the necessary expenditure. Thereupon Spain bribed the patriots to vote for it with twenty thousand pounds, and the king of France bribed them with a still larger sum. The proposal for the war was thrown out, Louis having feed not only the parliament, but the ministers and the king. On receiving about two hundred thousand pounds from Louis, Charles adjourned parliament on the 16th of April, and did not call it together again till the next January. Never, surely, had everything like principle or patriotism so thoroughly abandoned the nation. Soon after the adjournment Buckingham, Salisbury, and Wharton, made their submission to the king, and were released; Shaftesbury held out seven months longer, and their followed their example.
During the recess the prince of Orange came to England. He had reflected on his former refusal to marry Mary, the daughter of the duke of York. Though William could place very little dependence on the alliance of his uncle Charles, yet he could not be insensible that a marriage with Mary opened up a prospect towards the throne of England, and that an alliance betwixt the two protestant nations must mutually strengthen their position in Europe. He therefore began to cultivate the friendship of Danby, the prime minister, and then solicited the union which he had before declined. The overture was received with a coldness that the more sensibly impressed the prince with the political blunder which he had committed. He therefore humbled himself, and requested permission to make a visit to London and apologise for his past conduct and explain his future views. Charles not only resented William's refusal of his former offer, but he was jealous of his intrigues with the popular leaders; and though he did not forbid his coming, he stipulated that he should return before the meeting of parliament. On the 9th of October he joined his uncle at Newmarket, and, having the services of Danby and Temple, Charles was soon persuaded to his marriage with the princess. James appeared at first averse to the connection, but he soon acquiesced; and whilst Charles boasted of having made this alliance to secure the religion of the nation, James took credit to himself from his consent, of proving how false were the suspicions which had been expressed of his intention to make changes in both the religion and the state. The marriage gave universal satisfaction, and during the festivities with which it was celebrated at court, William sought to engage the king in the project of a general peace. The following were the proposals ultimately arrived at by them, to be submitted to the different powers: That Holland and France should mutually restore the conquests that they had made; that the duchy of Lorraine should be restored to the duke, its rightful sovereign; and that France should keep possession of the places won from Spam, except Ath, Charleroi, Oudenarde, Courtrai, Tournai, Conde, and Valenciennes, which should be restored and form a chain of fortresses betwixt the new frontier of France and the old ones of Holland. Charles despatched lord Feversham to lay the proposals before Louis; but the French king would not listen to them, and tidings reached William which caused him immediately to hasten home.
In spite of the season, the end of November, Louis had taken the field, according to his novel plan of winter campaign, and invested Giuslaiu, which was expected to fall in a few days.
This decisive conduct on the part of Louis roused the wrath of Charles; he had adjourned parliament from the 4th of April to the 15th of January. He expressed his surprise to Louis at the unreasonableness of his conduct, and despatched directions to Hyde, the ambassador at the Hague, to enter into a separate treaty with the States, on the model of the triple alliance, engaging not only to defend each other against all aggressor, but to continue to force the other parties to come to fair terms. Such a treaty was signed at the Hague on the 31st of December. Louis, on hearing of it, stopped the payment of Charles's pension, but at the same time he proposed, through Montague, the English ambassador, a truce of twelve months, during which all might be arranged, and then he threw out a bait which he knew would be extremely tempting to Charles. That if he could persuade his nephew to consent to the cession of Condé, Valenciennes, and Tournai, their full value should be paid to the king in bare of gold, concealed in bales of silk, and any sum that the lord treasurer might name in reward of his services, should be remitted in diamonds and pearls. But both Danby and the duke of York set their faces against any such disgraceful compromise; Danby remaining steady to his views of the danger of the French ascendancy, and the duke being zealous for the interests of his new son-in-law, and in the hope of receiving the command of any auxiliary force sent from England to co-operate with Holland. At the duke's suggestion the English forces were recalled from the army of France, a strong squadron was sent to the Mediterranean to reinforce the fleet under Sir John Narborough, and the port of Osteud was demanded from Spain as a depot for the English army in Flanders.
This unusual vigour induced Louis to set in motion the forces of the opposition both in England and Holland. To Barillon, his ambassador at London, he sent over the younger Ruvigny, who was related to lady Vaughan, and intimate with the Russell family. The ambassadors first tried to bring over again Charles by the most liberal offers of money; they warned him to beware of the pernicious counsels of Danby, who was seeking popularity; and to Danby himself they paid the highest compliments, and begged him to use his influence with the king. Charles, who never long resisted the temptations of money, was not, however, yet to be moved, and the ambassadors then tried their influence with the opposition. They found Hollis and lord William Russell extremely hostile to the court, but suspicious of a secret engagement betwixt Charles ​and Louis. This suspicion the ambassadors did their best to root out, and Hollis and Russell engaged to attach to the supply conditions which should cause the king to reject it. The ambassadors promised that Louis, on his part, should use all his influence to cause a dissolution of parliament, and to ruin Danby, measures which the opposition earnestly desired. They even offered money to the opposition, and asked lord Ru?sell to give them the names of such persons as they should reward for their services in this matter. Russell repelled the offer with indignation, and replied that he should be sorry to have anything to do with men who could be bought with money. They did not, however, find others of the patriots quite so scrupulous. Louis, at the same time, was at work at the Hague, insinuating through his agents that William, now connected with England, was joined with Charles, whom the Dutch most cordially hated, in a common scheme for ruling Holland and England by a military force, and that their only safety lay in peace and disbandment of troops. Their arts were so successful, that the Dutch began to cry for peace on any terms.
Kirby warning Charles II. of the Assassination Plot.
AMSTERDAM FLOODED BY ORDER OF THE PRINCE OF ORANGE.
Meantime Louis had pushed his military operations forward in the Netherlands, with a vigour which confounded his enemies. Towards the end of January he proceeded from Paris to Metz; Namur and Mons were invested, and before the end of March he had made himself master of Ypres and Ghent. By this means he had opened a road into the very heart of Holland, and exposed Brussels to his attacks; and both on the continent and in England the cry was now for more vigorous measures. Three thousand soldiers were sent by Charles to Ostend, and the levy of forces was proceeded with vigorously. But the more Charles exerted himself to raise troops and prepare actively for war, the more the opposition expressed their suspicions of the use intended for these troops. Russell talked of popery, and Sir Gilbert Gerrard declared that the forces raised would never be used against any foreign enemy; that their object was nearer home. They demanded, therefore, that he should at once declare war against France, recall his commissioners from Nimeguen, and dismiss the French ambassador. This language, on the part of men, many of whom had been receiving their money to compel a peace advantageous to France, surprised not a little Barillon and Ruvigny, who remonstrated with Hollis and Russell, Shaftesbury and Buckingham. But they were told that the real object was to embarrass the king in raising these troops; for that once raised, he would secure the leaders of the opposition, and then would obtain from the slavish parliament any supplies that he might demand, thus at once making himself independent of parliament and of Louis.
That the opposition had grounds for their fears there was little question, and the French envoys were obliged to be satisfied with this odd-looking sort of friendship. Charles undoubtedly had rather have the army and the supplies than go to war with Louis; and the consternation of the confederates now opened up to him a new chance of obtaining Louis's money, and keeping the peace. Both the prince of Orange and Spain, by its ambassadors, informed him that they would now no longer object to the cession of Tournai and Valenciennes, if France would restore the other five towns, with Ypres and Ghent. Charles, who now thought all difficulty removed, hastened to write these conditions to Louis, and so confident was he that they would be accepted, that he caused Danby to add, in a private letter, that if the peace was effected on these terms, he should expect a pension of six millions of livres for the next three years for his services. In a postscript the king himself wrote, "This is writ by my order.—C. R." This letter, afterwards produced against Danby, occasioned his ruin.
But Louis was not so easily satisfied after his recent victories. He demanded Ypres and Condé as well as Tournai and Valenciennes. Charles professed to be disgusted with this grasping disposition, but both Holland and Spain expressed their willingness to concede. The conquest of Ghent and French gold produced their effect, and an armistice was entered into to allow time for preparing the articles of peace. To satisfy Charles, Louis assented to his demand of a pension of six millions livres, on condition that he bound himself to break with Holland if it refused to sign the treaty on the conditions now offered, to recall his troops from Flanders, reduce his army to six thousand men, and prorogue and then dissolve parliament.
When parliament met on the 23rd of May, they demanded that Charles should immediately declare war or disband the whole of the troops recently raised. They voted two hundred thousand pounds on condition that the troops should be at once paid off with it, and two hundred thousand pounds more for the navy. The king asked for three hundred thousand pounds a year in addition to his present income, to enable him to punish the pirates of Algiers, and take that position in the continental politics which the rank of England required; but to this the commons turned a deaf ear.
By the middle of June the plenipotentiaries at Nimeguen had settled all the preliminaries of peace, and were on the point of signing, when Louis started another difficulty—that he would continue to hold the six towns stipulated to be restored to Spain, till the emperor of Germany had restored the conquests made from his ally, the king of Sweden. The confederates refused to admit any such condition, and preparations were again made for war. Charles sent over four thousand men under the earl of Ossory to join the English forces in Flanders, and Temple hastened to the Hague, to complete a fresh treaty with the States, binding each other to prosecute the war against Louis unless he abandoned the claim for Sweden. This might have had effect with Louis, had he not convincing evidence that Charles was not in earnest. At the very moment of this apparent spirit, Charles was bargaining for more money with Barillon, in the chamber of his French mistress, the duchess of Portsmouth; at Barillon's instigation, one Ducros, a French monk, was sent to Temple, at Nimeguen, desiring him to persuade the Swedish ambassadors to concede their claims and make peace; and Louis, by giving a hint of this fact to the States-general, so alarmed them at the perfidy of their pretended ally, that they hastened to sign the treaty with France, without any stipulation in favour of Spain. The Spanish Netherlands were at the mercy of Louis, and the coalition against him was completely broken up.
William of Orange, who was extremely mortified at having to conclude a peace on such terms, and rightly attributing the necessity to the conduct of Charles, took the opportunity to give a parting chastisement to the French, which has been, and with apparent reason, always regarded as a blot upon his character. On the 4th of August, four days after the signing of the peace by Beverning, the Dutch ​plenipotentiary at Nimeguen, he attacked the duke of Luxembourg before Mons. Luxembourg had reduced the city to great distress, and had not relaxed his siege during the armistice; William, therefore, affecting to know nothing of the signing of the peace—though at that time it was known in London, and mist be known to him—fell on the duke with all the forces he could muster, Dutch, English, and Spanish, and a desperate battle took place. William took the abbey of St. Denis in front of the French camp; Villahermosa, the Spanish general, took the ruined fortress of Casteau, but was driven out of it again before night. The English troops under lord Ossory did wonders. About five thousand men fell on one side or the other. At night the two armies resumed their places. It was expected that William the next day would utterly rout Luxembourg; and had the continuance of the war permitted, might have made his long-contemplated march into France. But the next day Luxembourg desired a conference, and informed William that the peace was concluded, and William retired towards Nivelles, and the French towards Ath. He had managed to prevent the important fortress of Mons falling into the hands of France.
Scarcely had these events taken place, when William was surprised by an overture from Charles, to unite with him, according to the treaty betwixt them, to compel Louis to grant the Spaniards the terms formerly offered at Nimeguen. The motive for this does not appear clear. If he knew of its conclusion, as he must have done, he could not expect William immediately to violate the peace just made. Probably he wished to appear to the Spaniards to be anxious to keep his engagement to them, for he made the same professions to them, and on the faith of that the Spaniards demanded better terms; but equally probable is the idea that he wanted an excuse for not disbanding the army. William is said, however, to have exclaimed to Hyde, who brought the message, "Was ever anything so hot and so cold as this court of yours? Will the king never learn a word that I shall never forget since my last passage to England, when, in a great storm, the captain all night was crying to the man at the helm, 'Steady! steady! steady! If this dispatch had come twenty days ago, it had changed the face of affairs in Christendom, and the war might have been carried on till France had yielded to the treaty of the Pyrenees, and left the world in quiet for the rest of our lives; as it comes now, it will have no effect at all." Louis resented the interference of Charles at this moment, and suspended the payment of his pension. He, however, receded from some of his terms, and referred the settlement of the differences with the Spaniards and the emperor of Germany to the Dutch. Before the end of October peace was concluded with all parties. Holland had recovered an she had lost, and obtained an advantageous treaty of commerce with France. Spain had lost Franche-Comté, and twelve fortresses in Flanders; Germany had regained Philipsburg in exchange for Friburg; Sweden recovered what it had lost to Denmark and the elector of Brandenburg; and Louis was left with a power and reputation that made him the arbitrator of Europe. Such was the end of the war which had agitated Europe from the Baltic to the Mediterranean for six years, and must have had a very different result had England had a real man on the throne.
We now come to one of the most extraordinary displays of a succession of plots, or pretended plots, which ever occurred in the history of any nation. From a small and most improbable beginning they spread and ramified themselves in all directions, involving the most distinguished persons of the state, ascending to the royal house, threatening the lives of the duke of York, of the queen, and even of the king. Though defeated in their highest aims, they yet brought to execution a considerable number of persons of various ranks, including several noblemen and commoners of distinction. When they appeared to be extinguished for a short period, they broke put again with fresh force, and struck down fresh victims; and whilst much of the machinery of these agitators remained in the deepest obscurity, the mind of the nation was wrought up to a condition of the most terrible suspicion, wonder, and alarm. In the half absurdity of the charges, the half development of ominous truths, the public was thrown into a long fever of terror and curiosity, and seemed to lose its judgment and discretion, and to be ready to destroy its noblest citizens on the evidence of the most despicable of mankind.
From the moment that some obscure indications of a secret league betwixt the king and Louis of France had emerged to the light, the people were haunted by fears and rumours of plots, and designs against the national liberty. Especially since the duke of York had avowed himself a catholic, and the king had a French catholic mistress, and spent much time with the French ambassador, Barillon, in her apartments, there were continual apprehensions of an attempt to introduce popery, and to suppress the public freedom by a standing army. The country was nearer the mark than it was aware of, and had it come by any chance to the knowledge of the full truth, that their monarch was the bond slave of France, to favour its ambitious designs of averting the balance of power on the continent, and extending the French empire, at the expense of its neighbours, to the widest boundary of the empire of Charlemagne, the immediate consequence would have been revolution, and the expulsion of the Stuarts a few years earlier. But as the real facts were kept in profound secrecy, all manner of vague rumours rose from the facts themselves, like smoke from a hidden fire.
There was a party, moreover, in the country, called the country party, or, in our modern phrase, the opposition, which now included several of the displaced statesmen of the cabal, especially Buckingham and Shaftesbury. These men had no scruples to withhold them from embarrassing the government, and in particular for anathematising their successful rival, the lord treasurer Danby. They knew well the secret which the public only suspected; but they had been too much mixed up with it to render it safe to reveal too much of it. But enough might be employed to destroy the prime minister, and to effect another defeat—the exclusion of the duke of York and a papist succession. Shaftesbury had a restless genius for plots and stratagems, which he had often employed when in office to the king's admiration, and which now, there can be little doubt, after surveying the whole of the extraordinary events which took ​place, he exeried for the great objects which we have adverted to. To destroy Danby, who was thoroughly anti-galliean in his policy; to exclude James from the throne and secure a protestant succession; to compel the king to rule by a protestant government, and to have recourse to parliament for support; there certainly appeared nothing more likely than to raise a terror of a papist conspiracy, and to link it sufficiently with suspicious connection with France. All this was done with wonderful effect, and amid a wonderful exhibition of strange events, except that of excluding James from the throne, and even that was all but accomplished. Few, we think, on a careful review of the whole drama of the plots, can avoid coming to the conclusion that the conception of the scheme was due to the fertile mind of Shaftesbury, and its execution to the same master of chicane, assisted by the unscrupulous Buckingham.
On the 12th of August, as the king was walking in the park, one Kirby, a chemist, who had been occasionally employed in the royal laboratory, and therefore was known to Charles, approached and said, "Sir, keep within the company. Your enemies have a design upon your life, and you may be shot in this very walk." Charles stepped aside with him, and asked him the meaning of his words. He replied that two men. Grove and Pickering, had engaged to shoot him, and that Sir George Wakemau, the queen's physician, had agreed to poison him. Charles showed very little change of manner or countenance, but told Kirby to meet him that evening at the house of Chiffinch, his well-known procurer, and pursued his walk. In the evening Kirby repeated what he had said, and added that he received the information from Dr. Tongue, rector of St. Michael's, in Wood Street, who was well known to several persons about the court. This Dr. Tongue was a singular mixture of cunning and credulity, who had long been an alarmist, and who had printed yearly and quarterly pamphlets against the Jesuits, "to alarm and awaken his majesty and the two houses." Tongue was sent for, and brought a mass of papers, divided into forty-three articles, giving a narrative of the conspiracy, which he pretended had been thrust under his door. That he did not know the author, but thought he had a clue to him. Charles referred him and his voluminous papers to Danby, and to him Tongue repeated the story of Grove, otherwise called Honest William, and Pickering, and said he would find out their abode, or point them out when walking, according to their daily custom, in the park. Orders were given to arrest these assassins, but they did not appear, and Tongue gave various frivolous reasons for their non-appearance. It was said that they were gone to "Windsor, but they could not be found there. Charles came at once to the conclusion that the whole was a hoax, and when Danby requested permission to lay the narrative before the privy council, he replied, "No, not even before my brother! It would only create alarm, and might put the design of murdering me into somebody's head."
The contempt which the king showed and expressed for the whole affair, might have caused it to drop, but there was unquestionably a party at work behind, which would not suffer it to cease. Tongue informed Danby that he had met with the person whom he suspected of having drawn up the papers; that he had given him a more particular account of the conspiracy, but he begged that his name might be concealed, lest the papists should murder him. He moreover assured Danby that on a certain day a packet of treasonable letters would pass through the post-office at Windsor, addressed to Beddingfield, the confessor of the duke of York. Danby hastened to Windsor to intercept the packet, but found it already in the hands of the king. Beddingfield had delivered them to the duke, saying that the papers appeared to contain treasonable matter, and that they certainly were not in the hands of the persons whose names they bore. The duke carried them at once to the king.
These papers now underwent & close examination, and the result was that all were convinced that they were gross forgeries. One was clearly in the same hand as the papers presented before by Tongue; the rest, though in a feigned hand, bore sufficient evidence of being the work of the same person. The king was more than ever convinced that the whole was a hoax, and desired that no further notice might be taken of it. Kirby frequently made his appearance at court, but Charles always passed him without notice. As there appeared no prospect of proceeding with the matter at court, the person who had conveyed the papers to Dr. Tongue, now went to Sir Edmondsbury Godfrey, an active justice of the peace of Westminster, and made affidavit not only of the truth of the former papers, but also of thirty-eight more articles, making altogether eighty-one articles. This mysterious person now appeared as one Titus Gates, a clergyman, and it was ascertained that he had been lodging at Kirby's, at Vauxhall, and that Dr. Tongue had also retired thither, on the plea of concealment from the papists. Godfrey, on perceiving that Coleman, secretary to the late duchess of York, and a friend of his own, was named in the affidavit as a chief conspirator, immediately communicated the fact to Coleman, and Coleman communicated it to the duke of York.
James was now more than ever convinced, that whatever were the plot, its object was to bring the catholics into odium, and lead to his exclusion from the throne, and demanded of Charles that it should be inquired into. Danby now seemed to favour the king's view of keeping it quiet, but this only led James to suspect that the minister wished to keep it back till the meeting of parliament, when its disclosure might assist an impeachment with which he was menaced. Charles, at the duke's renewed entreaty, reluctantly ordered Tongue and Gates to appear before the privy council. Accordingly Titas Oates, soon to become so notorious, appeared before the council on the 28th of September, 1678, in a clerical gown and a new suit of clothes, and with an astonishing assurance delivered in writing the following strange narrative:—That the pope claimed Great Britain and Ireland on the ground of the heresy of the prince and people, and had ordered the Jesuits to take possession of it for him; that De Oliva, general of the order, had arranged everything for this purpose, and had named, under the seal of the society, all the persons to fill the offices of the state. Lord Arundel was created lord chancellor; lord Ponds, treasurer; Sir William Godolphin, privy seal; Coleman, secretary of state; lord Bellasis. ​general of the army; lord Peters, lieutenant-general; lord Staffrord, paymaster. All inferior offices, and all the dignities of the church were filled up, and many of them with Spaniards and other foreigners. That the Jesuits were dispersed all over Ireland, organising insurrections and massacres; Scotland under the guise of covenanters; Holland raising a French party against the prince of Orange, and in England preparing for the murder of the king, and of the duke, too, if he did not consent to the scheme. That they had no lack of money. They had one hundred thousand pounds in the bank, had sixty thousand pounds in yearly rents, had received from La Chaise, the confessor of the French king, a donation of ten thousand pounds, and a promise from De Corduba, the provincial of New Castile, of as much more. That in March last a man named Honest William and Pickering, a lay brother, had been commissioned to shoot the king at Windsor, and had been severely punished for the failure of the attempt. That on the 24th of April a grand consultation had been held by Jesuits from all parts, at the White Horse Tavern in the Strand, to decide on the most effectual mode of killing the king; that three sets of assassins were engaged—the two already mentioned two Benedictine monks, Coniers and Anderton, and four Irishmen of unknown name. That ten thousand pounds had been offered to Wakeman, the queen's physician, to poison the king, but he had refused under fifteen thousand pounds, which was agreed to, and five thousand pounds had been paid down. He had often seen Wakeman since amongst the Jesuits. The Irish assassins were to receive twenty guineas each for stabbing the king; Honest William was to receive fifteen hundred pounds, and Pickering thirty thousand masses, valued at the same sum. They were to shoot the king with silver bullets. A wager, he said, was said that the king should eat no more Christmas pies, and that if he would not become R. C. (Roman catholic, or Rex Catholicus he should no longer be C. R. That Oates averred he had gone to the Jesuits at Valladolid, thence with letters from them to Burgos, thence to Madrid, back to England, thence had gone to St. Omer, and back to England with fresh instructions. They made him cognisant of their plans for the murder, and he saw on their papers all the names signed. That since his return he had discovered that they set fire to London in 1666, and had used seven hundred fire-balls, familiarly called Tewkesbury mustard pills, as containing a notable biting sauce. That their success encouraged them to set fire to Southwark in 1676, by which they had gained two thousand pounds above their expenses, as they had, by carrying off diamonds in the London fire, made fourteen thousand pounds. They had now a plan to set fire to Wapping, Westminster, and the ships in the river. That there were twenty thousand catholics in London, who had engaged to rise in twenty-four horn's or less, and could easily cut the throats of one hundred thousand protestants. In Scotland eight thousand catholics had agreed to take arms; a general massacre of protestants was planned in Ireland; Ormond was to be murdered; forty thousand black bills were provided for the Irish massacre, and Coleman had sent thither two hundred thousand pounds. Poole, the author of the "Synopsis," Dr. Stillingfleet, and De Brunt were also to be put to death.
The recital of this astounding story was listened to with amazement and incredulity. The listeners looked at one another in wonder, at the audacity of the man who could relate such horrible and improbable designs, and expect to be believed, after the account which he gave of the mode by which he professed to obtain his information. This was that he had feigned a conversion to discover the designs of the Jesuits; had been duly admitted to the priesthood and to their monasteries, and finally intrusted with the conveyance of their diabolical messages. The duke of York declared the whole to be a most impudent imposture, but others thought no man in his senses would come forward with such a startling tale, and implicate so many pensions of consideration without some grounds. Where, they demanded, were his proofs? Where, those papers which had been confided to him, which would be evidence against the traitors? Oates confessed that he had no such papers, but that he would undertake to procure abundance if he were furnished with warrants and officers to arrest the persons whom he had accused, and seize their papers. This was accorded, and the next day the inquiry went on. It was objected to the letters seized at Windsor, that they were written in feigned hands, and were full of orthographical errors; Dates replied that that was the art of the Jesuits, who gave such documents a suspicious look, that if discovered they might pretend that they were forged. But Charles, who became even more persuaded that the thing was got lip, asked Dates what sort of a man Don John was, as he professed to have been introduced to him at Madrid. Dates replied at once that he was tall, dark, and thin. The king turned to the duke and smiled, for they both were well acquainted with Don John's person, which had more of the Austrian than the Spaniard, and was fair, stout, and short. "And where did you see La Chaise," added Charles, "pay down the ten thousand pounds from the French king?" "At the house of the Jesuits," replied Dates, unhesitatingly, "close to the Louvre." "Man!" exclaimed Charles, who knew Paris better than Dates, "the Jesuits have no house within a mile of the Louvre."
These palpable blunders confirmed Charles in his opinion, and seemed to annihilate the veracity of Oates. The king, certain of the whole affair proving a sheer invention, went away to Newmarket, and left the duke and Danby to finish the inquiry. But they who had set Dates to work knew more than he did, and presently such confirmation was given to Oates's assertions, as astonished every one. At first, the clue appeared broken. On examining the papers of Harcourt, the provincial of the Jesuits, nothing bearing the slightest indications of a plot could be discovered; but not so with the papers of Coleman. This man was the son of a clergyman in Suffolk, who had turned catholic, and was not only appointed secretary to the duchess of York, but after her death was much in the confidence of James. Coleman was undoubtedly a great dabbler in conspiracy. He had maintained a correspondence with father La Chaise, the confessor of Louis XIV., with the pope's nuncio at Brussels, and other catholics, for the re-establishment of the catholic religion in England, and he made himself a centre of intelligence to the catholics at home and abroad. He lived in great style, and his table was frequented by the whig ​members during the sitting of parliament. He sent weekly news letters to the catholics in various quarters, and made in them the severest remarks on the ambition of the French king and the conduct of the English government. Yet all this time he was importuning Louis to furnish money for the establishment of the catholic church in England again. He obtained three thousand five hundred pounds from the bankers whom Charles had broken faith with on the shutting of the exchequer, on pretence of influence with parliament, and two thousand five hundred pounds from Barillon, to distribute amongst members of parliament.
In 1675 a foreigner of the name of Buchateau, but who was called Louis Luzancy, had come to England, pretending to be a catholic who was desirous of joining the English church, and who gave information to some of the opposition leaders, that father St. Germain, confessor to the duchess of York, had threatened to murder him if he did not recant protestantism. This made a great sensation, and he then said that he had made the discovery of a popish plot, in which the king was to be killed, and the streets of London to run with the blood of massacred protestants. Though it was soon shown by Du Maresque, a French protestant clergyman, that Luzancy had fled from France for forgery, and a swindling transaction at Oxford soon proved that he was a great scoundrel, yet his story won him much patronage, he was ordained, and presented to the living of Dover-court, in Essex, during this present year. His pretended plot was very like this of Oates's, and might possibly be its model. He had accused Coleman of similar practices, but Coleman had boldly faced him and put him to silence. But now Coleman had fled, itself a sign of guilt; amongst his papers were found abundant evidences of his correspondence with the French court in 1674, 1675, and 1676. In one letter he said to La Chaise, "We have here a mighty work upon our hands, no less than the conversion of three kingdoms, and by that, perhaps, the utter subduing of a pestilent heresy, which has for a long time domineered over a great part of this northern world. There never were such hopes of success since the days of queen Mary." He declared the duke devoted to the cause and also to the French king. He said, "I can scarcely believe myself awake, or the thing real, when I think of a prince in such an age as we live in, converted to such a degree of zeal and piety, as not to regard anything in the world in comparison of God Almighty's glory, the salvation of his own soul, and the conversion of our poor kingdom." He declared that Charles was inclined to favour the catholics, and that money would do anything with him. "Money cannot fad of persuading the king to anything. There is nothing it cannot make him do, were it ever so much to his prejudice. It has such absolute power over him he cannot resist it. Logic built upon money, has in our court more powerful charms than any other sort of argument." Therefore recommended three hundred thousand pounds to be sent over on condition that parliament should be dissolved.
These discoveries perfectly electrified the public. That there was a plot they now had no doubt whatever, and the information touching so close on the real secret of Charles's pension, must have even startled him. Coleman, in these letters, stated parliament had been postponed in 1675 till April, to serve the French designs, by preventing Holland obtaining any assistance from England. Yet when Oates had been confronted with Coleman before his flight, though Gates pretended great intimacy with him, he actually did not recognise him. Another proof, if any were wanted, that Gates was acting on the knowledge of others, not on his own. Whoever they were, they had become acquainted with Coleman's French correspondence, and who so likely as Shaftesbury and the whigs who used to frequent this man's house, and who were themselves deep in a similar intrigue with the French court?
Still more astounding events, however, followed close on this discovery. No sooner was this discovery in the letters of Coleman made, than Sir Edmondsbury Godfrey, the magistrate before whom Gates had made his affidavit of the plot, who was a particular friend of Coleman's, and had warned him of his danger, was missing, and was found murdered amongst some bushes in a dry ditch betwixt Primrose Hill and Old St. Pancras Church. Godfrey was of a sensitive disposition, which sometimes approached to insanity. On the apprehension of Coleman, Godfrey had been seized with great alarm, and expressed his conviction that he should be the first martyr of this plot. On the 12th of October he burnt a large quantity of papers, and that day he was seen hurrying about the town in a state of great abstraction of mind. From that day he was missing, and it was not till the sixth day that his body was found. He lay forward, resting on his knees, his breast, and the left side of his face. His sword was thrust through his heart with such violence, that it appeared at his back. His cane was stuck upright in the bank, his gloves lay near it on the grass, and his rings were on his fingers and his money in his purse. All these circumstances seemed to indicate suicide; and to confirm it, it was reported that when the sword was withdrawn, it was followed by a rush of blood. This, however, the doctors denied, and on being stripped, the purple mark round his neck showed that he had been strangled, and then thrust through, and his body, cane, and gloves so disposed as to persuade the parties that he had killed himself.
But who, then, were the murderers? This was never discovered, but the public, putting together all the circumstances, declared that the papists had done it, and that Oates's story was all true. That catholics, or at least such as were in the scheme of Coleman, had done it, appeal's very probable, although it has been argued that they had no motive. But it must be remembered that Godfrey was a friend and associate of Coleman's. He had always been a partisan of the catholics; he gave Coleman warning to fly; he showed great alarm himself, and commenced burning papers. All these circumstances indicate complicity. That he was deep in the secrets of the party, and had dangerous papers in his possession, is clear. Coleman was in custody, and something might be drawn out of him. Godfrey might be arrested, and a man of his nervous temperament might reveal what concerned the lives of many others. There. were the strongest motives, therefore, for those who had any concern in the dangerous conspiracy of Coleman, to have Godfrey at least out of the way.
DISTURBANCES IN CONNECTION WITH THE POPISH PLOT.
In this state of the public mind parliament met on the 21st of October. Charles informed parliament that he had obtained more favourable terms for Spain by his army in Flanders, but that the expense had been enormous; the supplies were not only exhausted, the revenue of the next year was anticipated, and that it would require a liberal grant even to disband the army. He alluded but passingly to the plot, for it touched too nearly on the tender ground of his French secret, but said he left the examination of the plot entirely to the law. But both Danby and the opposition rushed into the question, contrary to the wish of Charles. Danby was anxious to divert the house from the threatened impeachment of himself, and the opposition to establish a popish plot, to damage the duke of York's prospects in the succession. Charles was extremely incensed with Danby's part in it. "He told him that he would live to repent meddling with it. That though he did not believe it, it had given parliament a handle to ruin him by, as well as to disturb the king's own affairs"—which was only too true.
Oates was called before both houses, as well as Dr. Tongue, and such was the effect of their statements, that they had guards placed in the cellars under the parliament house, to prevent another gunpowder plot; and they implored Charles to order every catholic, not a householder, to quit London, to dismiss all papists from his service, and have his food prepared only by orthodox cooks. Committees were appointed to search the conspiracy to the bottom, Shaftesbury took the lead in that of the lords, and there was busy work issuing warrants for searches and arrests, sending out informers and officers, examining and committing prisoners. In consequence of the charges made by Oates against lords Arundel, Fowis, Bellasis, Petre, and Stafford, as having received appointments from the pope of the chief offices of state, they were arrested and committed to the Tower.
The commons introduced a new test act, to exclude every catholic from parliament. This had indeed been effected in the commons in the preceding session by the oath of supremacy, and the declaration against transubstantiation; but the present test went to exclude the catholic peers from their house also. It prescribed the taking of the oaths of supremacy and allegiance, and a declaration that the church of Rome is an idolatrous church. Such a test had been been frequently introduced before and thrown out, but in this public furore it rapidly passed the commons, and reached a third reading in the lords, when James, with tears in his eyes, entreated them to exempt him from so severe an exclusion, protesting that his religion should always remain a thing betwixt God and his own soul. A proviso, exempting him from its operation, was added to the bill; but in the commons this passed by only two votes. Thus the catholic peers were excluded by Titus Oates from their seats, and their successors did not regain them till 1829.
Under the stimulating effect of the repeated summonses of Oates before parliament, and his continually augmenting disclosures, both houses voted that "There had been and still was a damnable and hellish plot contrived and carried on by the popish recusants for assassinating and murdering the king, and for subverting the government, and rooting out and destroying the protestant religion." The great Titus Oates was declared "the saviour of his country," and a pension of twelve hundred pounds a year was, at their instigation, settled on him. To increase the effect of his disclosures, the funeral of the murdered Godfrey was conducted with every circumstance of public parade. He had been carried from Primrose Hill to his own house, and thousands had crowded thither to see the martyr of protestantism. Seventy-two protestant divines, in full canonicals, walked in procession to St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, where he was buried, and they were followed by a thousand gentlemen in mourning, including many members of parliament. Dr. Lloyd, his friend, and rector of the parish, preached a sermon from the text, "As a man falleth before the wicked, so fellest thou." And he had two stout fellows in the pulpit with him, dressed as clergymen, to defend him from the papists.
The fury against the catholics now amounted to a frenzy. Two thousand suspected traitors were thrust into the prisons of the metropolis, and thirty thousand catholics, who refused to take the obnoxious oaths, were compelled to quit their homes in London, and remove to twenty miles distance from Whitehall. The trained-bands and volunteers, to the number of twenty thousand, were occasionally kept all night under arms; batteries were planted, and every military precaution taken to prevent a surprise. The terror spread over the whole country; orders were issued to disarm the catholics everywhere, and every one was compelled to take the oaths, or give security for keeping the peace.
And who was this Titus Oates, who had been able to conjure up such a storm?—One of the most infamous of mankind. His real name was Ambrose. He was the son of a ribbon weaver, who turned anabaptist preacher during the commonwealth, and managed to secure an orthodox pulpit at the restoration. Titus was sent to Cambridge, where he took orders, and became a curate in different parishes, and afterwards chaplain on board a man-of-war. But wherever he went, the worst of characters pursued him, as addicted to a mischievous and litigious temper, and to the most debased and disgraceful vices. Out of very situation he was expelled with infamy, and was convicted twice of perjury by a jury. Reduced by his crimes to beggary, he fell into the hands of Dr. Tongue, and by him was engaged to simulate the character of a convert to Catholicism, so as to be able to discover all that he could of the secret views and design? of the papists. He was reconciled, as the catholics term it, to the church by a priest of the name of Berry or Hutchinson, who was first of one religion and then of another, and nothing long, and sent to the Jesuits' College at Valladolid, in Spain. But he was successively ejected both from that college and from St. Omer, with accumulated infamy. Returning to England, he became the ready tool of Tongue, who no doubt was also the tool of deeper and more distinguished agitators ​behind. The Jesuits had held one of their triennial meetings at the duke of York's. This Tongue and Oates converted into a special meeting, for the prosecution of their great national plot, but fixed it at the White Horse in the Strand. They then forged their mass of letters and papers, purporting to be the documents and correspondence of these Jesuits, planning the assassination of the king. These were written in Greek characters by Oates, copied into English ones by Tongue, and communicated as a great discovery to Kirby. Such wore the apparent unravellers of the alleged plot; but these puppets had their strings pulled by far more masterly men, who were constantly extending their ground and linking up fresh machinery in the scheme. The weak part of the affair was, that on the testimony of Oates alone the whole rested. Those whom he criminated, to a man, steadily denied any knowledge or participation in any such plot as he pretended. It was necessary to have two witnesses for convicting traitors, and other tools were not long wanting. Government had offered a large reward and full pardon to any one who could discover the assassins of Sir Edmondsbury Godfrey, and in a few days a letter was received from one William Bedloe, desiring that he might be arrested in Bristol and brought to London to give evidence. The warrant for his apprehension was, singularly enough, sent to Bedloe himself, who caused his own arrest by delivering it to the mayor of Bristol. This Bedloe turned out to be as thorough a scoundrel as Oates himself. He had been employed as a groom by lord Bellasis, and afterwards in his house; had travelled as a courier on the continent, and occasionally passed himself off as a nobleman. He had been seized and convicted of swindling transactions in various countries, and was just released from Newgate, when his eye was attracted by the reward of five hundred pounds for the discovery of the murderers of Godfrey.
In his first examination by the king and the two secretaries of state, he disavowed all knowledge of the plot, but said he had seen the dead body at Somerset House, where the queen lived, and that Le Fevre, the Jesuit, told him that he and Walsh, another Jesuit, a servant of lord Bellasiss, and a waiter in the queen's chapel, had smothered him betwixt two pillows, and that they offered him two thousand pounds to assist in conveying the body away. The next day, before the house of lords, he contradicted himself dreadfully, for the story of the two pillows did not accord with the state of the body when found. Now he said that he was not smothered but strangled with a cravat. And so far from knowing nothing of the plot, he confessed to knowing all about the commissions offered to the lords Arundel, Powis, Bellasis, and others, and he added wonders and horrors of his own. Ten thousand men, he said, were to land from Holland in Burlington Bay, and seize Hull; Jersey and Guernsey were to be invaded by a fleet and army from Brest; an army from Spain of twenty or thirty thousand men were to land at Milford Haven, and there be joined by Powis and Petre with another army. There were forty thousand men ready in London, to kill all the soldiers as they came out of their lodgings. That he was to have four thousand pounds for a great murder, meaning no doubt that of the king, and the government was to be offered to one, if he would hold it of the church. The king, Monmouth, Ormond, Buckingham, and Shaftesbury were to be killed. Lords Carrington and Brudenel were named as engaged in the plot, and were immediately arrested. When Charles heard this astounding story, so diametrically opposed to his former tales, ho exclaimed, "Surely the man has received a new lesson during the last four-and-twenty hours!" and no doubt he had. These additions and improvements were constantly going on, without regard to the most glaring self-contradictions; but the temper of parliament made them disregard obvious falsehoods of the most flagrant kind. So long as there was a chance of excluding the duke of York from parliament, these horrible stories were kept before the public imagination; but the moment the proviso passed in his favour, the attack was diverted into another and a higher channel. Buckingham had formerly endeavoured to induce Charles to divorce the queen: now a deadly attack was made upon her, and it was a pretty strong indication of the quarter out of which it came.
On the 23rd of November, a Mr. Lloyd sought an interview with the king, and informed him that Titus Oates was in possession of information that would criminate the queen. Charles, who had shown more sense than any one through the whole business, and might have crushed it in a short time if he had had half the active exertion that he had shrewdness, expressed his decided disbelief, yet admitted Oates to make his statement. It was this—That he saw a letter in July, in which Wakeman, the queen's physician, asserted that her majesty had given her consent to the murder of the king. That he himself was at Somerset House one day in August, with several Jesuits, and was left in the antechamber whilst they went into the queen. That the door being ajar, he heard a female voice exclaim, "I will no longer suffer such indignities to my bed! I will join in his death and the propagation of the catholic faith."
That when the Jesuits retired he looked into the room and saw there only the queen. Now Oates had repeatedly and distinctly declared that he knew of no other persons implicated except those he had informed of; and when he made the charge against Wakeman, had said not a word of this grave accusation. Charles was certain that it was altogether false, but to prove the man, sent the earls of Ossory and Bridgewater to make him point out the room and ante-chamber; but he could not do it. Charles again declared that the fellow had been instigated by some interested person, and ordered strict guard to be kept over him, and no one to be allowed to speak with him. Bedloe, however, was brought forward to confirm Oates's statement, and declared that he had overheard a conversation betwixt Catherine and lord Bellasis, Coleman, and some French gentlemen in the gallery of the queen's chapel, in which she, after shedding tears, consented to the king's murder. Bedloe had been careful not to point out any private rooms for this scene, because he had made a fatal blunder in laying the scene of Godfrey's murder in a room always occupied by the queen's footmen, and at the very time that the king was there; and not only was there a throng of persons all over the palace, but a sentinel was posted at every door, and a detachment of the guards was drawn out in the court.
Bedloe, however, delivered his charge in writing to the ​house of commons, and then Oates appeared at the bar, and brazenly, and with a loud voice, exclaimed, "I, Titus Oates, accuse Catherine, queen of England, of high treason." The astounded commons immediately sent an address to Charles, requesting that the queen might be removed from Whitehall, and desired a conference with the lords. The lords, however, were not so precipitate; they desired first to see the depositions made before the council, next summoned Gates and Bedloe, and strictly examined them. They particularly pressed them to explain why this monstrous charge had not been produced before, and as they could give no sufficient reason, they declined any conference on the subject. Shaftesbury exerted himself to overrule this conclusion, but in vain; and the charge was dropped, the king observing, "They think I have a mind for a new wife; but for all that I won't see an innocent woman abused." Impeachments, however, were received by the lords against the peers whom these miscreants had accused.
And now began the bloody work which these villains had remorselessly elaborated for a number of innocent persons, to serve the great end of their employers. The first victim, However, was one whom a third base wretch, thirsting for blood-money, a broken-down Scotchman, of the name of Carstairs, had accused. This was Stayley, a catholic banker, whom the man said he had heard telling a Frenchman of the name of Firmin, of Marseilles, in a tavern in Covent Garden, that the king was the greatest rogue in the world, and that he would kill him with his own hand. Carstairs had gone to Stayley and told him what he professed to have heard, but offered to suppress the fact for two hundred pounds. Stayley treated him with deserved contempt, but he was arrested within five days and tried for his life. Burnet, on hearing the name of the accuser, hastened to Sir William Jones, the attorney-general, and told him that this Carstairs was a man of the vilest character, and not to be believed on his oath; but Jones asked him who had authorised him to defame the king's witness, and Burnet timidly withdrew. Firmin could have decided what Stayley had really said, but he was kept in custody and not allowed to appear on the trial, and Stayley was condemned and hanged.
Coleman perished next, on the evidence of Gates and Bedloe, that he had been plotting with the French court; but he contended it was only to obtain money for restoring Catholicism, and not to injure any person. It was clear that he had received money from the French king, and therefore was guilty of a serious crime, but it is equally clear that both Oates and Bedloe fabricated much falsehood against him. His own letters, however, were insurmountable evidence of his guilt. Next came Ireland, Fenwick, Grove, Whitbread, and Pickering. Ireland, a Jesuit priest, was accused of having signed, with fifty other Jesuits, a resolution to kill the king, and the others of having engaged to assist in the design. Oates swore to the guilt of the whole, Bedloe only to that of Ireland, Grove, and Pickering, who were condemned, and died protesting that they, before their apprehension, had never heard of such a thing as a plot, much less had any concern in one. Bedloe claimed to be the chief witness respecting the death of Godfrey; but though he had unscrupulously seconded the evidence of Oates, Oates would not support him in this case. He was obliged, therefore, to look out for a second witness, and it was two months before he could find one. At length, on the 21st of December, one Prance, a silversmith, who had worked for the queen's chapel, was apprehended on suspicion, he having absented himself from his house for several days about the time of Godfrey's murder. The moment Bedloe saw him, he exclaimed, "That man is one of the murderers." It was in vain that he denied it, equally vain that he brought witnesses to prove that he did not leave home at the time of Godfrey's death, but a week before. He was thrown into Newgate and loaded with irons; some say lit was tortured, others that he was worked upon by threats and promises. He confessed, and accused three others—Hill, Green, and Berry, three servants in Somerset House. But scarcely had he done so, when he entreated to be brought before the king and council again, and there on his knees, and with every sign of agony and remorse, protested that all that he had said was false, that he knew nothing whatever of either the murder or the murderers. Afterwards, in prison, where he was chained to the floor, the horror of his feelings was such, that Dr. Lloyd, who preached Godfrey's funeral sermon, and now was become dean of Bangor, said that he was occasionally bereft of his reason. When urged to confess, he again, however, repeated his former statement, but with various and strange additions; then Dr. Lloyd declined to have anything more to do with it, but left him to Boyce, the gaoler, who, Prance afterwards said, wrote many things that he copied after him, and that he could find that Boyce had been with Bedloe and lord Shaftesbury, and that he was told that he must make his evidence agree with Bedloe's, or he would be sure to be hanged. The first story of Prance was, that they had killed Godfrey because he was an enemy to the queen's servants; that Green strangled him with a handerchief, and punched him on the breast with his knee; but finding him not dead, wrung his neck. That on the following Wednesday night, about twelve o'clock, the body was put into a sedan chair and taken to the Soho, and there convoyed on horseback before Hill to the place in the fields where he was found, and where they thrust his sword through him.
Hill, Green, and Berry stoutly denied the whole affair, and pointed out the gross contradictions betwixt the evidence of Bedloe and Prance; but chief justice Scroggs, who presided at all these trials, and showed himself a most brutal and unprincipled judge, overruled all that. Mrs. Hill, who brought witnesses into court in favour of her husband, complained vehemently that they were brow-beaten and laughed at. "My witnesses," she exclaimed, "are not rightfully examined; they are modest, and are laughed at.", The unhappy victims were all condemned, and died still protesting their innocence. Berry, who was a protestant, was respited a week, with a promise of pardon if he would confess; but he would not—a sufficient proof of the man's innocence, who would not purchase life by a lie. Ralph, the historian, says, "A strong faith in the plot was the test of all political merit; not to believe was to be a political reprobate, and according to the zeal was the cruelty of the times. The terror excited by the plot had caused such a thirst for ​revenge, that nothing but blood could satiate; every supposed criminal was precondemned.
These victims having suffered, the drama of plots now produced a new act. It was one of the great objects, as we have said, not only to damage the succession of the duke of York and to alarm the king, but to ruin the prime minister, Danby, who had superseded the cabal. Intrigues were entered into with Montague, the ambassador at Paris, for this purpose. Montague was, of course, in the secret of the money transactions betwixt the English and French courts, and could, if it were his interest, produce enough to destroy Danby, without letting too much light in upon the whole foul business; for not only the king on one side, but the patriots and the opposition on the other, were equally implicated. A fortunate incident facilitated their plans, Montague and Danby were at feud, and Danby only wanted a fair pretext to remove Montague from his post at Paris. In this position of things Montague furnished ample ground for his recall. He had made love to Charles's famous mistress, the duchess of Cleveland, now superseded by the duchess of Portsmouth. Cleveland was living in Paris a life as little creditable as her life had been in England. But Montague deserted her for her daughter, and on her resenting this, Montague threatened if she continued to annoy him, to expose her intrigues in the French court, for she was became a great political tool of Louis in his practices on England. But Cleveland was not a woman to submit to be snubbed and menaced even by a king, much less by a minister: she wrote at once to Charles a furious letter against Montague, for she had still great influence with him. She alleged that Montague, who had been employed by Charles to find out a certain astrologer, who Had foretold accurately Charles's restoration and entry of London on the 29th of May, 1660, had bribed this man to give such answers to the king as suited his own purposes. That he had often told her that both the king and the duke were fools—one a dull, governable fool, and the other a wilful fool. That he wished the parliament would send them both on their travels again; that the king always chose a greater beast than himself to govern him, and much of the like kind.
Montague did not wait for the blow which was sure to follow this missive, but suddenly, without notice or permission, left Paris and appeared in England. He directly put himself in communication with Shaftesbury and his party, and also with Barillon, the French ambassador, who would be only too glad to get Danby dismissed from office. Danby watched the motions of Montague with anxiety, knowing that he had the power to make fatal disclosures. To secure himself from the attack of the government, and at the same time to enable him to effect his purpose, he offered himself as a candidate for parliament at Grinstead, but was defeated by the influence of Danby; at Southampton he was returned by the mayor. Sir William Temple,—the government nominee, by the sheriff; but the popular party defended his election, and he gained his seat. It was agreed with the opposition that he should lay a charge against Danby of treasonable correspondence with France and other offences, and that they should move for his impeachment on those grounds. Besides this, Montague, who was a man thoroughly corrupt and despicable, had made a bargain with Barillon, that one hundred thousand livres should be paid to the most powerful of the opposition, for their endeavours to crush Danby, and one hundred thousand livres to Montague himself, or forty thousand livres of rentes on the Hotel de Ville, or a pension of fifty thousand livres—according to the decision of the king—if Danby were excluded from office.
Danby was not ignorant of the storm brewing, and it was thought best not to wait for its bursting; but the king sent and seized Montague's papers, on pretence that he had been intriguing with the pope's nuncio in Paris; and Erneley, the chancellor of the exchequer, announced this fact to the house. It was a very adroit proceeding, but Montague soon discovered that the precious casket containing the most important papers had been overlooked in the search. Montague stated to the house that Danby had missed his aim, that the papers were safe, and a deputation was despatched to fetch them. They returned with a small despatch box, and from this Montague produced two letters of Danby, one of them the letter in which Danby solicited a pension of six million livres, on condition that he procured a peace from the allies, and to which Charles had added the words, "This is writ by my order.—C. R."
On the reading of this letter the house was thrown into a violent agitation. The secret dealings of the king were partly brought to light. It was now seen that Charles's zeal for the war was only a pretence to extract money from the nation, and that obtained, ha was ready to sell the honour and independence of the country to France; and the minister was consenting to the infamous transaction. They immediately voted Danby's impeachment by a majority of sixty-three, and appointed a committee—of which Montague was one—to draw up the articles. There was a danger that Danby would retort on Montague by producing letters of his own, proving that he was mixed up with these transactions from the beginning, and had indeed been made the medium of their proposal; but he trusted to the impossibility of detaching their evidence from such as would have thrown the country into a flame against the king. He was right; yet two of his letters were sent by Danby to the house, one giving information that Ruvigny was sent to London to treat through lord Russell with the opposition, and the other containing a proposal from Montague of a grant of money to Charles on the conclusion of peace. These, at another time, would have produced a wonderful sensation, but they were now cast aside to pursue the higher game, and the next day, December 21st, the impeachment of Danby was sent up to the lords.
On the 23rd Danby replied to the charges by pleading that he had written the letter from the dictation of the king, who had certified the fact by his own hand in the postscript. That it was well known that he was neither a papist nor a friend to French alliance, but that he had reason to believe that his accuser, a man who, from his perfidy and breach of the most sacred trust, all men must abhor, had been assisted by French counsel in getting up this impeachment. He denied any guilty practices, and demanded only a fair trial. There was a motion made to commit him to the Tower, but this was overruled, and a day was fixed on which the lord treasurer should make his defence. But to defeat this, ​Danby now advised the king to do that which he had repeatedly dissuaded him from—namely, to dissolve the parliament. Accordingly, on the 30th of December, it was prorogued for five weeks, and before it could meet again, namely, on the 24th of January, he dissolved it by proclamation, summoning another to meet in forty days.
The Duke of Monmouth.
CHARLES II. AND THE DUCHESS OF PORTSMOUTH.
We have seen Sydney so long ago as 1666 soliciting Louis for one hundred thousand crowns, to enable his party to attempt the re-establishment of a republic. Louis was as ready to pension, or at least to fee, the opposition, as he was to pension Charles, because, when he could not keep Charles to his plans, he could embarrass him by these so-called patriots, the greater part of whom were in parliament, and who now, by these out cries of popish plots, rendered parliament hostile to the king, and still more to his successor. We have been told that Charles received the French money to enslave his country, the patriots to preserve its freedom; but the discovery of patriots being in the pay of the French king, whose very position and ambition rendered it impossible that he could be anything but an enemy to England, is too revolting to be dwelt upon. If they were honest patriots, they must have been very shallow ones; but shallow they were not, and their acuteness of intellect can only be admitted at the expense of their principles. "When," says Sir John Dalrymple, "I found in the French despatches Lord Russell intriguing with the court of Versailles, and Algernon Sidney taking money from it, I felt very nearly the same shock as if I had seen a son turn his back in the day of battle." What must have been the astonishment of an Englishman in discovering such a list as the following of his countrymen bribed by Louis to serve his purposes in England? These were Barillou's reports of his payments in 1678–9:—
| | | | guineas |
| To the Duke of Buckingham | | | 10,090 |
| Algernon Sidney | | | 500 |
| Bulstrode, ambassador at Brussels | | | 400 |
| Sir John Baber | | | 500 |
| Sir Thomas Littleton | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | Members of the house of the house of commons | 500 |
| Mr. Powle | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | Members of the house of the house of commons | 500 |
| Mr. Harbord | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | Members of the house of the house of commons | 500 |
Subsequent payments, according to Barillon:—
| | guineas |
| To Harbord | 500 |
| Hampden | 500 |
| Colonel Titus | 500 |
| Sir Thomas Armstrong | 500 |
| Bonnet | 300 |
| Hotham | 300 |
| Hiedal | 300 |
| Garroway | 300 |
| Frankland | 300 |
| Compton | 300 |
| Harley | 300 |
| Sachcverel | 300 |
| Foley | 300 |
| Bide | 300 |
| Algernon Sidney | 500 |
| Herbert | 500 |
| Sir John Biber | 500 |
| Hill | 500 |
| Boscawen | 500 |
This is a frightful list, and many ingenious theories have been started to get rid of it. It has been suggested that such men as Hampden, Littleton, Foley, and others, stanch opposition members of the house of commons, were men of large property, and could have no motive in receiving Loius's money, but did perhaps receive it so as not to offend him. But why should real patriots fear offending the French king, whose sole and notorious object was to aggrandise himself at the expense of every people in Europe? Such men needed no stimulus to patriotism if it genuinely existed in them, and had no cause to fear the resentment of Louis at the refusal of his money. Such a plea is simply ridiculous. A more plausible one is, that Barillon and his agents, Baber, Coleman, and others, probably pocketed the money, and returned the names of the patriots as having received what was never offered, or, if so, refused by them. In favour of this theory is the fact that Coleman, on his trial in Titus Oates's plot, confessed that he had received two thousand five hundred pounds from Barillon, to distribute amongst members of parliament, which he converted to his own use. We should be glad, indeed, to be able to think that such was the case altogether, but it is admitted that wo cannot apply this theory to Algernon Sidney; that it is perfectly clear that he did receive Louis's money; that in 1660 he was personally in Paris soliciting money, and had it offered by Louis himself. It is, however, of little consequence pursuing this theory farther. We know that lord William Russell, when Ruvigny offered him money, sternly refused it, and declared that he would have nothing to do with those that he knew did receive it; and that Denzell Hollis refused a diamond snuff-box unless he could have the permission of his sovereign to receive it; but here the process of refusal ends; and as there was a very loose morality afloat amongst all classes of courtiers and politicians of that day, as there has been of too many in other times, as to money getting, we fear no good case of clearance can be made out for the so-called patriots of the above black list. As to the French money poured into the English court and its environs in this infamous reign, it was almost limitless. Lord St. Albans received the diamond snuff-box which Hollis declined, plainly claiming something for his services to Louis in England. Buckingham and the earl of Sunderland were greedy applicants for such money. The duchess of Portsmouth, Louis's prime spy at Charles's court, was not only a regular pensioner, but had a title and estate conferred on her and her descendants for her services at the English court; and it says little for the popular party at that day, that they ​could condescend to receive the same common brand as that vile herd.
When the new parliament met it was found to be more violently anti-popish than the old one. The duke's known, the king's suspected, popery was a sentiment in the nation that nothing could remove, and which the recent excitements about a popish plot had roused into a universal flame. This then the popular party took every means to fan; and though the government exerted all its power, its candidates were everywhere received with exertions, and assertions of the bloody machinations of the papists. The new parliament, therefore, came up with vehement zeal against the plotters, and with unabated determination to punish Danby. But the warning which the progress of the election gave was not lost on Danby. He considered that it would be one of the most powerful means of, abating the public jealousy of popery, if the king could be induced to send the duke out of the kingdom. Charles recoiled at so harsh a measure, and tried the vain expedient of inducing James to pretend at least conversion, by sending the primate and other bishops to persuade him to return to the established church. It was of course useless, and then Charles was obliged to advise James to withdraw for awhile, and reside at Brussels. James complied on two conditions—that the king should give him a formal order to leave the kingdom, so that he might not seem to steal away out of fear; and to pledge himself publicly that he would never acknowledge the legitimacy of Monmouth, who had given out that he had four witnesses, in case of Charles's death, to prove his marriage with his mother. This was done in presence of the council, the members adding their signatures, and Charles ordered the instrument to be enrolled in chancery. James quitted London with the duchess on the 4th of March, leaving his daughter Anne with her uncle, that the people might not suppose that he sought to seduce her to popery at Brussels.
On the 6th of March the parliament met, and the commons were immediately engaged in a dispute with the crown regarding the election of a speaker. They elected their old one, Mr. Seymour; the lord treasurer appointed Sir Thomas Mears, one of his most active opponents in the last parliament. But during the interval since the dissolution, Danby had been hard at work to convert, by soma means or other, some of his most formidable enemies. After some altercation the commons gave way, and Mears was appointed.
But this exercise of royal prerogative only embittered the house to punish Danby and screen Montague. The lords passed a resolution that the dissolution of parliament did not affect an impeachment—a doctrine which has become constitutional. Montague had absconded, but reappeared when his election to parliament gave him personal protection. Everything, therefore, portending the conviction of Danby, Charles ordered him to resign his staff, and then announced this fact to parliament, at the same time informing them that as he had ordered him to write the letters in question, he had granted him a pardon, and that he would renew the pardon a dozen times if there were a continued attempt to prosecute him for an act simply of obedience to his sovereign.
But this attempt to take their victim out of their hands was resented by the commons as a direct breach of their privileges, and having looked for a copy of this pardon in chancery, and not finding it, they learned from the lord chancellor that the pardon had been brought ready drawn by Danby to the king, who signed it; and that the seal had not been affixed by himself, but by the person who carried the bag, at Charles's own order. This irregularity the more inflamed the parliament. Powle, one of the members whose name figures in the above list of French pensioners, with that air of injured virtue which politicians so easily assume, inveighed indignantly agiainst Danby, who, he said, had brought the country to the brink of ruin, by pandering to the mercenary policy of Louis—the very thing he had opposed—had raised a standing army and paid it with French money. That he had concealed the popish plot, and then spoken of Oates with great contempt. The commons forthwith passed a bill of attainder, and the lords sent to take Danby into custody; but he had absconded. On the 10th of April, however, he surrendered himself to the lords, and was sent to the Tower. Lord Essex was appointed lord treasurer in his stead, and lord Sunderland, secretary of state, took the station of prime minister. Essex was popular, solid, and grave in his temperament, but not of brilliant talent. Sunderland was a very different man. He was clever, intriguing, insinuating in his manners, but as thoroughly corrupt and unprincipled as the worst part of the generation in which he lived. He had long been ambassador at the court of France, and the very fact of his holding that post betwixt two such monarchs as Louis and Charles, was proof enough that he was supple, and not restrained by any nice service of morals or honesty. He was perfidious to all parties—a cavalier by profession, and at the same time that he was serving arbitrary monarchs most slavishly, he was republican in heart. He was especially attentive to the mother of Monmouth and the duchess of Portland, because he knew that they had great influence with his master.
At this crisis Sir William Temple proposed to Charles a measure which he thought most likely to abate the virulence of parliament, and at the same time prevent ministers pursuing any clandestine purposes likely to excite the suspicion of the parliament and nation. Temple had always shown himself above and apart from the mere interested ambitious and selfish purposes of the king's ministers. Whenever he was wanted, he was called from his philosophic retreat of Moor Park, in Surrey, to do some work of essential benefit to the nation, which required a man of character and ability to accomplish. He had effected the triple alliance, the marriage of the princess Jlary with William of Orange; he had refused to have any concern with the intrigues of the cabal; and now, when the parliament was fast hastening to press on the prerogative, he came forward, and proposed that the privy council should be increased to thirty members, half consisting of his ministers, and half of leading and independent members of the lords and commons. All these were to be intrusted with every secret movement and proposition of government; and the king was to pledge himself to be guided by their advice. Temple augured that nothing pernicious could be broached by designing ministers in a body where half were independent members of parliament, holding no office from the crown; and that, on the other ​Land, parliament could not so vehemently suspect the tendency of measures which had first the approbation of their own popular leaders. The house of commons had now driven three successive ministries from office—Clarendon, the Cabal, and Danby, and was still bent on a career violently opposed to the crown. If Temple had calculated that the effect would be to neutralise or convert the democratic members, he would have been right; but that such a council could ever work any other way was impossible. The king would never long submit measures, intended to maintain his prerogative, to a council which was not likely to carry his views at once to both houses; but he might, and undoubtedly would, in many cases, succeed in bringing over the opposition orators to his interest. This was the immediate effect on most of them. Shaftesbury, lord Russell, Saville, viscount Halifax, Powie, and Seymour, the late speaker, were included in it. But Temple soon found that men of such contrary views and parties could not draw well together, and was compelled to break his chief condition, and compose a sort of inner council, of himself, Capel, Halifax, Essex, and Sunderland, who prepared and really managed everything. Halifax was a man of the most brilliant talents, ambitious, yet not thinking himself so, but so little swayed by mere party, that he was called a trimmer, and gloried in the title. For the rest—Capel, Cavendish, and Powle lost the confidence of the commons, which looked on the institution with natural distrust; Russell and Shaftesbury alone spoke out as boldly as ever, and retained more influence in the two houses than they gained in the council. In fact, the opposition members soon found that they might propose, but the king would not be outvoted in his own council. The very first measure proposed, was that all persons of popish tendencies should be weeded out of office, out of the posts of lord-lieutenants, the magistracy, and the courts of law; but Charles, perceiving that the object was to remove all the stanchest supporters of the crown, quickly put an end to it. He called for the rolls, and wherever he saw a name marked for removal, gave some such ludicrous and absurd reason for his retention, that there was no gravely answering it. One objected to, he said, was a good cocker, another an expert huntsman, kept good foxhounds, or a good house, had always excellent chimes of beef, and the like. Arguments were thrown away on the king, and the matter came to nothing.
On the other hand, Shaftesbury, who had been made president of the council by Charles himself, undiverted by this from his great object, pursued his popery alarms out of doors, where the king could not checkmate him. A fire broke out in a printing-house in Fetter Lane, and the servant girl was induced to confess that one Stubbs had promised her five pounds to do it, who again said Gifford, bis confessor, had set him on, saying it was no sin; and he added that London was to be set on fire again by French papists. The absurd story soon grew into a rumour that the duke of York was coming with a French army to claim the throne and re-establish popery with all its horrors. Shaftesbury declared in the lords that popery must be rooted out if there were to be any liberty left. That popery and slavery, like two sisters, went ever hand in hand. That one might now go first, now the other; but wherever one was seen, the other was certainly not far off. The commons eagerly seizing on the temper of the nation, voted unanimously a bill of exclusion against the duke of York, and that a protestant successor should be appointed, as though the duke wore actually dead. Sir William Temple attempted to weaken this movement by attributing it to Monmouth and Shaftesbury, betwixt whom, it was asserted, there was a secret understanding that if Monmouth's scheme of proving his legitimacy succeeded, Shaftesbury should be his prime minister; and, probably, by the advice of Temple, Charles proposed a plan for a compromise. That in case a popish prince succeeded, every power of altering the law should be taken out of his hands. That no judges, justices, lord-lieutenants, privy councillors, or officers of the navy should be appointed without consent of parliament, and that no livings or dignities in the church should be at the option of the king, but of a board of the most pious and protestant divines. Shaftesbury, however, ridiculed all these precautions, as attempting to bind Samson with green withes, which he could snap with the greatest ease. The commons were fully of that mind, and on the 21st of May passed their exclusion bill, by a majority of two hundred and seven against one hundred and twenty. The commons followed up this act by proceeding in a body to the house of lords, and demanding judgment against Danby. They also demanded that the prelates should not vote on Danby's case, fearing that their numbers might give the crown a majority; but to this the lords were opposed, and though the bishops offered to concede the point, the king forbade them, as the matter involved his prerogative. The commons persisting in their demand, now instituted a strict inquiry into the cases of bribery by the late minister of members of parliament, and ordered one of his agents, Fox, the treasurer of the navy, to proceed to Whitehall in company of three members, and bring his books and papers for examination. The king resented the searching of his house as a gross insult, and the books and papers were refused; but Fox was compelled to state how many members he had paid money to, and he named twenty-seven individuals. This was on the 24th of May, and Charles, to cut the inquiry short, suddenly sent for the commons, and prorogued parliament for ten weeks. Shaftesbury was so enraged at this unexpected obstruction to his plans, that he vowed in the house of lords that it should cost the king's advisers of this measure their heads.
This prorogation was, on other accounts, one of the most remarkable eras in our parliamentary annals, for before pronouncing the parliament prorogued, the king gave his consent to the habeas corpus act, and allowed the act establishing the censorship of the press to expire. The carrying of the habeas corpus act was owing mainly to the influence of Shaftesbury, and was a benefit of that magnitude, that it might cover a multitude of the sins of that extraordinary man, who, with all his faults, had a genuine substratum of patriotism in him. The press had hitherto never been free. Elizabeth cut off the hands of puritans who offended her, and her successors dragged them into their Star-chamber. Even the Long Parliament, when they abolished the Star-chamber, declined to liberate the press, notwithstanding Milton's eloquent appeal for the liberty of unlicensed ​printing. The press was at length free, but only for a time, being too dangerous an engine to the corrupt government, which so long succeeded.
Whilst the blood of unfortunate victims to imaginary plots was flowing in England, in Scotland the same ruthless persecution bad continued against the covenanters. Lauderdale had married the counters of Dysart, a most extravagant and rapacious woman, who acquired complete influence over him; and to find resources for her expense, be levied fines on the nonconformists with such rigour and avidity, that it was believed that be really sought to drive the people to rebellion, in order to have a plea for plundering them. "The parliament," says Laing, "was prolonged above four years, that be might enjoy the emoluments and rank of commissioner, and his revenues during his abode in Scotland exceeded those of its ancient kings. His salary was sixteen thousand pounds sterling, the donations which be received twenty-six thousand pounds; but the annual revenues of the crown, the surplus revenue accumulated by Murray, and an assessment of seventy-two thousand pounds, were insufficient to support his profusion, and disappeared in his bands. But the most lucrative and oppressive sources of extortion were the penalties and compositions for attending conventicles, of which it is impossible to estimate the amount. On one occasion two gentlemen compounded for fifteen hundred pounds; on ten gentlemen thirty thousand pounds were imposed; nor were these the most considerable in the shire of Renfrew. Injustice was aggravated by the insolence of Lauderdale, whose unfeeling jests insulted such as compounded for their fines. The penalties of nonconformity were farmed out or assigned to his dependents. Nineteen hundred pounds sterling were exacted by Athol, the justice-general, for his own behalf, in a single week; and the estates of those who withdrew from Lauderdale's rage and insolence, were plundered and wasted by gifts of escheat."
Such was the woful condition of Scotland, delivered over by the lewd and reckless king to a man who combined the demon characters of cruelty, insult, and avarice, in no ordinary degree. Complaints from the most distinguished and most loyal inhabitants were only answered by requiring them all to enter into bonds that neither they, their families, nor tenants should withdraw from the established church, under the same penalties as actual delinquents. The gentry refused to enter into such bonds. Lauderdale, therefore, determined to treat the whole west of Scotland as in an actual state of revolt, and not only sent troops with artillery to march into the devoted districts, but let loose upon them troops of wild Highlanders, and commanded even the nobility, as well as others, to give up all their arms. The outraged population—left exposed to the spoliation of the Highlanders, who, though they spared the lives, freely robbed the inhabitants—sent a deputation of some of their most eminent men to lay their sufferings before the king himself. They were, however, dismissed with a reprimand, Charles replying, "I perceive that Lauderdale has been guilty of many bad things against the people of Scotland, but I cannot find that be has acted in anything contrary to my interest." "A sentiment," says Hume, "unworthy of a sovereign." To Charles, so long as he was left in quietness with his women, it mattered nothing how grievously the subjects were peeled and punished.
However, in 1678, the Highlanders were ordered to return to their bills, and they are represented as if returning from the sack of a city. They carried with them plate, merchants' goods, webs of linen, quantities of wearing apparel and household furniture, and a number of horses to carry their plunder.
We related the attempt—in 1668—of Mitchell to shoot the archbishop of St. Andrews in his carriage. Six years having elapsed without his discovery, Mitchell had become so bold, as not only to return from his wanderings through Holland and England, but actually rented a small shop under Sharp's lodgings in Edinburgh. Probably he was intending to repair his former failure on the archbishop's life. Sharp observed this man watching him closely, and, observing him more nearly, thought he recognised him. He was seized and examined before the privy council. He stoutly denied the charge brought against him, but on a solemn promise of his life, he confessed that be wounded Honeyman, the bishop of Orkney, on that occasion, a wound from which the bishop never fully recovered, though he lingered some years. But the council, repeating its promise of life to Mitchell, endeavoured to draw from him a confession of being concerned in the battle of the Pentlands, and not succeeding, they brought out the terrible iron boot, which is stated, in letters still in the possession of the historian, Lingard, not only to have been capable of crushing the leg bone, but of forcing the marrow out at the sole of the foot. The executioner asked him which leg be should try, and Mitchell, extending the right one, said, undauntedly, "Take the best; I willingly bestow it in this cause." Eight blows of the mallet and wedge were given, and borne with incredible fortitude; after the eighth the prisoner fainted. He was then sent to the prison of the Bass Rock, in the Firth of Forth, till January, 1078, when he was again brought before the council. There some of the privy councillors swore that no promise of his life had ever been given him, and Lauderdale would not allow the records of the council to be referred to, where the promise was, and remains to this day. He was, therefore, condemned and hanged in the Grass-market.
Mitchell was ere long terribly avenged by a band of covenanting enthusiasts in Fife. There the cruelties of the archbishop were pre-eminently intolerable. There David Hackston of Rathillet, his brother-in-law, John Balfour of Kinloch, or Balfour of Burley, as he is immortalised by Sir Walter Scott in "Old Mortality," James Russell of Kettle, and six others determined to take vengeance on a notorious creature of Sharp's, one Carmichael, who bad pursued his levy of fines with such brutality, as to have beaten and burnt with lighted matches women and children, to compel them to betray their masters, husbands, brothers, or fathers. On the 3rd of the present year Carmichael bad been out bunting, but hearing of Rathillet and his band being on the watch for him, he left the field and got home. The conspirators were returning disappointed, when a greater prey fell into their hands. The wife of a farmer at Baldinny sent a lad to tell them that the archbishop's coach was on the road, going from Ceres towards St. Andrews. The ​delighted man gave chase. They desired Rathillet to take the lead, but he declined, saying he had a private quarrel with the primate, and his act might be attributed to revenge, but that he would accompany them, and do nothing to prevent their just punishment of the apostate. Balfour then said "follow me," and they galloped after the carriage at fall speed. When Sharp perceived their approach, he exclaimed to his daughter Isabella, who alone was with him, "The Lord have mercy on me, my dear child, for I am gone!" The desperadoes came on, firing at the carriage, and shouting, "Judas, be taken!" The coachman in vain lashed on his horses. The ruffians overtook them, discharged their pistols into the carriage, wounded the postilion, and cut the traces. Sharp was only slightly wounded, and Russell said, "Judas, come forth!"
The archbishop endeavoured to propitiate them, declaring that he had wronged no man; offered them money, and promised them a pardon. They replied that they bore him no private malice, but that God had imposed a sacred duty upon them, and he must make ready for death, judgment, and eternity. He and his daughter kneeled on the grass imploring mercy. Sharp turned to Hackston of Rathillet, who stood muffling his face with his cloak, but was detected by the primate, who said, "I know you are a gentlemen; you will protect me." "I will never lay a hand upon you," replied Hacksion, and turned away. Guillon, one of the number, felt compassion for the old man, and said, "Spare those gray hairs;" but when Sharp put out his hand towards another of the band, he nearly severed it from the wrist with a blow of his sword. Balfour then cut him down by a blow on the head; but Russell, chancing to hear the afflicted daughter incautiously express a hope that life was not quite extinct, he left plundering the carriage, and cut his head in pieces with his sword. The daughter was wounded in one or two places in endeavouring to defend her father; and the assassins, after taking possession of such arms and papers as they could find, bade the servants convey their dead master and his daughter home, and quietly rode away. The murderers only crossed to the other side of Magus Muir, where the bloody deed had been perpetrate; where at a cottage they spent the remainder of the day in prayer and praising God for the accomplishment of what they deemed this noble work. They then rode their way into the west of Scotland, where they joined Donald Cargill, one of the most noted of the Cameronian preachers, with Spreul, and Robert Hamilton, a young man of good family, and a former pupil of bishop Burnet's, who had been excited by the persecutions of the people to come out and attempt their relief.
The murder of the archbishop only roused the government to more determined rigour, and the persecuted people, grown desperate, threw off all remaining show of obedience in great numbers, and resolved to resist to the death. The more moderate presbyterians lamented and condemned the murder of the primate, but the more enthusiastic looked upon it as a great judgment of God. They resolved to face the soldiery, and they had soon an opportunity, for Graham of Claverhouse, a man who acquired a terrible fame in these persecutions, being stationed at Glasgow, drew out a troop of dragoons and other cavalry, and went in pursuit of them. He encountered them at a place near London Hill, in a boggy ground called Drumclog, where the covenanters, under Hamilton, Balfour, and Cleland, defeated his forces, and put them to flight, killing about thirty of them, including a relative of Claverhouse's. The insurgents under Hamilton, elated with their victory marched after Claverhouse into Glasgow itself, but were repulsed. They went on, however, increasing so fast, that Claverhouse evacuated Glasgow, and marched eastward, leaving all the west of Scotland in their hands, now amounting to five or six thousand.
On the news reaching London, Charles despatched the duke of Monmouth, with a large body of the royal guards, to quell the rebellion. On the 21st of June, as the covenanters lay near the town of Hamilton, they received the intelligence that Monmouth, with his forces joined to those of Claverhouse, was approaching. The insurgents had soon taken to quarrelling amongst themselves, and the more moderate section were now for submitting on favourable terms. Rathillet and the more determined would not hear of any surrender, but marched off and left the waverers, who sent a memorial to Monmouth, declaring that they were ready to leave all their complaints to a free parliament, and free assembly of the church. The duke, who showed much mildness throughout this campaign, replied that he felt greatly for their sufferings, but that they must lay down their arms, and then he would intercede for them with the king. On the receipt of this answer the greatest confusion prevailed; the moderate dare not risk a surrender on such terms, remembering the little mercy they had hitherto received from the government; the more violent, with a fatal want of prudence, now insisting on cashiering their officers, who had shown what they called a leaning towards Erastianism, or, in other words, a disposition to submit to the civil power.
Whilst they were in this divided and unprepared state, Monmouth's army appeared in sight. The covenanters, therefore, compelled to fight or fly, seized on the bridge of Bothwell, which crossed the Clyde betwixt the village of Bothwell and the town of Hamilton. It was narrow, and crossed in the centre by a gateway. Here Rathillet, Balfour, and others posted themselves with about three hundred men to defend this pass. But the army of Momnouth, on the slope of the hill descending from Bothwell to the Clyde, commanded the opposite hill on which the covenanters were posted with his artillery, and under its fire a strong body of troops advanced to force the bridge. Balfour and Rathillet defended their post bravely, but the gate was at length forced, and they were pushed back at the point of the bayonet. They found themselves unsupported by the main body, which, on the artillery playing murderously upon them, had retreated to Hamilton Heath, about a quarter of a mile distant. There they rallied, and repulsed one or two charges, and broke a body of Highlanders; but undisciplined, disunited, and without artillery to cope with that of Monmouth, they were only exposed to unavailing slaughter. They turned and fled. Monmouth commanded a halt, to spare the fugitives. In the words of the famous old ballad:—
   "Hand up your hand," then Monmouth said, "Gis quarter to these men for me." But bloody Clavcr'se swore an oath, His kinsmans's death avenged should be;
Lord William Russell.
During this time the popish plot, with fresh actors and fresh ramifications, was agitated by the anti-papal party with unabated zeal. On the 24th of April a protestant barrister, Nathaniel Reading, was tried for tampering with the evidence against catholic noblemen in prison, in order to reduce the charge from treason to felony. It appeared that Bedloe had engaged him to do it, and then informed against him. There appeared on the trial many damning circumstances against the character and veracity of Bedloe, yet Reading was condemned to pay a fine of one thousand pounds, and to suffer a years imprisonment. Bedloe, Oates, and Prance were again, however, brought forward in June against Whitbread and Fenwick, who had been illegally remanded to prison on their former trial, and three other Jesuits—Harcourt, Gavan, and Turner were now also examined, and a new witness, one Dugdale, a discarded steward of lord Aston's, was introduced. Oates had little ​to add to his former story, but Bedloe and Prance were prolific in new charges. It was in vain that the prisoners pointed out their gross prevarications and palpable falsehoods. They were all condemned, as well as Langhorne, a celebrated catholic barrister. The infamous Jeffreys, now recorder of London, sentenced them, amid the loud acclamations of the spectators, and they were all executed, after being offered a pardon on condition of confessing the plot, and disclosing what they knew. Langhorne was promised his life if he would reveal the property of the Jesuits, and on its proving only of the value of twenty thousand pounds or thirty thousand pounds, he was told it was too insignificant to save his life. A second time his life was offered him if he would reveal the plot, but he replied he knew of no plot, and all were executed with the usual horrors. Next came up for trial Sir George Wakeman, the queen's physician, and Corker, Rumby, and Marshall, Benedictine monks; but the diabolical perjury of Oates this time received such an exposure, that the prisoners were all acquitted. Philip Lloyd, the clerk of the council, deposed that when Oates had been questioned by the lord chancellor whether he knew anything personally of Sir George Wakeman, he had solemnly sworn that he did not, yet this morning he had charged him with different acts of treason committed in his own presence.
Notwithstanding this rebuff to the despicable informer, the three monks were recommitted on a fresh charge, and in every quarter of the kingdom similar persecutions were carried on, numbers were thrown into prison, and eight other catholics were executed in different places.
The duke of York was every day becoming more uneasy in his residence at Brussels. Knowing the intrigues of Shaftesbury and his party to advance the claims of Monmouth, he repeatedly solicited the king to let him return, and Charles falling ill in August, at Windsor, consented, and James made his appearance at court, much to the consternation of Monmouth and his supporters. The king recovering, to put an end to the intrigues and feuds betwixt the two dukes, Charles sent Monmouth to Brussels instead of James, and ordered James to retire to Scotland. Being, as usual, pressed for money, Charles again importuned Louis for one million livres for three years; but Louis replied that he did not see at this period what services England could render him for that expense: and James advised him to manage without the money, by adopting a system of rigid economy. In August he prorogued parliament for a year, and endeavoured to carry on without the French king's pension. On seeing this, Louis, through Barillon, renewed his offers, but Charles felt too proud to accept them, and then the French king once more turned to the patriots, so-called, to instigate fresh annoyances. Barillon paid to Buckingham one thousand guineas, two thousand five hundred guineas were distributed amongst Baber, Littleton, Harbord, and Powle, Montague received fifty thousand livres in part payment of his reward for overthrowing Danby. The consequences were now seen. On the 17th of November, the anniversary of the accession of queen Elizabeth, an anti-popish procession was organised by Shaftesbury and that party, though earned on under the auspices of the green-ribbon club. The bellman went first, ringing his bell, and exclaiming at intervals, "Remember Mr. Justice Godfrey!" Then came a man in the habit of a Jesuit, supporting before him on horseback an effigy of the murdered magistrate, followed by a long train of men and women, habited as monks, nuns, priests, and catholic bishops in capes and mitres, and protestant bishops in lawn sleeves, six cardinals with their caps, and lastly the pope, on a litter with his arch-prompter, the devil, by his side. This procession, commencing in Moorgate, traversed the street at night with flambeaus, amid a hundred thousand spectators, who were frantic with cries of vengeance against papists and popery. At Temple Bar, in front of the club-house, they burnt the whole array of popish effigies, amid fireworks and rending shouts. This exhibition of fury against the catholics was reported all over Europe with astonishment and awe; but on the other hand it roused Charles to dismiss Shaftesbury from the presidency of the council, and to order James to return to England, and assume his proper place at court. Russell, Capel, Cavendish, and Powle, seeing their party reduced to impotence in the council, resigned, and Essex threw up the treasury, and was succeeded by Hyde, the second son of Clarendon. Sir William Temple also retired again to his rural retreat, and Sidney Godolphin became a leading man in the council. Both Hyde and Godolphin were men of much talent, but decided tories. The character of Lawrence Hyde has been sketched by Macaulay in a few words. He was a cavalier of the old school, a zealous champion of the crown and of the church, and a hater of republicans and nonconformists. He had, consequently, a great body of personal adherents. The clergy, especially, looked on him as their own man, and extended to his foibles an indulgence of which, to say the truth, he stood in some need, for he drank deep, and when he was in a rage—and he was very often in a rage—he swore like a trooper. "Godolphin," says the same authority, "had low and frivolous personal tastes, and was much addicted to racing, card-playing, and cock-fighting."
Betwixt these new ministers and the opposition the contest grew more vehement. Shaftesbury persuaded Monmouth to return, and there was much rejoicing got up for him in public. The king was extremely angry, and ordered him to retire, but Monmouth paid no attention to the paternal command; and there was much talk of a certain black box, in which the proofs of the marriage of Monmouth's mother, Lucy Walters or Barlow, were contained. Charles summoned all the persons alleged to know of this box and its contents, and questioned them, when there clearly appeared to be no such box or such evidence; and these facts were published in the "Gazette." Still the duke was extremely popular with the people, and occupied a prominent place in the public eye. He was duke of Monmouth in England, of Buccleuch in Scotland, master of the horse, commander of the first troop of life guards, chief justice in Eyre south of Trent, a knight of the garter, and chancellor of the University of Cambridge; and the opposition did all they could to enhance his importance. The war of whig and tory, now the established terms, was fierce. The whigs were also called Birminghamers, Petitioners, and Exclusionists; the tories, Anti-Birminghamers, Abhorrers, and Tantivies; and at this time came up the two phrases of Mob and Sham.
​Of course the popish plot continued to play its part, its puppets being moved, and its victims selected by the great political oppositionists. Fresh vermin crept out of their billing places of infamy to serve as tools in their hands. Amongst these a young man named Dangerfield played just now a conspicuous part. He was a handsome fellow, deep to the lips in dissipation and guilt. He had been no less than sixteen times convicted of different crimes, and had been repeatedly fined, imprisoned, whipped, set in the pillory, burnt in the hand, and outlawed. This infamous wretch managed to attract the attention of a Mrs. Cellier, a catholic midwife of repute, who collected contributions for the prisoners of her faith in Newgate. Dangerfield was a debtor there, and he assured her that if she would raise money for his discharge, he would possess himself of the papers of a man named Stroud, said to have been suborned by Shaftesbury, against the lords in the Tower. She effected his liberation, and he was employed by her husband to collect debts. He very soon pretended that in visiting different coffee-houses in the course of his business, he had discovered a most dangerous conspiracy, this time not a popish, but a protestant conspiracy. Mrs. Cellier introduced him to lady Powis, and she to lord Peterborough, who took him to the duke of York. To him he stated that the principal presbyterians, during the king's illness, had planned to raise a large army to seize on the crown, and thus prevent a popish successor. James gave him twenty guineas, and led him to the king, who gave him forty more guineas, and ordered secretary Coventry to trace out the plot. What gave plausibility to Dangerfield's story, was that he was in possession of two letters written by Bulstrode, the secretary to Shaftesbury. In consequence of his information, the lodgings of colonel Mansel were searched, and a bundle of treasonable papers were found concealed behind his bed. Mansel declared that the informer must have put them there himself, and on examination they proved to be such a clumsy forgery, that the council committed Dangerfield to Newgate. There the rascal pretended great distress of mind, and declared that this plot was undoubtedly a sham plot, but that he had been employed in it by Mrs. Cellier and lady Powis to cover a real one. That lord Arundel had offered him two thousand pounds to assassinate the king, but that he refused, and then lord Powis offered him five hundred pounds to kill the earl of Shaftesbury. That this was fact, and that the real plot was popish, would be proved by a discovery he would now make, that the original notes of the sham plot were hidden in a meal-tub in Mrs. Celliers house. The papers were found there, and the plot became known as the meal-tub plot.
On such miserable and disgraceful evidence lady Powis was committed to the Tower, and Mrs. Cellier to Newgate, but in turning thus against his benefactor, the miscreant had met with his match. Mrs. Cellier, on the trial, so completely exhibited the vile and worthless character of the viper that she had cherished, that the jury refused to believe him, and acquitted her. There was a charge of high treason against lord Castlemaine on the evidence of the same precious witness, whom the spirited Mrs. Cellier aptly styled, "the matchless rogue," which was also dismissed. Shaftesbury, Sir William Waller, and Dangerfield had visited Cellier whilst in prison, and tempted her to turn informer, but she indignantly refused, and when afterwards attacked by Dangerfield in print, she stoutly and successfully replied to him.
But fresh plots kept streaming up from the same inexhaustible source. A fellow of the name of Bolron, who had been the manager of Sir Thomas Gascoign's colleries in Yorkshire, and dismissed for embezzlement, assisted by Mowbray, a servant dismissed for suspicion of theft, charged Sir Thomas, who was eighty-five years of age, his daughter, lady Tempest. Thomas Gascoign, the son, Mr. Thwinge, the nephew, Sir Miles Stapleton, and others, with a conspiracy to assassinate the king. As the county magistrates would not listen to such a charge, these men hastened to the great receiver-general, as well as inventor of plots, Shaftesbury, and they were arrested and tried in Westminster or the 28th and 29th of July, but were acquitted, with the exception of Mr. Thwinge, who, if the others were innocent, certainly could not be guilty; yet he was executed at York as a traitor.
In these dreadful times no catholic's life was safe if he offended his servants, and these base villains, Dangerfield and Bolron, were still retained by their patrons for other dirty work.
The great object of all these got-up plots, was to drive James from the succession, and two parties were at work for this purpose, who united so far as excluding James, but were divided as to the successor to be set up. Monmouth was the idol of Shaftesbury and his party; William of Orange the selected favourite of Temple, Hyde, Goldophin, and their party—a far more intellectual and able one. Against James this common object of his exclusion told fearfully; for the rest, the deep and cautious character of the Dutchman, and the light and frivolous one of Monmouth, made William's chance far the best. Shaftesbury, Buckingham, and their adherents contrived to win over the duchess of Portsmouth to part of their views by concealing the rest. They represented to her that if the king were brought to nominate his successor, as Cromwell had done, and as an act of parliament would enable him, her eldest son might be selected. The bait took, especially when it was coupled with the terrors of an impeachment in default of compliance, which threatened her ruin and that of her children. She flattered herself that the illegitimacy of her son might be got over, and went zealously into the affair. On the other hand, Shaftesbury made himself sure that if this plan was accomplished, Monmouth would be the successor elect. She pledged herself to use all her influence with Charles, and she was empowered to assure him of a large supply of money from parliament, and the same power of naming his successor as had been given to Henry VIII.
Charles appeared to fall into the scheme, but demanded no less than eight hundred thousand pounds. For this he probably would have sold his brother's birthright. The question of James's exclusion was discussed in the council, and Charles ordered James to return again to Scotland. But what probably saved James, was want of faith betwixt the leaders of the two exclusion factions and Charles, and betwixt each other. Each faction knew that the other had its ​own successor in view, and both doubted Charles too much to trust him with the money before the exclusion act was passed. Barillon, the French ambassador, whose object was to maintain James, also came in as a third party, with French money, to embarrass and divide them. To cut the main difficulty, Shaftesbury determined to damage James irrevocably before the country; he, therefore, on the 26th of October, brought forward the wretch Dangerfield to accuse the duke, before the commons, of having been at the bottom of the late plot against the presbyterians; of having given him the instructions to forge and distribute the lists and commissions; of having presented him with twenty guineas; given him a promise of much greater reward; and ridiculed his hesitation to shed the king's blood, &c.
The audacity of an opposition that could bring forward so horrible a charge against the heir-apparent, on the evidence of a scoundrel branded by sixteen convictions for base crimes, is something incredible now-a-days. But no sooner had Dangerfield made the statement, than the house was thrown into a wonderful agitation, and lord Russell rose and moved that effectual measures be taken to suppress popery and prevent a perish succession. From that day to the 2nd of November a succession of other witnesses and depositions were brought before the house to strengthen the charge. The deposition of Bedloe, on his deathbed, affirming all his statements, was read; one Francisco de Faria, a converted Jew, asserted that an offer had been made to him by the late Portuguese ambassador, to whom he was interpreter, to assassinate Oates, Bedloe, and Shaftesbury; Dugdale related all his proofs against the lords in the Tower; Prance repeated the story of the murder of Godfrey, with fresh embellishments; and Mr. Treby read the report of the committee of inquiry into the plot. The house, almost beside itself, voted that a bill should be brought in to disable the duke of York, as a papist, from succeeding, and that any violence offered to the king should be revenged on the whole body of the papists. In the debate on the bill, all the horrors of the fire of London, the destruction of the fleet in the river, and the perjuries of Titus Oates were charged on James and the papists, and the bill passed amid loud shouts. But on the 10th of November it received a different fate in the lords, being rejected by sixty-three against thirty. Shaftesbury then proposed, as the last means of safety, the king should divorce the queen, marry again, and have a chance of legitimate issue; but on this the king himself put an effectual damper. Disappointed in both those objects, the opposition resorted to the cowardly measure of shedding more innocent blood, in order to have a fresh opportunity of exciting the alarm and rage of the people against popery. They selected, from the five popish lords in the Tower, the lord Stafford for their victim. He was nearly seventy years of age, and in infirm health, and they flattered themselves he would not be able to make much defence. He was arraigned in Westminster Hall before a court of managers, as in the case of lord Strafford. The trial lasted seven days, and Oates, Dugdale, Prance, Tuberville, and Denis, all men of the most infamous and perjured character, charged him with having held consultations with emissaries of the pope, and having endeavoured to engage Dugdale by an offer of five hundred pounds to assassinate the king, &c. &c. The old earl made an admirable defence, in which he dissected most effectually the villainous characters of his traducers; but, notwithstanding, be was condemned by a majority of fifty-five to thirty-one, and was beheaded on the 29th of December on Tower Hill. The sheriffs of London objected to the order for his beheading, contending that he ought to suffer all the horrors of the law against traitors; but the king commanded them to obey his order. On the scaffold the earl, whose mild and pious demeanour made a deep impression on the popery frightened people, declared his entire innocence, and the people, standing with bare heads, replied, "We believe you, my lord. God bless you, my lord!"
This last transaction, instead of strengthening the opposition, greatly damaged them. The impression of the spectators was that the poor old earl was entirely innocent; and they called to mind that the whole of the victims had died, firmly protesting the same; and several of them even refusing to purchase their lives by confessing any knowledge of a plot. The witnesses throughout, too, were such men as would have damned any cause by their infamy, in any but such times. Shaftesbury and has party were, indeed, called the champions of protestantism; but in our time protestantism cannot accept as champions men who can employ any vile instrument in its support, who suborn the most polluted and perjured of the community in its defence, and sacrifice lives and shed torrents of innocent blood to effect their object. Protestantism repudiates such supporters, and the sense of to-day must be that the whole of these persecutions by Shaftesbury and his faction, stand as amongst the blackest facts in history.