Life of Edward Earl of Clarendon Part 8

It was now needful to apply to Parliament, which met on November 24th.

Clarendon was again prostrated by a severe attack of gout, and could not himself appear in Parliament; but a narrative in writing, which was to be the basis for asking for a liberal grant, was laid before the House. The treachery of the Dutch and their open aggressions were exposed; and as the King was thus "forced to put himself in the posture he is now in for the defence of his subjects at so vast an expense," he trusted that Parliament "would cheerfully enable him to prosecute the war with the same vigour he hath prepared for it, by giving him supplies proportionate to the charge thereof."

Those very men, such as Bennet and Coventry, who had chiefly urged the war, were now backward in risking their popularity by asking for an adequate grant. It was left to Clarendon and Southampton to urge that the amount to be asked for should be commensurate with the vastness of the undertaking, and that the resolution of the King and his subjects, to carry out the great task to which they had applied themselves, should be proved to the world by an abundant supply. This they could not reckon at less than two millions and a half. It was an unprecedented charge, and must necessarily strain the relations between the Crown and the Parliament, and stimulate that very discontent which Clarendon knew to be slumbering and ready to break out.

When Parliament came to consider the matter, there was no apparent lack of zeal, but there was, amongst the crowd of private members, no one ready to name a sum. The Chancellor and the Treasurer had prepared for this, by consultations with two or three members of established reputation and of weight in the House and the country; and after an ominous pause, Sir Robert Paston, one of these members, proposed that "the present supply ought to be such as might as well terrify the enemy as a.s.sist the King, and that it should therefore be two millions and a half." "The silence of the House," Clarendon proceeds in his narrative, "was not broken." Some one, "who was believed to wish well to the King"--with that sort of well- wishing which characterized the time-serving of Bennet and his confederates--moved that the grant should be much smaller. But those who had been prepared by Clarendon manfully backed the suggestion of Sir Robert Paston; and it was carried by a majority of 172 to 102 in the grudging silence of those who dreaded lest such a grant might secure Clarendon against the odium of repeated applications to the generosity of Parliament. The very men who had secretly opposed it, were not ashamed now, in view of this lavish grant, to stimulate the King to a new warlike zeal, and to confirm the hostile inclinations of the nation at large.

"There appeared," says Clarendon, "great joy and exaltation of spirit upon this vote, and not more in the Court than upon the exchange, the merchants being unskilfully inclined to that war, above what their true interest could invite them to, as in a short time afterwards they had cause to confess." [Footnote: _Life_, ii. 311.]

Clarendon's prophetic fears were not diminished as time went on. He knew well how quickly such warlike zeal as now prevailed would spend itself, when the burdens of war were felt, and when the interference with commerce made those burdens all the harder. He had good reason to know the corruption that prevailed in the dockyards, and how soon money would melt away in the hands of those who took care that all warlike preparations should yield an abundant harvest of illegal gain to those engaged in them.

But the die was now cast, and on February 22nd, 1665, war was declared.

Never was hazard run with more reckless thoughtlessness, and with less of a spirit of stern resolution, and of that mood that could brace the nation to such work. The Chancellor knew well that he had lost the confidence of the King, and he was under no delusion as to what loss of confidence involved with one so selfish and so unprincipled as Charles. Never had the Court stood so low in the estimation of all that was soundest in the nation. Clarendon's own words bear the impress of his misgivings.

"All serious and prudent men took it as an ill presage, that whilst all warlike preparations were made in abundance suitable to the occasion, there should be so little preparation of spirit for a war against an enemy, who might possibly be without some of our virtues, but a.s.suredly was without any of our vices." [Footnote: _Life_, ii. 352.]

It is hard to estimate the burden of bitter disappointment that is compressed into these words.

At the Admiralty, and in the dockyards, there was activity enough. There was one, the candid pages of whose secret diary have given us a faithful picture of the business, and who was no insignificant part of the administrative machine. Month by month Pepys was earning more of his own genial self-approbation by acquiring new consideration, and by his growing mastery of Admiralty business. Month by month he found his little store waxing larger, by gains more or less legitimate, and his official importance enhanced by devices which were not always very high-principled.

But the English fleet would have been far better equipped than it was, had those in higher places shown half the energy of Samuel Pepys, had their peculations been kept within his limits, had their stratagems been controlled even by his occasional respect for principle, and had their characters been tainted by no more than his fantastic vanity, and his schoolboy debauchery. Day by day, with all his uncontrolled propensity for carouses, with all his lively taste for gossip, with all his gallantries and all his petty selfishness, Pepys shows us how manfully he struggled to make his work efficient, how often he strove successfully against profusion, and peculation, and hopeless mismanagement, and how he managed to steer his way safely amidst the jealousies, and corruptions, and gross jobberies of those under whom he served. There is something dramatic in comparing the record of his struggle with details that Pepys has left us, with the picture of hopeless corruption which revealed itself to Clarendon, standing at the other end of the official ladder. Under the patronage of the Duke, there was a little knot of men, who regarded the Admiralty chiefly as a field where they could reap a rich harvest of illegal gains. Coventry had now established for himself a control over all appointments. His agent was Sir William Penn, who had failed to rise to Cromwell's standard of efficiency, and had found himself discarded, and a prisoner in the Tower, after his defeat at St. Domingo, but who had managed to creep back into employment by cultivating the new powers. These two carried on a shameless, although well-recognized, sale of offices, and disarmed all criticism that might be dangerous by sharing their ill-gotten booty amongst a wide circle of confederates, of whom that model of chivalry, Sir Charles Berkeley, was one of the chief.

"This was the best husbandry he (Coventry) could have used; for by this means all men's mouths were stopped, and all clamour secured; whilst the lesser sums for a mult.i.tude of officers of all kinds were reserved to himself, which, in the estimation of those who were at no great distance, amounted to a very great sum, and more than any officer under the King could possibly get by all the perquisites of his office in many years."

[Footnote: _Life_, ii. 330.]

Thefts and embezzlements became almost acknowledged practices, and as each ship returned, its equipments were shamelessly sold by the Admiralty representatives, and the proceeds divided amongst the officers.

"When this was discovered (as many times it was) and the criminal person apprehended, it was alleged by him as excuse 'that he had paid so dear for his place, that he could not maintain himself and his family, without practising such shifts;' and none of these fellows were ever brought to exemplary justice, and most of them were restored to their employments."

[Footnote: _Life_, ii. 329.]

We have the picture painted from below and from above; and as we look on it, the wonder is, not that the pressure of the war was great, and its successes meagre, but rather that disasters did not crowd upon us more thickly. The conduct of the war does not, of course, belong to the life of Clarendon. [Footnote: "They who contrived the war had the entire conducting of it, and were the sole causes of all the ill effects of it"

(_Life_, ii. 325).] We have hitherto seen only his efforts to stay its outbreak, and the despairing thoughts, which the prospect of the danger, and the recklessness with which it was met, provoked in him. It was part of his business to try to organize some sort of alliances abroad, which might counteract the influence of De Witt. Denmark and Sweden had every reason to oppose the growing commercial power of the Dutch, and to help in any scheme for checking it. But they were divided by mutual jealousies, and their alliance could hardly be gained jointly for the English Crown. Henry Coventry, whose talents and character Clarendon esteemed very differently from those of his brother Sir William, was envoy to Sweden, and managed to secure at least temporary neutrality from that Power, as did Sir Gilbert Talbot from Denmark. But time soon showed that any hope of effective alliance was vain. The warlike Bishop of Munster did, indeed, find it convenient to avenge his own wrongs by attacking the United Provinces, and by acting in conjunction with England. But such an ally was not a source of much strength, and it might well be doubted whether his co-operation was worth the very considerable subsidy which he demanded, of two hundred and fifty thousand pounds. In truth, it soon became evident enough that England must rely upon herself alone, and that a still greater danger lurked in the background, in the doubtful neutrality, and very probable hostility, of France. Amidst this gathering cloud of unfriendliness, a new source of enmity was started by the extensive resort to privateering on the part of England, the danger of which Clarendon fully perceived. He had no words too strong to condemn this practice.

"They (the privateers) are a people, how countenanced so ever or thought necessary, that do bring an unavoidable scandal, and it is to be feared a curse, upon the justest war that was ever made at sea. A sail! A sail! is the word with them: friend or foe is the same; they possess all they can master, and run with it to any obscure place where they can sell it (which retreats are never wanting) and never attend the ceremony of an adjudication." [Footnote: _Life_, ii. 335. We must not forget that Clarendon had himself suffered from these licensed robbers, and bore them a grudge.]

The resort to privateering drew upon England the hatred of every trading company in Europe; but what was still worse, the career it opened was a far more lucrative one than that offered by the royal navy, and recruiting was fatally injured so long as the prospect of uncounted booty lay open to those who sailed as privateers. More fatal still, any opposition to it was interpreted by the little knot of the Duke's _proteges_ as a personal disloyalty. "Whoever spake against those lewd people, upon any case whatsoever, was thought to have no regard for the Duke's profit, nor to desire to weaken the enemy." [Footnote: _Life_, ii. 336.]

There was another innovation, adopted in the interests of this nest of shameless pilferers, who throve under the Duke's protection. It was in vain that Clarendon remonstrated, and appealed either to const.i.tutional precedent, or to the prudence and the self-interest of the King. Heavy as had been the burden of taxation caused by the war, hopes had been raised that the prices realized by the sale of captured vessels and goods would, soon after the beginning of the war, yield revenue enough to go far to meet the cost. "After one good fleet should be set out to beat the Dutch, the prizes, which would every day after be taken, would plentifully do all the rest"--such was the confident prediction. It would, under no circ.u.mstances, have been realized. But in previous wars a strict account had been kept. Commissioners were appointed for the sale of prizes, and they were bound to account for every penny received. Such a course no longer met the views of Charles and of those who now had his confidence.

The new design for dealing with these prizes of war was sprung without warning upon the Chancellor, and with circ.u.mstances that might have stirred a temper less quick than his. One evening a servant of Lord Ashley brought to the Chancellor a warrant, the object of which was to const.i.tute Lord Ashley Treasurer of all the monies raised upon prizes of war, to a.s.sign to him the patronage of all offices necessary for the service, to make him accountable to none but the King, and to direct him to pay out all such monies as the King should order. To this warrant the Chancellor was requested to affix the seal that evening. Clarendon replied that he would speak with the King before he sealed the grant.

The purport of such an order was only too clear. The prize money was not to be spent in mitigating the heavy burden of taxation, but was to be administered according to the caprices of the King, in the ign.o.ble expenses of his Court, and through the hands of an unscrupulous clique, whose peculations would thus be completely concealed. It is an indication of the inveterate prejudice which has infected the Whig historians of the period, that this scandalous iniquity has been glozed over, or, at the most, timidly criticized. Ashley was a Whig, and the friend of Whig philosophers. His falsehoods, his treacheries, his flagrant acts of peculation, are therefore to be veiled under a discreet silence, or visited with condemnation that is lightened by profuse apology. It is surely time that this pharisaicism of party prejudice should be shaken off. [Footnote: It is a perpetual amus.e.m.e.nt to contrast the timid condemnation with which such a Whig as Lister visits the turpitudes of such as Ashley, with the solemn lectures poured out over any deviation in the case of Clarendon from the accepted standard of Whig orthodoxy.]

Ashley was primarily responsible for a scandalous fraud and an indecent robbery of the public purse, for which not a shadow of defence can be offered. He became the head of a gang of ign.o.ble tricksters, who stooped to be pandars to their royal master's pleasures, at the price of sharing the fruits of public plunder, and with the aim of undermining the influence of the Minister whose rect.i.tude shamed them. The fact that Ashley was a friend of John Locke does not lessen his turpitude by one jot.

Clarendon's remonstrance with the King was as plain spoken as usual. He "doubted that his Majesty had been surprised; it was not only unprecedented, but in many particulars destructive to his services and to the rights of other men." It was an insult to the Lord Treasurer, whose prerogatives it invaded; and lastly, it was fraught with great danger to Ashley himself. The King was brought to consent to the suspension of the warrant; for the rest, he was obstinate. "It would bring prejudice only to himself, which he had sufficiently provided against." Clarendon did not give up the fight. He remonstrated with Ashley, who of all men might have avoided being the medium of a slight upon Southampton, whose niece he had married, and to whose good offices he owed his first advancement; but was met only by sulky obstinacy. He endeavoured to arouse Southampton; but the Treasurer was old and apathetic, and unwilling to engage in new struggles.

It was a sign of Clarendon's decaying influence, that all his efforts were in vain. He received a positive order from the King that the Commission should be signed, and he felt it no longer possible to refuse. It is easy for us, judging when the spirit of the const.i.tution has been changed, to condemn Clarendon for not throwing up his office, in the face of such rejection of his advice. It is enough to say that such action would have been deemed by Clarendon himself to be a dereliction of his duty. By all the memories of the past, by his affectionate reverence for his former master, by long a.s.sociation in the days of exile and misfortune--nay, also by his profound veneration for the Crown--Clarendon felt that it was his duty to remain in the service of Charles II. to the end, and to defend the King his master, even against his most deadly enemies, his own selfishness and lack of principle. The easy and convenient method of resignation, sanctioned now by long const.i.tutional usage, was--or seemed to himself to be--impossible to Clarendon. Had it been otherwise, how welcome would such release have been to the weary, disgusted, and despairing statesman!

We have thus seen how Clarendon was driven along, against all his better judgment, in spite of all his remonstrances, by an insane current of warlike frenzy, amidst which his warnings were unheard, and where a small clique exploited the prevalent commercial jealousies, as a means of bringing satisfaction to their own selfish schemes of greed and ambition.

We have seen how he strove vainly to moderate international hatred, to compose topics of quarrel, and to bring about a pacific settlement. We have noted his efforts to obtain alliances with, or at least neutrality on the part of, neighbouring Powers, and how cautiously he watched each movement of France, whose adhesion to England's foes might be so full of danger. We have learned his estimate of the cost, and how fully he realized that for the Crown to enter on war without ample supplies, was the certain precursor of a new Parliamentary struggle more keen and more fatal than the last; and we have seen how he managed, in spite of opposition at Court, to secure an unprecedented grant. We have seen how convinced he was of the corruption and mismanagement of the navy, and with what thoughtless lack of preparation we were entering upon a fierce struggle with a foe that fought for very life. We have seen how, even at the entry upon the war, Clarendon found that no remonstrances of his could prevent a huge a.s.set, in the prizes of war, being handed over to a corrupt clique, to be dissipated in grants that were at once illegal in method, and degrading in effect. The incidents of the war do not belong to Clarendon's life, except as they presented new problems for statesmanship, or gave opportunities for attempting accommodation.

At the opening of the war, and in spite of all that hindered efficient work, the fleet was organized upon a scale unknown before. The Duke of York was in command, and under the influence of the outburst of warlike fervour, the n.o.bility hastened to join the fleet as volunteers. Some 30,000 men manned the ships, and the Duke found himself at the head of a hundred sail. The Dutch, who were commanded by Opdam, were in no less ardent mood, and both sides were equally eager for an engagement. They soon got into touch with one another; and in June, 1665, and after some tentative attacks, a general engagement took place in Southwold Bay, off the coast of Suffolk, on the 3rd of that month. The result was a great victory for the English fleet. The Dutch lost some twenty ships, and 10,000 men in killed and prisoners. On the English side some 800 men were killed, and not a few of the leading men who had volunteered for the war fell in the fight. Amongst them was the new Earl of Falmouth, [Footnote: Sir Charles Berkeley, whose name has emerged in our narrative in no honourable guise, had the year before been created Lord Harding, and soon after Earl of Falmouth. At the same time, Bennet, another of the ign.o.ble clique, became Lord Arlington.] whose loss produced a grief on the part of Charles, for which those who had known its object were at a loss to account. A far more serious loss to the nation was that of Admiral Lawson, the very model of the best type of English sailor. He had borne the brunt of naval warfare under Blake in Cromwell's day, had materially helped to bring about the Restoration settlement, and was one of the few who played his part in that work without thought of personal aggrandizement; and he had maintained the older traditions of naval discipline against the newer school who scorned the roughness of the older type. Clarendon's simple words are his best epitaph, and they are none the less sincere because they were written of one who was an ardent Independent: "He performed to his death all that could be expected from a brave and an honest man."

The victory was a notable one, but the chance it offered of completely destroying the Dutch fleet was lost by stupid bungling on the part of the Duke of York or some one in his suite. The remnants of the Dutch fleet were making for harbour, and could easily have been overtaken by the pursuers; but for some reason never well explained--probably some timid order given by his attendant, Brouncker, in order to lessen the risk to the Duke, or, more strange still, in order not to disturb his sleep--a command was issued to slacken sail, and the fugitives escaped. The story was never cleared up, but reasons of policy brought about an order that, as heir to the Crown, the Duke should not again a.s.sume active command.

This success, incomplete as it was, might have seemed to offer a good opportunity for coming to a settlement, and again Louis XIV. was ready to give his services in the capacity of peacemaker. The Dutch were still obstinate and extravagant in their demands. But the policy of Louis was suddenly changed by the death of the King of Spain, by the new prospects which were thus opened to him, and by his hopes to secure the a.s.sistance of the Dutch in seizing Flanders. In the autumn of 1665, France was obviously ready to sacrifice the friendship of England for this new alliance. Never was the prospect more threatening. The burden of the war had been terribly severe. To that burden was added the grievous scourge of the plague now raging in London, with such intensity that it claimed 10,000 victims in one week. When in October, 1665, Clarendon laid before Parliament a narrative of the war, and asked for new supplies, the outlook for England was dark indeed. The appeal was met generously, and a new grant of 1,250,000 was voted. But the King's Ministers had to face the probability of an almost solid alliance against them. The resources of the Bishop of Munster were exhausted, and in no case could he maintain himself in the field when greater Powers intervened. Sweden and Denmark were at best but doubtful friends. France saw her opportunity. She urged that the King of England should formulate his demands against the Dutch, and so permit France to mediate and thus stop a war which was interfering with the trade of Europe, and in which the excesses of the privateers had inflicted heavy damages upon French merchantmen. The intervention of France a.s.sumed a more and more threatening aspect. At length, Clarendon had to make a firm stand against the att.i.tude a.s.sumed. The words he uses are grave and dignified.

"The counsellors of the King told the French Amba.s.sadors that their master had very well considered the disadvantage he must undergo by the access of so powerful a friend, and of whose friendship he thought himself possessed, to the part of his enemies who were too insolent already; to prevent it, he would do anything that would consist with the dignity of a King; but that he must be laughed at and despised by all the world, if he should consent to make him arbitrator of the differences, who had already declared himself to be a party; that such menaces would make no impression in the last article of danger that could befall the King." [Footnote: _Life_, ii. 437.]

The conference broke off with no doubt in the mind of Clarendon that France was resolved on war. When the Council was called to consider the situation "there was," he says, "no one present who had not a deep apprehension of the extreme damage and danger that must fall upon the King's affairs, if at this juncture France should declare war against England." But however much he withstood the outbreak of the war, it was not consistent with Clarendon's mood to yield in presence of danger.

Meanwhile no further successes had attended the prosecution of the war. By means of Henry Coventry and Talbot, efforts were still made to bind Sweden and Denmark closer to England, and in July, a scheme had been arranged by which the Dutch fleet of East Indian merchantmen, while in the harbour of Bergen, should be handed over to Lord Sandwich, who had now succeeded the Duke of York as Commander of the English fleet. The plan was not one that reflected much credit on any of those engaged in it; and it was not crowned by the atoning quality of even partial success. The Dutch showed fight, the citizens of Bergen resented the attack by the English fleet, contradictory or dilatory orders produced doubt and confusion, and the damage and loss were distributed equally amongst the attackers and the attacked. De Ruyter drew off with his convoy, and Sandwich returned from a bootless errand. France managed to detach Denmark from England, and to bring about a treaty with the Dutch which bound Denmark to a.s.sist Holland against England. Sweden remained at best a half-hearted friend.

Sandwich was injured at once by his failure at Bergen and by a peculiarly ill-conducted case of mal-appropriation of prizes, of which he was guilty.

[Footnote: Sandwich had never been a close adherent of Clarendon. But Clarendon is generous enough, in this crisis of his fortunes, to defend him against his enemies, and to acquit him of all but a somewhat awkward exercise of a right of perquisites. In Clarendon's eyes, he had the saving merit of being attacked by Coventry. See _post_, p. 235.] He was sent as amba.s.sador to Spain, and Prince Rupert and the Duke of Albemarle were appointed to joint command of the fleet. The "affection and unquestionable courage of Prince Rupert were not doubted"--so Clarendon said when arranging the matter with Albemarle--"but the King was not sure that the quickness of his spirit, and the strength of his pa.s.sion, might not sometimes stand in need of a friend, who should be in equal authority with him." [Footnote: _Life_, ii. 485. In these words, Clarendon no doubt expressed some lively memories of the days of the Civil War.] The combination did not answer well. By a fatal error--not improbably induced by Rupert's desire for independent action--the fleet was broken up, and the Prince sailed, on the credit of a false report, to meet a French fleet under Admiral Beaufort. While he was thus detached, Albemarle was attacked by the Dutch fleet, and escaped only with heavy loss. A month or two later a portion of the English fleet attacked Sch.e.l.ling--a sea-port on the Zuyder Zee--and burned a fleet of merchantmen and the town itself.

"The conflagration, with that of the ships, appearing at the break of day so near Amsterdam, put that place into that consternation that they thought the day of judgment was come, and thinking of their ships there as being out of the power and reach of any enemy; and no doubt it was the greatest loss that State sustained in the whole war." [Footnote: _Life_, iii. 80.]

But it was a costly success; "it raised great thoughts of heart in De Witt, and a resolution of revenge before any peace should be thought of,"

[Footnote: _Life_, iii. 80.] and it did not materially improve the position for England.

To the burden of the plague and of war there was now added--in September, 1666--the calamity of the Great Fire of London. Clarendon was not disposed to accept humiliating terms, but prudence forbade him to reject openings for peace. Charles offered in January, 1667, to send an emba.s.sy to the Hague to treat of peace. The place was selected because it was believed that there the party of the Prince of Orange might best balance the influence of De Witt, and give an impulse to the peace negotiations. Delay was caused by other places being proposed in its stead, but there was no unwillingness to enter upon negotiations. These, however, received their chief impulse from the separate proposals for a treaty between England and France. These proposals had at first been made through the Queen-Mother, Henrietta Maria; but at a later stage the Earl of St. Albans (Jermyn) was deputed to act for the King. The wheels of the negotiations drove heavily, and suspicion clogged the proceedings on both sides; but it became clear that both sides desired peace. Breda was now named, on the suggestion of the English King, as the meeting-place for the wider negotiations, and was accepted by the Dutch. But their intentions were still doubtful, and even when the negotiations opened at Breda, in May, 1667, they absolutely declined a proposal for a cessation of hostilities pending the negotiations. De Witt had not yet given up "the great thoughts of heart"

that the burning of Sch.e.l.ling had raised, nor had he dismissed his "resolution of revenge before any peace should be thought of." He was not without hope from the state of the English fleet; he knew well that the English Treasury was in no position to meet new outlays; and he counted upon the depression caused by pestilence and the Fire. The city would be hard put to it to advance money on the credit of the supplies newly voted.

As a fact, the largest ships of the fleet were actually laid up. Only the lighter vessels which could act against the enemy's merchantmen were kept in commission, and the necessary defences of the kingdom were reduced to a minimum, in reckless reliance on the speedy conclusion of the peace negotiations. It was that prime object of Clarendon's dislike, Sir William Coventry, who was responsible for this act of treasonable neglect. Such was the position, when De Ruyter's fleet appeared at the Nore on June 10th, 1667. The Dutch Fleet divided; one division moved up to Gravesend; another broke through the defences of the Medway, [Footnote: Works were in progress at Sheerness, and the King had visited the place, and given orders for new fortifications. The Commissioners of the Admiralty had been too busy with peculations to carry them out.] burned the guardships, captured the first-cla.s.s warship, the _Royal Charles_, and next day pursued their advantage further, and burned three more first-cla.s.s ships of war. The guns were heard in London, and for the first time for six hundred years, the way seemed open for the invader. The citizens of London realized the straits to which the folly of their rulers had brought them.

[Footnote: Disastrous and disgraceful as was the episode, the alarm and confusion which it caused at Court seemed to Clarendon even more degrading. "All they who had most advanced the war and reproached all 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 worthy to be cudgelled than fought with, were now the most dejected men, railed very bitterly at those who had advised the King to enter into that war-- and wished that a peace, as the only hope, were made on any terms"

(_Life_, iii. 251). The braggart repeats himself in all ages and all nations.]

These exploits, serious as they were, marked the limit of the Dutch success. Their memory would not soon be wiped out, and they inflicted a sore wound upon the pride of England. But De Witt could not hazard the impossible. Other attempts were made elsewhere--at Portsmouth and at Plymouth--but they were easily repelled. Even De Witt could feel that his resolution of revenge was satisfied, and he allowed the negotiations at Breda to proceed. On July 21st, treaties were there signed with France, with Holland, and with Denmark. Peace was based upon the maintenance of the _status quo_; no cession of territory was to take place. The rights of commerce and of navigation were to be as provided by the treaty of 1662. Never was a costly and devastating war entered upon more recklessly, conducted, on our side at least, with more helpless inefficiency, and closed with a smaller result in any change which it effected. The people of England accepted peace as a relief; they found in it neither honour, nor compensation for their heavy loss.

A point of no little importance may be noted before we conclude the narrative of this disastrous war, to which Clarendon was so bitterly opposed, and for which he was afterwards so unjustly blamed. Before the negotiations were completed, while the impression of the bold attack of De Witt was still heavy upon the country, and when his ships still threatened the dockyards and the home counties bordering on the Thames, a const.i.tutional question of some difficulty arose. It was necessary suddenly to levy troops and incur heavy expenses for the defences of each bank of the river. No provision had been made for this, and Parliament was prorogued until October 20th. It was debated in Council whether Parliament could be summoned in antic.i.p.ation of that date, or how otherwise money could be obtained. Clarendon saw that the meeting of Parliament could only increase the prevailing alarm, that it might lead to serious confusion, and that as a means of obtaining money, its grants would be so delayed as to be useless. For himself he held that Parliament could not legally be summoned in advance of the date proclaimed; and he strongly urged that money could be legally provided by way of loan, to be deducted from next a.s.sessment. After full debate the point was decided contrary to his advice: but fortunately before Parliament met, the peace had been concluded, and the emergency was gone. The vexed question of special supplies, and of the extraordinary powers of the Crown, was thus luckily avoided. But Clarendon's contention was soon to form a good handle of attack to his enemies.

CHAPTER XXII

ADMINISTRATIVE FRICTION

In order to be a great Foreign Minister, a statesman must follow one of two courses. He must either hold the internal affairs of the country in a grasp of iron, so securely as to impose an effectual guard against their ever becoming a source of trouble or agitation; or else he must abandon these affairs to a knot of subsidiary and secondary agents, who will be content to steer strictly according to the course which he has laid down.

Cromwell is a good specimen of the first; Chatham is the most conspicuous example of the second. Circ.u.mstances did not allow Clarendon to pursue either course, and his efforts to guide his country through the stormy sea of foreign politics were foredoomed to failure. He could look back with little satisfaction on the waste of life and treasure in the war now closed. He was thwarted by a crowd of jealous intriguers at home, and his intentions and directions as to foreign politics were often set aside by such an agent as Downing.

But from foreign affairs we have now to turn to those matters of internal politics which had necessarily occupied much of Clarendon's attention while the war was in progress. Here, again, he had to tread a th.o.r.n.y path.

It seemed as if there was no possible source of mischief which did not add something to his troubles. He saw that the recklessness of the courtiers was breeding irritation and contempt towards the Crown, and weakening the nerves and sinews of the nation. All he could now hope for in the King was, that he might to some extent hide the scandals of his Court, and not be entirely led away by the more dangerous spirits in it. Efficient aid from his master, Clarendon had ceased to expect; it would be well if the worst gang amongst the courtiers could at least be persuaded to interfere as little as might be with affairs of State.

Meanwhile the signs of widespread disaffection were clearly visible to Clarendon, and the existence of dangerous conspiracies was confirmed by the strongest evidence. These were not the less threatening because they were disseminated throughout the most dissimilar sections of society, and were actuated by the most opposite aims. The wilder sects of the Independents were avowedly animated by revolutionary schemes, and violent preachers advocated them in their "congregated churches," where they regularly a.s.sembled, in various parts of London, and stirred one another to frenzy by aspirations for the rule of the saints. Restless discontent, disappointed ambition, the jealousy of jarring factions at Court, all found ready instruments in the enthusiasts who revived many of the strange vagaries of doctrine that had been rife during the Civil War. Anabaptists and Millenarians, Fifth-monarchy men and Levellers--all were mingled together in the cauldron of religious and political frenzy. The reckless vanity of a courtier like Buckingham found it useful to cultivate the good-will of the more ardent sectaries. The Civil War had left an ample crop of bravos, who were to be hired for any outrage, and whose excesses added to the restless uneasiness that prevailed, and that made men nervously apprehensive of revolution. The religious enthusiast, and the bl.u.s.tering cut-throat of Alsatia, were equally open to the persuasions of any turbulent faction which sought to defy the law. The forces of order which Clarendon commanded were but scanty. The elements of turbulence were overwhelming in number, and were weakened only by their confusion and diversity. It was not Clarendon alone who saw and dreaded the danger of disturbance. His fears were shared even by those counsellors, such as Clifford and Arlington, who were his jealous opponents; and it was only too evident how many sources of combustion went to feed the flame of discontent. The Presbyterians, however little in sympathy with the aims of the wilder sectaries, were bitterly disappointed at the ecclesiastical settlement, and deemed that their Royalist leanings had been rewarded by the basest ingrat.i.tude. The burden of taxation was excessive, and its irksomeness was sorely aggravated by the added misfortunes of the Plague and the Fire. The confidence of the city was shaken, and the monied men shrank from making advances to a discredited administration. Even those amongst the opponents of the Court for whom the t.i.tle of patriot has been claimed--perhaps on flimsy grounds,--were not ashamed to negotiate with the French King, or the Dutch Pensionary, and to offer their services to the enemies of their country. [Footnote: On June 9, 1665, Downing writes to Clarendon that Algernon Sidney was at Breda, disguised as a Frenchman, on his way to the Hague; and that "others of that gang" were flocking to the Dutch as enthusiastic allies.] It seemed as if every evil which Divine vengeance, religious frenzy, human folly, foreign enemies abroad, and deep-rooted political discontent at home, could engender, were poured out into the welter of confusion that reigned in England during these unhappy years. In such a turbid flood had Clarendon to steer the ship of State.

It was this general confusion, and the dangers which it threatened, that formed the theme of the King's Speech to Parliament at the opening of the session in March, 1664. That Speech was doubtless composed by Clarendon, and may be taken as expressing his views. [Footnotes: It is given by Clarendon (_Life_, ii. 281) with a fullness which proves that he had the notes of it still in his possession.] "The spirits of many of our old enemies," it said, "were still active." Old conspiracies, detected in the capital, had shown themselves once more in the provinces.

"The malcontents were still pursuing the same consultation, and have correspondence with desperate persons in most counties, and a standing council in the metropolis, from which they receive their directions, and by whom they were advised to defer their last intended insurrection."

"These desperate men," he proceeded, "have not been all of one mind in the ways of carrying on their wicked resolutions. Some would still insist upon the authority of the Long Parliament, of which, they say, they have members enough willing to meet; others have fancied to themselves by some computation of their own, upon some clause of the Triennial Bill, that this present Parliament was at an end some months since; and that, for want of new writs, they may a.s.semble themselves and choose members of Parliament."