meanest vices. As soon as the Resto- | bondage. Recalled by the voice of both ration had made it safe to avow enmity the contending factions, he was in a to the party which had so long been predominant, a general outcry against Puritanism rose from every corner of the kingdom, and was often swollen by the voices of those very dissemblers whose villany had brought disgrace on the Puritan name. Thus the two great parties, which, after a long contest, had for a moment concurred in restoring monarchy, were, both in politics and in religion, again opposed to each other. The great body of the nation leaned to the Royalists. The crimes of Strafford and Laud, the excesses of the Star Chamber and of the High Commission, the great services which the Long Parliament had, during the first year of its existence, rendered to the state, had faded from the minds of men. The execution of Charles the First, the sullen tyranny of the Rump, the violence of the army, were remembered with loathing; and the multitude was inclined to hold all who had withstood the late King responsible for his death and for the subsequent disasters. The House of Commons, having been elected while the Presbyterians were dominant, by no means represented the general sense of the people. Most of the members, while execrating Cromwell and Bradshaw, reverenced the memory of Essex and of Pym. One sturdy Cavalier, who ventured to declare that all who had drawn the sword against Charles the First were as much traitors as those who had cut off his head, was called to order, placed at the bar, and reprimanded by the Speaker. The general wish of the House undoubtedly was to settle the ecclesiastical disputes in a manner satisfactory to the moderate Puritans. But to such a settlement both the court and the nation were averse. The restored King was at this time more loved by the people than any of his predecessors had Charles II. ever been. The calamities of his house, the heroic death of his father, his own long sufferings and romantic adventures, made him an object of tender interest. His return had delivered the country from an intolerable Character of position which enabled him to arbitrate between them; and in some respects he was well qualified for the task. He had received from nature excellent parts and a happy temper. His education had been such as might have been expected to develope his understanding, and to form him to the practice of every public and private virtue. He had passed through all varieties of fortune, and had seen both sides of human nature. He had, while very young, been driven forth from a palace to a life of exile, penury, and danger. He had, at the age when the mind and body are in their highest perfection, and when the first effervescence of boyish passions should have subsided, been recalled from his wanderings to wear a crown. He had been taught by bitter experience how much baseness, perfidy, and ingratitude may lie hid under the obsequious demeanour of courtiers. He had found, on the other hand, in the huts of the poorest, true nobility of soul. When wealth was offered to any who would betray him, when death was denounced against all who should shelter him, cottagers and serving men had kept his secret truly, and had kissed his hand under his mean disguises with as much reverence as if he had been seated on his ancestral throne. From such a school it might have been expected that a young man who wanted neither abilities nor amiable qualities would have come forth a great and good King. Charles came forth from that school with social habits, with polite and engaging manners, and with some talent for lively conversation, addicted beyond measure to sensual indulgence, fond of sauntering and of frivolous amusements, incapable of selfdenial and of exertion, without faith in human virtue or in human attachment, without desire of renown, and without sensibility to reproach. According to him, every person was to be bought: but some people haggled more about their price than others; and when this haggling was very obstinate and very skilful it was called by some fine name. The chief trick by which clever men | neither enjoyed the pleasure nor ackept up the price of their abilities was quired the fame of beneficence. He called integrity. The chief trick by never gave spontaneously; but it was which handsome women kept up the price of their beauty was called modesty. The love of God, the love of country, the love of family, the love of friends, were phrases of the same sort, delicate and convenient synonymes for the love of self. Thinking thus of mankind, Charles naturally cared very little what they thought of him. Honour and shame were scarcely more to him than light and darkness to the blind. His contempt of flattery has been highly commended, but seems, when viewed in connection with the rest of his character, to deserve no commendation. It is possible to be below flattery as well as above it. One who trusts nobody will not trust sycophants. One who does not value real glory will not value its counterfeit. painful to him to refuse. The consequence was that his bounty generally went, not to those who deserved it best, nor even to those whom he liked best, but to the most shameless and importunate suitor who could obtain an audience. The motives which governed the political conduct of Charles the Second differed widely from those by which his predecessor and his successor were actuated. He was not a man to be imposed upon by the patriarchal theory of government and the doctrine of divine right. He was utterly without ambition. He detested business, and would sooner have abdicated his crown than have undergone the trouble of really directing the administration. Such was his aversion to toil, and such It is creditable to Charles's temper his ignorance of affairs, that the very that, ill as he thought of his species, clerks who attended him when he sate he never became a misanthrope. He in council could not refrain from sneersaw little in men but what was hateful. ing at his frivolous remarks, and at his Yet he did not hate them. Nay, he childish impatience. Neither gratitude was so far humane that it was highly nor revenge had any share in deterdisagreeable to him to see their suffer- mining his course; for never was there ings or to hear their complaints. This a mind on which both services and inhowever is a sort of humanity which, juries left such faint and transitory though amiable and laudable in a pri- impressions. He wished merely to be vate man whose power to help or hurt a King such as Lewis the Fifteenth of is bounded by a narrow circle, has in France afterwards was; a King who princes often been rather a vice than a could draw without limit on the treavirtue. More than one well disposed sury for the gratification of his private ruler has given up whole provinces to tastes, who could hire with wealth and rapine and oppression, merely from a honours persons capable of assisting wish to see none but happy faces round him to kill the time, and who, even his own board and in his own walks. when the state was brought by maladNo man is fit to govern great societies ministration to the depths of humiliawho hesitates about disobliging the tion and to the brink of ruin, could few who have access to him, for the still exclude unwelcome truth from the sake of the many whom he will never purlieus of his own seraglio, and refuse see. The facility of Charles was such to see and hear whatever might disturb as has perhaps never been found in his luxurious repose. For these ends, any man of equal sense. He was a and for these ends alone, he wished to slave without being a dupe. Worth- obtain arbitrary power, if it could be less men and women, to the very bottom obtained without risk or trouble. In of whose hearts he saw, and whom he the religious disputes which divided knew to be destitute of affection for his Protestant subjects his conscience him and undeserving of his confidence, was not at all interested. For his opicould easily wheedle him out of titles, nions oscillated in contented suspense places, domains, state secrets and par- between infidelity and Popery. But, dons. He bestowed much; yet he though his conscience was neutral in VOL. I. G among the senators who laboured to redress the grievances of the nation. One of the most odious of those grievances, the Council of York, had been removed in consequence chiefly of his exertions. When the great schism took place, when the reforming party and the conservative party first appeared marshalled against each other, he, with many wise and good men, took the conservative side. He thenceforward followed the fortunes of the court, enjoyed as large a share of the confidence of Charles the First as the reserved nature and tortuous policy of that prince al the quarrel between the Episcopalians | governing was Edward Hyde, Chanand the Presbyterians, his taste was cellor of the realm, who was soon creby no means so. His favourite vices ated Earl of Clarendon. The respect were precisely those to which the Pu- which we justly feel for Clarendon as a ritans were least indulgent. He could writer must not blind us to the faults not get through one day without the which he committed as a statesman. help of diversions which the Puritans Some of those faults, however, are exregarded as sinful. As a man emi- plained and excused by the unfortunate nently well bred, and keenly sensible position in which he stood. He had, of the ridiculous, he was moved to con- during the first year of the Long Partemptuous mirth by the Puritan oddi-liament, been honourably distinguished ties. He had indeed some reason to dislike the rigid sect. He had, at the age when the passions are most impetuous and when levity is most pardonable, spent some months in Scotland, a King in name, but in fact a state prisoner in the hands of austere Presbyterians. Not content with requiring him to conform to their worship, and to subscribe their Covenant, they had watched all his motions, and lectured him on all his youthful follies. He had been compelled to give reluctant attendance at endless prayers and sermons, and might think himself fortunate when he was not insolently re-lowed to any minister, and subsequently minded from the pulpit of his own frailties, of his father's tyranny, and of his mother's idolatry. Indeed he had been so miserable during this part of his life that the defeat which made him again a wanderer might be regarded as a deliverance rather than as a calamity. Under the influence of such feelings as these Charles was desirous to depress the party which had resisted his father. The King's brother, James Duke of York, took the same side. ters of the Though a libertine, James was York and diligent, methodical, and fond of Claren- authority and business. His don. understanding was singularly slow and narrow, and his temper obstinate, harsh, and unforgiving. That such a prince should have looked with no good will on the free institutions of England, and on the party which was discriminating eye. It must be added peculiarly zealous for those institutions, can excite no surprise. As yet the Duke professed himself a member of the Anglican Church: but he had already shown inclinations which had seriously alarmed good Protestants. Charac Duke of Earl of The person on whom devolved at this time the greatest part of the labour of He shared the exile and directed the po- that he had a strong sense of moral and religious obligation, a sincere reverence for the laws of his country, and a conscientious regard for the honour and interest of the Crown. But his temper was sour, arrogant, and impatient of opposition. Above all, he had been long an exile; and this circumstance dearest friends. His zeal for Episcopacy and for the Book of Common Prayer was now more ardent than ever, and was mingled with a vindictive hatred of the Puritans, which did him little honour either as a statesman or as a Christian. He alone would have completely disquali- | been strongly attached, and had repeatfied him for the supreme direction of edly, where her interests were concerned, affairs. It is scarcely possible that a separated himself with regret from his politician, who has been compelled by civil troubles to go into banishment, and to pass many of the best years of his life abroad, can be fit, on the day on which he returns to his native land, to be at the head of the government. Clarendon was no exception to this rule. He had left England with a mind While the House of Commons which heated by a fierce conflict which had had recalled the royal family was sitended in the downfall of his party and ting, it was impossible to effect the of his own fortunes. From 1646 to reestablishment of the old ecclesiastical 1660 he had lived beyond sea, looking system. Not only were the intentions on all that passed at home from a great of the court strictly concealed, but asdistance, and through a false medium.surances which quieted the minds of His notions of public affairs were ne- the moderate Presbyterians were given cessarily derived from the reports of by the King in the most solemn manplotters, many of whom were ruined ner. He had promised, before his reand desperate men. Events naturally storation, that he would grant liberty seemed to him auspicious, not in pro- of conscience to his subjects. He now portion as they increased the prosperity repeated that promise, and added a and glory of the nation, but in propor- promise to use his best endeavours for tion as they tended to hasten the hour the purpose of effecting a compromise of his own return. His wish, a wish between the contending sects. which he has not disguised, was that, wished, he said, to see the spiritual till his countrymen brought back the jurisdiction divided between bishops old line, they might never enjoy quiet and synods. The Liturgy should be or freedom. At length he returned; revised by a body of learned divines, and, without having a single week to one half of whom should be Presbylook about him, to mix with society, to terians. The questions respecting the note the changes which fourteen event- surplice, the posture at the Eucharist, ful years had produced in the national and the sign of the cross in baptism, character and feelings, he was at once should be settled in a way which would set to rule the state. In such circum- set tender consciences at ease. When stances, a minister of the greatest tact the King had thus laid asleep the vigiand docility would probably have fallen lance of those whom he most feared, he into serious errors. But tact and do- dissolved the Parliament. He had cility made no part of the character of already given his assent to an act by Clarendon. To him England was still which an amnesty was granted, with the England of his youth; and he sternly few exceptions, to all who, during the frowned down every theory and every late troubles, had been guilty of polipractice which had sprung up during tical offences. He had also obtained his own exile. Though he was far from from the Commons a grant for life of meditating any attack on the ancient taxes, the annual produce of which was and undoubted power of the House of estimated at twelve hundred thousand Commons, he saw with extreme uneasi- pounds. The actual income, indeed, ness the growth of that power. The during some years, amounted to little royal prerogative, for which he had more than a million but this sum, long suffered, and by which he had at together with the hereditary revenue of length been raised to wealth and dig- the crown, was then sufficient to defray nity, was sacred in his eyes. The the expenses of the government in time Roundheads he regarded both with po- of peace. Nothing was allowed for a litical and with personal aversion. To standing army. The nation was sick of the Anglican Church he had always the very name; and the least mention General 1661. of such a force would have incensed and | he held resistance to the King's authoalarmed all parties. rity to be in all cases unlawful. A few Early in 1661 took place a general hotheaded men wished to bring in a election. The people were mad bill, which should at once annul all the election of with loyal enthusiasm. The statutes passed by the Long Parliacapital was excited by prepara-ment, and should restore the Star Chamber and the High Commission; but the reaction, violent as it was, did not proceed quite to this length. It still continued to be the law that a Parliament should be held every three years: but the stringent clauses which directed the returning officers to proceed to election at the proper time, even tions for the most splendid coronation that had ever been known. The result was that a body of representatives was returned, such as England had never yet seen. A large proportion of the successful candidates were men who had fought for the Crown and the Church, and whose minds had been exasperated by many injuries and in-without the royal writ, were repealed. sults suffered at the hands of the Roundheads. When the members met, the passions which animated each individually acquired new strength from sympathy. The House of Commons was, during some years, more zealous for royalty than the King, more zealous for episcopacy than the Bishops. Charles and Clarendon were almost terrified at the completeness of their own success. They found themselves in a situation not unlike that in which Lewis the Eighteenth and the Duke of Richelieu were placed while the Chamber of 1815 was sitting. Even if the King had been desirous to fulfil the promises which he had made to the Presbyterians, it would have been out of his power to do so. It was indeed only by the strong exertion of his influence that he could prevent the victorious Cavaliers from rescinding the act of indemnity, and retaliating without mercy all that they had suffered. Violence of the Cavaliers in the new Parlia ment. The Commons began by resolving that every member should, on pain of expulsion, take the sacrament according to the form prescribed by the old Liturgy, and that the Covenant should be burned by the hangman in Palace Yard. An act was passed, which not only acknowledged the power of the sword to be solely in the King, but declared that in no extremity whatever could the two Houses be justified in withstanding him by force. Another act was passed which required every officer of a corporation to receive the Eucharist according to the rites of the Church of England, and to swear that The Bishops were restored to their seats in the Upper House. The old ecclesiastical polity and the old Liturgy were revived without any modification which had any tendency to conciliate even the most reasonable Presbyterians. Episcopal ordination was now, for the first time, made an indispensable qualification for church preferment. About two thousand ministers of religion, whose conscience did not suffer them to conform, were driven from their benefices in one day. The dominant party exultingly reminded the sufferers that the Long Parliament, when at the height of power, had turned out a still greater number of Royalist divines. The reproach was but too well founded: but the Long Parliament had at least allowed to the divines whom it ejected a provision sufficient to keep them from starving; and this example the Cavaliers, intoxicated with animosity, had not the justice and humanity to follow. Persecu Then came penal statutes against Nonconformists, statutes for which precedents might too tion of the easily be found in the Puritan Puritans. legislation, but to which the King could not give his assent without a breach of promises publicly made, in the most important crisis of his life, to those on whom his fate depended. The Presbyterians, in extreme distress and terror, fled to the foot of the throne, and pleaded their recent services and the royal faith solemnly and repeatedly plighted. The King wavered. He could not deny his own hand and seal. He could not but be conscious that he owed much to the petitioners. He was little |
