Produced by Anne Soulard, Charles Franks
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
THE LIFE OF EDWARD EARL OF CLARENDON
LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR OF ENGLAND
VOLUME II
BY
SIR HENRY CRAIK, K.C.B., LL.D.
[Illustration: John Hampden from a miniature by Samuel Cooper in the
possession of Earl Spencer]
CONTENTS OF VOLUME II
CHAPTER
XIV. THE RESTORATION
XV. PROSPECT FOR THE RESTORED MONARCHY
XVI. DIFFICULTIES TO BE MET
XVII. SCOTTISH ADMINISTRATION
XVIII. THE PROBLEMS OF IRELAND
XIX. MARRIAGE TREATY AND RELIGIOUS SETTLEMENT
XX. DOMESTIC DISSENSION AND FOREIGN COMPLICATIONS
XXI. THE DUTCH WAR
XXII. ADMINISTRATIVE FRICTION
XXIII. DECAY OF CLARENDON'S INFLUENCE
XXIV. INCREASING BITTERNESS OF HIS FOES
XXV. THE TRIUMPH OF FACTION
INDEX
LIST OF PORTRAITS
VOLUME II
JOHN HAMPDEN
_From a miniature by Samuel Cooper, in the possession of Earl Spencer_
GEORGE MONK, DUKE OF ALBEMARLE
_From the original by Sir Peter Lely, in the National Portrait Gallery_
GENERAL LAMBERT
_From the original by R. Walker, in the National Portrait Gallery_
SIR HENRY VANE, THE YOUNGER
_From the original by William Dobson, in the National Portrait Gallery_
JOHN MAITLAND, DUKE OF LAUDERDALE
_From the original by Sir Peter Lely, in the National Portrait Gallery_
GEORGE DIGBY, SECOND EARL OF BRISTOL
_From the original by Sir Anthony Vandyke, in the Collection of Earl
Spencer_
SIR EDWARD NICHOLAS
_From the original by Sir Peter Lely, in the National Portrait Gallery_
ANNE HYDE, DUCHESS OF YORK
_From the original by Sir Peter Lely_
JAMES BUTLER, DUKE OF ORMONDE
_From the original by Sir Godfrey Kneller_
CHAPTER XIV
THE RESTORATION
After the death of Cromwell, on September 3rd, 1658, there ensued for the
exiled Court twenty months of constant alternation between hope and
despair, in which the gloom greatly preponderated. As the chief pilot of
the Royalist ship, Hyde, now titular Lord Chancellor, had to steer his way
through tides that were constantly shifting, and with scanty gleam of
success to light him on the way. Within the little circle of the Court he
was assailed by constant jealousy, none the less irksome because it was
contemptible. The policy of Charles, so far as he had any policy apart
from Hyde, varied between the encouragement of friendly overtures from
supporters of different complexions at home, and a somewhat damaging
cultivation of foreign alliances, which were delusive in their proffered
help, and might involve dangerous compliance with religious tenets
abhorred in England. The friends in England were jealous and suspicious of
one another, and their loyalty varied in its strength, and was marked by
very wide difference in its ultimate objects. It would have been hard in
any case to discern the true position amidst the complicated maze of
political parties in England; it was doubly hard for one who had been an
exile for a dozen years. To choose between different courses was puzzling.
Inaction was apt to breed apathy; but immature action would only lead to
further persecution of the loyalists, and to disaster to the most gallant
defenders of the rights of the King. With the true instinct of a
statesman, Hyde saw that the waiting policy was best; but it was precisely
the policy that gave most colour to insinuations of his want of zeal. In
spite of his exile, he understood the temper of the nation better than any
of the paltry intriguers round him; to study that temper was not a process
that commended itself to their impatient ambitions. His pen was unresting:
in preparing pamphlets, in writing under various disguises, in carrying on
endless correspondence, in drafting constant declarations. But all such
work met with little acknowledgment from those who thought that their own
intrigues were more likely to benefit the King, and, above all, to advance
themselves. They recked nothing of that sound traditional frame of
government which it was the aim of Hyde religiously to conserve. Few
statesmen have had a task more hard, more thankless, and more hopeless
than that which fell to him during these troubled months.
Hyde was saved from despair only by the intense dramatic instinct of the
historian that was implanted in him. He could, or--what came to the same
thing--he believed that he could, discern the greater issues of the time,
and what interested him above all was the vast influence upon those issues
of personal forces. When he recalled the events of his time, in the
enforced leisure of later years, it was to the action of great
personalities that he gave his chief attention, and the passing incidents
grouped themselves in his memory as mere accessories to the play of
individual character. All through his history it is this which chiefly
attracts us, and nowhere is it more striking than when he records the
passing of the greatest personal force of the age in Cromwell. It did not
occur to Hyde--and, to their credit be it said, it did not occur to any
even of the more friendly spectators on the other side--to regard Cromwell
as the embodiment of a mighty purifying force in which defects were to be
ignored or even justified on account of the heaven-inspired dictates under
which he was presumed to have acted. Just as little could Hyde conceive of
Cromwell as the great precursor of modern ideas, demanding the obedient
homage of every ardent partisan of popular rights. These were
eccentricities reserved for later historians under impulses of later
origin. Hyde was compelled by all his strongest traditions and most
cherished principles to regard Cromwell's work as utterly destructive, and
he never pretended to have anything but the bitterest prejudice against
him. To his mind, Cromwell was sent as a punishment from Heaven for
national defection, and he never concealed his hatred for Cromwell's
profound dissimulation or his abhorrence for the tyranny which the
Protector succeeded in imposing on the nation. To have assumed an
impartial attitude would only have been, to Hyde, an effort of
insincerity. It is precisely this which gives its weight to the measured
estimate which Hyde forms of his stupendous powers. His appreciation of
Cromwell is a pendant to that which he gives of Charles I. The latter is
inspired with a clear flame of loyalty; but this does not blind him to the
defects of the master for whom he had such a sincere regard. His deadly
hatred of Cromwell leaves him equally clear-sighted as to the Protector's
supreme ability.
"He was one of those men whom his very enemies could not condemn without
commending him at the same time; for he could never have done half that
mischief without great parts of courage, industry, and judgment." "He
achieved those things in which none but a valiant and great man could have
succeeded." "Wickedness as great as his could never have accomplished
these trophies without the assistance of a great spirit, an admirable
circumspection and sagacity, and a most magnanimous resolution." "When he
was to act the part of a great man, he did it without any indecency,
notwithstanding the want of custom." "He extorted obedience from those who
were not willing to yield it." "In all matters which did not concern the
life of his jurisdiction, he seemed to have great reverence for the law."
"As he proceeded with indignation and haughtiness with those who were
refractory and dared to contend with his greatness, so towards all who
complied with his good pleasure and courted his protection, he used a
wonderful civility, generosity, and bounty." "His greatness at home was
but a shadow of the glory he had abroad." "He was not a man of blood, and
totally declined Machiavel's method." When a massacre of Royalists was
suggested, "Cromwell would never consent to it; it may be out of too much
contempt of his enemies." "In a word, as he had all the wickedness against
which damnation is denounced, and for which hell-fire is prepared, so he
had some virtues which have caused the memory of some men in all ages to
be celebrated; and he will be looked upon by posterity as a brave bad
man."
These fierce words are inspired by exceeding hatred. But in spite of that,
we can see that Hyde felt himself in the presence of a greatness that
compelled respect. He was himself to exercise, in conformity with law, and
with a profound respect for it, very considerable power for a few years to
come, and was to leave his impress upon a century and a half of English
history. But that influence was only to come after a greater and a more
forceful spirit had passed away, leaving no one fit to wield the same
resistless power. Never has stern denunciation been relieved by a tribute
of more dignified admiration of unquestionable greatness. His warmest
admirers could not place Cromwell on a higher pedestal of acknowledged
grandeur, all untouched by sympathy and all unbending in condemnation
though Hyde's verdict is.
The same dramatic element is present in Hyde's picture of the scene that
followed. Cromwell's life had closed amidst clouds and thickening trouble.
The Earl of Warwick and his grandson and heir (Cromwell's son-in-law), had
both died. On that side his alliance with the great aristocracy of England
was broken. Another son-in-law, Lord Falconbridge, was alienated from him,
and refused to acquiesce in his later ambitions. Desborough, his brother-
in-law, was at least doubtful in his allegiance; and Fleetwood, a third
son-in-law, was a feeble craven, upon whom no reliance could be placed.
The fear of assassination had haunted him; and the death of Syndercombe in
prison had snatched away from him the chance of making a striking example
of one who had plotted against his life. The death of his daughter, the
wife of Claypole, had sorely tried the tenderness that was mingled with
his stern ambition, and it may be that the story of her grief at the blood
he shed had some foundation, and that the prick of conscience added to his
gloom. At least, it is certain that the sun of his success set in clouds
and darkness, which might portend the crash of the fabric he had raised.
But Hyde is keenly impressed with the absolute contrast between the
portents and the reality.
"Never monarch, after he had inherited a crown by many descents, died in
more silence nor with less alteration; and there was the same, or a
greater, calm in the kingdom than had been before." "The dead is interred
in the sepulchre of the Kings, and with the obsequies due to such. His son
inherits all his greatness and all his glory, without that public hate,
that visibly attended the other." "Nothing was heard in England but the
voice of joy." That state might have continued "if this child of fortune
could have sat still." But "the drowsy temper of Richard" was little
fitted to benefit by this apparent acceptance, much as it damped the hopes
of the exiled Court. The engagements already made with Sweden rendered
supplies necessary, and to raise these supplies it was necessary to summon
a Parliament. Cromwell's bold scheme of Parliamentary reform, by which he
had added to the county representatives and diminished those of the
smaller burghs, was departed from, and the burgh representatives were
again increased so as to give to the "Court" better opportunities of
interfering in elections. Parliament met on January 27th, 1658/9, and it
was not long before troublesome disputes again broke out. The votes were
carried by small majorities, and there were so many various parties in the
House that it was never certain when a combination of adverse factions
might outnumber the followers of the "Court." To these followers there was
opposed a strong phalanx of ardent Republicans, and the balance was held
by a nondescript element called the "Neuters," amongst whom there were
some even of Royalist leanings. Hyde was in constant correspondence with
Royalist adherents in England, as to the means by which these different
parties in Parliament might be used to involve the Government of Richard
in trouble, to accentuate such discontent as existed, and, if possible, to
steal an occasional adverse vote. But such schemes had little success.
Opposition to the Government, however, came from a source more powerful
than a divided Parliament. Lambert had been cashiered by the late
Protector; but he still retained an enormous influence in the army, and
the army had no mind to submit tamely to extinction by Parliament. A
council of the officers met to air their grievances, and Lambert, although
no longer an officer, had a place amongst them. They complained that their
pay was in arrear; that their services were neglected; that "the good old
cause was traduced by malignants"; and that Parliament must be moved to
redress their wrongs. With strange impolicy, Parliament passed a
resolution against any council of officers, and sought to impose its
authority upon a power greater than itself. The ready answer was a demand
for the dissolution of Parliament. Richard Cromwell was allowed no choice
in the matter; if he did not do it, the army, he was told, would do it for
him. He gave an involuntary assent. On April 22nd the dissolution took
place, and Richard found himself virtually deposed. For another year there
was little but anarchy in England, and any semblance of a constitution was
virtually in abeyance.
As the creature of the army, the old Rump Parliament was restored on May
7th. That was the name given to that section of the Long Parliament which
sat from 1648 (when "Pride's Purge," as it was called, was applied) to
1653, when Cromwell ejected the remaining members and summarily closed the
doors of Parliament. Of 213 members of the Long Parliament only ninety
were thus permitted to sit, and of these only seventy actually did sit.
Those who were not pronounced Republicans were excluded by the rough-and-
ready method of a military guard placed at the door of the House. Such an
assembly could have no respect from the nation, and was clearly only an
instrument by which the Council of the Army might exercise its power. "The
name of the Protector was no longer heard but in derision." [Footnote:
Richard Cromwell submitted himself, with abject and craven weakness, to
the will of this so-called Parliament. Nor did his younger brother, Henry,
the Lieutenant of Ireland, prove to have any larger share of his father's
courage.] But nothing was established to take the place of the authority
thus cast aside.
Once more, and in even greater degree, the hopes of the Royalists were
cast down. The restoration of the House which had destroyed the monarchy
seemed, in the words of Hyde, "to pull up all the hopes of the King by the
roots." In this despair the Duke of York was ready, at the persuasion of
those about him, to accept from the King of Spain the post of Admiral of
his Fleet. It offered, what there seemed but little likelihood of his
otherwise obtaining, a place of dignity and a means of livelihood. That it
necessarily involved a profession of the Roman Catholic religion was
sufficient to condemn it in the eyes of Hyde, as at once unprincipled and
impolitic. With the Duke's immediate advisers such considerations counted
for nothing.
Backed by the visible force of the army, of which Lambert, now restored to
his commission, was the virtual leader, the Rump Parliament showed a
temporary vigour. All Cavaliers were banished from London. Monk, who
commanded in Scotland, accepted the Parliament's authority. The fleet gave
in its allegiance, and the relations with foreign powers were for a brief
period renewed under the altered administration. The name of Parliament
sufficed for a time to carry conviction to the people at large that this
was the only means of preserving the Republican institutions which seemed
to embody all that they had fought for.
But the real popular support to this fantastic substitute for Government
was very small. All over the country discontent was widely spread, and had
penetrated deeply into the hearts of the people. The Royalists, detached
and ill-organized as they were, yet found themselves able to show some
boldness and to appeal more openly for armed support. John Mordaunt, a
brother of the Earl of Mordaunt, was daunted by no difficulties, and was
able without great danger to carry on correspondence with probable
adherents, to pass backwards and forwards between the exiled Court and
England, and to concoct armed risings in various parts of the kingdom. The
King took up his residence _incognito_ at Calais, in readiness to sail for
England and put himself at the head of the levies whose gathering was
confidently hoped for. The Duke of York was close at hand at Boulogne.
To the more cautious counsellors like Hyde the schemes seemed hazardous
and the time unripe for them. But even he could not refuse some response
to affections so warm and efforts so courageous as those of Mordaunt. At
the beginning of August all, it was hoped, would be ready for a series of
successful risings in different parts of the country.
There was indeed abundance of enthusiasm. From all parts of the country
offers of risings came. Sir George Booth was to seize Chester; Lord
Newport, Shrewsbury; and in Gloucestershire, Devonshire, Herefordshire,
Worcestershire, and North Wales, the Royalists were only too eager for the
work. The ludicrous weakness of the Parliament made it a matter of no
great danger to defy what could hardly be deemed an existing Government.
But the Royalists had been too long depressed and deprived of any share in
administration to take a just measure of the difficulties. They reckoned
without the army that was at the back of Parliament.
They reckoned also without that treachery which had only too ample
opportunity to work, amidst plans and associates so scattered and so
lamentably disorganized, A traitor was now, as often in these Royalist
plottings, received into their full confidence, and through him a detailed
account of all their plans was sent to Thurloe. [Footnote: John Thurloe
was born in 1616, and became a lawyer. He obtained active employment under
the Parliament, and was Secretary to the Parliamentary Commissioners at
Uxbridge. He acted as Secretary to Cromwell for secret correspondence, and
amassed enormous experience in the intricacies of foreign diplomacy, which
afterwards stood him in good stead when, after the Restoration, he wished
to make himself useful to the new Government, and thus escape the
penalties which his former political attachments would certainly have
involved. Until the Restoration was all but accomplished he gave useful
help to Richard Cromwell, but yet was able to ingratiate himself with the
new Ministers.] Hyde learned that Sir Richard Willis, [Footnote: Sir
Richard Willis had done good service to the royal cause in the war. As a
close adherent of Prince Rupert, he became, when Governor of Newark in
1645, involved in one of the many quarrels between the Civil Commissioners
and the army officers. Charles I. removed him from the Governorship, but
desired to do so without friction by providing him with a post in his own
escort. Willis's insolence in refusing this roused the King's anger so far
as to lead him to banish Willis from his presence. Willis was a good
soldier, rendered mutinous by the bad example of Prince Rupert; but it is
hard to account for his present treachery. As Warburton, in his note on
the _History of the Rebellion_ (Bk. XVI., para. 31) says, "he could
not think of starving for conscience' sake, though he had courage enough
to fight for it."] who had already played a double game of treachery, was
acting as he had acted before, when he betrayed Ormonde's presence in
London to Cromwell, and at the same time enabled Ormonde to escape by
telling him of Cromwell's knowledge. Willis's betrayal gave the
Parliamentary leaders time to collect forces sufficient to meet all
attacks; and when he had thus baulked the attempt, Willis was ready to
discover enough to prevent those whom he had betrayed from falling into
the trap. Messages were sent to delay the rising, and in most cases they
were in time to prevent outbreaks which were fore-doomed to failure. Only
Sir George Booth, in the seizure of Chester, and Middleton, in the North
Wales rising, actually carried out what had been planned. A very brief
campaign sufficed for Lambert to crush the nascent rebellion. Booth and
Lord Derby [Footnote: Son of the Earl who played so noble a part in the
war, and who was executed after the battle of Worcester in 1651.] were
prisoners in the hands of Lambert; and Middleton was compelled to consent
to the destruction of his house, Chirk Castle. Once more a brief gleam of
hope was succeeded by more profound despair, and there was nothing more to
be done by Charles and the Duke of York than to return from the French
coast to Brussels. But there was no Cromwell to crush future attempts by a
policy of ruthless revenge. A few prisoners were taken; but the time was
past for trials and executions. Legal processes were beyond the range of
the sorry faction that stood for administration in England.
But scarcely had these abortive attempts been crushed before another
avenue of hope opened itself to Charles and his adherents. It was one for
which Hyde had no great liking, and from which he expected little good
result. But obviously it was not to be neglected. After a long, barren,
and destructive war, both France and Spain were eager for peace. Neither
was ready to make the first overtures, and neither would confess an ardent
desire for peace. But an opportunity occurred, now that a wife had to be
found for Louis XIV. The Infanta of Spain offered a consort entirely
suitable, and a marriage might be arranged with the better augury if it
should prove a method of bringing to an end a mutually destructive war.
Mazarin viewed the proposal with suspicion, and was unwilling to conclude
a peace when the success of French arms seemed already secure. But the
Queen-Mother of France ardently desired the marriage, and mainly by her
efforts Cardinal Mazarin and Don Lewis de Haro were induced to treat. Most
men thought that the design was a vain one, fomented only in the
enthusiasm of family ties. But the desire for a cessation of a useless
struggle operated more powerfully than Mazarin was able to perceive; and
that desire overcame the delays and doubts of diplomatic action. The time
and place of meeting to arrange a treaty of peace were fixed; and there
was at least a fair prospect that the two Kings might soon find themselves
with free hands, and with greater power to prosecute the forcible
restoration of Charles II. to his throne. Both had often alleged that only
the poverty of their exchequer and the heavy expenses of the war prevented
any cordial and effective assistance being rendered to the exiled King.
What claim to consideration might Charles not make good, what sound
reasons of policy might it not be possible to suggest, if both were
relieved of the burdens of war?
Hyde, as we have abundant reason to know, placed no confidence in foreign
aid, and looked with suspicion upon the conditions under which it would be
granted. But he could interpose no obstacles to the present application.
He himself remained at Breda, and held the threads of all the discrepant
and varying negotiations; but he did not attempt to dissuade Charles from
making a somewhat venturesome and hopeless voyage to Fontarabia, where the
Treaty was being discussed in September, 1659. At first Charles attempted
to procure a pass from Cardinal Mazarin. But in the face of opposition by
the Queen this was hopeless, and, accompanied only by Ormonde and Bristol
and a small retinue, he made his way, incognito, through France. Even in
the strain of anxiety Charles's natural disposition showed itself in
wasting time in order to see parts of France which he had not yet visited.
The pleasure of the moment always weighed with him more than the
prosecution of business. Adversity, perhaps happily for himself, made him
callous rather than despondent.
The business of the treaty between France and Spain meanwhile advanced
more quickly than any one had ventured to hope. The difficulties as to
France's pledges to Portugal, and those of Spain to the Prince of Condé,
were somehow settled--or, at least, ignored. If France had to yield to
some pressure on the part of Don Lewis de Haro, she avenged herself by
retaining her hold on those former Spanish possessions in Flanders which
the fortune of war had placed in her hands. Sir Henry Bennet represented
Charles in Spain, and was sorely perplexed when the final ratification
approached, and the King made no appearance. Ormonde had been sent to
Fontarabia, but Charles lingered at Toulouse, before proceeding from there
towards Madrid. His presence there was not desired, and he found himself
compelled, after roundabout journeys, to put in an appearance at the scene
of the treaty. Both France and Spain held out delusive hopes of aid. Don
Lewis presented him with a dole of seven thousand pistoles, and promised a
good reception on his return to Flanders. There was nothing for it but to
make his way back to Brussels, and join once more in the plans of Hyde and
his council there. He found the prospect no more cheerful than before.
During the autumn matters had moved forward in England. Lambert had
strengthened his hold upon the army, and now pressed its authority more
urgently upon the discredited Parliament. He demanded that Fleetwood
(whose weakness made him an easy tool) should be General, and that he
himself should be Major-General. The Parliament, under the leading of
Hazlerigg and Vane, still resisted his claims, and attempted to defy him.
Their resistance was easily overcome. Lambert met Lenthall, the Speaker,
on his way to the House, compelled him to return home, and by main force
closed the Parliament. In its place was established a Committee of Safety
of twenty-three members, to which the administration was entrusted.
Besides officers of the army and some London citizens, certain
representatives of the Parliament were granted seats upon it. Lambert
seemed, for the moment, to be completely master of the situation, and the
Royalists conceived hopes that they might secure for their own cause the
assistance of the leaders of the army. Fleetwood, however, lost his head,
and would not act without the permission of Lambert. In December he
escaped from responsibility by resigning his commission. Lambert would
have been a stouter ally; and overtures seem to have been made that he
should declare for the King, and that his daughter should be the wife of
Charles. Such proposals met with no encouragement from Hyde, and were
quietly dropped. Once more Lenthall, and the remnant of Parliament which
he represented, recovered their courage and showed some energy. They met
again on December 12th, and were able to assert their authority enough to
cashier some of the officers, and commit Lambert to the Tower. Such was
the position when Charles returned to Brussels with the scanty fruits of
his mission to Fontarabia. It looked as if once more that Rump Parliament,
which had crushed the monarchy and abolished the House of Lords, was
master of the situation. To one watching events from a distance like Hyde,
parties and persons must have appeared to chase one another in a
bewildering dance, like antic figures reflected on a screen.
[Illustration: GEORGE MONK, DUKE OF ALBEMARLE (_From the original by Sir
Peter Lely, in the National Portrait Gallery_)]
Then it was that there came forward on the scene the man who, under the
guidance of circumstances rather than of any fixed line of policy, was to
be the main instrument of the restoration of the King. General Monk
[Footnote: George Monk was born in 1608, and very early sought his
fortune in war abroad, where he showed conspicuous bravery. In 1629 he
served for a time with the Dutch; but came back to England when the army
was levied in 1639 to act against the Scots. He was afterwards employed
against the Irish rebels, but joined the King at Oxford, and when fighting
in the Royalist ranks was taken prisoner, and committed by Parliament to
the Tower. He was afterwards released to serve in Ireland, apparently with
no settled purpose of deserting the Royalist cause. He served there long,
and in 1650 went with Cromwell to Scotland, commanding a new regiment,
which afterwards became the Coldstream Guards. From that time he became
the close friend of Cromwell, and at one time commanded the fleet in some
successful actions against Van Tromp. In the later years of the
Commonwealth the Government of Scotland was virtually in his hands. His
military powers were far greater than his discernment or capacity as a
statesman. His wife was the daughter of John Clarges, a farrier in the
Savoy, and, to a reputation that was none of the most savoury, added the
manners of a kitchen-maid and a slut, and the avarice of a usurer. Her
brother, who was an apothecary, became employed through the influence of
Monk. He carried over to Charles the flattering message from Parliament in
May, 1660, and was then knighted. As Sir John Clarges, he had a long and
active Parliamentary career, and did not die till 1695.] was now supreme
in Scotland, where Cromwell had placed him in command. Parliament looked
to him as the only possible counterpoise to Lambert. Hyde placed no great
reliance upon him, and shrewdly judged that he was one whose actions would
be governed by events rather than one whose foresight and initiative would
direct the progress of those events. He had abundant military experience,
was a competent commander, and not only by family tradition, but by his
own early action in the war, he was judged to be no obstinate enemy to the
royal cause. But long association with Cromwell had committed him, to all
appearance, indissolubly to the opposite cause; and, if he had no
political prescience, he was, nevertheless, eminently cautious, and was
not liable to be led astray by any fervent attachment to special views
either in politics or religion. His wife, who was a coarse and low-born
drudge, was guided by the fervour of her Presbyterian advisers; but her
religious zeal had no influence over the calmer temper of her husband. At
a juncture like the present it required no abnormal sagacity to convince
Monk that the only possible course open to him was that of impenetrable
secrecy as to his designs--even had he been more certain himself as to
what these designs might be. With admirable deliberation--for intellectual
dulness, on rare occasions, can assume the aspect of Machiavellian design
--he laid his plans for a non-committal policy. He made himself safe in
Scotland by inducing the Scottish Parliament to give him a considerable
grant of money, and by leaving behind him a sufficient portion of his army
to maintain a firm hold on the Government there. With a moderate force of
about 5000 men, he slowly advanced towards London. Parliament had invited
him; but they soon saw that Monk was not likely to be their obedient
servant, and would fain have induced him to return. Monk none the less
advanced; but it was with the utmost deliberation and circumspection,
crossing no Rubicon, and breaking no bridge behind him. No word in favour
of a royal restoration passed his lips. He frowned on all who ventured to
suggest such a course. At each stage in his advance he pronounced, with
edifying conviction, his determination to maintain the authority of
Parliament; and if the announcement bore also the condition that the
Parliament should be free, that was a condition to which none could fairly
object, and which did not seem to lessen the soundness of Monk's
Republicanism. If his sphinx-like attitude proceeded more from inability
to discern the line of least resistance, than from conscious
dissimulation, or any deliberate concealment of a far-seeing policy, it
nevertheless was pursued with much adroitness, and no other course of
action could have enabled Monk to accomplish all he did. It was this which
secured for him an apparently grateful and cordial reception from the
Parliament, although it dreaded his presence, and would gladly have heard
that he had begun his march back to Scotland. He arrived in London early
in February; and his unwilling hosts had no alternative but to bow to an
outwardly friendly authority which they had no means of resisting.
In the whole proceedings, from this time forward, there is a distinct
element of comedy, which comes as a welcome relief after the long tragedy
of Hyde's narrative, and which, even though he wrote it looking back over
an interval of checkered years, is apparent in the altered tone of that
narrative. Monk had marched slowly on the capital. When he arrived at St.
Albans, he halted there, and sent to Parliament to represent the
inconvenience that might arise from the presence of troops that had proved
unfaithful, and to ask for their removal. There was nothing for it but to
obey. Even this was not easy, because the discarded troops proved restive
and were on the point of mutiny. But their officers had disappeared, and
they were at length persuaded to leave the City clear for Monk's approach.
When that was arranged, he marched through the City and the Strand to
Westminster, and took up his appointed quarters at Whitehall. He was
received in the House of Parliament with every honour. The man whose
intentions they more than suspected, and whose presence they would gladly
have dispensed with, was told that he was a public benefactor whose happy
intervention had saved the State. "His memory would flourish to all ages,"
and Parliament would ever be grateful for his support in time of need.
"The general was not a man of eloquence, or of any volubility of speech,"
But he assured them of his unalterable fidelity. He told them of the
addresses that had reached him at every stage of his southern march, and
of the general desire "for a free Parliament." As that was just what they
were not, the avowed profession of his ardent agreement with this desire,
however constitutional, was hardly fitted to remove their uneasiness. They
were in the utmost straits for money. The exchequer was empty, and their
authority was not sufficient effectively to impose taxation. They demanded
advances from the City, and were roughly told that no advances would be
made except on the authority of a freely elected House. Would Monk support
them in this contest? He was asked to march into the City, to restore
order, and, as a sign of it, to destroy the ancient city gates. So far
Monk seemed to comply with the demands of his nominal masters. He overawed
the citizens, and executed the orders of the Parliament upon their
portcullises and gates. For the moment Parliament conceived its authority
to be vindicated. But with singular folly they accepted, with favour, an
absurd petition from Praise-God Barebone and his friends, who inveighed
against all who would question the power of the Rump Parliament, and
pressed for stern measures on all who presumed so much as to name the
restoration of the King, or who would not abjure any Government in the
hands of a single person. This roused the keen animosity of the officers,
and decided them to press on Monk an alteration of his course. Once more
he visited the City; but this time not as an enemy, but as a friend. In
good round terms he rated the Parliament for countenancing the wild
ravings of a dangerous rabble. He demanded that by a certain date they
should issue writs for a free Parliament and bring their own sittings to
an end. Their hopes were at once scattered to the winds; and in the wild
tumult of bonfires and rejoicings with which Monk's declaration was
celebrated in the City, they saw the death-knell of their own power. In
the licence of recovered liberty many toasted the King's health, and there
was none to say them nay.
Monk returned to Whitehall, and summoning some of the members to his
presence, he delivered to them in writing his views--equivalent to his
commands--as to the course which must be followed. He pointed out how all
Government was now subverted, and how necessary it was that it should be
repaired. He indicated his preference for a Commonwealth, and saw in a
moderate Presbyterianism the most promising religious settlement. But, in
truth, these were only hints as to the future; the immediate matter was
the issue of writs for a new Parliament which should decide as to the
ultimate arrangement. Only he was careful to give no sign of any readiness
to restore the King. At this stage, that might have proved a compromising
definition of his intentions.
The first step was to restore to their places in Parliament all who had
been excluded in 1648 by Colonel Pride. On February 21st, all those who
remained of the Long Parliament once more assembled at Westminster, and
the majority soon reversed the action of the Rump. Military commands were
taken from the sectarian fanatics, and replaced in the hands of men of
station throughout the land. Temporary provision was made for revenue, and
the city readily advanced what was required upon the credit of the
Parliament that was yet to meet. Writs were issued for a new Parliament to
meet on April 25th. On March 17th the Long Parliament was finally
dispersed.
The Court of Charles at Brussels had meanwhile undergone all the anxieties
of alternating hope and despair. Monk's action against the city had
confirmed their worst forebodings; but "these fogs and mists," says Hyde,"
were soon dispelled." It was only a few days later that better news
reached Hyde. Late one evening, Ormonde brought a young man to the Lord
Chancellor's lodgings, which were just beneath those of the King. The
young man [Footnote: "The man's name was Baily; he had lived most in
Ireland, and had served there as a foot-officer under the Marquis
(Ormonde)" (_Hist. of Rebellion_, Bk. xvi. p. 139).] looked "as if he
had drank much, or slept little." He had just travelled with all
expedition from London. From Lambeth, where he had been in a sort of
nominal confinement, with others of the King's friends, he had heard the
sound of the bells which had rung out when Monk came back to the city as a
friend, and had pronounced for a free Parliament. He had crossed the river
and viewed the scene of rejoicing in Cheapside; had seen the bonfires, and
heard the health of the King toasted. He had joined in open proposals for
the restoration of the rightful sovereign; and straight from those
unwonted experiences he had taken post for Dover and crossed to Ostend.
It was hard to say how much comfort could be drawn from this report. The
messenger had brought a copy of Monk's published declaration; but that
contained no word about the restoration of the King. Even were his friends
encouraged to action, it was idle to hope for success in arms without
foreign aid; and Charles and Hyde knew how small were the chances of such
aid. Were the unpurged Long Parliament restored, what better could be
hoped from them than that they would open negotiations upon the basis of
the old treaty at Newport, which the late King "had yielded to with much
less cheerfulness than he had walked to the scaffold"?
The portents, however, continued to be favourable. Addresses were received
from many whose favour for the royal cause had, hitherto, been
unsuspected, and whose new-found loyalty might well be accepted as an
indication of a change in the temper of the nation. Patience was still the
watchword urged by Hyde. The issues were ripening, and even now he may
have anticipated that bloodless restoration towards which the current was
quickly carrying the people.
A new danger suddenly arose, by the escape of Lambert from the Tower in
April. His influence in the army was unrivalled, and he alone could raise
a counterpoise to the power of Monk. So long as his rival was at large,
Monk could not, except at imminent risk, have declared himself more
decidedly. To do so would have aroused opposition that would have
strengthened that rival's hands. But Lambert's efforts were unavailing.
Had he been able to remain in London, Hyde thinks he might, in time, have
organized an effective opposition. Instead of this he felt it needful to
strike at once. He made his way to Buckinghamshire, and from that county
and Warwickshire he was able to collect a considerable force. Colonel
Ingoldsby was despatched in pursuit of him, and soon overtook him at
Daventry in Northamptonshire. Ingoldsby had been a strong adherent of
Cromwell, and (as he asserted, against his will) had been forced to sign
the death warrant of the King. He had now an opportunity of rendering a
service that might wipe out some heavy scores against him. Lambert at
first endeavoured to detach Ingoldsby from his allegiance to Monk, by
offering to espouse the cause of Richard Cromwell. But Ingoldsby rightly
judged that such a scheme was doomed to failure. Lambert's troops refused
to fight and fast deserted him, and he was easily made prisoner and once
more committed to the Tower.
[Illustration: GENERAL LAMBERT. (_From the original by Robert Walker, in
the National Portrait Gallery._)]
During the interval between the Dissolution on March 17th, and the meeting
of the new Parliament, the administration was in the hands of a Council of
State, which acted with Monk's concurrence. The hopes of the Royalists
grew apace, and prominent members of the party no longer hesitated to take
an open part in political discussion. The command of the Fleet was put
into the hands of Monk--"the General," as he was called--and Admiral
Montague, and the latter was known as one well disposed to the King, and
ready, even at an earlier date, to have taken active steps for his
restoration. Monk alone kept up his prudent reserve. Even in April he
continued to express himself as strongly averse to the restoration of
monarchy, A conference of some leading men took place at Northumberland
House. The Earl of Northumberland, the Earl of Manchester, Sir William
Waller and others whose political inclinations were in sympathy, joined in
that conference, and Monk took part in it. Even then, amongst men whose
leanings were all in favour of the King, he deemed it necessary to
maintain an attitude of doubt, and refused to consider the possibility of
a Restoration without conditions as stringent as those that had been
pressed in the last stages of the civil war.
The final steps were carried out through the agency of well-tried
adherents of the King, who were connected by old ties of friendship with
Monk. A gentleman of Devonshire--with which county Monk was closely
connected by ties of property--named William Morrice, had there spent a
studious life, but was understood to have leanings towards the Royalist
party, A friend of that unsullied loyalist, Sir Bevil Grenville, Morrice
had been left in charge of his family, now represented by young Sir John
Grenville, the son of Sir Bevil. Monk and Morrice had both been chosen
members of the new Parliament, which was to meet on April 25th, and
Morrice, who was in close touch with Monk, was vexed to find that all
proposals for the restoration of the King were coupled with severe
conditions, and were to be based upon acknowledgment of the binding force
of the Covenant. Monk took note of the dominance of the Royalist party in
that new Parliament, and soon concluded that matters were likely to move
in the direction of a Restoration, whether with his aid or no. Day by day
he became more inclined to be the foremost instrument of that now
inevitable Restoration. Grenville was of too pronounced Royalist
tendencies to be given any active part in what were still unavowed
designs; but he might be a useful instrument in the confidential
negotiations. He had credit enough with Hyde and the counsellors of the
King to be accepted without those written credentials with which it would
have been dangerous to entrust him. Morrice brought him secretly to Monk,
who bade him confer with Morrice as to the terms of the communication to
the King. Morrice fully instructed him as to the position. Monk's good
inclinations were to be conveyed to Charles, and he was to write in terms
which Monk could make public at the convenient time. The King was to
promise a very wide pardon for past offences, full liberty of conscience,
the payment of arrears of pay to the army, and the confirmation of all
sales of forfeited lands. Without such stipulations, the waverers, it was
thought, would be driven by despair to resist any scheme of restoration.
As a special charge, Monk bade Grenville insist that Charles should move
from Brussels to Breda. No trust could be placed in the fickle favour of
the Spanish Crown. Thus primed, Grenville sailed, early in April, with
Mordaunt, and arrived in due course at Brussels. The over subtlety of the
Spanish ministers made them believe that the Restoration, if accomplished
at all, would be brought about by the Levellers and Independents, who
would bring back the King with nothing more than a semblance of power. An
alliance with them alone, it was thought, would be the safest course for
Spain. Nothing could persuade Cardenas and Don Lewis de Haro that Charles
would be restored on conditions that virtually obliterated all the changes
that the civil war had brought about.
It was evident to Hyde that the conditions laid down by Monk could only be
complied with under very strict reservations. There was no wish to revive
old quarrels, or to deny any fair measure of indemnity, and just as little
did Charles desire to alienate the whole body of religious feeling outside
the Church. But it was not consistent with the honour of the King that the
indemnity should extend to the murderers of his father; nor was it
possible to leave order in the Church at the mercy of contending fanatics.
It was not difficult to devise a course which should make every reasonable
concession to the proposals of Monk, and yet not destroy the hopes of
those who looked forward with passionate earnestness to the restoration of
the old order, and were not prepared to accept as partners in their future
Government those who had formed the Court which had condemned the King. In
spite of his long absence from England, Hyde had kept himself well
informed on the trend of general feeling, and he judged that such matters
could safely be left to the national tribunal. All the disputed points
were left to be settled by Parliament. The action of the King was left
free; but on the other hand no constitutional objection could be raised to
the reservation of doubtful matters for the judgment of a free Parliament.
It was on these lines that the letters which Grenville was to carry from
the King to Monk were drafted by Hyde. One letter was addressed to Monk
and the Army; one to the House of Commons, and one to the House of Lords.
Montague received one addressed to the Navy; and the last was addressed to
the Lord Mayor and the City of London. When these letters were prepared,
the return of Grenville and Mordaunt from their secret mission was delayed
only in order that they might carry back word to Monk that the condition
upon which he insisted would be carried out, and that the King would move
from Flanders to Dutch territory. That design had to be carried out
promptly if it were to be carried out at all. There was good reason to
fear treachery on the part of Spain, and she might even so far break the
laws of hospitality as to prevent the King's change of abode, and so
cripple negotiations that might spoil her alliance with the anti-Royalist
party. It was only by the unexpected promptitude of the move that Charles
and his little Court were saved from possible delays which Spain could,
under the guise of punctilious courtesy, have interposed. Hyde had sure
information from an Irishman, then in Cardenas's employment, that such a
design was on foot. He at once communicated with Charles, and by three
o'clock in the morning, the King had started from Antwerp--which he had
already reached in his journey from Brussels to Breda. Before his
departure was known, he had already crossed the border.
From Breda, Grenville and Mordaunt were despatched to England, with their
batch of all-important letters. No pains were spared to confirm the new-
found loyalty of the General, and to assure him of the gratitude of the
King. It was in compliment to him, and on Grenville's suggestion, that
William Morrice was appointed to the Secretaryship of State, vacant in
consequence of the Earl of Bristol having joined the Roman Catholic
Church. All the letters were entrusted to the General, and although those
other than his own were sealed, copies were supplied to him, so that he
might know their contents before they were delivered and read. At the same
time a Declaration was issued under the Privy Seal, pledging the King "to
grant a free and general pardon" to all his subjects who, within forty
days, should throw themselves upon his mercy, "excepting only such persons
as shall hereafter be excepted by Parliament." For religious differences,
it was provided that they should be settled by Act of Parliament, to which
the King pledged his consent.
The messengers reached London a week before Parliament was to meet. The
General approved the letters, and found no difficulty in the reference to
Parliament of those points on which the King was not prepared to give an
unlimited pledge. The fact was that the time was already past for haggling
about terms. The tide of loyalty was now flowing with a rush that nothing
could stem. A month ago, careful observers might say that the question was
no longer whether the King was to be restored, but only as to the terms on
which the Restoration was to take place. Now, the question of terms was
already settled; the only point remaining was, who were to have the
prominent parts as agents, and were to be counted as deserving the chief
share of gratitude.
On April 25th the new Parliament met, and Sir Harbottle Grimston, who had
been one of the Long Parliament members, excluded in 1648, was chosen
Speaker. There was no long doubt as to the spirit of the new House. The
memory and the deeds of Cromwell were condemned with no uncertain voice.
They waited only for the oracle to speak before they resolved to take the
final step, and vote the restoration of the King. Not till May 1st did
Monk think fit to disclose his intention. He then announced that Sir John
Grenville was present with letters to himself and to Parliament. With
almost unnecessary parade of ceremony he stated that both were sealed and
that he would read his own only by their direction. With due gravity the
pretence was carried out, and the letters and Declaration produced a joy,
which arose not so much from their terms as from the fact that their
delivery by the General opened the door for the free flow of pent-up
loyalty. It was no moment for weighing details, or for balancing
conditions. The nation was sick to death of the heavy burden that had
crushed their life for twenty years. The voice of the constitutionalist
was silenced as effectually as the murmurs of the fanatic and the growls
of the defeated republican. The Presbyterians spoke in vain of the
Covenant; the more moderate found themselves little heeded when they spoke
of taking securities before the King was restored. "The warmer zeal of the
House threw away all those formalities and affectations." They were not
"to offend the King with colder expressions of their duty." The letter
that was sent left nothing to be desired in the lavishness of its loyalty.
Sir John Grenville was complimented, and before he was despatched with
their reply to the King's letter, he was presented with £500, "to buy a
jewel to wear, as an honour for being the messenger of so gracious a
message." "So great a change was this," says Hyde. Three months before
Grenville might have suffered a shameful death if he had been known to
have interviewed the King; he was now rewarded for bringing a message from
him.
Amidst the general rejoicings the sons of the great Protector passed
ignominiously and unheeded from the scene. Never had a great edifice of
power, raised by consummate strength of will, and proud ambition, toppled
so easily to the ground. Richard--that "child of fortune" as Clarendon
calls him--and his brother Henry, the Lieutenant of Ireland, were puppets
in the hands of each successive faction. They had readily yielded any
phantom of power they possessed into the hands of the army officers, and
when the Restoration took place they did not receive even the compliment
of notice, as items to be counted in the sweeping change. Amidst the
national joy, the poor wretch upon whom there had descended an inheritance
that he was not fit to bear, "found it necessary to transport himself into
France, more for fear of his debts than of the King, who thought it not
necessary to inquire after a man so long forgotten." [Footnote:
_Rebellion_, xvi. 374.] Clarendon points the dramatic contrast of
this contemptible exit by introducing a story of a later day. In his
subsequent wanderings abroad, Richard Cromwell visited Pezenas, in
Languedoc, where the Prince of Conti was Governor, and according to usage
he waited upon the Prince, but had the caution to make the visit under
another name. The Prince "received him with great civility and grace,
according to his natural custom, and, after a few words, began to
discourse of the affairs of England and asked many questions concerning
the King." He proceeded to discuss the late Protector. "Well," said the
Prince, "Oliver, though he was a traitor and a villain, was a brave
fellow, had great parts, great courage, and was worthy to command; but
that Richard, that coxcomb, _coquin, poltron_, was surely the basest
fellow alive. What is become of that fool? How was it possible he could be
such a sot?" His visitor did his best to lay the blame of the miscarriage
on the betrayal of Richard by his advisers. But, fearing to be known, he
speedily withdrew, and next day left the town. To such abasement had the
name of Cromwell fallen; and with this strange episode it disappears from
Clarendon's pages.
On May 8th, the King was proclaimed at Westminster Hall and in the city;
and bonfires and rejoicings took place, on a scale more prodigious even
than when Monk had declared for a free Parliament. The happy news soon
spread, and the exiled court was the resort of those who came post-haste
to renew old bonds of loyalty, or to lay the foundations of a reputation
for new-born zeal for their King. It was not long before those very
lukewarm allies, Spain and France, broke down the barriers of their
selfish caution, and vied with one another in protestations of friendship
and offers of help that was no longer necessary. The unaccustomed warmth
of their congratulations adds a new touch of comedy to the surprising
scene. The Marquis of Carracena, Governor of Flanders, who had turned a
deaf ear to all suggestions of alliance, and had not been slow to hint the
inconvenience of the King's prolonged stay in Flanders, now craved his
return to Brussels, and when the invitation was politely declined, could
only vent his rage on Cardenas, whose dense stupidity had left him so
ignorant of all English affairs, after a residence there of sixteen years.
Cardinal Mazarin persuaded Queen Henrietta to send Jermyn (now Earl of St.
Albans) to invite the King to France. Against that suggestion also, good
excuse was pleaded--"the King had declined to return to Brussels, and
could not therefore pass through Flanders in order to go to France." The
mockery of these shameless overtures of belated friendship might well add
to that cynicism which his experiences had done so much to imprint on
Charles's heart and brain.
Crowds now came to Breda, no longer as disguised fugitives, but in eager
rivalry to have their loyalty published and recognized. Their money
offerings were welcome, as they enabled the King to pay his servants their
arrears of wages and clear himself from the burden of debt to which he had
been long accustomed. The States-General of Holland besought him "to grace
the Hague with his royal presence," and received him with all the honour
that an anxious ally could display, and all the pomp of magnificence which
their wealth enabled them to lavish on the festivities with which they
marked his visit. A few days later, letters were brought from Montague,
who commanded the fleet, to announce his presence on the Dutch coast, and
to ask the orders of the King. The Duke of York assumed the supreme
command, and a day was passed in receiving the catalogue of the Fleet, and
renaming those ships which recalled dismal memories of the Commonwealth.
Soon after, the deputation from the Lords and Commons arrived at the
Hague, bearing the supplication of both Houses "that his Majesty would be
pleased to return, and take the Government of the kingdom into his hands,"
and as an earnest of their loyal duty they presented £50,000 to the King,
£10,000 to the Duke of York, and £5000 to the Duke of Gloucester. A
deputation from the City attended at the same time, to tender their
loyalty to the King, and to make an offering of £10,000. It was little
wonder that the King, who a few weeks before was hard put to it to borrow
a few pistoles, and was deep in debt for the maintenance of his household,
should receive such messengers with overflowing welcome. The citizens of
London were sent home rejoicing in the honour of knighthood--in abeyance
for twenty years, and now conferred on the whole of the deputation.
At the same time there arrived a deputation of the Presbyterian clergy who
had different aims in view. They could lay no lavish offerings at the
King's feet, and could bring no contribution to the tide of spontaneous
loyalty. But they could plead that they had had no lot or part in the
fight against the monarchy or in the murder of the King, and that they had
given some effective aid in the resistance to the Commonwealth. Could they
not manage to secure beforehand some compliance with their religious
views, some concessions to tender consciences, some hope that the
ceremonies, which their souls hated, would be dispensed with? The Book of
Common Prayer had been long disused; might it not be relegated to
permanent abeyance, like the feudal tenures, which all agreed should be
swept away? Might not, at least, only parts of it be revived, to be
mingled with more edifying forms of extempore prayer?
This was precisely what Hyde was not prepared to concede, and Charles
answered in the spirit that he would have wished, and must have prompted.
The King was ready to give toleration to tender consciences, but he
claimed liberty also for himself. In his own presence and by his own
chaplain, the Common Prayer Book should certainly be restored. "He would
never discountenance the good old order of the Church in which he had been
bred." We can have little doubt by whom this answer was inspired. The
Presbyterian ambassadors were forced to return with the consciousness that
the day of their triumph was gone, and that the Church would oppose to
their pretensions a front of resistance as determined as that of the
Independents.
On May 24th, Charles sailed in the ship, lately named the
_Protector_, but now rechristened as _The Prince_. On the 26th he landed
at Dover, and on May 29th, he was back in the Palace of his fathers, and
the universal acclaim evinced the heartfelt joy with which his people
hailed the restoration of their King. The ship which Hyde had steered so
long and warily was safe in port. A new and perhaps harder task awaited
the pilot.