THE DUTCH WAR
Bristol had shot his bolt prematurely, and was foiled in his attack upon
Clarendon. For the moment the Chancellor's authority seemed to be
consolidated by the very machinations of his enemies. But the rancour of
the intriguers was none the less vigorous, and it required all his courage
and steadfastness to maintain the load of public care that hung upon him
while he saw his influence undermined by secret slander. He knew well that
the King was listening to those who spared no effort to excite his
jealousy of Clarendon's control; that the easy humour which prompted
Charles to avoid a rupture was no trustworthy shield against the effects
of his growing irritation. He saw that the Court was sinking deeper in the
mire of licentiousness and corruption, and was daily rousing against it
more emphatically the anger and contempt of the nation, and making his own
task of consolidation more hopeless. The anxieties and hardships of long
years of civil war, of exile, and of poverty, were telling sorely upon his
own health, and much of his work had to be carried on from a sick-bed, and
under the strain of painful illness. Ambition had never played a great
part in his life; and even gratified ambition would have been ill-paid by
high place and sounding titles, when these were accompanied by baffled
hopes, and by the sight of his ideals fading into unreality. But his
difficulties were now to be increased, as he saw the nation gradually
drifting into war, under the promptings of a selfish and reckless faction,
who exploited national jealousies for their own purposes, and, mistaking a
spirit of boastful bluster for courage and determination, sought to supply
the place of deliberate preparation by thoughtless provocations. And all
the while he knew perfectly well that, if disaster ensued, his enemies
would lay the blame on him.
Between England and the Dutch Republic, the causes of irritation had been
rapidly accumulating. The centre of the commerce of the world had now
shifted to North-Western Europe, and the growing commercial interests of
the day were a sure and increasing source of international jealousy. The
rivalry between England and Holland had begun before the Civil War, and
during that war Holland had found in England's distractions a splendid
opportunity for stealing a march on her most powerful rival. In her
colonial enterprise she had easily outstript Spain and Portugal, and more
than held her own with England. Her trade was the largest of the world.
Her fleet was admirably equipped, and the great traditions of her naval
commanders were worthily maintained since the death of Van Tromp, by De
Ruyter. If her marvellous prosperity carried within itself the seeds of
decay, these were not as yet apparent; and however dangerous were her
internal dissensions, they were for the time neutralized by the cunning
and the capacity of De Witt. No Power had better reason to recognize the
imperial force of Cromwell, and none was more keenly conscious of the
contrast between his master will, and the vacillating and distracted
counsels that now prevailed at the Court of England. Clarendon saw the
position as well as they. He knew how poor was the bulwark supplied by the
noisy loyalty of the Restoration, and how imperatively necessary it was to
consolidate authority at home before launching upon a foreign war. We have
already spoken of Cromwell's Navigation Act, forbidding any imports into
England except those carried in English ships, or in ships belonging to
the country of origin, and of the deadly wound which that Act had
inflicted upon the Dutch carrying trade. The Act had, as we have seen,
been renewed by the Parliament of 1661; but it remained to be seen whether
England could maintain by force of arms the supremacy which such
legislation assumed. If this was to be done, it could be only by careful
preparation, by establishing a sound financial system, and by presenting a
united front. All these essentials were ignored by the recklessness of
Clarendon's enemies, and his efforts to secure them were baffled by the
profusion, the waywardness, and the petty irritation of the King.
The Dutch could offer no direct opposition to the Navigation Laws; but in
colonial affairs they had ample opportunity for inflicting injury upon
England, and they were not slow to avail themselves of it. A tariff war
between the two countries had already begun. The woollen manufacturers of
England were threatened by the high import duties imposed by the Dutch
upon English goods; and England endeavoured to meet these by prohibiting
the export of wool. Each Parliamentary session saw new import duties
imposed upon foreign goods imported into England, and in many cases their
importation was absolutely prohibited. The rivalry in the fishing trade
led to conflicts which were carried almost to the point of war, and the
fishing fleets from the Dutch and English ports both reckoned, as an
ordinary experience, on having to defend themselves by armed force. But it
was on the West coast of Africa, and in the East Indies, that the two
Powers came into most serious collision, and there the bitterness of
rivalry was increased by a long catalogue of wrongs suffered on both
sides. The estrangement was intensified when the chief colonial rival of
Holland seemed likely to become, by the marriage treaty, the ally of
England, and when Portugal threatened, in the confidence of that alliance,
to prosecute her schemes of vengeance for the aggressions of the Dutch. It
became of the first importance for the Dutch to patch up some sort of
treaty with Portugal before the English alliance should be cemented, and
this was the object of the statesmen of the United Provinces. To
counteract this seemed to some to be the soundest policy for England.
The negotiations at the Hague were carried on by Sir George Downing, who
without being a leading statesman, or wielding any considerable authority
in England, yet managed to exert no little influence upon the course of
affairs at a very critical juncture. His career had been a strange one. He
was of obscure birth, but had managed to ingratiate himself with the
Protector, and was employed in various capacities--ranging, it would
appear, from chaplain to scout-master--in the Scottish army. In 1656, he
appeared in Cromwell's Parliament, as member for Haddington, and secured
for himself a plurality of offices, which combined a tellership of the
Exchequer, with the captaincy of a troop of horse. The time was favourable
for the adventurer whose advance was delayed by no scruples of conscience,
and no deficiency of self-assurance; and Downing increased his importance
by a marriage with the sister of Howard, first Earl of Carlisle. We next
find him resident at the Hague, as Cromwell's representative, and exerting
himself, with obtrusive zeal, in urging the exclusion from Dutch territory
of the exiled King and his Court. But Downing was one of those who
readily, and with no troublesome qualms of conscience or of honour,
accommodate themselves to changes of political circumstances. He was
astute enough to foresee the coming Restoration, and easily secured the
confidence and gratitude of Charles by betraying the secrets of those
whose agent he was. He rendered a useful service in betraying to Charles's
advisers the double-dealing of Sir Richard Willis, the Royalist who
stooped to be spy for Cromwell, and compounded with his conscience by
taking care that his betrayals should be accompanied by warnings which
enabled those whose movements he betrayed, to provide for their own
safety. Downing carefully copied the manoeuvres he exposed, and was
dexterous enough to arrange that he should continue, by an easy
transference of allegiance, to act at the Hague for Charles, in the same
capacity as he had acted for Cromwell, He had gained experience which was
eminently useful; and he was soon ready to show the same relentless skill
in tracing the hiding places of fugitive rebels, as he had lately shown in
harassing the exiled Royalists. He was a man of unquestionable ability, of
dauntless audacity, and restless activity; but he moved the hatred and
contempt alike of Royalist and rebel, for his arrogance, his brazen
insolence, and his cynical lack of conscience. Clarendon had now to use
him as agent in a series of complicated diplomatic transactions. To his
perspicacity, promptness, and determination, the Chancellor might trust.
But again and again, in his correspondence, Clarendon has to urge caution,
to rebuke Downing's arrogance, and to expostulate with him for an attitude
deliberately provocative, and neglectful of the plainest instructions
inculcating prudence and reserve. Clarendon was to have his instinctive
dislike of the man aggravated by many future provocations in other fields.
At this time, he found him the most dangerous of agents in a negotiation
of the utmost delicacy--one impatient of control, impetuous in temper,
reckless by his greed of self-glorification, and too intent upon achieving
a diplomatic triumph, to pay any attention to the risks of premature
hostilities. Downing was determined to prevent the concession of any
substantial advantages to the Dutch by means of the Portuguese treaty, and
did not hesitate to assert that any such concession would be treated by
the King of England as a breach of the engagement between Portugal and
himself. Clarendon was not prepared to assume such an attitude. An open
breach between Portugal and the United Provinces would undoubtedly have
involved England in war.
"You must set all your wits on work to prevent this war, which will
produce a thousand mischiefs, "wrote Clarendon to Downing; [Footnote:
Letter of November 22nd, 1661.] "the Dutch will undergo their full share
of them; nor can any good Dutchman desire that Portugal should be so
distressed as to fall again into the hands of the Spaniards."
Clarendon, of course, was alive to the disadvantages of a grant by
Portugal to the Dutch of privileges of trade equal to those possessed by
England. But if Portugal agreed to indemnify England for any loss of
exclusive privilege, then, in God's name, let them sign what treaty they
pleased. Anything rather than be plunged in a war to which the resources
of the nation were not equal, and which would inflict a far more crushing
blow upon those commercial interests in defence of which it would be
waged, than could be involved in any unduly generous treaty concessions to
a rival. The treaty was ratified, and for the moment the breach between
the United Provinces and Portugal was avoided.
Other grounds of quarrel soon supervened. Charles had strongly espoused
the interests of his sister's child, the young Prince of Orange, whose
exclusion, through the instrumentality of De Witt, from the office of
Stadtholder, which had been held by his father, was keenly resented by the
English King. Downing was instructed to support the Prince's claim, and
was ready, with his usual headstrong pugnacity, to make it an essential
condition of any treaty that these should be conceded. "The Dutch would
not hazard their trade," he wrote, "upon such a point." But he failed to
notice that the point involved the influence of De Witt, the most powerful
man in Holland. Once again Clarendon had to moderate the impetuosity of
his representative: we could make no such stipulation. "Upon what grounds,
I pray," wrote Clarendon to Downing, "can the King, in renewing a league
with the States-General, demand that they should choose a general of his
recommendation?" It would be time enough to intervene when we had
established peace. Then, and then only, could we think of fighting against
the intrigues of De Witt with any prospect of success.
Clarendon knew well that nothing would suit the plans of Louis XIV. so
entirely as an internecine war between England and the Dutch. Nor was this
the sole danger to be feared from engaging in hostilities. It was only by
a peace with Holland, that the fear of new dissensions at home could be
allayed.
"There is nothing," writes Clarendon to Downing, in August, 1661, "the
seditious and discontented people here do so much fear as a peace with
Holland, from the contrary to which they promise themselves infinite
advantages." "If this peace can be handsomely made up, and speedily, great
conveniences will arise from it; and we may, after two or three years'
settling at home, be in the better position to do what we find fit."
For the present, the aim of Clarendon's policy was to restore the position
to what it had been under Cromwell. If the conditions essential for the
free expansion of English trade were secured, the more distant quarrels
between the different trading companies in the East Indies and Africa
might be matter for subsequent argument, and the dynastic claims of the
House of Orange might be postponed to a more convenient season. With these
clear aims before him, it was not found impossible by Clarendon to arrange
a treaty between England and the United Provinces, which was signed at
Westminster, in September, 1662. Each was to aid the other against rebels,
and neither was to harbour fugitive rebels from the other Power. The naval
supremacy of England was to be acknowledged by the lowering of the flag by
Dutch vessels. The island of Polerone in the Malay Archipelago--an old
subject of contention--was to be restored by Holland. There was to be full
freedom of trade between the two Powers. The quarrels of the independent
trading companies of each Power in Africa and the East Indies were not to
involve war, but were to form subject of arbitration, and equitable
settlement after a due interval. No dispute was to be revived which dated
earlier than 1654, and later claims which were still outstanding were to
be settled by Commissioners appointed by the two Powers. This last article
alone was soon found to involve grounds of dissension far-reaching enough
to have broken up the peace, even had no other irritating causes
supervened.
But all other causes of hostility were of comparatively small importance
compared with the essential and insuperable rivalry in colonial trade. It
was in these new and expanding markets that the question of European
commercial supremacy must be fought out. The command of them was of
absolutely vital importance in the inevitable struggle for existence
between the two nations. They were chiefly in the hands of great and
independent companies working under the protection of either Power. These
companies were careless of international rights; zealous only to secure
their own commercial monopoly, and certain of being backed up by all the
resources of their own State. In England there were three of these great
companies--the Turkey Company, the East India Company, and the Royal
African Company. Each could rely upon powerful political support, and
their ambitions were supported by the solid mass of England's commercial
class. Early in the session, which began in March, 1664, the grievances
from which English commerce suffered under the overweening insolence and
repeated aggressions of the Dutch, were laid before Parliament. Heavy
losses were alleged to have been suffered, and the dangers of the total
decay of the trade were forcibly foretold. Parliament was not slow to take
the alarm. Both Houses concurred in the resolution--
"That the wrongs, dishonours, and indignities done to his Majesty by the
subjects of the United Provinces, by invading of his rights in India,
Africa, and elsewhere, and the damages, affronts, and injuries done by
them to our merchants, are the greatest obstruction of our foreign trade;"
and they prayed that speedy and effectual means should be taken for
obtaining redress, and for preventing such injuries in future. It was
clear that the national temper had been thoroughly aroused, and would
insist on asserting itself. Clarendon's influence is seen in the
moderation of Charles's reply. He approved their zeal and promised
inquiry, but went no further than to undertake that his Minister should
demand reparation, and take steps for the prevention of such wrongs in
future.
The bellicose attitude of Parliament had given much alarm to the Dutch.
"The resolution of the two Houses of Parliament," writes Downing to
Clarendon, [Footnote: Letter of April 29th, 1664.] "is altogether beyond
their expectation, and puts them to their wits' end." "Believe me," he
goes on, "at the bottom of their hearts, they are sensible of the weight
of a war with his Majesty."
The moderation of the King's reply served to allay the Dutchmen's fears of
the imminence of war; but De Witt found it prudent to promise that he
would do his utmost to meet the English demands. He expressed to Downing
"with great appearing joy," his satisfaction with the King's reply; and
said that "since his Majesty had so tenderly declared himself, he would
upon that account condescend so much the more to give him satisfaction."
Downing doubtless thought that the demand went unduly far in the direction
of moderation. But if he had any fears that pacific motives would prevail,
he was soon to be undeceived. For the moment war seemed to be averted.
Louis XIV.--however he might wish to see the naval Powers exhaust
themselves by mutual injuries--had no wish to see the outbreak of a war in
which the Treaty rights of the Dutch warranted them in calling for his
assistance, and he offered himself as a mediator. But both the disputants
were drifting rapidly to the arbitrament of arms.
Downing had a powerful ally for his own warlike inclinations in the Duke
of York. James was restless when deprived of opportunity of adding to his
influence, and satisfying his chief ambition, by engaging in some warlike
operation. He had already acquired some reputation, not without warrant,
as a capable naval commander, and as a man of personal courage. He had
little opportunity of political action in England, and a war with the
Dutch not only promised vengeance for old grudges against the nation, but
offered a good chance of winning new renown. He had other less creditable
motives. He had taken an active part in the management of some of the
great trading companies, and was deeply interested in various colonial
enterprises. In March, 1664, James obtained a grant of Long Island on the
American coast--a territory nominally belonging to the English, but now,
in default of their colonizing it, occupied by the Dutch, who had built a
town called New Amsterdam. With the help of two ships of war, lent him by
the Crown, the Duke organized an expedition to seize the island. The
scanty Dutch colony could offer no effective resistance. Their town was
ceded to the emissaries of the Duke, who changed its name to one destined
to hold a large space in the history of the world. New Amsterdam became
New York, as the result of a buccaneering raid, carried out by some three
hundred men, hired by the Duke of York to prosecute a private
proprietorial claim.
The Duke was also Governor of the African Trading Company, and this again
brought him into even more serious conflict with the Dutch. That company
had established its operations upon the Guinea coast before the Civil War,
and had carried on a successful trade, which had been grievously
interrupted by the troubles at home. The Dutch had, meanwhile, established
a rival factory, and prosecuted their trade with such success as seriously
to cripple that of England. After the Restoration, the company was re-
organized, and the Duke being persuaded to become Governor, a Royal
Charter was easily obtained. Those who knew the region were convinced of
its promise; and high profits were confidently expected by bartering
English goods against the gold and the slaves, of which the supply was so
rich. The gold was brought in sufficient quantities to give the name of
"Guineas" to a new designation in the English coinage; and the slaves were
easily disposed of at a high price to other plantations in various parts
of the globe. The only inconvenience arose from the hindrance which the
Dutch could offer to English trade, by means of their own superior trade
organization, and the more suitable situation of their factory.
Once more the difficulty in the way of the Duke and his Company was
settled by an armed raid. Exactly as in the case of New York, he
"borrowed" two ships of war from the King, and sent an expedition under
the command of Sir Robert Holmes, which, by a flagrant violation of every
international right, seized the Dutch fort. The balance of wrong was thus
roughly reversed. By an act of unwarrantable violence the Duke of York had
fixed upon his own nation the burden of maintaining what amounted to
piratical aggression; and he had done it--as Clarendon is obliged to
allow--"without any authority, and without a shadow of justice,"
[Footnote: Letter to Downing, October 28th, 1664.]--solely in satisfaction
of his own private rights as a company promoter. Clarendon's diplomacy
was, of a truth, conducted under untoward circumstances! Between the
filibustering of his royal son-in-law, and the deliberate exasperation of
his accredited representative at the Hague, peace had become well-nigh
hopeless. Under such conditions negotiations became tangled beyond the
possibility of repair. De Witt recognized that no reparation for the wrong
done at Cape Verde would be secured except by armed force. But in carrying
out this purpose he still endeavoured to avoid any declaration of war. De
Ruyter and the English Admiral Lawson were now cruising in the
Mediterranean, on a joint expedition, for suppression of piracy, and for
releasing the captives of Tunis and Algiers. De Ruyter secretly separated
himself from his English ally, sailed for Cape Verde, and there took
vengeance for the English aggression on the trading operations of the
Dutch. It was an open breach of the stipulation of the Treaty, which
required that reparation for colonial wrongs should be sought by peaceable
arbitration. Clarendon had recognized fully that such reparation was due,
and had instructed Downing to offer it. The elusive tactics of De Witt,
and the armed intervention of De Ruyter, frustrated Clarendon's efforts
for a peaceful settlement.
Already Clarendon's pronounced inclination for peace had earned for him
the ill-will which the Duke of York's habitual sulkiness of temper was so
apt to indulge. The King had given their due weight to the arguments of
the Chancellor, and felt the danger which war would involve at once to his
own authority at home, and to the position of England in Europe. This he
had impressed upon his brother; and James rightly ascribed the King's
backwardness to Clarendon, and found a convenient medium of remonstrance
in his wife, whom he instructed to explain to her father the Duke's
annoyance at finding him his chief opponent "in an affair upon which he
knew his heart was so much set." [Footnote: _Life_, ii. 240.] It was
characteristic of James that he should deal with a matter of vital
interest to the kingdom, as if it was the fitting subject of petty
personal pique. Anne undertook the duty, and begged her father no longer
to oppose the Duke. Clarendon told her that she "did not enough understand
the importance of that affair;" but he would speak to the Duke about it.
At their interview, James renewed his tone of personal annoyance, urged
the expediency of the war, and above all complained that, as "he was
engaged to pursue it," Clarendon should allow the world to see "how little
credit he had with him."
Clarendon's reply was as dignified as it was candid. "He had no
apprehension that any sober man in England, or his highness himself,
should believe that he could fail in his duty to him, or that he would
omit any opportunity to make it manifest, which he could never do without
being a fool or a madman." But on the other hand he would never give
advice, nor consent to anything, which his judgment and his conscience
told him would be mischievous to the Crown and to the Kingdom, "though his
royal highness, or the King himself, were inclined to it." From the first,
the King, he told the Duke, had been "averse from any thought of this
war;" but he did not deny that he had done all in his power to confirm the
King in that opinion. A few too complacent friends, he told the Duke,
might for the moment concur in his view; reflection would soon change
their minds. "A few merchants, nor all the merchants in London, were not
the city of London, which had had war enough, and could only become rich
by peace." The hopes of a liberal grant from Parliament were delusions. He
was old enough to remember what had been the fate of James I., who had
been tempted "to enter into a war with Spain, upon promise of ample
supplies; and yet when he was engaged in it, they gave him no more supply,
so that at last the Crown was compelled to accept of a peace not very
honourable;" and, Clarendon might have added, to begin that long struggle
over supply which had led to the Rebellion.
Clarendon's plain speaking did not end here. The Duke plumed himself upon
his military prowess, and was eager for the war because of the laurels
which he believed it had in store for him. With a better appreciation of
his son-in-law's abilities, Clarendon begged him to reflect "upon the want
of able men to conduct the counsels upon which such a war must be carried
on." For a time it had seemed as if the Duke were ready to listen to
reason, and there had been less talk of war; but the recent aggressions on
both sides had dispelled such hopes. De Ruyter had inflicted heavy injury
on the English merchants on the African Coast. This was answered by an
attack by Prince Rupert's fleet upon the Dutch merchantmen in the Channel.
War had virtually begun, in spite of all the Chancellor's counsels of
prudence, and all his warnings of the imminent danger. Specious proposals
for a settlement were now too late.
"Though I am very glad," wrote Clarendon to Downing, [Footnote: Letter of
October 28th, 1664.] "to find any temperate and sober considerations,
which dispose that people to peace, I wish they had entertained it sooner,
for I scarce see time left for such a disquisition as is necessary. They
have too insolently provoked the King to such an expense, that fighting is
thought the better husbandry."
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 assist 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 assuredly
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 multitude 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 _protégés_ 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 constitutional
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
circumstances, 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 circumstances 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 constitute
Lord Ashley Treasurer of all the monies raised upon prizes of war, to
assign 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 ignoble
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 amusement 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 ignoble 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 rectitude 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 constitution 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 association 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 constitutional 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 asset, 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 nobility 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 ignoble
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 assume 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 assistance
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 assumed a more and more threatening aspect. At length, Clarendon
had to make a firm stand against the attitude assumed. The words he uses
are grave and dignified.
"The counsellors of the King told the French Ambassadors 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 assist 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 ambassador 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 passion, 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 Schelling--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 embassy 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 Schelling 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-class warship, the _Royal Charles_, and next day
pursued their advantage further, and burned three more first-class 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
constitutional 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 anticipation 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
assessment. 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.