The Popish Plot: A study in the history of the reign of Charles II

by John Pollock

CHAPTER III

SHAFTESBURY AND CHARLES

Of all men whose reputation was made or raised by the Popish Plot, none have since maintained their fame at so even a height as John Dryden. His person but not his name suffered from the changes of fortune, and at a distance of more than two centuries the sum of continuous investigation has little to add to the judgments passed on his times by the greatest of satirists. The flashes of Dryden’s insight illumine more than the light shed by many records. In politics, no less than in society, his genius had ample room. The Plot gave him a subject worthy of a master:—

Some truth there was, but dashed and brewed with lies

To please the fools and puzzle all the wise:

Succeeding times did equal folly call

Believing nothing or believing all.

This plot, which failed for want of common sense,

Had yet a deep and dangerous consequence;

For as, when raging fevers boil the blood.

The standing lake soon floats into a flood,

And every hostile humour which before

Slept quiet in its channels bubbles o’er;

So several factions from this first ferment

Work up to foam and threat the government.[400]

The lines are a witness against the two great parties whose intrigues were woven to menace the security of the English state. Oates’ false oaths ruined the hopes of the Roman Catholics: the designs of the English Whigs were grounded on them.

Anthony Ashley Cooper, Earl of Shaftesbury, was the first statesman to learn the art of organising support for policy from an entire nation. His course in life was determined by the belief that it is the business of a politician to succeed, and to that mass of mankind which is of the same opinion he should be at once apostle and martyr. No means which made for the end he had in view came amiss to his hand; by using good and bad alike, he won the power of drawing round him men who could make some show of virtuous conduct in company with scoundrels of the choicest villainy; and he used them with infinite address. From the age of twenty years he had lived in the glare of public life, ever rising on the tide, true to his own principles and false to all whom in their interest he could serviceably betray. In the Civil War he fought for the king and served him well. As a member of Barebones’ Parliament he was for Cromwell against the Saints. When the Protector threw the lot for absolute rule, it was in him that parliamentary government found its keenest supporter. To this course Shaftesbury remained faithful. The throne on which “foolish Ishbosheth” sat became more rickety under his attacks. When that shadow of his father vanished from the scene, he strove with success against the despotism of the army. He was sent by the Convention Parliament as one of the two commissioners to invite Charles II to return to his kingdom. Under the restored monarchy Shaftesbury found a fair and a wider field for the exercise of talents which he devoted to the cause of religious and political freedom and commercial enterprise. At his request John Locke drew for the state of Carolina a constitution in which toleration was a prominent idea. In the office of Lord Chancellor he earned an abiding reputation for speed and purity of justice. He was an ardent foe of the Dutch republic, the threatening rival of English prosperity. He opposed the Stop of the Exchequer. As the last act in the service of government he counselled the Declaration of Indulgence, for when that was withdrawn there was nothing more to hope from the crown in the fight for liberty. At last he knew the Catholic tendency of the king and, learning perhaps the dupe that he had been made by the Treaty of Dover, flung himself into the bitterest opposition.

The foundation of the Whig party may be referred to the year 1675, when the French ambassador first contracted an alliance with a cabal consisting of four lords, Buckingham, Wharton, Ogle and, chief among them, Shaftesbury,[401] From that time onwards Shaftesbury enjoyed a growing ascendency over his partners. The fight over the bill of Non-Resistance brought them closely together; their victory, though it was by an artifice, gave them strength. But while the new party gained followers in Parliament and support in the country, it was some time before further success was achieved. The Cavalier, otherwise known by the nicknames of the Pensioned and the Pump, Parliament depended too much on the court to allow the possibility of complete triumph to the opposition.[402] Away from Westminster the terror of popery, with a Catholic successor to the crown in view, dominated the country, and on this basis the programme of the Whigs was constructed. Popery and slavery, to quote Shaftesbury’s memorable phrase, went hand in hand. The Whigs aimed at securing the liberties of the nation and reducing the Catholic religion to impotence. The overthrow of Danby with his policy of Anglican supremacy, the dissolution of the House of Commons which lavish and ingenious corruption had bound to his side, the destruction of the Catholic strength in the House of Lords, the downfall of the Duke of York; these were the main ideas in their system. Yet so long as the Lord Treasurer led the Commons by his purse-strings they were unable to mark progress in the open, however much they might gain behind the scenes. So the next two years brought only failure. When Parliament met in February 1677 after a prorogation of fifteen months, the Whigs, resting their case on an obsolete statute of Edward III, elected to argue that after so long an interval it had no legal existence. The move resulted in immediate victory to the government, and Buckingham, Shaftesbury, Salisbury, and Wharton, the chief movers in the Lords, being ordered to ask pardon of the House for their offence, and refusing, were sent to the Tower. Thus, said Marvell, a prorogation without precedent was to be warranted by an imprisonment without example. Danby was strong enough to obtain an unconditional vote of £600,000. When however he introduced a bill for the better securing of the Protestant religion in case of a Catholic heir to the throne, though its drastic provisions passed the Lords easily enough, the mere fact that it seemed to legalise such a state of things roused against it the fury of the Commons, who threw it out, with the added indignity of noting in their journal, Because the body of the bill was contrary to the title.[403] After a few weeks three of the imprisoned peers made submission and were set at liberty; but Shaftesbury still lay in the Tower when in November the government reckoned another stroke to its credit in the marriage of William of Orange and Mary of York. It was not until February 1678 that he was released. To human reckoning it seemed as if the Whig cause was lost. Danby was firmer in power than ever, the royal marriage bade fair to conciliate the nation, the peace of Nymeguen was approaching its tardy conclusion. Well-informed persons believed that the leaders of the opposition were about to confess their defeat and bid farewell to politics.[404] Eight months later an auspicious wind blew Titus Oates on to the scene, and the aspect of affairs was completely changed.

There have not been wanting either among his contemporaries or in later times some to assert that Oates was procured and his story directed by the Earl of Shaftesbury. Once and again the case has broken down. Neither is there the slightest evidence for the notion, nor has it the least intrinsic probability. So clear a head as Shaftesbury’s could never have been guilty of that monstrous stupidity. Clumsy forgery, feeble promises, lame excuses, bald melodrama characterised the informer’s entry into public life. The tale he told was full of gross improbabilities. And with what truth it contained Shaftesbury could not have been acquainted. But what makes certainty still more certain is that on his first appearance Oates was so little sure of support from any quarter that he not only exonerated the Duke of York from complicity in the plot, but was so disobliging to the Whigs as to name him for a possible victim. The king at first thought he saw traces of Shaftesbury’s hand, but was soon convinced that he erred. Before they had time to gauge the situation the Whigs laughed at the Plot as an artifice for keeping the army on foot.[405] Yet though he had no claim to be Oates’ tutor, Shaftesbury welcomed him with alacrity. Fortune as if from heaven had fallen at his feet, and he prepared to make the most of it, and at the same time to vindicate the penetration of Colbert Croissy, who had called him “le plus fourbe, le plus injuste, le plus malhonnête d’Angleterre.”

The wished occasion of the plot he takes,

Some circumstance he finds, but more he makes;

and, since the making of circumstance lies as well in the reception as in the invention of facts, justice must be admitted to the second line equally with the first. Circumstance was exactly what Shaftesbury could provide. He created the atmosphere for Oates to work in.

The miscreant who a few weeks before had been begging from the Jesuit fathers rose to an undreamed height of luxury and influence. Repeated addresses from the Commons obtained for him lodgings which he shared with Dr. Tonge in Whitehall.[406] The modest sum of £12 a week allotted him “for dyett and expenses” was eked out by occasional gifts of £50 “as of free gift and royal bounty” and the payment of long bills incurred for his witnesses at trials. Within twelve months the total amount made out to him reached the figure of £945 : 8 : 10. Yet Oates was but one of a host whom the popular fury enabled to batten on the royal resources; and during the same period the accounts of the secret service money, disbursed almost exclusively to informers, showed an expenditure of nearly £5000.[407] The Salamanca doctor made the most of his luck. Robed like a bishop and puffed with insolence he became the darling of the Whig party. He set up as “a solemn housekeeper” and kept a fine table. Each morning there waited at his lodgings to dress him two or three gentlemen who vied for the honour of holding his basin. He was received by the primate at Lambeth. The Bishop of Ely welcomed him as a frequent guest at dinner and was unable to set bounds to the brutality of his conversation, till Sir John Reresby administered a merited rebuke. He received the public thanks of the House of Lords. The House of Commons made the Duke of Monmouth responsible for his safety, the Lord Chamberlain for his lodging, the Lord High Treasurer for his nourishment. His sermons were public events, his person followed by admiring crowds. Popular odes were composed in his honour, popular dinners were given him in the city, designs represented him knocking the tiara from the head of “that infallible fop, the pope,” or more exalted still, as an angel looking down from heaven. Among English merchants abroad his health was drunk next to that of the king. Everywhere he was courted, fêted, acknowledged. “Whig peers,” writes Sir George Sitwell, “supported him by their subscriptions. Whig peers welcomed him to their houses in London and in the country. Whig peers rolled him down in their coaches to aid by his unblushing presence the election of Whig candidates, Whig peers defended him in council and flocked to support him at his trials, while their political followers were engaged in threatening and hustling the witnesses.”[408] Oates had become for the moment the representative of the aspirations of the Whig party.

In this the influence of Shaftesbury is clearly visible. Though he did not procure Oates’ appearance, it cannot be supposed that the informer’s subsequent steps were without his knowledge and approval. At his first examination by the council Oates had declared that he knew no more than he had said against any person of what quality soever. Within two months he thought better of his memory in a way that points to refreshment from another source. The wife of one of the gentlemen of the bedchamber was entrusted with a message that, if the king would give way to it, Oates had somewhat to swear against no less a person than the queen. The royal leave was granted. On November 25 therefore Oates declared to the king in full council that if all other attempts upon his Majesty’s life had failed the queen was to have been employed to murder her husband. Three days later he appeared at the bar of the House of Commons and raised his strident voice with the words, “I do accuse the queen for conspiring the death of the king and contriving how to compass it.” It was a ludicrous invention of having heard the queen in conversation with certain Jesuits approve the plan for Charles’ assassination and promise to assist it. Bedloe had a similar story, which the Lords also heard as well as that of Oates. When they asked what the two had meant by keeping back their information, Oates replied that by “no other person of quality” he had meant none other of the peers. Bedloe said he had forgotten. The House of Commons, stirred by their deep affection and care for the royal person, voted an immediate address for the removal of the consort and her household from Whitehall, and sent to beg the Lords’ concurrence; but the Lords, dissatisfied with the depositions laid before them, refused, under protest of Shaftesbury and two of his followers, to join in the vote. Their consideration had been won by the queen’s behaviour on the subject of Godfrey’s murder, and they refused to allow her to be molested. In public she bore herself bravely, but her intimates knew how greatly she had been distressed by the attack. By an order from the king Oates was placed in strict confinement, his papers were seized, his servants dismissed, and free access to his rooms restrained. A strong remonstrance was prepared by the Commons, and Charles closed the incident by restoring the villain to his former liberty.[409]

The attack on the queen affords a clue to the ideas of both adversaries in the great battle that was being waged in the English state between authority and revolution. Mrs. Elliot, wife of Elliot of the bedchamber, had been the agent who took Oates’ message to the king. She had also spoken to Tonge, and in a significant statement to the House of Lords confessed she had been sent to him by Lady Gerard of Bromley. The mention of this lady’s name throws a ray of light on the doubtful intrigue, for she was in close connection with the Whig leaders; and were it in any case permissible to suppose that Oates had acted without assurance of support in bringing forward a charge of so delicate a nature, her appearance in the background would make it certain that this was not so. It may be taken that the move was directed from the headquarters of the Whig party. What then was the object? Catherine had never played any part whatever in politics. In obtaining favour for those of her religion she had held strictly to the terms of her marriage treaty. After the first shock at her husband’s faithless impudence she had passed her time in gaiety, dancing, and frivolity. Only one end could be served by attempting to prove her a party to the Plot. It was to obtain her divorce and to marry the king to a wife who should bear him Protestant children. The knowledge of Catherine’s childlessness had given rise before to talk of a similar project.[410] If it could actually be brought to completion and Charles beget a Protestant heir to the throne, there seemed a fair chance that the clouds which hung over the future of England would be dispelled. Desire for power alone did not then actuate Shaftesbury, but a purer hope for his country’s prosperity. For had the scheme of divorce borne fruit and the Duke of York, with all the unrest and insecurity that his presence denoted, been removed from the succession by the appearance of a child who could hardly have been educated except as a Protestant, Shaftesbury could not have hoped himself to exercise a decisive influence on the king’s policy. The storm gave Shaftesbury his power; when calm returned it would dissolve. This is his claim to real statesmanship. He was willing, it must be believed, to sacrifice power to principle, and to plan, though with odious implements, advantage to the nation, while he contemplated for himself a relapse into insignificance. What followed under Charles II’s successor justified his position. Swift changes transformed his schemes and drove him to counsels of extremity, but the Revolution suspends judgment against him. The principle he embodied was that which William the deliverer came to England to save from utter ruin, the reasoned liberty of thought and action. For that he worked and made others work without sparing, bribed while his own hands were clean of gold, joined while his private life was pure with profligates of unrestrained license; for that he planned murder and brewed rebellion; for that he “fretted the pigmy body to decay”;[411] for that he died. This particular proposal was not without recommendation. It was the simplest way out of the difficulty. It could cause no political commotion in the country. No principle would be overset by it nor any tradition overruled. It might be supposed to be not unpalatable to Charles. The English Reformation had followed one divorce; another might have rendered the English Revolution unnecessary. There was not however the smallest chance of success, for the king was unalterably opposed to anything of the sort. Badly as he had behaved to Catherine, he was not without gratitude and affection for her and was constant in his resolution not to add to his other faults the graver one of desertion.[412] Further, Charles was determined to let the royal power suffer injury in no respect. When the subject of the accusation prepared against the queen was first broached, he said privately that he was willing to give Oates line enough. It was the secret of the king’s whole policy during the agitation of the Plot. He was playing the Whig party as a skilful angler plays his fish. Each length of line run out seemed to be the last of his reserve. Throughout his reign Charles had been striving to restore the power of the monarchy in England. Now it looked as if all his efforts had been in vain. His opponents appeared about to gain the final victory. The king’s only chance was to let them exhaust themselves by the violence of their onslaught.

Having failed in one direction, Shaftesbury’s attention was promptly turned to others. A difficulty confronting him in his hope of excluding the Duke of York from the succession was the choice of a substitute. The scheme of Charles’ divorce and second marriage would have overcome this, but when that was dashed it became necessary to pursue the question further. At the time when Clarendon was chief minister, his opponents and among them the Duke of Buckingham proposed, in order to remove his son-in-law James, whose influence was thought to support him, that the Duke of Monmouth, the eldest of Charles’ sons living in England, should be declared legitimate and heir to the crown.[413] The idea had created agitation at other times as well; and now Shaftesbury infused fresh life into it by adopting the bastard’s cause and supporting him with a powerful following. It was this which rent the Whig party and destroyed its chance of success. Up to a certain point Shaftesbury could carry the other leaders. Halifax was at one with him on the treatment of the Plot, for he said that it must be handled as if it were true, whether it were so or no, and told Sir William Temple that, unless he would concur in points so necessary for the people’s satisfaction, he would brand him everywhere as a papist. He demanded that Catholic priests should without receiving public warning be submitted to the rigours of a law unenforced since the reign of Elizabeth. He was willing to join with Shaftesbury in planning such steps as the French ambassador thought would tend to the entire annihilation of the royal authority and reduce England to a republic under kingly forms. But when it became apparent that Shaftesbury had adopted the cause of the graceful, popular, feather-headed Duke of Monmouth, Halifax drew away to the king’s side and took with him “the party volant,” which boasted with the proud title of Trimmers to hold the balance in the constitution. With them for the moment were also the more respectable of the old Presbyterian party under the lead of Lord Holles.[414] If the nation was divided by the Exclusion bill, those in favour of the project were divided among themselves by the problem in whose favour exclusion should be. Of the two claimants to consideration the Prince of Orange in virtue of his wife and his mother had obviously the better title. On the other hand it was thought that his father-in-law the Duke of York might have a dangerous influence over him; and there were fears that the republican party in Holland would in alarm cast itself into the hands of Louis XIV and thus ruin still more irretrievably the interests it was desired to preserve. The reasons against the Duke of Monmouth were evident. To alter the succession for the son of a prostitute, for the duke’s mother was a woman of low character, could not but cause offence to many. Still more would resent the violation of the rights of an heir who had done nothing to forfeit them but adhere to the dictates of his conscience. Henry VIII had more than once altered the succession by act of Parliament, but though he declared his children bastards, they had yet been got in lawful wedlock. When it came to the point of a struggle, the Duke of York would have a good rallying cry. Monmouth was nevertheless secure of a strong party; all who were opposed to James for religion’s sake, who were many, and all Scotland, which grew daily more exasperated under the unpopular government of Lauderdale. It may be believed that the weakness no less than the strength of Monmouth’s position appealed to Shaftesbury. The Whig power lay not in support of the right, but in the constituencies, above all in London, where the sentiments by which Monmouth found favour had their strongest hold. Monmouth was moreover a man open to influence. Were the Duke of York successfully excluded, Shaftesbury was more likely to find room for the exercise of his talents under the rule of James’ nephew than under that of his son-in-law, William of Orange. Of the two Monmouth gave far better promise to the earl that he would retain his power in the country and regain it in the government. Shaftesbury took his measures accordingly. Yet the Whig prospect looked by no means assured. Dissension in the party was widespread. “I must confess,” wrote Algernon Sidney, summing up the arguments on the one side and on the other, “I do not know three men of a mind, and that a spirit of giddiness reigns amongst us, far beyond any I have ever observed in my life.”[415]

The prorogation of Parliament in May 1679 filled the nation with ill humours. Members rode down to their country seats in high discontent. Alarm was general and, wrote Sidney significantly, “they begin to look more than formerly unto the means of preserving themselves.”[416] Scarcely were they clear of Westminster before news came that the Scottish Covenanters were up in arms and in possession of Glasgow. The outbreak was not unwelcome. Nor was it unexpected. As early as the beginning of the month Sidney had information that a rising might be expected at any moment. A few weeks before an inflammatory speech was delivered by Shaftesbury in the House of Lords; he charged the government with fomenting discord in Scotland by its evil rule, and declared that in England popery was to have brought in slavery, but in Scotland, while slavery went before, popery was to follow. By the next post, it was said, forty copies of his speech were carried up north to hearten the malcontents by the knowledge that they were favoured by a party in England. The subject was freely discussed by the Whigs in London. Even if they were not in direct communication with the rebels, there can be no doubt that they had let it be known on which side their sympathies lay,[417] The events of the ill-fated rebellion of Bothwell Brigg do not belong to this story. It did not fail for want of effort on the part of those who had encouraged its authors. Lauderdale had been attacked by an address of the Commons, and a deputation under the Duke of Hamilton now arrived to plead against him before the king. Charles remarked that “they had objected many damned things he had done against them, but there was nothing objected that was done against his service.” When the revolt came up for discussion at the council, Lord Russell rose and expressed his wonder that war had not begun long ago rather than that it should have come at last, “since his Majesty thought fit to retain incendiaries near his person and in his very council.” Lauderdale begged leave to retire, but the king turned to Russell with the words, “No, no. Sit down, my Lord. This is no place for addresses.”[418] Charles, who boasted with some justice that he understood Scotch affairs better than any of his advisers, was for the immediate suppression of the rising by force. He was opposed by those who felt their interest advanced by its continuance. The Duke of Hamilton and his friends gave assurance that peace might be restored without bloodshed if only such men were employed as were acceptable to the nation. Shaftesbury did not conceal his desire that the rebels might at least be successful in obtaining a change of government. The Presbyterians and other sectaries were united in their hopes for their brethren in Scotland, and pamphlets were strewn about the town inciting the people to prevent the court from making preparations of war. By the suggestion of the Duke of Monmouth as commander-in-chief of the forces, the king gained his point. Shaftesbury had argued that English troops could not legally be sent to serve in Scotland. Glad to avail himself of the prestige his puppet would win from the campaign, he now consented to the arrangement, hoping that the duke would carry powers not only to beat but to treat with the rebels; more might perhaps be gained by negotiation than by arms. In this he was nearly successful. While the commission giving to Monmouth full powers was signed, Lauderdale sat silent. As the council rose he followed the king into his bedchamber and begged him, unless he wished to follow his father, to rescind that part of the commission which might be used to encourage rebellion in Scotland and raise another in England. “Why did you not argue this in council?” asked Charles. His gross but able administrator answered with emphasis, “Sire, were not your enemies in the room?” To the great disappointment of Monmouth and the Whigs as well as the Covenanters, peremptory orders were sent after him that he should not treat but fall on them at once. Shaftesbury’s party discovered that they had been tricked. Lord Cavendish and Lord Gerard refused to serve under their commissions; Mr. Thynne declined to receive one; Lord Grey of Werke resigned his command of the horse. Even after Monmouth had started an attempt was made to obtain his recall and, had time allowed, a monster petition in favour of the rebels, to be signed by many peers and gentlemen and all the principal householders of London, was prepared for presentation to the king. Charles made use of the event, by an order which had the additional advantage of creating a difference between the Earls of Essex and Shaftesbury, to raise a troop of two hundred guards to be about his person.[419]

The copies of Shaftesbury’s speech intended for such fatal use in Scotland were said to have been made in the Green Ribbon Club.[420] That famous society, founded in the year 1675, quickly acquired ascendency over the Whig party. To-day it has been almost forgotten; its influence was unknown to the classic historians of England, who were in politics mostly Whig; but during seven tumultuous years of English history it played a part that can only be compared to the work of the more notorious Jacobin organisation of a century later across the Channel. The club met at the King’s Head Tavern at the corner of Chancery Lane and Fleet Street. Its character may be known at once from the fact that its members organised and paid for the imposing ceremonies of pope burning, by which the most fiendish lies of Oates were yearly sustained and the worst passions of the London mob, a word, it may be noted, itself derived from the club, systematically inflamed. Oates himself was a member, and Aaron Smith, his legal adviser; and under the leadership of Shaftesbury the club was filled with men of the same kidney, who crowded on to the balcony with pipes in their mouths and wigs laid aside to witness the papal holocaust with which each great procession ended opposite their windows. Here was the fountain of the inner counsels of the Whig party and the seat of its executive. Within the walls of the club the decision had been taken to agitate for the dissolution of Parliament after the long prorogation of 1677; here a few years later the Rye House conspiracy was schemed; here the actual assassination plot was hatched. Over the country the Green Ribbon Club enjoyed a profound influence. It was the centre of the party pamphleteers who devoted keen ability to incite the nation and defame the government, and their productions were scattered far and wide by means of a highly effective service of correspondents. While policy was debated and action resolved by the chiefs of the club, their agents at the coffee-houses in London and throughout the country obeyed orders from headquarters. At the elections their activity was unparalleled. Tracts poured into the constituencies. Industrious agents attacked the character of the court candidates and firmly organised the national opposition. It was the Green Ribbon Club which introduced the “Protestant flail” to London and clothed the town in silk armour as a defence against the expected daggers of papists. The club almost usurped the functions of Parliament. Many members of that body belonged to it, attended its consultations, took their cue from its decisions. Agents thronged the lobby of the House of Commons, posting members with arguments for debate, whipping in sluggards to a division, carrying the latest news back to the club. Men of all classes and various character belonged to the society, broken scoundrels and wealthy statesmen, pious enthusiasts and tired profligates, the remains of the Cromwellian party, the forerunners of the Revolution, poets, aldermen, country gentlemen, assassins, bound together in a common league of animosity against Charles II and his government, not a few traitors to that bond itself. Scarcely a name of note on the Whig side is absent from the list, which contained Shaftesbury and Monmouth, Buckingham, Ireton, Slingsby Bethel, Sir William Waller, the Spekes, the Trenchards, Howard of Escrick, Sir Robert Peyton, Russell, Holles, and Algernon Sidney. With the lapse of time the counsels of the club became more violent; and the most infamous of political tracts, “An Appeal from the Country to the City,” which spread deliberate and abominable lies to incite the nation to rebellion, and urged the Duke of Monmouth to strike with force for the crown, not because he had a right to it, but because he had none, was written by Robert Ferguson, nicknamed the Plotter, himself a member, Shaftesbury’s âme damneé.[421] More than a third of the whole number of members of the club were concerned in the Rye House Plot. Sixteen or eighteen took an active part in Monmouth’s invasion. After the Revolution they obtained their reward. Shadwell, the poet of the club, was made laureate in place of Dryden. Aaron Smith became Chancellor of the Exchequer to King William. Lord Grey of Werke, basest of traitors, was given office and an earldom. Sir John Trenchard was made secretary of state. Dukedoms were conferred upon the Earls of Bedford and Devonshire and a marquisate upon Lord Mulgrave. Ireton became lieutenant-colonel of dragoons and gentleman of the horse to the king. Oates was pilloried and pensioned. Speake, Ayloffe, Rouse, Nelthrop, and Bettiscomb were hanged.[422]

In August 1679 the chance of the Green Ribbon Club seemed to have arrived. After a hard game of tennis the king took a chill in walking by the river-side at Windsor. Fever ensued, and a horrible fear that Charles lay on his death-bed struck at men’s hearts. The cry rose everywhere that he had been poisoned. The Duchess of Portsmouth was accused of having done the black deed. Amazement and horror were universal. People looked upon any ill that should happen to the king, said Sir William Temple, as though it were the end of the world. The privy council was obliged to take action to prevent an overwhelming rush of inquirers into the royal bedchamber. Algernon Sidney returning to town found the general apprehension such that, had the king died, there was no extremity of disorder that might not be expected. “Good God!” wrote Henry Savile from Paris, “what a change such an accident would make! the very thought of it frights me out of my wits. God bless you and deliver us all from that damnable curse,”[423] There were indeed good grounds for the fears so poignantly expressed. The Duke of York, who had been sent from the country in February, was still beyond seas. Monmouth had returned from Scotland, puffed with success in having pacified the Covenanters. Shaftesbury divided the court and seemed to have the nation at his back. If the king died, he was prepared to make a bold push for fortune. The second declaration of Monmouth, published in the following reign, made mention of a consult held at this time “for extraordinary remedies.” No copy of the declaration can now be traced, but it was seen and the fact noted by David Hume. That consult decided upon notable measures. Early in the course of the next year Sir Robert Peyton was accused by Mrs. Cellier and Gadbury the astrologer of treasonable practices, and was examined before the privy council. Though he denied his guilt, he let it be understood that the charge was not baseless and confessed to the House of Commons that he had been intriguing with the Duke of York. His old associates turned against him, and Peyton was expelled the House; but his object was accomplished and he went over to the court side, to find a reward for his perfidy in the favour of James. No definite accusation was made against the heads of the popular party, but the extent of the Whig plans became vaguely known. On the news of the king’s illness preparations had been quickly made for insurrection. Money was collected and old Cromwellian officers engaged. A large force would have been in the field at a few days’ notice. Had Charles died at Windsor the leaders of the movement were ready to seize the Tower, Dover Castle, and Portsmouth, and to arrest the Lord Mayor and those privy councillors who should offer to proclaim the Duke of York king.[424]

The government was not idle in face of the danger. With the consent of the king Sunderland, Halifax, and Essex, most unstable of triumvirates, summoned the duke from Brussels. Leaving his wife and children, James set out in disguise and reached Windsor on September 2 without being recognised by more than two persons on the way. Charles received him with admirably feigned surprise. The danger was past; Jesuits’ powder, the modern quinine, had already restored the king to the point of eating mutton and partridges, and within ten days he was again discussing important business with the French ambassador. Another issue of events had been expected. If the worst had taken place, the Lord Mayor and aldermen had concerted means to declare the duke their sovereign. Fortunately for the nation the Whigs were deprived of the chance to decide whether they or the government held the stronger hand. On the contrary the hopes raised by the king’s illness brought on them a serious rebuff. Once in England James, who had continually pressed for his recall and thought his brother’s behaviour was driving the country to ruin, shewed no desire to depart again. It was represented to him that his absence was for the king’s advantage, and he consented to leave; but on conditions, for Sunderland suggested that Monmouth, whom his father’s danger made yet more arrogant and his uncle’s unexpected arrival sulky and furious, should quit the country too. James after a brief visit to Brussels took coach for Scotland, but Monmouth, to the delight of the court party deprived of his office of captain-general of the forces and his command of the horse guards, for Holland. There was some thought of his attempting to refuse, but milder counsels prevailed and he was persuaded that a willing submission would serve to invest him in the eyes of the people with the character of a martyr. The generalship was abolished and the business of the office handed over to Sunderland. Yet another slight was put upon the Whig party. Sir Thomas Armstrong, the intimate agent of Monmouth and a fierce opponent of the Duke of York, was banished from the king’s presence and court for ever.[425]

As the year 1679 wore away the disturbance of the kingdom seemed to increase. A rising had been expected as the result of James’ return to England, and alarms of the same nature were raised when the king paid a visit to London after his recovery. Guards were set in Covent Garden and Lincoln’s Inn Fields; barges and an escort two hundred strong were in readiness to carry the royal party to the Tower in case of a tumult; but no stir was made and the day passed quietly. Fears of the vaguest character were abroad. “I am very confident,” wrote Charles Hatton, “you will suddenly hear very surprising news, but what I am unable to inform you as yet.” At the back of men’s minds the feeling was growing that the Whigs could not attain their object except by plunging the country into civil war.[426] The agitation became greater than ever when at the end of November the Duke of Monmouth returned without leave to England. He entered London at midnight to the sound of ringing bells and by the light of a thousand bonfires, crackling almost at the palace doors. His popularity seemed unbounded. Crowds followed him in the streets and stopped passers to drink his health. Nell Gwyn, cheered by the crowd as “the Protestant whore,” entertained him at supper. He struck from his arms the bar sinister, which denoted the maimed descent: it was a fashion among the royal bastards, for the Duke of Richmond, Charles’ son by Louise de Kéroualle, who was thought to have intentions on the queen’s throne for herself, had done the same, and displayed the lions of England without diminution.[427] The king was incensed, refused to see the pretender, deprived him of all his offices, ordered him to quit London. Monmouth at length obeyed, but it was to make a royal progress through the west of England, captivating the people and laying the foundations of the support for his hapless attempt against his uncle’s crown.[428]

Meanwhile the question arose when Parliament should meet. The elections had not much altered the complexion of the House of Commons, but it was noted that while the Whigs held their own in the counties and great corporations, the court began to gain in many small boroughs.[429] On the appointed day in October Charles first prorogued and then adjourned Parliament till the following January. Shaftesbury attempted to force the king’s hand by appearing in company with sixteen other peers to present a petition that set forth the danger in which the monarch, the religion, and the government of England lay, and their prayer that his Majesty would make effectual use of the great council of the realm. Charles replied he would consider it, and heartily wished that all others were as solicitous as himself for the good and peace of the nation. Three days later he shewed the meaning of his answer by proroguing Parliament, without the advice of the council, to November 1680. He followed the stroke by summoning the Lord Mayor and aldermen to his presence to enforce on them their duty of preserving the peace and preventing ill-disposed persons from pursuing the ends of discord under cover of petitioning. The surprise of the Whigs was intense. Only one thing was left for them to do. They went on petitioning. Petitions, prepared in accordance with Shaftesbury’s instructions, bombarded the king from all over the country. A proclamation issued to denounce merely had the effect of redoubling them. Charles’ own answers were far more effective. The men of Wiltshire presented a petition as from their county, but lacking the sanction of the grand jury were rated as a company of loose and disaffected persons. The petitioners from London and Westminster were told by Charles that he was the head of the government and would do as he thought best; while to the Berkshire gentlemen he replied, “We will argue the matter over a cup of ale when we meet at Windsor, though I wonder my neighbours should meddle with my business.” In one case alone Charles had the worst of a passage of arms. When a citizen of Taunton offered him a petition, the king asked how he dared do so? To which the man replied, “Sir, my name is Dare.” The government was not behindhand in dealing with the situation. To shew that the petitioners did not represent the country, an immediate flood of counter addresses poured in, expressing confidence in the king’s wisdom and abhorrence of the petitioners. Petitioners and abhorrers divided the nation, and it was by no other godfather than Titus Oates that the latter party, by a name famous in English history, was christened Tory.[430] In this clamorous contest the king gained an undeniable success. But success did not bring repose. Watchfulness was more severely needed than ever. To calm suspicion the penal laws were once more sharpened against the Catholics. Additional garrisons were thrown into the Tower and Tilbury Fort. Portsmouth and Sheerness were strengthened. London remained quiet, but the Christmas festivities were suspected of unfortunate possibilities. There was talk of threatening Shaftesbury with a prosecution.[431]

Instead of a prosecution Shaftesbury was drawn into a negotiation with the court. The French ambassador learned with agitation that the earl went secretly by night to Whitehall to discuss terms of settlement with the king. Shaftesbury offered to let drop the Exclusion bill and assure Charles an ample revenue for the rest of his life if he would consent to a divorce and to marry a Protestant. The king should make a show of resistance, to be overborne by apparently irresistible pressure, the country would be satisfied, and peace return to the land. Charles made believe that he viewed the notion with favour. Only Lord Holles and very few others were admitted to knowledge of what was passing. Soon Lauderdale, whose character and career were particularly displeasing to the Presbyterians, was added to their number. Holles drew back, then fell ill, and the scheme languished. Nevertheless Shaftesbury hoped for success. Suddenly his hopes were shattered. On January 29, 1680 Charles brought the matter to an end by declaring to the council that, since the Duke of York’s absence had not produced the desired effect, he was about to recall him to England. A royal yacht left immediately for Edinburgh to convey him thence. On February 24 James arrived in London. The recorder of the city presented him with a complimentary address. A sumptuous banquet was given the royal brothers by the Lord Mayor. To crown the display a grand illumination was arranged to testify the extraordinary joy all good subjects were supposed to feel.[432] Shaftesbury might well harbour resentment at the artifice of which he had been a victim.

In the “Appeal from the Country to the City” the Duke of Monmouth was recommended by name to be the saviour of the people, since he who had the worst title was like to make the best king. Between that, the project of the queen’s divorce, and the pretence that Monmouth was in fact the legitimate heir to the throne the minds of Whig politicians wavered. The last idea had already risen to such prominence that, when the Duke of York left the kingdom in March, a solemn declaration was drawn from Charles that he had never married or made any contract of marriage with any other woman than his wife, Queen Catherine, then living.[433] For greater security the king’s signature was attested by his councillors and the deed enrolled in Chancery. Shaftesbury had no sooner emerged from his defeat of the midnight meetings at Whitehall than the fable sprang into renewed life. Mysterious tales were bruited abroad of a certain black box, which, if found, should contain the contract of marriage between the king and Lucy Walters, mother of the Duke of Monmouth. The box was said to be in the possession of Sir Gilbert Gerard. If it did not contain the actual contract, at any rate there lay in it a certificate from the hand of Dr. Cosens, late Bishop of Durham, who had solemnised the marriage. Others had it that one Dr. Clare, an eminent royalist parson, had read the service. At least the ceremony had been witnessed by a judge and three other persons of quality. The story attained such proportions that an extraordinary meeting of the council was held. Sir Gilbert Gerard was called to state what he knew. It appeared that he knew nothing. He had never seen either contract or box, and had no knowledge whatever of anything of the sort. The rumour was traced to a maternal aunt of the late Lucy Walters: who had set her on could only be conjectured. It cannot be doubted that the tale emanated from the office of the Whig party. The authors of it were men of versatility. Sir Gilbert Gerard’s statement seemed to have dissolved the myth, but within a few weeks the appearance of a pamphlet entitled “A Letter to a Person of Honour concerning the Black Box” brought the facts again into question.[434] The whole account of the black box, affirmed the letter, was a mere romance, an ingenious device of the Duke of York to sham and ridicule the marriage, which indeed had no relation to it, for with the exposure of the box the true history would at the same time fall into discredit. It was notorious that assurance of Monmouth’s legitimacy had been given to the Countess of Wemyss before she disposed her daughter in marriage to him. In a letter from the king to Mrs. Walters, intercepted by Cromwell’s officers, he had addressed her as wife. And it was beyond doubt that she had actually received homage from many of the royalist party. Many copies of this pamphlet were scattered in the Exchange and dispersed throughout the kingdom. It had an instant effect. On June 7 another declaration was published by the king, condemning the libel, denouncing its falsehood, and forbidding all subjects on pain of the utmost rigour of the law to utter anything contrary to the royal pronouncement. The result was a second “Letter to a Person of Honour,” in which Charles’ word was contradicted and his motives traduced. All the former statements were repeated, some arguments added, and the pamphlet ended by the modest proposals, “That Parliament, being admitted to sit, may examine this affair, whereof they alone are competent judges; and that the Duke of York may be legally tried for his manifold treasons and conspiracies against the king and kingdom,” which treasons were set out at length in thirty-four articles.[435] To carry the war still further into the enemies’ camp, on June 26 Shaftesbury appeared in Westminster Hall in company with the Earl of Huntingdon, Lord Grey, Lord Gerard, Lord Russell, Lord Cavendish, and nine commoners to present the Duke of York to the grand jury as a popish recusant and to indict the Duchess of Portsmouth for a national nuisance. With them went Titus Oates, invested as it were with a representative authority on behalf of the Whig party. That both charges were true is certain; but the action of the Whigs was dictated by a purely partisan spirit, and Chief Justice Scroggs, judging the fact so, discharged the jury before they could find a bill. Four days later the attack was repeated in another court, and with the same result. The judges only followed their chief’s example. James appeared downcast and knew well what danger he ran. His adversaries seemed to be throwing off the mask, strong in the support of which they were assumed to be conscious. When it was told to Shaftesbury that the king had railed at him and his party as seditious rebels, he replied aloud and in public, “The king has nothing to do but take the pains to punish rebels and seditious persons. We will keep with the bounds of the law, and we shall easily find means by the law to make him walk out of the kingdom.” There were not many who could boast of having the last laugh in a game with Charles. Not many months after, when the law by which he held was put into operation against the Whig leader, Charles heard that Shaftesbury had accused him of suborning perjurers, and thereupon very pleasantly quoted a Scotch proverb. Veiled in the decency of a learned language it ran: “In die extremi judicii videbimus cui podex nigerrimus sit.”[436]

Violent distempers were now feared on all sides. Partisans of the Prince of Orange were intriguing keenly on his behalf. In the spring of the year Charles was ill again, and the several parties hastily met to concert action. “God keep the nation,” wrote Dorothy Sidney, “from the experiment what they could have done.” The danger may be gauged by the fact that, had the king’s illness continued, three hundred members of the Commons were determined to remain sitting despite the prorogation. A considerable movement was detected among the London prentices. The date of May 29 had been fixed for a large meeting to be held under pretence of burning the Rump; four or five thousand men had pledged themselves to attend, but information was laid, the leaders arrested, and the outbreak apprehended by the court did not take place.[437] Those of the opposite party were no less alarmed. Their chief enemy, James, was holding a brilliant court and still maintained himself against them. Shaftesbury left town for Easter, fearing a personal attack. Mr. William Harbord looked abroad to spy some safe retreat. Sir William Waller fled to Holland, thence to Italy, pursued by the watchful eye of the government. On the pretext of Catholic intrigues, the city guards were doubled.[438] A penetrating observer might have perceived a change drawing over the spirit of the times. While the Whig attack, far from having spent itself, grew only the more fierce, and a final struggle with authority seemed imminent, the nation had begun to reflect upon the turn of events. If passion was exasperated by the last bold step against the Duke of York, it shewed too the extremity to which his opponents were driving. Thereafter could be no thought of reconciliation: they must either ruin him or themselves end in ruin. It was not without some justice that Charles I called the English sober. As the future was dimly shaped to men in shadows of high misfortune, the fear of open strife and loss of all they had given so much to gain in recalling Charles II to the throne of his fathers weighed more heavily upon them. Innate reverence for authority, standing to the letter of its rights, returned in some of its ancient force. Though they were willing to see the royal prerogative curbed, there was no sympathy for those who would strike against its existence. And in the party which fostered terror and maddened the nation by the Popish Plot were not a few to whom this was the object, Independents and other sectaries, fierce republicans who had fought through the Civil War and might not be sorry at the chance of fighting through another. It was felt that the least accident might throw everything into confusion. People began at length to test the stories circulated for their consumption. Tales “that Holborn should be burnt down and the streets run with blood” were no longer accepted on the mere statement. The Irish Plot, loudly denounced about this time by Shaftesbury, found small credence except from the London mob, and even in London the busy merchants who feared disorder exercised an influence of restraint. At the end of July Sir Leoline Jenkins was able to write: “Letters from several parts beyond the seas do tell us that we are represented there as if we were already in a flame. God be praised! ’tis no such matter. All things are as still and peaceable as ever they were, only we are pelted at with impudent, horrid libels.” Evidently the English nation was in no humour for a second civil war.[439]

The king met Parliament on October 21, 1680. James was again on his way to Edinburgh, induced to withdraw himself by a promise of full support, but inwardly persuaded that he was lost. Seven of the council had favoured the journey, eleven were against it. “Since he has so many friends for him,” said Charles, “I see he must go.” In spite of gay hearts the royal prospect was not bright. The king had tried a bout with the Whigs over the city elections, and was forced to accept their choice; and the Duchess of Portsmouth, fearful of an attack on herself and with a heavy bribe in her purse, had gone over to the side of his enemies.[440] The session opened with turbulence almost unexampled even in the hot times that had passed. For discrediting the Plot in the last parliament, a member had been expelled by the Commons. He was now followed by two others. Petitioning was voted to be the right of the subject. Abhorrers were violently attacked. Charles had long expressed his willingness for any compromise that should leave his brother the title of king when he came to the throne, and offered Expedients, the effect of which would be to take all power from the hands of the sovereign. Similar proposals were made by others also. Halifax suggested that the duke should be banished for five years, Essex an association in defence of the Protestant religion, Shaftesbury would still be satisfied by a divorce. Otherwise he stood firm for Exclusion. James viewed the Expedients alike with horror, and the Commons rejected them with insult. Once let a popish king have the title, it was said, and he would take the power too. “Expedients in politics are like mountebanks’ tricks in physic,” cried Sir William Jones. The bill, the bill, and nothing but the bill, was the cry. Colonel Titus summed the matter up neatly. “You shall have the Protestant religion,” he said, “you shall have what you will to protect you, but you must have a popish king who shall command your armies and your navies, make your bishops and judges. Suppose there were a lion in the lobby, one cries: Shut the door and keep him out. No, says another, open the door and let us chain him when he comes in.” The metaphor became popular in verse:—

I hear a lion in the lobby roar;

Say, Mr. Speaker, shall we shut the door

And keep him out?—or shall we let him in

To try if we can turn him out again?[441]

On November 4 the Exclusion bill was introduced, heralded by denunciations of James. The violence of the debates beggars description. If swords were not drawn, their use was not forgotten. The prospect of civil war was freely mooted. “The case, in short, is this,” exclaimed Mr. Henry Booth, “in plain English, whether we would fight for or against the law.” Sir William Jones pursued, “The art of man cannot find out any remedy as long as there is a popish successor and the fears of a popish king.” He was answered by Colonel Legge, a personal friend of the Duke of York: “There has been talk in the world of another successor than the duke, in a Black Box; but if Pandora’s box must be opened, I would have it in my time, not in my children’s, that I may draw my sword to defend the right heir.” On November 11 the bill was passed, and four days later with a mighty shout was carried to the Lords by Russell, followed by a great body of the Commons. To signify the attitude of the city, he was accompanied by the Lord Mayor and aldermen. At the debate which followed Charles was present. He heard the passionate attacks of Shaftesbury, the grave force of Essex’s oratory. He witnessed the treachery of Sunderland, who joined his enemies. He heard Monmouth urge Exclusion as the only safety for the king’s life, and broke in with a loud whisper, “the kiss of Judas.” He saw Halifax rise to champion the right, and heard him speak fifteen or sixteen times and carry the day by his inexhaustible powers of wit, sarcasm, and eloquence. At nine o’clock in the evening, after a debate of six hours, the bill was thrown out by sixty-three votes to thirty.[442] It was a memorable victory.

The fury of the Commons exceeded all bounds. Supplies were refused. Votes and addresses were passed against Halifax, against Jeffreys, Recorder of London, against Lord Chief Justice North, against placemen and pensioners, against the judges, against James. “No sooner does a man stand by the king but he is attacked,” wrote the duke to William of Orange. To the attack against Halifax Charles answered suavely that “he doth not find the grounds in the address of this House to be sufficient to induce him to remove the Earl of Halifax.” He told Reresby: “Let them do what they will, I will never part with any officer at the request of either House. My father lost his head by such compliance; but as for me, I intend to die another way.” And Halifax took occasion to say to Sir John: “Well, if it comes to a war, you and I must go together.” A bill for a Protestant association for the government of the country with Monmouth at its head was being prepared, when on January 10, 1681 the king suddenly prorogued and then dissolved Parliament, leaving twenty-two bills depending and eight more already ordered. The next parliament was summoned for March 21, and according to the old advice of Danby not in the capital, but at Oxford.[443]

Charles’ wisdom in this course cannot be questioned. Before the last session Ferguson the Plotter had returned from concealment in Holland. An agent of Essex was busy in London concerning “the linen manufacture,” for which he had enrolled three or four hundred men and spent as much as a thousand pounds. Hugh Speke sent down to the country to have his horse ready. “Get him in as good case as you can,” he wrote, “for God knows what use I may have for him and how suddenly.” There is reason to think that Shaftesbury had been planning to place Parliament under control of the city.[444] London had always armed the Whigs with the possibility of support other than parliamentary. The removal of Parliament to Oxford made it certain that the coming struggle would be fought on ground favourable to the king. No sooner was Charles’ determination known than Shaftesbury, Monmouth, and Essex, together with thirteen other peers, presented a petition shewing that evil men, favourers of popery and enemies of the happiness of England, had made choice of Oxford as a place where the Houses would be daily menaced by the swords of papists who had crept into the ranks of the king’s guards, and making their humble prayer and advice that the parliament should sit at Westminster as usual. “That, my lord, may be your opinion,” returned the king to Essex; “it is not mine.”[445] The Whigs promptly set to making the elections their own. Nothing was omitted to secure their success. Instructions from the Green Ribbon Club directed events in all parts of the country. Members bound themselves to prosecute the Plot, to demand restriction of the king’s power to prorogue and dissolve Parliament, to support the Exclusion, the right of petitioning, the Association.[446] When the means of man were exhausted, supernatural powers were called to assist. On the one side and on the other were raised ghosts, who foretold doom to their opponents. The city of London elected its old representatives. They were begged to refuse supplies and assured that in pursuit of their ends they should have the support of the citizens’ lives and fortunes. A host of scribblers, libellers, and caricaturists poured into Oxford. A rumour was spread that the city would be the scene of a massacre. The Whig chiefs rode down attended by bands of armed retainers. Guards of townsmen accompanied members from the boroughs. The Londoners appeared in a great company with bows of blue satin in their hats, on which were woven the inscription: “No Popery! No Slavery!” Tory crowds met them at the gates, red-ribboned, brandishing clubs and staves, and crying, “Make ready! Stand to it! Knock ’em down! Knock ’em down!” In the midst of his life-guards, among whom Essex had failed at Charles’ polite request to point out the creeping papists, the king drove from Windsor. Information had come to hand of a plot to kidnap him at Oxford. Measures were taken accordingly. A regiment was moved up to the Mews in case of an attack on Whitehall. The constable of the Tower was advised to hold himself in readiness. Attention was given to Lambeth Palace and the forts on the Thames. The cannon at Windsor were looked to, and Lord Oxford’s regiment was posted along the Windsor road, should Charles be compelled to retreat. “If the king would be advised,” said Halifax, “it is in his power to make all his opponents tremble.”[447] It was what he had come prepared to do.

Since the fall of Danby, Charles had lived in a state of poverty. Scarcely any supplies were furnished by Parliament. None came from France. His resources were at one moment so low that he even thought of recalling his ministers from the courts of foreign princes.[448] At the same time thousands of pounds were being absorbed by the informers against popish plotters, tens of thousands by the royal mistresses. The treasury was in the hands of Laurence Hyde, second son of Lord Chancellor Clarendon. That he was able to pay the way is a source of wonder and admiration. Such a state of affairs could not last for ever, and Charles had recourse to the mine whence he had drawn so much wealth before. Though Louis XIV had gained his immediate object by turning against his cousin, he felt as time went on that the tools he used might destroy his own work. His constant desire was to keep England in such a position that, if she would, she could not thwart his plans. For this he had joined the Whigs against Danby. From the same motive his ambassador supported Shaftesbury in his advertisement of Monmouth and bribed not only members of parliament, but city merchants and Presbyterian preachers. But there was a point beyond which he could not follow this line. It would be as little to his interest to see Charles’ authority overthrown and English policy directed by a Protestant parliament as to contend with Charles adopting and leading the same policy. Therefore in the autumn of 1679 Barillon had tried to come to an agreement with Charles. He offered the sum of £200,000 for three years but, attempting to get more than the king was willing to give, found the proposal fall to the ground. Charles threw himself on to the side of the allies against France and in July of the following year concluded a treaty with Spain to resist the pretensions of Louis. Alarmed by the violence of the Commons and realising that their hostility to France could not be cured by gold, Barillon again broached the subject. The king hung back until just before the dissolution of the last parliament at Westminster and by skilful play obtained what he wanted. A verbal treaty was concluded in the queen’s bedroom, between the bed and the wall. Charles agreed to disengage himself from the Spanish alliance and to prevent the interference of Parliament. In return he was to receive from Louis an amount equivalent to twelve and a half million francs in the course of the next three years. So close was the secret kept that besides the two kings only Barillon, Laurence Hyde, and the Duke of York had knowledge of the treaty.[449] Though he was tight bound by it for the matter of foreign policy, Charles had attained his object. Except for the advancement of his power at home and to quicken the growth of English commerce he did not care for foreign politics. So long as he could turn Louis’ ambition to his own advantage he was satisfied. This the new treaty accomplished, and although Louis too gained handsomely by it, he was obliged to confess the victory not altogether his by the complete reversal of his policy of the last four years in England. Charles met Parliament strong in the consciousness of his independence.

The session that now opened gave little hope of a peaceful end. Meeting on March 21, the Houses listened to a speech of studious moderation from the throne. Charles promised consent to any means whereby under a Catholic successor the administration should remain in Protestant hands, but what he had already said with regard to the succession, by that he would abide—there should be no tampering with that. There could be no mistake as to his attitude. “I, who will never use arbitrary government myself,” he said with a proud lie, “am resolved never to suffer it in others.” Charles could well offer a compromise, for he knew it would never be accepted. The two parties, it was said, were like hostile forces on opposite heights. The Commons refused the Expedients. They adopted the cause of a wretch named Fitzharris, whose obscure intrigue, by whomever directed, was certainly most base and most criminal, and tried to turn him into an engine of political aggression. It was evident that they meant to force the king to abandon James and recognise the Duke of Monmouth. Shaftesbury once more tried negotiation. In conversation with Charles in the House of Lords he pressed him in the public interest and for the peace of the nation to accept the position and give way. The king returned: “My Lord, let there be no self-delusion, I will never yield and will not let myself be intimidated. I have the law and reason on my side. Good men will be with me. There is the church,” and he pointed to where the bishops sat, “which will remain united with me. Believe me, my Lord, we shall not be divided.” It was an open declaration of war. On March 26 the Exclusion bill was voted. Monday, March 28, was fixed for the first reading. On Sunday the king busied himself with preparing the Sheldonian theatre for the Commons, who complained that Convocation House was too small; he viewed the plans, strolled among the workmen, congratulated himself on being able to arrange for the better comfort of his faithful subjects, and made all show of expecting a long session. That night his coach was privately sent a stage outside Oxford with a troop of horse. Next morning he was carried as usual to the House of Lords in a sedan chair, followed by another with drawn curtains, seeming to contain a friend. When the king stepped out his friend was found to be a change of clothes. He had come to make his enemies tremble. At the last moment an accident nearly wrecked the scheme. The wrong robes had been brought. Hastily the chair was sent back for the robes of state, while Charles held an unwilling peer in conversation that he might not give the alarm. Then, when all was ready, he swiftly took his seat on the throne and, without giving the Lords time to robe, summoned the Commons to attend. As Sir William Jones was in the act of appealing to Magna Carta as the safeguard of the subject’s right, the Black Rod knocked at the door. The Commons thronged eagerly through the narrow passages to the king’s presence, the Speaker leading with Russell and Cavendish at either hand. They thought they had come to receive Charles’ surrender. When the tumult was calmed the king spoke; “My lords and gentlemen, that all the world may see to what a point we are come, that we are not like to have a good end, when the divisions at the beginning are such, therefore, my Lord Chancellor, do as I have commanded you.” Finch thereupon declared Parliament, which had lived for exactly one week, to be dissolved, and Charles immediately left the throne. As he reached his dressing-room he turned to a friend, his eyes gleaming, with the remark that it was better to have one king than five hundred. He made a short dinner and, leaving by the back stairs, drove off in Sir Edward Seymour’s coach to where his own was waiting. That night he was in Windsor.[450]

The dissolution scattered the opposition as a gust of wind the leaves of a tree in autumn. Shaftesbury in vain attempted to hold the Houses together. His followers in the Lords remained for an hour under pretence of signing a protest, while messengers were dispatched urging the Commons to fulfil their promises. But they were too much cowed by the stroke. They feared “if they did not disperse, the king would come and pull them out by the ears.” Presently they fled. In a quarter of an hour the price of coaches in the town doubled. Oxford had the appearance of a surrendered city disgorging its garrison.[451] And with their flight the history of the Popish Plot comes to an end. On that the Whigs had staked all, and they had lost. The country was alienated by their violence and rapacity and fearful of the horrors of civil war. Once deprived of their means of action in Parliament they could do nothing but go whither the king drove them, to plot frank rebellion without the shadow of legality. Up to this point Shaftesbury had led a bold attack, not without good hope of success. Now he was left to sustain the defence, stubborn and keen, but in the end incapable of avoiding ruin. The tide had at last turned, and Charles, who since the first appearance of Oates had borne with unexampled equanimity a series of the most fierce assaults, found himself upon a pinnacle of triumph, his enemies lying crushed beneath his throne until he should goad them to complete disaster. Had he struck twelve months sooner the country would in all likelihood have been on their side; but he had gauged the temper of his people correctly and knew now that they would be with him. The history of these years is in brief the history of Charles II’s reign, the history of a long struggle for the power of the crown. In the panic of the Popish Plot and the wild agitation of the Exclusion bill that struggle, exasperated by the Dover treaty and the Catholic intrigues, came to a head. Its consequence was the Rye House Plot, the perfection of Whig failure. In that struggle too the conflicting principles found their absolute exponents in the two wittiest and two of the most able statesmen in English history, each gifted with a supreme political genius, each exclusive of the other, each fighting for personal ascendency no less than for an idea, for principle no less than for power, Charles II and the Earl of Shaftesbury. Without a grasp of this the history of the times cannot be understood, and for this reason some historians have found in them, and more have left, a mere tangle of helpless chaos. Of the two Charles had the better fortune in his life, Shaftesbury after death. For Shaftesbury, ruined, disappointed, embittered at the loss of all his hopes, was yet the father of the Revolution: all that Charles had gained was thrown away by his less worthy brother. But the personal triumph of the king was unique. While to the world he seemed a genial debauchee, whose varied talents would have fitted him equally to be a chemist, shipwright, jockey, or dancing-master, the horseman, angler, walker, musician, whose energy tired while his company delighted the most brilliant of English courts, more admirable than Crichton had he not been more indolent, he laboured in an inner life at a great endeavour and, chiefly by letting himself be misunderstood, achieved it.[452] He restored the crown to its ancient place in the state, whence his father and his grandfather had let it fall. He gave Parliament just enough rope to hang itself.