No better fate attended the king’s efforts to make good the promises he had given at Breda. With the assurance of support from the Independents and Presbyterians he had issued late in the year 1662 a Declaration of Indulgence, suspending all penal laws against dissenters, Catholic as well as others, by virtue of the power which he considered inherent in the crown.[34] The move called forth a storm of opposition, both against the dispensing power and against the object for which it was used. To appease the Commons, Lord Ashley, afterwards Earl of Shaftesbury, brought in a bill to define and legalise the royal power to dispense with laws requiring oaths and subscription to the doctrines of the established church. The answer of the Commons was an address against the Declaration,[35] in the House of Lords Ashley’s bill was defeated by Clarendon and the bishops, and on March 31, 1663 Parliament addressed the king for a proclamation ordering all Catholic priests to leave the realm. Charles never forgave his minister, but he was powerless to resist. On April 2 he recanted his declaration by issuing the desired order. A bill to check the growth of popery and nonconformity passed quickly through the House of Commons, but was stopped by the influence of the Catholic peers, and an address for the execution of all laws against dissenters was voted in its place.[36]
Thus the penal laws were retained in their full vigour. And if the enactments against the Catholics were not removed from the statute book, still less were the causes which had produced them removed from men’s minds. Only the establishment of general confidence that the Catholic religion lacked power to menace the cause of Protestantism in England and to invade the rights which were dear to Englishmen could be effective in this; and confidence, so far from becoming general, shrank to limits that became ever narrower. In the years that followed, fear of the advance of Catholicism only increased. Fresh laws were passed to check it. The House of Commons voted address after address that the old might be put in action, petition after petition for the banishment of priests and Jesuits from court and capital. To their alarm and chagrin it appeared that all efforts were in vain, and belief spread that the failure was chiefly due to opposition emanating from the highest quarters. Instead of aiding in the accomplishment of the desired object, the influence of the crown seemed to be directed absolutely to prevent it. For the king’s policy was one which could only inspire the nation with a sense of growing distrust.[37]
Though Charles II had ascended the throne on a wave of popular enthusiasm, his ideas were widely removed from those of his subjects. By birth and education his mind was drawn towards the aims and methods of French politics, and he leaned away from the Church of England. With this bias he inherited for Puritanism and the Presbyterians a dislike strengthened by personal experience. Coming into England without knowledge of parliamentary government, his first trial of it was far from encouraging. He found Parliament intolerant, suspicious, unstatesman-like. The Commons fenced in the Anglican Church with severe penal laws against dissent, and gave the king an income less than the annual expenses of government and the services by half a million pounds. Charles had been restored to a bankrupt inheritance, and with every good intention the Commons failed completely to render it solvent. Soon their good-will ceased. They were jealous of the royal expenditure. They did not perceive the royal wants. They destroyed the existing financial arrangements and did not replace them with better.[38] They desired to carry the Protestant and Parliamentary system to its logical end in controlling the King’s foreign policy and directing it against the influence of the Roman Catholic Church. To Charles this was intolerable. To be forced to act at the bidding of Parliament was odious to him. He would be no crowned do-nothing. And here the fortunes of England touched on those of France. The schemes of Louis XIV for the expansion and consolidation of the French kingdom made it imperative that he should obtain for their prosecution the neutrality, if not the assistance, of England. He could not devote his energy to the settlement of his north-east frontier and the maintenance of his claims on the Spanish empire with a Protestant country ever ready to strike at his back. He was therefore always ready to pay for the concurrence of Charles and with him of England.[39] The establishment of the Roman Catholic religion, could it be effected, would be of material assistance to him. Especially on the religious side of his policy it would be a powerful support. Charles, on the other hand, desired to free himself from the financial control of Parliament and to grant toleration to the Catholics. He was therefore always ready to be bought. He was all the better pleased since co-operation with France brought him into conflict with the Dutch republic, which he disliked upon commercial and detested upon dynastic grounds. Toleration Charles found to be impossible, and he was subjected to constant annoyance by the attempts of the Commons to control his dealings. Thus his aims crystallised into a policy of making the crown supreme in the constitution and establishing the Roman Catholic faith as the state religion upon the approved model in France.[40]
The plan undertaken in concert with his great ally was not the first effort of Charles to give his ideas effect. During his exile on the continent various tenders had been made for papal support; Charles promised in return conversion and favour to his Catholic subjects; and within a few years of the Restoration a serious negotiation was started with Pope Alexander VII. In 1663 Sir Richard Bellings was sent on a mission to Rome to beg the bestowal of a cardinal’s hat on the Abbé d’Aubigny, almoner to the newly-married queen, and cousin to the king. Charles took the opportunity to propose through Bellings the formation of an Anglican Roman Church in England. He was to announce his conversion, the Archbishop of Canterbury was to be patriarch of the three realms, and liberty of conscience should be assured to remaining Protestants. Roman Catholicism would become the state religion and Rome gain the whole strength of the English hierarchy.[41] An understanding was impracticable and the scheme fell through; but the renewed solicitations of the English court on Aubigny’s behalf were successful. In November 1665 he was nominated Cardinal, and died almost immediately after. To the hopes of the Catholics his death was a terrible blow. “The clouds,” wrote the general of the Jesuits on hearing of it, “which are gathering over Holland, Poland, and Constantinople are so dense that every prudent man must see reason to apprehend enormous catastrophes and storms that will not be ended without irreparable disasters. But in my mind all these coming evils are overshadowed by the death of the Abbé Aubigny, which deprives the Church, for a time at least, of the joy of beholding an English cardinal of such illustrious blood, created at the public instances of two queens, and at the secret request of a king, a prodigy which would, without doubt have confounded heresy and inaugurated bright fortunes to the unhappy Catholics.”
Three years later a still more remarkable embassy than Bellings’ took place. It is not even in our own day commonly known that the Duke of Monmouth, reputed the eldest of the sons of Charles II, had an elder brother. So well was the secret kept, that during the long struggle to save the Protestant succession and to exclude the Duke of York from the throne, no man ever discovered that there was another whose claims were better than those of the popular favourite, and who had of his free will preferred the gown of an obscure clerk to the brilliant prospect of favour at court and the chance of wearing the English crown. For this son, born to the king in the Isle of Jersey at the age of sixteen or seventeen years, the child of a lady of one of the noblest families in his dominions, was named by his father James Stuart, and urged to be at hand to maintain his rights should both the royal brothers die without male heirs. He set the dazzling fortune aside and resolved to live and die a Jesuit. In the year 1668, then being some four and twenty years old, he entered the house of novices of the Jesuits at Rome under the name of James de la Cloche. Towards the end of the same year Charles wrote to Johannes Oliva, the general, desiring that his son might be sent to England to discuss matters of religion. Assuming the name of Henri de Rohan, La Cloche made for England. He was received by the queen and the queen mother, and by them secretly taken to the king. What passed between father and son has never transpired. La Cloche was sent back to Rome by the king as his “secret ambassador to the Father General,” charged with an oral commission and orders to return to England as soon as it was fulfilled. The nature of that mission is unknown, and whether or no the young man returned to England. Trace of embassy and ambassador alike is lost, and the young prince disappears from history. Yet it may be that his figure can be descried again, flitting mysteriously across the life of his father. At the height of the turmoil of the Popish Plot a certain gentleman was employed to bring privately from beyond seas a Roman Catholic priest, with whom the king had secret business to transact. The king and the priest stayed long closeted together. At length the priest came out with signs of horror and fear on his face. Charles had been seized with a fit and, when the priest would have called for help, to preserve their secret summoned strength to hold him till the attack had passed. On Charles’ death two papers on religion were found in his cabinet and published in a translation by his brother. The originals were in French, in the form of an argument addressed by one person to another, and it is suggested, not without reason, that their author was the same man as the king’s questionable visitor, and none other than his own son, who had forgotten his native tongue and had surrendered fame and country for the good of his soul and of the Catholic Church.[42]
One more negotiation was undertaken directly with Rome. By command of the pope the papal internuncio at Brussels came to England. He had sent a confidant to prepare the way, and was assured of welcome at court. The Venetian envoy offered the hospitality of his house to the visitor, and arranged an interview with the king. The queen, the Duke of York, and Lord Arlington were also present, and the nuncio received promises of the king’s good intentions towards the Catholics.[43] The fruits of this undertaking, had there been any, were spoiled before the gathering by the intrigue into which Charles had already entered with Louis XIV. Only under a Catholic constitution, said Charles, might a King of England hope to be absolute. He was to live to see the prophecy falsified, and by his own unaided effort to accomplish what he believed impossible, but now he showed the courage of his convictions by attempting to make England Catholic. The scheme was afoot in the summer of 1669. Nearly a year passed in its completion, and on June 1, 1670 “le Traité de Madame” was signed at Dover. Arlington, Clifford, Arundel, and Sir Richard Bellings signed for England, and Colbert for France; and Henrietta of Orleans, to whose skilful management success was due, returned to her husband’s home to die, leaving a potent influence to carry on her work—Louise de Kéroualle. Louis’ object in the treaty was to break the Triple Alliance and carry the war to a successful conclusion; that of Charles to make himself master of England once again under the Catholic banner. The two kings were to aid each other in men and money. “It was in reality,” says Lord Acton, “a plot under cover of Catholicism to introduce absolute monarchy and to make England a dependency of France, not only by the acceptance of French money, but by submission to a French army.”[44] Charles was to declare himself a Catholic when he thought fit. In the event of resistance from his subjects he was to receive from Louis the sum of £150,000 and a force of 6000 men to bring his country under the yoke. Lauderdale held an army 20,000 strong in Scotland, bound to serve anywhere within British dominions. Ireland under Lord Berkeley was steeped in Catholic and loyal sentiment. The garrisons and ports of England were being placed in safe hands. If the scheme succeeded, the Anglican Church would be overthrown, Parliamentary government would be rendered futile, and Charles would be left at the head of a Catholic state and master of his realm.
Success however was so far from attainment that no attempt was made to put “la grande affaire” into effect. It was decided that Charles’ declaration of Catholicism should be preceded by his attack in concert with Louis on the Dutch. War was declared on March 17, 1672. Two days before, the Declaration of Indulgence, suspending all penal laws against dissenters, was issued. It sprang from the desire to obtain the support of dissent for the war and to pave the way for a successful issue of the Catholic policy at its close. Arms alone could determine victory or defeat. If Charles thereafter found himself in a position to dictate to Parliament, the rest might not prove difficult. Otherwise there would be little hope of success. But the war did not justify Charles’ expectations. Dutch tenacity and the growing hostility in England to the alliance with France made it certain that the chief objects for which Charles had sealed the Dover treaty could not be achieved. When on February 19, 1674 he concluded peace with the Republic for 800,000 crowns, the honour of the flag northward from Cape Finisterre, and the retention of all his conquests outside Europe, the king seemed to have emerged successfully from the struggle. In fact he had failed to reach the goal. Unless he gained a commanding position at home by military success abroad, he could not hope to put into practice the English part of the programme drawn up at Dover. It was something that his nephew the Prince of Orange had ousted the odious republican faction from power in Holland, and much that the Republic had been for ever detached from its alliance with France; but even this was hardly sufficient compensation to Charles for the abandonment of his policy in England. He had planned to restore the monarchy to its ancient estate by means of Roman Catholicism. He had failed, and now he turned his back finally upon Catholicism as a political power. He had already been compelled to cancel the Declaration of Indulgence, and on March 29, 1673 clearly marked the change by giving the royal assent to the Test Act. A return to the policy of Anglican Royalism, which in some ways approached that of Clarendon, was shaped. The Cabal had been dissipated, the plans of its Catholic members ruined, its Protestant members driven into opposition. Charles, guiding foreign policy himself, and Danby as Lord Treasurer managing affairs at home, determined to draw all stable elements in the kingdom round the Church and the Crown, and to offer a united opposition to the factions and the dissenters. The famous Non-Resisting Test was the result.[45] Here again Charles failed. The opposition of Shaftesbury rendered abortive the second line of policy by which the king attempted to restore the full majesty of the crown. There was nothing left him now but a policy of resistance. The next move in the game must come from his opponents. Thus the three following years were spent by Charles intriguing first with Louis, then with William, seeming to be on the brink of war and a Protestant policy and always drawing back. No decisive step could be taken until the panic of the Popish Plot gave to the country party an opportunity, which after a three years’ struggle the king turned to his own account with signal triumph.
From the moment when he revoked the Declaration of Indulgence the Catholics had nothing to hope from Charles. Up to that time Roman Catholic policy in England looked to him; thereafter he stood apart from it. Throughout his reign the king had been studying to rise to absolute sovereignty on the ladder of Catholicism. By the treaty of Dover he was actively concerned in a conspiracy to overturn the established church and again to introduce the Roman Catholic religion into England. He had undoubtedly been guilty of an act which in a subject would have been high treason. Although he now dissociated himself from his former policy, it was not abandoned by others. The Catholics had been deceived by Charles. They now fixed their hopes upon his brother, the Duke of York. Since the king would no longer join with the Jesuit party, it was determined to go without him. From that time James became the centre of their intrigues and negotiations. He was the point round which their hopes revolved.
The foundation of the intrigue was laid in the summer of 1673. Some eighteen months before the duke had made known to a small circle his conversion to the Roman Catholic Church.[46] The step was taken in the deepest secrecy, and even at Rome was not recognised as final until some years afterwards, for although James laid down his office of Lord High Admiral in consequence of the Test Act, he still continued to attend service in the royal chapel.[47] But despite all caution, enough suspicion was aroused by James’ marriage at the suggestion of the French court with a Roman Catholic princess, Mary of Modena. It was a definite sign of his attachment to the French and Catholic interest, and paved the way for the correspondence which was afterwards so nearly to procure his downfall. The duke had for secretary a young man named Edward Coleman, whom mysterious doings and a tragic fate have invested with not unmerited interest. Coleman was the son of an English clergyman. At an early age he was converted to the Catholic faith and educated by the Jesuits, and to the furtherance of their schemes devoted the rest of his life. To the good cause he brought glowing ardour and varied talents. He was noted as a keen controversialist and a successful fisherman of souls. The confidence of three ambassadors from the court of France argues versatile ability in the man. With Ruvigny Coleman enjoyed some intimacy; Courtin found him of the greatest assistance; he discussed with Barillon subjects of delicacy on his master’s behalf. The ambassadors found him a man of spirit, adept in intrigue, with fingers on the wires by which parties were pulled. And they valued him accordingly. For Coleman undertook the difficult task of agent between Louis XIV and the mercenary Whigs. More than three thousand pounds can be traced passing through his hands. The leaders of the opposition had their price at some five hundred guineas; but these took their money direct from the ambassador. Coleman dealt with the rank and file, and here the gold, which among the more exalted would have soon been exhausted, probably went far. He kept a sumptuous table for his friends and laid up for himself what he gained by way of commission. Knowledge of foreign languages, a ready pen, and his Jesuit connection marked Coleman as the man for the duke’s service. He had all the talents for the post save one. James’ want of discretion was reflected in his secretary. Twice Coleman was dismissed; the dismissal was apparent only, and he continued work as busily as before. He had occupied himself in writing seditious letters to rouse discontent in the provinces against the government. Complaint was made. Coleman was discharged from his place by the duke. He was immediately taken into the service of the duchess in the same capacity. Some years later his zeal brought him into collision with the Bishop of London. Compton went to the king and obtained an order to the duke to dismiss his wife’s secretary. The French ambassador was much perturbed and pressed James to afford protection, Coleman received his dismissal and took ship to Calais. His Jesuit friends sent the news sadly one to another. His very talents, it was said, had destroyed him. He was too much in the duke’s counsels. His enemies could not countenance the presence of a man of such parts. The duchess chose a new secretary. Within a fortnight Coleman returned, and in secret resumed his office. He was in the duke’s confidence and necessary to him.[48] Altogether Coleman was not quite the innocent lamb that he has often been painted.
At the outbreak of the second Dutch war an English cavalry regiment was sent for the French service under the command of Lord Duras. Among the officers was Sir William Throckmorton, an intimate of Coleman and converted by him to the Catholic faith. Throckmorton left the regiment and settled in Paris as his friend’s agent. The two corresponded at length, and by Throckmorton’s means Coleman was put in communication with Père Ferrier, Louis XIV’s Jesuit confessor. Ferrier was assured by Coleman that parliament would force Charles II to break with France and make peace with the Dutch. The accuracy of his prophecy gained the confessor’s confidence. Letters were exchanged and the means to advance the Duke of York and the Catholic cause in England debated. Ferrier was the first of Louis’ confessors to play an important part in politics, and his alliance was an achievement to be counted to the duke.[49] Coleman proceeded to extend his connection in other quarters. Under the assumed name of Rice the Earl of Berkshire was in communication with him, urging with doleful foreboding the overthrow of parliament and the Protestant party.[50] Berkshire was Coleman’s sole correspondent known in England, but on the continent others took up the thread. In France the Jesuit Sheldon was high in praise of Coleman and his design. From Brussels the papal internuncio Albani discussed it somewhat coolly. Meanwhile Coleman’s relations with Paris had undergone a change. In May 1675 Sir William Throckmorton died disreputably of a wound received in the course of his too eager courtship of a certain Lady Brown, while his wife yet lived,[51] and in December St. Germain, banished from England, took up his place. More important was the death of Père Ferrier in September of the same year, for Louis XIV chose as his confessor Père de la Chaize, the famous Jesuit whose dealings with Coleman subsequently formed the heaviest part of the proof against the unlucky intriguer.[52] Finally to the list of his political correspondents whose names are known Coleman added that of Cardinal Howard, better known as Cardinal Norfolk, at the Roman court.[53]