1667.
Within three months after the booms had been broken by the Dutch in the Medway, Clarendon's term of power was at an end.
A bad harvest is a bad thing for an English Ministry, especially for the Chief of the Cabinet. The visitations of Heaven are set down to his account, and all the weak points of his administration, all the errors of his policy, all the faults of his character, are brought out most vividly in the light of adverse circumstances. So it was, that after the Plague and the Fire of London—with which Clarendon could have had nothing to do—the eyes of the people were strangely opened to the defects of his government; and, when the English Lion was bearded by the insolence of the Hollanders, there fell upon the great statesman the anger of the whole people. To meet the evil, which he had failed to prevent, he counselled the King to dissolve Parliament, and maintain the defences of the country by forced contributions. This private advice was blown abroad, inspiring indignation in the people, and bringing discomfiture to the Prime Minister. He did not want courage, but it was now useless. What he hoped would appear to the King the firmness of an upright mind, was regarded by His Majesty as the obstinacy of a stubborn will. In vain the Duke of York pleaded in his behalf. The Chancellor was forced to resign the Great Seal on the 30th of August.[525]
CLARENDON.
Clarendon, in the impeachment which followed in the month of November, was charged with unconstitutional acts; but, of all the seventeen heads under which the charges were arranged, not more than three, seriously affecting his character as a statesman, contained matters which could be clearly proved. The first allegation—that he had encouraged the King to raise a standing army, and to govern the country without Parliaments—although an exaggerated statement, had some foundation. Respecting the truth of the fourth article—that he had procured the imprisonment of divers persons contrary to law—there could be no doubt whatever. The eleventh charge, touching the sale of Dunkirk to the French for no greater amount than the worth of the ammunition and stores, was false with regard to his being content with the price, but it was true as it respects his promoting the sale. Nor did the impeachment, so far as it could be established, fix upon the Minister the guilt of high treason; but, short of that, it proved him to be a person dangerous to the country, and unfitted to continue in the office which he had filled. Virtuous and patriotic men might fairly have insisted upon the degradation of the Chancellor; but it must be confessed that virtuous and patriotic men were not the prime movers in his punishment. The intrigues of women, anything but virtuous, had most to do with it; for Clarendon had unfortunately excited the wrath of Charles' mistresses, who, by working upon the Monarch's too easy temper, had implanted in his bosom a dislike to his old friend. The object of these ladies was promoted by the assistance of Cavalier gentlemen who never forgave Clarendon for the Act of Indemnity, and who considered that he had, at the Restoration, largely neglected the personal interests of the Royalists. Three Bishops were numbered amongst the Peers who protested against the refusal of the Upper House to commit the Minister upon the charge of treason.[526] The Catholics owed him no gratitude, for they knew his dislike to their religion—and with the nation generally, he had become unpopular for many reasons, particularly for the part which he had taken in the sale of Dunkirk. It is a little surprising, that Presbyterians, who, perhaps, had more reason than any class to complain of his administration, were not amongst his inveterate adversaries. Colonel Birch, who belonged to that religious denomination, was, indeed, one of the Tellers on the side of impeachment; but Baxter notices, as a providence of God, in reference to Clarendon, that the man who had dealt so cruelly with the Nonconformists was cast out by his own friends, "while those that he had persecuted were the most moderate in his cause, and many for him."[527]
1667.
In writing a letter to his daughter, the Duchess of York, just after her conversion to Popery, the necessities of Clarendon's argument forced him to adopt a position, which, if he had sincerely taken it up at an earlier period, must have diverted him from that persecuting course, which is one of the greatest blots on his history. "The common argument," he remarks, "that there is no salvation out of the Church, and that the Church of Rome is that only Church, is both irrational and untrue." "There are many Churches in which salvation may be attained, as well as in any one of them; and were many even in the apostolic time; otherwise they would not have directed their Epistles to so many several Churches, in which there were different opinions received and very different doctrines taught. There is, indeed, but one faith in which we can be saved—the steadfast belief of the birth, passion, and resurrection of our Saviour. And every Church that receives and embraces that faith is in a state of salvation."[528]
CLARENDON.
1667.
The whole history of the Chancellor must be considered, if we would form a just estimate of his character. That he was a man of great ability; that he possessed those talents and accomplishments which contribute to form distinguished statesmen; that he performed services valuable to the nation, at a very critical period of its history; that he had a sense of religion, and was heartily attached to the Episcopal Church, there can be no doubt. Those who glory in the constitution of that Church as established upon the Act of Uniformity will praise him for his wisdom; those who form a different opinion of that Church, and of its legal basis, must withhold such laudation. But, apart from all ecclesiastical questions, and also putting aside the motives by which Clarendon was influenced throughout his career, with all its lights and shadows—here are two aspects of his conduct, at least, upon which the historian must pronounce a severe censure. To say nothing of his pride and avarice—there remain, first, his persecution of the Nonconformists; and next, the dissimulation which he practised, in connection with measures professedly intended for their relief. His persecution of the Nonconformists is a fact which speaks for itself. Whatever notions he might have of what the Church should be it was a gratuitous course, and it betrayed revenge and injustice, to treat Dissenters in the manner which he did: revenge, for he crushed them as conquered foes; injustice, for he dealt with them all as disaffected subjects, whilst the loyalty of the vast majority of them was above suspicion. If his clever diplomacy did not sink into downright dissimulation in the business of the Worcester House Declaration, the circumstances of which have been so fully described—if there was not also much deceptiveness in the promises from Breda, and in the plan of the Savoy Conference, both of which Clarendon, as Charles' Minister, must have advised, it is hard to prove that such qualities have ever belonged to any human being. Many a Jesuit has been a martyr—and I give the Chancellor credit for such an attachment to the Episcopal Church as would have led him to suffer on its behalf, but no man could be more Jesuitical than he was in the course of policy which he adopted for its establishment. So dark a fate as covered the last days of Strafford, Laud, and Charles I., did not attend the final destiny of the great Minister of Charles II.; still, calamities overtook him after the sunshine of his prosperity—his sun set in a cloud; and thus, like his predecessors in the defence of the Church, he has secured from posterity, through sympathy with him in his misfortunes, gentler treatment than the defects of his character would otherwise have received.[529]