Life of Edward Earl of Clarendon — Volume 02

by Sir Henry Craik

But it was a costly success; "it raised great thoughts of heart in De
Witt, and a resolution of revenge before any peace should be thought of,"
[Footnote: Life, iii. 80.] and it did not materially improve the
position for England.

To the burden of the plague and of war there was now added—in September, 1666—the calamity of the Great Fire of London. Clarendon was not disposed to accept humiliating terms, but prudence forbade him to reject openings for peace. Charles offered in January, 1667, to send an embassy to the Hague to treat of peace. The place was selected because it was believed that there the party of the Prince of Orange might best balance the influence of De Witt, and give an impulse to the peace negotiations. Delay was caused by other places being proposed in its stead, but there was no unwillingness to enter upon negotiations. These, however, received their chief impulse from the separate proposals for a treaty between England and France. These proposals had at first been made through the Queen-Mother, Henrietta Maria; but at a later stage the Earl of St. Albans (Jermyn) was deputed to act for the King. The wheels of the negotiations drove heavily, and suspicion clogged the proceedings on both sides; but it became clear that both sides desired peace. Breda was now named, on the suggestion of the English King, as the meeting-place for the wider negotiations, and was accepted by the Dutch. But their intentions were still doubtful, and even when the negotiations opened at Breda, in May, 1667, they absolutely declined a proposal for a cessation of hostilities pending the negotiations. De Witt had not yet given up "the great thoughts of heart" that the burning of Schelling had raised, nor had he dismissed his "resolution of revenge before any peace should be thought of." He was not without hope from the state of the English fleet; he knew well that the English Treasury was in no position to meet new outlays; and he counted upon the depression caused by pestilence and the Fire. The city would be hard put to it to advance money on the credit of the supplies newly voted.

As a fact, the largest ships of the fleet were actually laid up. Only the lighter vessels which could act against the enemy's merchantmen were kept in commission, and the necessary defences of the kingdom were reduced to a minimum, in reckless reliance on the speedy conclusion of the peace negotiations. It was that prime object of Clarendon's dislike, Sir William Coventry, who was responsible for this act of treasonable neglect. Such was the position, when De Ruyter's fleet appeared at the Nore on June 10th, 1667. The Dutch Fleet divided; one division moved up to Gravesend; another broke through the defences of the Medway, [Footnote: Works were in progress at Sheerness, and the King had visited the place, and given orders for new fortifications. The Commissioners of the Admiralty had been too busy with peculations to carry them out.] burned the guardships, captured the first-class warship, the Royal Charles, and next day pursued their advantage further, and burned three more first-class ships of war. The guns were heard in London, and for the first time for six hundred years, the way seemed open for the invader. The citizens of London realized the straits to which the folly of their rulers had brought them. [Footnote: Disastrous and disgraceful as was the episode, the alarm and confusion which it caused at Court seemed to Clarendon even more degrading. "All they who had most advanced the war and reproached all who had been against it, as men who had no public spirit, and were not solicitous for the honour and glory of the nation; and who had never spoken of the Dutch but with scorn and contempt, as a nation rather worthy to be cudgelled than fought with, were now the most dejected men, railed very bitterly at those who had advised the King to enter into that war— and wished that a peace, as the only hope, were made on any terms" (Life, iii. 251). The braggart repeats himself in all ages and all nations.]

These exploits, serious as they were, marked the limit of the Dutch success. Their memory would not soon be wiped out, and they inflicted a sore wound upon the pride of England. But De Witt could not hazard the impossible. Other attempts were made elsewhere—at Portsmouth and at Plymouth—but they were easily repelled. Even De Witt could feel that his resolution of revenge was satisfied, and he allowed the negotiations at Breda to proceed. On July 21st, treaties were there signed with France, with Holland, and with Denmark. Peace was based upon the maintenance of the status quo; no cession of territory was to take place. The rights of commerce and of navigation were to be as provided by the treaty of 1662. Never was a costly and devastating war entered upon more recklessly, conducted, on our side at least, with more helpless inefficiency, and closed with a smaller result in any change which it effected. The people of England accepted peace as a relief; they found in it neither honour, nor compensation for their heavy loss.

A point of no little importance may be noted before we conclude the narrative of this disastrous war, to which Clarendon was so bitterly opposed, and for which he was afterwards so unjustly blamed. Before the negotiations were completed, while the impression of the bold attack of De Witt was still heavy upon the country, and when his ships still threatened the dockyards and the home counties bordering on the Thames, a constitutional question of some difficulty arose. It was necessary suddenly to levy troops and incur heavy expenses for the defences of each bank of the river. No provision had been made for this, and Parliament was prorogued until October 20th. It was debated in Council whether Parliament could be summoned in anticipation of that date, or how otherwise money could be obtained. Clarendon saw that the meeting of Parliament could only increase the prevailing alarm, that it might lead to serious confusion, and that as a means of obtaining money, its grants would be so delayed as to be useless. For himself he held that Parliament could not legally be summoned in advance of the date proclaimed; and he strongly urged that money could be legally provided by way of loan, to be deducted from next assessment. After full debate the point was decided contrary to his advice: but fortunately before Parliament met, the peace had been concluded, and the emergency was gone. The vexed question of special supplies, and of the extraordinary powers of the Crown, was thus luckily avoided. But Clarendon's contention was soon to form a good handle of attack to his enemies.

CHAPTER XXII

ADMINISTRATIVE FRICTION

In order to be a great Foreign Minister, a statesman must follow one of two courses. He must either hold the internal affairs of the country in a grasp of iron, so securely as to impose an effectual guard against their ever becoming a source of trouble or agitation; or else he must abandon these affairs to a knot of subsidiary and secondary agents, who will be content to steer strictly according to the course which he has laid down. Cromwell is a good specimen of the first; Chatham is the most conspicuous example of the second. Circumstances did not allow Clarendon to pursue either course, and his efforts to guide his country through the stormy sea of foreign politics were foredoomed to failure. He could look back with little satisfaction on the waste of life and treasure in the war now closed. He was thwarted by a crowd of jealous intriguers at home, and his intentions and directions as to foreign politics were often set aside by such an agent as Downing.

But from foreign affairs we have now to turn to those matters of internal politics which had necessarily occupied much of Clarendon's attention while the war was in progress. Here, again, he had to tread a thorny path. It seemed as if there was no possible source of mischief which did not add something to his troubles. He saw that the recklessness of the courtiers was breeding irritation and contempt towards the Crown, and weakening the nerves and sinews of the nation. All he could now hope for in the King was, that he might to some extent hide the scandals of his Court, and not be entirely led away by the more dangerous spirits in it. Efficient aid from his master, Clarendon had ceased to expect; it would be well if the worst gang amongst the courtiers could at least be persuaded to interfere as little as might be with affairs of State.

Meanwhile the signs of widespread disaffection were clearly visible to Clarendon, and the existence of dangerous conspiracies was confirmed by the strongest evidence. These were not the less threatening because they were disseminated throughout the most dissimilar sections of society, and were actuated by the most opposite aims. The wilder sects of the Independents were avowedly animated by revolutionary schemes, and violent preachers advocated them in their "congregated churches," where they regularly assembled, in various parts of London, and stirred one another to frenzy by aspirations for the rule of the saints. Restless discontent, disappointed ambition, the jealousy of jarring factions at Court, all found ready instruments in the enthusiasts who revived many of the strange vagaries of doctrine that had been rife during the Civil War. Anabaptists and Millenarians, Fifth-monarchy men and Levellers—all were mingled together in the cauldron of religious and political frenzy. The reckless vanity of a courtier like Buckingham found it useful to cultivate the good-will of the more ardent sectaries. The Civil War had left an ample crop of bravos, who were to be hired for any outrage, and whose excesses added to the restless uneasiness that prevailed, and that made men nervously apprehensive of revolution. The religious enthusiast, and the blustering cut-throat of Alsatia, were equally open to the persuasions of any turbulent faction which sought to defy the law. The forces of order which Clarendon commanded were but scanty. The elements of turbulence were overwhelming in number, and were weakened only by their confusion and diversity. It was not Clarendon alone who saw and dreaded the danger of disturbance. His fears were shared even by those counsellors, such as Clifford and Arlington, who were his jealous opponents; and it was only too evident how many sources of combustion went to feed the flame of discontent. The Presbyterians, however little in sympathy with the aims of the wilder sectaries, were bitterly disappointed at the ecclesiastical settlement, and deemed that their Royalist leanings had been rewarded by the basest ingratitude. The burden of taxation was excessive, and its irksomeness was sorely aggravated by the added misfortunes of the Plague and the Fire. The confidence of the city was shaken, and the monied men shrank from making advances to a discredited administration. Even those amongst the opponents of the Court for whom the title of patriot has been claimed—perhaps on flimsy grounds,—were not ashamed to negotiate with the French King, or the Dutch Pensionary, and to offer their services to the enemies of their country. [Footnote: On June 9, 1665, Downing writes to Clarendon that Algernon Sidney was at Breda, disguised as a Frenchman, on his way to the Hague; and that "others of that gang" were flocking to the Dutch as enthusiastic allies.] It seemed as if every evil which Divine vengeance, religious frenzy, human folly, foreign enemies abroad, and deep-rooted political discontent at home, could engender, were poured out into the welter of confusion that reigned in England during these unhappy years. In such a turbid flood had Clarendon to steer the ship of State.