Meanwhile, Sir Leoline Jenkins was requested to inquire into the case of the Merlin, presumably to see what could be made of it. He examined Lady Temple and others, and drew up a memorandum embodying the information he had received as to the extent of the British seas and the precedents of striking to the English flag off foreign coasts.[887] After citing the precedents at Goeree and elsewhere, he expressed an opinion against calling witnesses in such cases “for fear of chicane,” declaring that we had “a constant uninterrupted possession of the prerogative, with the highest notoriety that public immemorial reputation can give, in the British seas, and that the onus of making proof as to the non-use and enjoyment of it in some certain places or rencounters, as for instance the Dutch coast, or when a small sail of ours met a fleet of theirs, was cast by the law and by reason upon our opposers.”[888] The English Government did not make any immediate protest to the States-General about Van Ghent’s refusal to strike to the yacht, possibly lest they might proffer satisfaction and dispose of the episode; but Charles boldly told the Dutch ambassadors that he thought the conduct of their admiral had been premeditated.
Up to this time the Dutch had failed to discern the danger which was approaching. After the Merlin incident indeed, as Temple tells us, the Dutch ambassadors in London, “with as ill noses as they have, began to smell the powder after the Captain’s shooting.” But relying on the well-known animosity of the English people and Parliament to France, and their aversion to a rupture of the Triple Alliance, they fondly clung to the belief that the incident was one of the temporary misunderstandings about the flag which would be readily cleared up. The States-General were equally undiscerning, and perhaps a little more obtuse. They adopted a course which, however proper it might have been under other circumstances, now served only to play into the hands of Charles. A manifesto was prepared declaring that by the terms of the treaties with England the salute was to be regulated according to the custom in the past; that it could not be claimed except in British waters, where—as their High Mightinesses thought it well to remind the king—it was offered only as a mark of courtesy, and not in recognition of England’s pretension to the sovereignty of the sea. And in order that their intention might be perfectly clear, they instructed De Ruyter to draw up a set of rules prescribing the salute to be given in future by the Dutch fleet to English or French men-of-war on the Dutch coast, which was to be confined to the exchange of guns without striking the flag at all.
Thus, by their own maladroitness as it happened, the States were drawn into precisely the dispute that Charles had been longing for—a dispute about the flag and the sovereignty of the sea. He replied by sending Downing to The Hague, in December 1671, as ambassador extraordinary, with a sheaf of peremptory and intolerable demands. The choice of the ambassador was in itself significant of much, for Downing was known to be repugnant to the States-General, partly from his overbearing and quarrelsome disposition, still more because of his unconcealed enmity to the Dutch people. He was to demand free trade for the English in the Dutch plantations in the Indies; redress and satisfaction for the pamphlets and medals insulting to the king; above all, he was to present to the States-General a memorial requiring that they should “solemnly and clearly acknowledge, in writing, the king’s right to the dominion of these seas, and that they neither do nor will dispute it, but expressly engage themselves that all ships or fleets of theirs, however numerous, shall, upon warning given by any ship or ships of war, carrying English colours, of what rate or bigness soever, strike their top-sails and lower their flags, as has been ever practised.” As a pendicle to this, he was to demand that Van Ghent should be “exemplarily punished for the insolent affront done by him to a small English man-of-war [the Merlin] in refusing to strike.” If within a fortnight no answer was received to this “memorial,” Downing was to present a sharp and peremptory note demanding an immediate reply, and if he did not get it within another week, he was instantly to quit The Hague, without giving any notice of his intention to go.
While Downing was away on his explosive mission, Boreel, the Dutch ambassador in London, was beguiled with smooth words in order to lull the States-General into a feeling of security. On the eve of his departure, Downing told him he was going to The Hague with the object of strengthening the good understanding between the two countries, and Charles treated the ambassador with the most friendly courtesy. The ease with which the Dutch were being hoodwinked caused much amusement in Paris. But Charles was not yet quite ready. He needed a great deal more money than what was left of the £800,000 which the House of Commons had voted. Afraid to summon Parliament again, or to levy taxes under the prerogative as Charles I. had levied the ship-money, he had recourse to the daring expedient of closing the Exchequer, by which he robbed the public creditors of some £1,200,000, causing widespread ruin and commercial panic. A little later, on 21st January 1672, the first quarterly instalment of the subsidy of three million livres from Louis was landed at Rye, and escorted to the Tower by forty men of the Guards and a trumpeter. Now in possession of ample supplies, Charles hastened to throw aside the mask. Downing played his arrogant part at The Hague, refusing to allow any debate as to the justice of his demands. When he suddenly called for his passports, the States-General began to awaken to a truer sense of their position, menaced as they also were by imminent peril from France. Adopting the advice of the deluded Boreel, that by yielding on the question of the flag they would remove any inclination the English people had for war with them, since England really cherished enmity against France, the States-General agreed to comply with the claims of Charles respecting the salute. The concession was still joined with the offensive proviso that they gave it only as a mark of respect to a powerful monarch: it was, moreover, to be conditional on the maintenance of the Triple Alliance. Downing told them the offer came too late, and slunk away home, reaching London on 6th February, where the king, displeased with his management of the affair, sent him to the Tower “for not having obeyed the orders sent him.”
The flight of Downing threw the States-General into consternation. Meerman, previously their ambassador at the English Court, was despatched in haste to London to renew the offer about the flag, to agree to the dismissal of Van Ghent, and to tender large subsidies for the king’s privy purse. At the audience with Meerman and Boreel, Charles skilfully evaded their proposals and expressed surprise that they had not submitted a formal signed paper. This they made haste to do, and they were then informed that it was ambiguous and obscure, but in what particulars they could not learn. They next submitted a draft to Arlington and Lauderdale, the English commissioners appointed to treat with them, with the request that they might amend it as they thought fit, but they were haughtily told that it was none of their business to draw up papers for the Dutch. Finally, they signed a written engagement to give satisfaction about the flag, but at the conference appointed for its reception the English refused to consider it, saying the time for negotiations was now past.[889]
The time was now obviously ripe for a declaration of war; but Charles before taking this step had resolved on an audacious and treacherous stroke, by which he hoped to gain much plunder for himself while diminishing the resources of the Dutch. In spite of the solemn obligations of treaties for the temporary security of their shipping even if war broke out, it was decided to attack and capture Dutch merchant vessels in time of peace. Here also a ready excuse might be found by contriving disputes about the striking of the flag. As early as 26th January, Sir Robert Holmes sent an express to Arlington recommending the seizure of a Dutch fleet laden with salt and wine, which lay wind-bound at the Isle of Wight, under the convoy of three or four States’ men-of-war. He said that in Holland there was a great scarcity of salt, and that without it they could not carry on their fishery or provide for their garrisons; the capture of the salt fleet would thus overwhelm them in ruin even greater than would the loss of their East Indian fleet. But ships were apparently not ready for this venture—and, besides, it was not salt that Charles wanted. On 18th February orders were sent to the Mediterranean to take and sell, or to destroy, all Dutch shipping. On 5th March Charles wrote to the Duke of York commanding that, as he had received many indignities from the States-General, and his demand for reparation against one of their subjects who refused to strike his flag remained unanswered, such men-of-war as were ready at Portsmouth should immediately put to sea and seize and bring into port, with their cargoes intact, any Dutch vessels they met with, and destroy those that resisted. Another royal command on the following day included Hamburg vessels in the piratical order, since Dutch ships often sailed under that flag; and in this missive, as a sort of moral salve, the king announced that he had resolved to make war on the States-General.
The first capture was made on 8th March, and when Boreel demanded restitution, he was told, boldly but incautiously, that the Dutch ships would be seized everywhere. The Cadiz fleet returning to the United Provinces had a very narrow escape, having passed up Channel on the day Holmes received his instructions. On the next day, 13th March, off the Isle of Wight, he fell in with the Smyrna fleet of fifty-six merchant vessels returning home from the Mediterranean with rich cargoes of silks, plate, cochineal, gums, &c., estimated to be worth over a million pounds. It was upon this fleet that Charles had been counting. Eleven States’ men-of-war acted as convoy to the merchantmen, many of which were also heavily armed as fighting ships. To deal with this formidable force Holmes at first had only five ships, having failed to effect a junction with Spragge’s squadron, from the selfish design, it was alleged, of keeping the prize-money among as few as possible. The Dutch fleet, which had been warned of their danger by Boreel, were on the alert. On the approach of the English the armed vessels moved into line to protect the defenceless merchantmen. Lord Ossory, in the Resolution, bore up to the Dutch vice-admiral and gave him a “warning piece” to strike his flag, and as he took no notice of it, Ossory gave him another and “placed it in him.” Sir Robert Holmes, in the St Michael, treated Captain Adrian de Haas, who commanded the convoy, in the same way, and when the latter sent his lieutenant on board the St Michael to ascertain the cause of shooting, he was promptly clapped into the hold, “having, it seems,” as the English official account says, “given some saucy language to Sir Robert.”[890] The St Michael then poured in a broadside and the fight began. It continued until night, and was resumed on the following day, when Holmes was reinforced by three other ships, and on the day after that, as the Dutch fleet made its way up the Channel, defending itself with the greatest valour. The English were hopelessly outnumbered. They sank one Dutch man-of-war and captured another, with four or five of the merchant vessels, but all the others safely reached port. The English ships which were beaten off were so terribly battered and cut up that they could scarcely make their way back to the Downs. On the St Michael alone thirty-four men were killed and fifty-six wounded, as well as “a great many” missing.
Charles was deeply disappointed at losing the booty on which he had calculated. He was further annoyed when he found he could not confiscate the whole of the cargoes actually taken, and which Holmes with vainglorious exaggeration boasted “would give him credit for £200,000 at least.” When the question came to be decided whether the captured ships were lawfully good prize, Holmes and his officers showed the greatest reluctance to be examined. Included in the cargoes were goods belonging to Spaniards and subjects of other nations, but notwithstanding this the Council wished to confiscate everything. Sir Leoline Jenkins, Judge of the High Court of Admiralty, opposed this design with great energy. The confiscation of Dutch ships and property in time of peace might be colourably made under the pretence that the owners refused to strike their flag and were the aggressors. But to condemn neutral goods on board as lawful prize would be, Sir Leoline said, to introduce “a new law of war, not so honourable for us to endure from others when his Majesty shall be at peace and his neighbours at war.” He declared that no hostile act of the Dutch, supposing them the aggressors, could involve a stranger not party to it, before a public declaration of war; and as he threatened to resign his office if the course was persisted in, the Council gave way, and restitution was made of the property of neutrals.[891]
The iniquity of this shameful and deliberate attack on Dutch shipping in time of peace was not extenuated or obscured by the plea of the English Ministry that it had been caused by the obstinacy of the Dutch in refusing to strike the flag. The opinion of Europe was expressed in the remark of a French diplomatist at one of the German Courts, that “when the king, his master, made war on the States-General, he would not do so like a pirate.” An immediate result of the onslaught on the Smyrna fleet was to convince not only the States-General, but the French Court, that Charles was in earnest, and the formal declaration of war could not be longer delayed. On 17th March 1672, the day after Churchill brought the tidings to London, an Order in Council was issued to print and publish the declaration of war against the States-General. In this long, verbose, and rhetorical document of eight pages Charles tried hard to justify his flagrant violation of treaties. The real reason of the war could not be avowed, but every complaint that had at any time been levelled against the Dutch was now dragged forth, accusation being piled on accusation. The accumulated charges connected with the East Indies, the West Indies, and Surinam were revived and aggravated; the safety of trade, upon which the wealth and prosperity of the English people depended, was in danger; the king and nation were declared to have been insulted by lampoons and caricatures. But, as was to be expected from the antecedents, a principal ground of rupture was found in the flouting by the Dutch of the right of England to the honour of the flag and the sovereignty of the sea. “The right of the flag,” the king declared, “is so ancient that it was one of the first prerogatives of our royal predecessors, and ought to be the last from which this kingdom should ever depart. It was never questioned, and it was expressly acknowledged in the treaty of Breda; and yet this last summer it was not only violated by their commanders at sea, and that violation afterwards justified at The Hague, but it was also represented by them in most Courts of Christendom as ridiculous for us to demand. An ungrateful insolence! That they should contend with us about the dominion of these seas, who, even in the reign of our royal father, thought it an obligation to be permitted to fish in them, by taking of licenses and for a tribute.” Notwithstanding all these provocations, the king continued, he had patiently waited expecting satisfaction. To the memorials sent to them they had at last replied to this effect: “That in this conjuncture they would condescend to strike to us, if we would assist them against the French; but upon condition that it should never be taken for a precedent hereafter to their prejudice.” The concluding negotiations were mendaciously summarised by saying that after the return of Downing the States-General sent over an extraordinary ambassador, who declared he could give no satisfaction till he had consulted his masters. “Wherefore,” said the king, “despairing now of any good effect of further treaty, we are compelled to take up arms in defence of an ancient prerogative of our crown, and the glory and safety of our kingdoms.”
Louis’ declaration of war, of fewer words and greater dignity, followed; arrangements were completed for the union of the English and French fleets, and no difficulty was made about the salute. Charles, while taking so high and imperial a tone in the declaration of war about the ancient and sacred rights of the English flag, immediately relinquished them to his royal ally and paymaster. For the first time in history the French fleet was put on an equality with the English in the British seas. Orders were issued that if an English squadron under a vice-admiral was sent to the Mediterranean to be commanded by a French admiral, the latter was to be saluted in the same manner as he was saluted by French vice-admirals. When an English frigate was sent to Brest with a despatch for the Comte d’Estrées, the Vice-Admiral of France, it was ordered if it met the French squadron appointed to join the English fleet to salute them as if they were English ships, and to treat the French Vice-Admiral as if he were English. Charles sent similar commands to the Governors of Portsmouth, Dartmouth, Dover, and other places—that the French ships were to be saluted as if they were English. Thus not only in the Mediterranean, but in the Channel and in English ports, the English flag was to be lowered to that of France—a proposition that might have made the old sea-dogs turn in their graves.[892]