The History of England, from the Accession of James the Second - Volume 1, Thomas Babington Macaulay [ebook pc reader txt] 📗

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the guests and drawers. to kill the heretical tyrant. Oates, that

he might not be eclipsed by his imitators, soon added a large

supplement to his original narrative. He had the portentous

impudence to affirm, among other things, that he had once stood

behind a door which was ajar, and had there overheard the Queen

declare that she had resolved to give her consent to the

assassination of her husband. The vulgar believed, and the

highest magistrates pretended to believe, even such fictions as

these. The chief judges of the realm were corrupt, cruel, and

timid. The leaders of the Country Party encouraged the prevailing

delusion. The most respectable among them, indeed, were

themselves so far deluded as to believe the greater part of the

evidence of the plot to be true. Such men as Shaftesbury and

Buckingham doubtless perceived that the whole was a romance. But

it was a romance which served their turn; and to their seared

consciences the death of an innocent man gave no more uneasiness

than the death of a partridge. The juries partook of the feelings

then common throughout the nation, and were encouraged by the

bench to indulge those feelings without restraint. The multitude

applauded Oates and his confederates, hooted and pelted the

witnesses who appeared on behalf of the accused, and shouted with

joy when the verdict of Guilty was pronounced. It was in vain

that the sufferers appealed to the respectability of their past

lives: for the public mind was possessed with a belief that the

more conscientious a Papist was, the more likely he must be to

plot against a Protestant government. It was in vain that, just

before the cart passed from under their feet, they resolutely

affirmed their innocence: for the general opinion was that a good

Papist considered all lies which were serviceable to his Church

as not only excusable but meritorious.


While innocent blood was shedding under the forms of justice, the

new Parliament met; and such was the violence of the predominant

party that even men whose youth had been passed amidst

revolutions men who remembered the attainder of Strafford, the

attempt on the five members, the abolition of the House of Lords,

the execution of the King, stood aghast at the aspect of public

affairs. The impeachment of Danby was resumed. He pleaded the

royal pardon. But the Commons treated the plea with contempt, and

insisted that the trial should proceed. Danby, however, was not

their chief object. They were convinced that the only effectual

way of securing the liberties and religion of the nation was to

exclude the Duke of York from the throne.


The King was in great perplexity. He had insisted that his

brother, the sight of whom inflamed the populace to madness,

should retire for a time to Brussels: but this concession did not

seem to have produced any favourable effect. The Roundhead party

was now decidedly preponderant. Towards that party leaned

millions who had, at the time of the Restoration, leaned towards

the side of prerogative. Of the old Cavaliers many participated

in the prevailing fear of Popery, and many, bitterly resenting

the ingratitude of the prince for whom they had sacrificed so

much, looked on his distress as carelessly as he had looked on

theirs. Even the Anglican clergy, mortified and alarmed by the

apostasy of the Duke of York, so far countenanced the opposition

as to join cordially in the outcry against the Roman Catholics.


The King in this extremity had recourse to Sir William Temple. Of

all the official men of that age Temple had preserved the fairest

character. The Triple Alliance had been his work. He had refused

to take any part in the politics of the Cabal, and had, while

that administration directed affairs, lived in strict privacy. He

had quitted his retreat at the call of Danby, had made peace

between England and Holland, and had borne a chief part in

bringing about the marriage of the Lady Mary to her cousin the

Prince of Orange. Thus he had the credit of every one of the few

good things which had been done by the government since the

Restoration. Of the numerous crimes and blunders of the last

eighteen years none could be imputed to him. His private life,

though not austere, was decorous: his manners were popular; and

he was not to be corrupted either by titles or by money.

Something, however, was wanting to the character of this

respectable statesman. The temperature of his patriotism was

lukewarm. He prized his ease and his personal dignity too much,

and shrank from responsibility with a pusillanimous fear. Nor

indeed had his habits fitted him to bear a part in the conflicts

of our domestic factions. He had reached his fiftieth year

without having sate in the English Parliament; and his official

experience had been almost entirely acquired at foreign courts.

He was justly esteemed one of the first diplomatists in Europe:

but the talents and accomplishments of a diplomatist are widely

different from those which qualify a politician to lead the House

of Commons in agitated times.


The scheme which he proposed showed considerable ingenuity.

Though not a profound philosopher, he had thought more than most

busy men of the world on the general principles of government;

and his mind had been enlarged by historical studies and foreign

travel. He seems to have discerned more clearly than most of his

contemporaries one cause of the difficulties by which the

government was beset. The character of the English polity was

gradually changing. The Parliament was slowly, but constantly,

gaining ground on the prerogative. The line between the

legislative and executive powers was in theory as strongly marked

as ever, but in practice was daily becoming fainter and fainter.

The theory of the constitution was that the King might name his

own ministers. But the House of Commons had driven Clarendon, the

Cabal, and Danby successively from the direction of affairs. The

theory of the constitution was that the King alone had the power

of making peace and war. But the House of Commons had forced him

to make peace with Holland, and had all but forced him to make

war with France. The theory of the constitution was that the King

was the sole judge of the cases in which it might be proper to

pardon offenders. Yet he was so much in dread of the House of

Commons that, at that moment, he could not venture to rescue from

the gallows men whom he well knew to be the innocent victims of

perjury.


Temple, it should seem, was desirous to secure to the legislature

its undoubted constitutional powers, and yet to prevent it, if

possible, from encroaching further on the province of the

executive administration. With this view he determined to

interpose between the sovereign and the Parliament a body which

might break the shock of their collision. There was a body

ancient, highly honourable, and recognised by the law, which, he

thought, might be so remodelled as to serve this purpose. He

determined to give to the Privy Council a new character and

office in the government. The number of Councillors he fixed at

thirty. Fifteen of them were to be the chief ministers of state,

of law, and of religion. The other fifteen were to be unplaced

noblemen and gentlemen of ample fortune and high character. There

was to be no interior cabinet. All the thirty were to be

entrusted with every political secret, and summoned to every

meeting; and the King was to declare that he would, on every

occasion, be guided by their advice.


Temple seems to have thought that, by this contrivance, he could

at once secure the nation against the tyranny of the Crown, and

the Crown against the encroachments of the Parliament. It was, on

one hand, highly improbable that schemes such as had been formed

by the Cabal would be even propounded for discussion in an

assembly consisting of thirty eminent men, fifteen of whom were

bound by no tie of interest to the court. On the other hand, it

might be hoped that the Commons, content with the guarantee

against misgovernment which such a Privy Council furnished, would

confine themselves more than they had of late done to their

strictly legislative functions, and would no longer think it

necessary to pry into every part of the executive administration.


This plan, though in some respects not unworthy of the abilities

of its author, was in principle vicious. The new board was half a

cabinet and half a Parliament, and, like almost every other

contrivance, whether mechanical or political, which is meant to

serve two purposes altogether different, failed of accomplishing

either. It was too large and too divided to be a good

administrative body. It was too closely connected with the Crown

to be a good checking body. It contained just enough of popular

ingredients to make it a bad council of state, unfit for the

keeping of secrets, for the conducting of delicate negotiations,

and for the administration of war. Yet were these popular

ingredients by no means sufficient to secure the nation against

misgovernment. The plan, therefore, even if it had been fairly

tried, could scarcely have succeeded; and it was not fairly

tried. The King was fickle and perfidious: the Parliament was

excited and unreasonable; and the materials out of which the new

Council was made, though perhaps the best which that age

afforded, were still bad.


The commencement of the new system was, however, hailed with

general delight; for the people were in a temper to think any

change an improvement. They were also pleased by some of the new

nominations. Shaftesbury, now their favourite, was appointed Lord

President. Russell and some other distinguished members of the

Country Party were sworn of the Council. But a few days later all

was again in confusion. The inconveniences of having so numerous

a cabinet were such that Temple himself consented to infringe one

of the fundamental rules which he had laid down, and to become

one of a small knot which really directed everything. With him

were joined three other ministers, Arthur Capel, Earl of Essex,

George Savile, Viscount Halifax, and Robert Spencer, Earl of

Sunderland.


Of the Earl of Essex, then First Commissioner of the Treasury, it

is sufficient to say that he was a man of solid, though not

brilliant parts, and of grave and melancholy character, that he

had been connected with the Country Party, and that he was at

this time honestly desirous to effect, on terms beneficial to the

state, a reconciliation between that party and the throne.


Among the statesmen of those times Halifax was, in genius, the

first. His intellect was fertile, subtle, and capacious. His

polished, luminous, and animated eloquence, set off by the silver

tones of his voice, was the