Clarendon at the same time despatched a similar missive to the Duke, her husband. Choosing to assume that his Royal Highness still remained a steady Protestant, (although there was now little doubt with the public of his having been reconciled to Rome, and the Duchess having gone over to please him,)

the Ex-chancellor condoled with him on the grief he [A. D. 1670.] must suffer from her defection, and, (as he thought,) with a refinement of policy, pointed out the danger to the Catholics from such an open conversion, as they would be sure to be treated with increased rigour. But in spite of these pious efforts James soon after professed himself to be a Roman Catholic in the face of the world, and the Duchess steadily adhered to that faith till her death.

This event took place in March, 1671, and the intelligence of it plunged her father into the deepest affliction. He was tenderly attached to her, and he had complacently anticipated the time (although he could not hope to live to see it) when she would sit upon the throne, and teach her children who were to reign after her to honour and to defend his memory. His grief was soon after aggravated by hearing of the death of her only surviving son, and he trembled lest her daughters, Mary and Anne, should, like their brothers and sisters, be doomed to an early grave.

He was so overset that he could no longer follow his usual occupations, and change of scene being recommended to him, he retired from Montpellier to Moulins.

[JULY, 1671.]

Here he was consoled by the society of Lawrence, his second son, who with some difficulty obtained permission from the English government to visit him. His spirits gradually rallied, and he resumed his studies. Having finished his History of the Rebellion," he wrote to Charles II., and after trying to soften him with an account of his desolate condition in exile, he says, "I have performed a work under this mortification, which I began with the approbation and encouragement of your blessed father, and when I had the honour to be near your Majesty, and which, if I do not overmuch flatter myself, may be for the honour of both your Majesties." He concluded by entreating, in pathetic terms, "that an old man, who had served the Crown above thirty years in some trust and with some acceptation, might be permitted to end his days, which could not be many, in his own country and in the society of his children." He entertained sanguine hopes that this appeal would be successful, and he at the same time sent directions for the management of his house and lands in England in the tone of one who expected soon to revisit them. But Charles, by the advice of Clifford, Arlington, Buckingham, Ashley, and Lauderdale, having broken the triple alliance, shut up the Exchequer, tried to favour popery, and fallen into complete dependence

* Clar. Pap iii. Supp. xliv.

upon the French King, could not bear the idea of again seeing the face of his ancient monitor, under whose guidance his measures and his character had been comparatively respectable. One might have supposed that he would have felt curiosity to peruse the great historical work to which he himself had formerly contributed some materials; but now, absorbed in present pleasure, he was wholly indifferent to the opinion entertained of his father or himself by the present age or by posterity.

The disappointment to Clarendon was severe, but he bore it with fortitude. His steady props were literature and religion. On the 8th June, 1672, he commenced the Continuation of his Life, which he entitled "Reflections upon the most material Passages which happened after the King's Restoration to the Time of the Chancellor's Banishment, out of which his Children, for whose information only they are collected, may add some important Passages to his Life as the true cause of his misfortunes." During a visit to Pezenas he steadily went on with it, and he finished it on his return. At Moulins he also wrote "A View and Survey of Hobbes's Leviathan ;"" Animadversions on a Controversy between Dr. Stillingfleet and Mr. Crossy respecting the Catholic Church;" and “An Historical Discourse upon the Jurisdiction assumed by the Popes." He even contemplated a new history of England, "that it may be more profitably and exactly communicated than it hath yet been.”*

But in the midst of these labours he perceived that his bodily strength gradually declined, and that each fresh access of his constitutional disorder, the gout, became more formidable. As his career was visibly drawing to a close, his desire to revisit his native land constantly increased; and that he might at least have the satisfaction of being nearer it,-in the summer [A. D. 1674.] of 1674 he removed from Moulins to Rouen, destined to be his last place of abode. Here he made another effort upon the obdurate heart of Charles, by a petition that he might be allowed to die among his children. "Seven years," he observed, was a time prescribed and limited by God himself for the expi. ration of some of his greatest judgments, and it is full that time since I have with all possible humility sustained the insupportable weight of the King's displeasure. Since it will be in nobody's power long to prevent me from dying, methinks the desiring a place to die in should not be thought a great presumption."+ But Charles would not even vouchsafe to return him an answer.

After this disappointment he abandoned all hope in this world, and prepared for a better. On the 1st of December he, with difficulty, wrote his will in these words:

"I, Edward, Earl of Clarendon, do order this to be my last will and testament. Imprimis, I commit my soul to God, and make the executors of this said last will my two sons, Henry Viscount Corn

* Life, iii. 481.

+ Clar. Pap. iii. Supp. xliv.

bury and Lawrence Hyde, Esq., and commend to them the care of my servants, who have behaved themselves very carefully and honestly to me. And likewise recommend their sister, Frances Hyde, and their brother, James Hyde, Esq., to their kindness, to whom I am able to leave nothing but their kindness. Item, I give and bequeath to my said two sons all my papers and writings of what kind soever, and leave them entirely to their disposal, as they shall be advised, either by suppressing or publishing, by the advice and approbation of my lord Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of Winchester, whom I entreat to be the overseers of this my will. And that they would be both suitors to his Majesty on my children's behalf, who have all possible need of his Majesty's charity, being children of a father who never committed fault against his Majesty.

CLARENDON."

His eldest son had come over to Rouen to attend on him on the news of his danger, and was with him to the last. We have no further particulars of his death-bed. He expired on the 9th of December, 1674, in the 65th year of his age.

By an arrêt of the French government during a temporary difference with England, the “droit d'aubaine" was remitted in favour of the heirs of the Earl of Clarendon if he should die in France, and this was still respected. His body was sent over to his native country, and on the 4th of January, 1675, was privately interred on the north side of Henry VII.'s chapel in Westminster Abbey-an honour conceded, I presume, on account of his alliance to the royal family. But although his two grand-daughters successively reigned in England, no monument was ever erected to his memory, and there is no inscription even to point out the spot where his dust reposes.

He himself has left us more lasting memorials of his existence than marble or brass could furnish; and he certainly is a memorable personage in our annals, both by his actions and his writings. Without the original genius and comprehensive grasp of intellect which distinguished his predecessor, Bacon, he had an acute and vigorous understanding, which, united with unwearied industry, made him a man of most respectable acquirements, and admirably adapted him for the scenes through which he was to pass. In ordinary times he would have been known during his life merely to his own family, his personal friends, and his profession, and would have been forgotten as soon as the tomb had closed over him; but amidst civil strife and revolutions, he was qualified to take a leading part, and to influence the opinions and the conduct of mankind. For delicacy of observation and felicity of delineation of the characters of contemporaries, he is almost without a rival. In his conduct we have much more to commend than to cenHis early career was without a blemish; and it is only in

sure.

considering how few would have done the same, that we can properly appreciate his merit in seeking to gain distinction by the liberal practice of his profession, instead of retiring to obscure indolence upon the competence left him by his father, and in readily renouncing that profession when it had become to him a source of large emolument, that he might be free to discharge his duties as a member of the legislature at the great crisis of his country's fate. His efforts at the opening of the Long Parliament for the punishment of the Judges, and the correction of abuses, showed him to be a sincere friend of constitutional freedom; and if he proceeded too far in supporting the attainder of Strafford, he might well be excused, from the general enthusiasm then prevailing, and the countenance of the virtuous men with whom he acted. He went over to the King at a time when the disinterestedness of his motives was above all suspicion; and the sound advice which he then gave, if it had been followed, would either have warded off a rupture, or would probably have insured success to the royal cause. We shall nowhere find better illustrated, than in the state papers he then wrote, the sound principles of representative government and limited monarchy. In his first exile we are called upon to forgive the jealousy and hatred he displayed towards his rival, Lord Keeper Herbert-which we can do, while we admire his fidelity, his industry, and his fortitude.

We see him on a more trying scene, when in possession of supreme power; and I think it is impossible to defend or much to palliate the gross breach of his solemn engagements to the Presbyterians-his extreme illiberality in matters of church discipline -his long-continued negotiation with the Queen to induce her to take the King's mistress into her establishment as one of her ladies of honour-his earnest disavowals of having counteracted the King's designs on Miss Stuart-his affected indignation at the announcement of his daughter's marriage with the Duke of York, and his pretended wish that she were his mistress-his encouraging the King to receive money privately from France-his sale, for the purpose of contributing to the King's profligate pleasures, of an important fortress, which had been added by the Commonwealth to the dominions of England-his repeal of the triennial act, without any effectual provision to limit the duration or to prevent the intermission of parliaments-or his violent opposition to the appropriation of the supplies and the revision by parliament of the public expenditure. But, on the other hand, we must bear in mind his steady adherence to the promise of indemnity, notwithstanding the odium he thereby incurred with the dominant party-his opposition to the plan of rendering the crown independent of parliament by the grant of a large permanent revenue— his confirmation of the abolition of military tenures and re-enactment of other good laws of the Commonwealth-his opposition to the Dutch war-his steady support of the reformed religion, at the risk of losing the favour of the King-and his efforts to stem

the tide of open immorality, which, flowing from the court, was threatening to corrupt the manners of the whole nation. If disposed to blame him very severely for remaining in office when his advice was not followed and he disapproved of the measures of the government, we should remember that then a unanimous cabinet was not considered by any means necessary,-persons once appointed to the offices of Treasurer, or Chancellor, or Secretary of State, no more thought of voluntarily resigning than a common law judge,—and, till the King dismissed them, they went on doing the duties of their departments and giving their opinions at the council table when required to do so, leaving the sovereign to decide when his ministers were divided. In forming a judgment of Clarendon's administration we must likewise always bear in mind what a character he had to manage in Charles II.,—and we should look to that King's subsequent conduct under other counsellors.*

* Thus Clarendon writes confidently to Ormond :-"The worst is, the King is as discomposed as ever, and looks as little after his business; which breaks my heart, and makes me and other of your friends weary of our lives. He seeks for his satisfaction and delight in other company, which do not love him as well as you and I do. I hope it will not last always."-Sept 9. 1662. "My friends and my enemies deal alike unreasonably with me. As the latter impute all the ill that is done to the Chancellor's contriving, so the former impute the not doing what they think is good to the Chancellor's not advising it. But, you know what will be, will be, in spite of the Chancellor." "That which brakes my heart is, that the same affections continue still-the some laziness and unconcernedness in business, and a proportionable abatement of reputation; and this makes a greater impression upon my mind and spirits than heretofore, by my not having that faithful bosom I had to discharge myself into, nor that friend, nor any other who is ready to bear that part in speaking plainly and honestly in proper seasons."-Oct. 25. 1662.

Immediately after the Restoration, the king and his ministers were on a footing of the most perfect familiarity, and in their private communication Charles entirely laid aside the style and forms of royalty. When they could not conveniently meet, they corresponded like two intimate and equal friends, in a written dialogue, which I suppose was carried on by a Cabinet red-box. I subjoin some specimens:

Chancellor. "I praye be pleased to give an audyence to my Lord Braughall, who will say many thinges to you of moment, and I thinke with duty enough. If you will give him leave to attende you to morrow morninge at 8 of the clocke, I will give him notice of it."

King. "You give appointments in the morning to others sooner than you take them yourselfe; but if my Lord Broughall will come at 9, he shall be wellcome."

:

Chancellor. "Ther is one of your Attorney-Generalls in North Wales lately deade it is a place of small profit, but of great moment to your service, and to be in the handes of a lawyer of cleere reputation. The Judges recommend to me one Mr. Walcott, a man of good name, and one of the best familyes in those parts. Is it your pleasure to bestow the office upon him ?"

King. "With all my harte."

Chancellor. "I have now settled the affayre between my Lord Pembroke and his wife, that they vex one another no more by beinge togither, and I think they are now fayrely parted.

"If I could this twelvemonth have gotten any tyme to have spoken to you I should have asked whether you intende to allow Dick Belin any thinge to lyve upon, or that he shift as he can.

"Not by pencôn, but say what he shall have, and then way may be found out of the privy purse or by Fox to pay it."

King. "Let Fox pay him 4001. a yeare.”

VOL. III.

19