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Charles James Fox >> A History of the Early Part of the Reign of James the Second
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14 A HISTORY OF THE EARLY PART OF THE REIGN OF JAMES THE SECOND
INTRODUCTION.
Fox's "History of the Reign of James II.," which begins with his
view of the reign of Charles II. and breaks off at the execution of
Monmouth, was the beginning of a History of England from the
Revolution, upon which he worked in the last years of his life, for
which he collected materials in Paris after the Peace of Amiens, in
1802--he died in September, 1806--and which was first published in
1808.
The grandfather of Charles James Fox was Stephen, son of William
Fox, of Farley, in Wiltshire. Stephen Fox was a young royalist
under Charles I. He was twenty-two at the time of the king's
execution, went into exile during the Commonwealth, came back at the
Restoration, was appointed paymaster of the first two regiments of
guards that were raised, and afterwards Paymaster of all the Forces.
In that office he made much money, but rebuilt the church at Farley,
and earned lasting honour as the actual founder of Chelsea Hospital,
which was opened in 1682 for wounded and superannuated soldiers.
The ground and buildings had been appointed by James I., in 1609, as
Chelsea College, for the training of disputants against the Roman
Catholics. Sir Stephen Fox himself contributed thirteen thousand
pounds to the carrying out of this design. Fox's History dealt,
therefore, with times in which his grandfather had played a part.
In 1703, when his age was seventy-six, Stephen Fox took a second
wife, by whom he had two sons, who became founders of two families;
Stephen, the elder, became first Earl of Ilchester; Henry, the
younger, who married Georgina, daughter of the Duke of Richmond, and
was himself created, in 1763, Baron Holland of Farley. Of the
children of that marriage Charles James Fox was the third son, born
on the 24th of January, 1749. The second son had died in infancy.
Henry Fox inherited Tory opinions. He was regarded by George II. as
a good man of business, and was made Secretary of War in 1754, when
Charles James, whose cleverness made him a favoured child, was five
years old. In the next year Henry Fox was Secretary of State for
the Southern Department. The outbreak of the Seven Years' War bred
discontent and change of Ministry. The elder Fox had then to give
place to the elder Pitt. But Henry Fox was compensated by the
office of Paymaster of the Forces, from which he knew even better
than his father had known how to extract profit. He rapidly
acquired the wealth which he joined to his title as Lord Holland of
Farley, and for which he was attacked vigorously, until two hundred
thousand pounds--some part of the money that stayed by him--had been
refunded.
Henry Fox, Lord Holland, found his boy, Charles James, brilliant and
lively, made him a companion, and indulged him to the utmost. Once
he expressed a strong desire to break a watch that his father was
winding up: his father gave it him to dash upon the floor. Once
his father had promised that when an old garden wall at Holland
House was blown down with gunpowder before replacing it with iron
railings, he should see the explosion. The workmen blew it down in
the boy's absence: his father had the wall rebuilt in its old form
that it might be blown down again in his presence, and his promise
kept. He was sent first to Westminster School, and then to Eton.
At home he was his father's companion, joined in the talk of men at
his father's dinner-parties, travelled at fourteen with his father
to the Continent, and is said to have been allowed five guineas a
night for gambling-money. He grew up reckless of the worth of
money, and for many years the excitement of gambling was to him as
one of the necessaries of life. His immense energy at school and
college made him work as hard as the most diligent man who did
nothing else, and devote himself to gambling, horse-racing, and
convivial pleasures as vigorously as if he were the weak man capable
of nothing else. The Eton boys all prophesied his future fame. At
Oxford, where he entered Hertford College, he was one of the best
men of his time, and one of the wildest. A clergyman, strong in
Greek, was arguing with young Fox against the genuineness of a verse
of the Iliad because its measure was unusual. Fox at once quoted
from memory some twenty parallels.
From college he went on the usual tour of Europe, spending lavishly,
incurring heavy debts, and sending home large bills for his father
to pay. One bill alone, paid by his father to a creditor at Naples,
was for sixteen thousand pounds. He came back in raiment of the
highest fashion, and was put into Parliament in 1768, not yet twenty
years old, as member for Midhurst. He began his political life with
the family opinions, defended the Ministry against John Wilkes, and
was provided promptly with a place as Paymaster of the Pensions to
the Widows of Land Officers, and then, when he had reached the age
of twenty-one, there was a seat found for him at the Board of
Admiralty.
At once Fox made his mark in the House as a brilliant debater with
an intellectual power and an industry that made him master of the
subjects he discussed. Still also he was scattering money, and
incurring debt, training race-horses, and staking heavily at
gambling tables. When a noble friend, who was not a gambler,
offered to bet fifty pounds upon a throw, Fox declined, saying, "I
never play for pence."
After a few years of impatient submission to Lord North, Fox broke
from him, and it was not long before he had broken from Lord North's
opinions and taken the side of the people in all leading questions.
He became the friend of Burke; and joined in the attack upon the
policy of Coercion that destroyed the union between England and her
American colonies. In 1774, at the age of twenty-five, Fox lost by
death his father, his mother, and his elder brother, who had
succeeded to the title, and who had left a little son to be his
heir. In February of that year Lord North had finally broken with
Fox by causing a letter to be handed to him in the House of Commons
while he was sitting by his side on the Treasury Bench.
"His Majesty has thought proper to order a new commission of the
Treasury to be made out, in which I do not perceive your name.
NORTH."
By the end of the year he was member for Malmesbury, and one of the
chiefs in opposition. When Lord North opened the session of 1775
with a speech arguing the need of coercion, Fox compared what ought
to have been done with what was done, and said that Lord Chatham,
the King of Prussia, nay, even Alexander the Great, never gained
more in one campaign than Lord North had lost. He had lost a whole
continent. When Lord North's ministry fell in 1782, Fox became a
Secretary of State, resigning on the death of Rockingham. In
coalition with Lord North, Fox brought in an India Bill, which was
rejected by the Lords, and caused a resignation of the Ministry.
Pitt then came into office, and there was rivalry between a Pitt and
a Fox of the second generation, with some reversal in each son of
the political bias of his father.
In opposing the policy that caused the American Revolution Fox and
Burke were of one mind. He opposed the slave trade. After the
outbreak of the French Revolution he differed from Burke, and
resolutely opposed Pitt's policy of interference by armed force.
William Pitt died on the 23rd January, 1806. Charles James Fox
became again a Secretary of State, and had set on foot negotiations
for a peace with France before his own death, eight months later, at
the age of fifty-seven.
During the last ten or twelve years of his life Fox had withdrawn
from the dissipations of his earlier years. His interest in horse-
racing flagged after the death, in 1793, of his friend Lord Foley, a
kindly, honourable man, upon whose judgment in such matters Fox had
greatly relied. Lord Foley began his sporting life with a clear
estate of 1,800 pounds a year, and 100,000 pounds in ready money.
He ended his sporting and his earthly life with an estate heavily
encumbered and an empty pocket.
H. M.
A HISTORY OF THE EARLY PART OF THE REIGN OF JAMES II.
INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER.
Introductory observations--First period, from Henry VII. to the year
1588--Second period, from 1588 to 1640--Meeting of Parliament--
Redress of grievances--Strafford's attainder--The commencement of
the Civil War--Treaty from the Isle of Wight--The king's execution--
Cromwell's power; his character--Indifference of the nation
respecting forms of government--The Restoration--Ministry of
Clarendon sod Southampton--Cabal--Dutch War--De Witt--The Prince of
Orange--The Popish plot--The Habeas Corpus Act--The Exclusion Bill--
Dissolution of Charles the Second's last Parliament--His power; his
tyranny in Scotland; in England--Exorbitant fines--Executions--
Forfeitures of charters--Despotism established--Despondency of good
men--Charles's death; his character--Reflections upon the probable
consequences of his reign and death.
In reading the history of every country there are certain periods at
which the mind naturally pauses to meditate upon, and consider them,
with reference, not only to their immediate effects, but to their
more remote consequences. After the wars of Marius and Sylla, and
the incorporation, as it were, of all Italy with the city of Rome,
we cannot but stop to consider the consequences likely to result
from these important events; and in this instance we find them to be
just such as might have been expected.
The reign of our Henry VII. affords a field of more doubtful
speculation. Every one who takes a retrospective view of the wars
of York and Lancaster, and attends to the regulations effected by
the policy of that prince, must see they would necessarily lead to
great and important changes in the government; but what the tendency
of such changes would be, and much more, in what manner they would
be produced, might be a question of great difficulty. It is now the
generally received opinion, and I think a probable opinion, that to
the provisions of that reign we are to refer the origin, both of the
unlimited power of the Tudors and of the liberties wrested by our
ancestors from the Stuarts; that tyranny was their immediate, and
liberty their remote, consequence; but he must have great confidence
in his own sagacity who can satisfy himself that, unaided by the
knowledge of subsequent events, he could, from a consideration of
the causes, have foreseen the succession of effects so different.
Another period that affords ample scope for speculation of this kind
is that which is comprised between the years 1588 and 1640, a period
of almost uninterrupted tranquillity and peace. The general
improvement in all arts of civil life, and, above all, the
astonishing progress of literature, are the most striking among the
general features of that period, and are in themselves causes
sufficient to produce effects of the utmost importance. A country
whose language was enriched by the works of Hooker, Raleigh, and
Bacon, could not but experience a sensible change in its manners and
in its style of thinking; and even to speak the same language in
which Spenser and Shakespeare had written seemed a sufficient plea
to rescue the commons of England from the appellation of brutes,
with which Henry VIII. had addressed them. Among the more
particular effects of this general improvement the most material and
worthy to be considered appear to me to have been the frequency of
debate in the House of Commons, and the additional value that came
to be set on a seat in that assembly.
From these circumstances a sagacious observer may be led to expect
the most important revolutions; and from the latter he may be
enabled to foresee that the House of Commons will be the principal
instrument in bringing them to pass. But in what manner will that
house conduct itself? Will it content itself with its regular share
of legislative power, and with the influence which it cannot fail to
possess whenever it exerts itself upon the other branches of the
legislative, and on the executive power; or will it boldly (perhaps
rashly) pretend to a power commensurate with the natural rights of
the representative of the people? If it should, will it not be
obliged to support its claims by military force? And how long will
such a force be under its control? How long before it follows the
usual course of all armies, and ranges itself under a single master?
If such a master should arise, will he establish an hereditary or an
elective government? If the first, what will be gained but a change
of dynasty? If the second, will not the military force, as it chose
the first king or protector (the name is of no importance), choose
in effect all his successors? Or will he fail, and shall we have a
restoration, usually the most dangerous and worst of all
revolutions? To some of these questions the answers may, from the
experience of past ages, be easy, but to many of them far otherwise.
And he will read history with most profit who the most canvasses
questions of this nature, especially if he can divest his mind for
the time of the recollection of the event as it in fact succeeded.
The next period, as it is that which immediately precedes the
commencement of this history, requires a more detailed examination;
nor is there any more fertile of matter, whether for reflection or
speculation. Between the year 1640 and the death of Charles II. we
have the opportunity of contemplating the state in almost every
variety of circumstance. Religious dispute, political contest in
all its forms and degrees, from the honest exertions of party and
the corrupt intrigues of faction to violence and civil war;
despotism, first, in the person of a usurper, and afterwards in that
of an hereditary king; the most memorable and salutary improvements
in the laws, the most abandoned administration of them; in fine,
whatever can happen to a nation, whether of glorious of calamitous,
makes a part of this astonishing and instructive picture.
The commencement of this period is marked by exertions of the
people, through their representatives in the House of Commons, not
only justifiable in their principle, but directed to the properest
objects, and in a manner the most judicious. Many of their leaders
were greatly versed in ancient as well as modern learning, and were
even enthusiastically attached to the great names of antiquity; but
they never conceived the wild project of assimilating the government
of England to that of Athens, of Sparta, or of Rome. They were
content with applying to the English constitution, and to the
English laws, the spirit of liberty which had animated and rendered
illustrious the ancient republics. Their first object was to obtain
redress of past grievances, with a proper regard to the individuals
who had suffered; the next, to prevent the recurrence of such
grievances by the abolition of tyrannical tribunals acting upon
arbitrary maxims in criminal proceedings, and most improperly
denominated courts of justice. They then proceeded to establish
that fundamental principle of all free government, the preserving of
the purse to the people and their representatives. And though there
may be more difference of opinion upon their proposed regulations in
regard to the militia, yet surely, when a contest was to be
foreseen, they could not, consistently with prudence, leave the
power of the sword altogether in the hands of an adverse party.
The prosecution of Lord Strafford, or rather, the manner in which it
was carried on, is less justifiable. He was, doubtless, a great
delinquent, and well deserved the severest punishment; but nothing
short of a clearly proved case of self-defence can justify, or even
excuse, a departure from the sacred rules of criminal justice. For
it can rarely indeed happen that the mischief to be apprehended from
suffering any criminal, however guilty, to escape, can be equal to
that resulting from the violation of those rules to which the
innocent owe the security of all that is dear to them. If such
cases have existed they must have been in instances where trial has
been wholly out of the question, as in that of Caesar and other
tyrants; but when a man is once in a situation to be tried, and his
person in the power of his accusers and his judges, he can no longer
be formidable in that degree which alone can justify (if anything
can) the violation of the substantial rules of criminal proceedings.
At the breaking out of the Civil War, so intemperately denominated a
rebellion by Lord Clarendon and other Tory writers, the material
question appears to me to be, whether or not sufficient attempts
were made by the Parliament and their leaders to avoid bringing
affairs to such a decision? That, according to the general
principles of morality, they had justice on their side cannot fairly
be doubted; but did they sufficiently attend to that great dictum of
Tully in questions of civil dissension, wherein he declares his
preference of even an unfair peace to the most just war? Did they
sufficiently weigh the dangers that might ensue even from victory;
dangers, in such cases, little less formidable to the cause of
liberty than those which might follow a defeat? Did they consider
that it is not peculiar to the followers of Pompey, and the civil
wars of Rome, that the event to be looked for is, as the same Tully
describes it, in case of defeat--proscription; in that of victory--
servitude? Is the failure of the negotiation when the king was in
the Isle of Wight to be imputed to the suspicions justly entertained
of his sincerity, or to the ambition of the parliamentary leaders?
If the insincerity of the king was the real cause, ought not the
mischief to be apprehended from his insincerity rather to have been
guarded against by treaty than alleged as a pretence for breaking
off the negotiation? Sad, indeed, will be the condition of the
world if we are never to make peace with an adverse party whose
sincerity we have reason to suspect. Even just grounds for such
suspicions will but too often occur, and when such fail, the
proneness of man to impute evil qualities, as well as evil designs,
to his enemies, will suggest false ones. In the present case the
suspicion of insincerity was, it is true, so just, as to amount to a
moral certainty. The example of the petition of right was a
satisfactory proof that the king made no point of adhering to
concessions which he considered as extorted from him; and a
philosophical historian, writing above a century after the time, can
deem the pretended hard usage Charles met with as a sufficient
excuse for his breaking his faith in the first instance, much more
must that prince himself, with all his prejudices and notions of his
divine right, have thought it justifiable to retract concessions,
which to him, no doubt, appeared far more unreasonable than the
petition of right, and which, with much more colour, he might
consider as extorted. These considerations were probably the cause
why the Parliament so long delayed their determination of accepting
the king's offer as a basis for treaty; but, unfortunately, they had
delayed so long that when at last they adopted it they found
themselves without power to carry it into execution. The army
having now ceased to be the servants, had become the masters of the
Parliament, and, being entirely influenced by Cromwell, gave a
commencement to what may, properly speaking, be called a new reign.
The subsequent measures, therefore, the execution of the king, as
well as others, are not to be considered as acts of the Parliament,
but of Cromwell; and great and respectable as are the names of some
who sat in the high court, they must be regarded, in this instance,
rather as ministers of that usurper than as acting from themselves.
The execution of the king, though a far less violent measure than
that of Lord Strafford, is an event of so singular a nature that we
cannot wonder that it should have excited more sensation than any
other in the annals of England. This exemplary act of substantial
justice, as it has been called by some, of enormous wickedness by
others, must be considered in two points of view. First, was it not
in itself just and necessary? Secondly, was the example of it
likely to be salutary or pernicious? In regard to the first of
these questions, Mr. Hume, not perhaps intentionally, makes the best
justification of it by saying that while Charles lived the projected
republic could never be secure. But to justify taking away the life
of an individual upon the principle of self-defence, the danger must
be not problematical and remote, but evident and immediate. The
danger in this instance was not of such a nature, and the
imprisonment or even banishment of Charles might have given to the
republic such a degree of security as any government ought to be
content with. It must be confessed, however, on the other aide,
that if the republican government had suffered the king to escape,
it would have been an act of justice and generosity wholly
unexampled; and to have granted him even his life would have been
one among the more rare efforts of virtue. The short interval
between the deposal and death of princes is become proverbial, and
though there may be some few examples on the other side as far as
life is concerned, I doubt whether a single instance can be found
where liberty has been granted to a deposed monarch. Among the
modes of destroying persons in such a situation, there can be little
doubt but that that adopted by Cromwell and his adherents is the
least dishonourable. Edward II., Richard II., Henry VI., Edward V.,
had none of them long survived their deposal, but this was the first
instance, in our history at least, where, of such an act, it could
be truly said that it was not done in a corner.
As to the second question, whether the advantage to be derived from
the example was such as to justify an act of such violence, it
appears to me to be a complete solution of it to observe that, with
respect to England (and I know not upon what ground we are to set
examples for other nations; or, in other words, to take the criminal
justice of the world into our hands) it was wholly needless, and
therefore unjustifiable, to set one for kings at a time when it was
intended the office of king should be abolished, and consequently
that no person should be in the situation to make it the rule of his
conduct. Besides, the miseries attendant upon a deposed monarch
seem to be sufficient to deter any prince, who thinks of
consequences, from running the risk of being placed in such a
situation; or, if death be the only evil that can deter him, the
fate of former tyrants deposed by their subjects would by no means
encourage him to hope he could avoid even that catastrophe. As far
as we can judge from the event, the example was certainly not very
effectual, since both the sons of Charles, though having their
father's fate before their eyes, yet feared not to violate the
liberties of the people even more than he had attempted to do.
If we consider this question of example in a more extended view, and
look to the general effect produced upon the minds of men, it cannot
be doubted but the opportunity thus given to Charles to display his
firmness and piety has created more respect for his memory than it
could otherwise have obtained. Respect and pity for the sufferer on
the one hand, and hatred to his enemies on the other, soon produce
favour and aversion to their respective causes; and thus, even
though it should be admitted (which is doubtful) that some advantage
may have been gained to the cause of liberty by the terror of the
example operating upon the minds of princes, such advantage is far
outweighed by the zeal which admiration for virtue, and pity for
sufferings, the best passions of the human heart, have excited in
favour of the royal cause. It has been thought dangerous to the
morals of mankind, even in fiction and romance, to make us
sympathise with characters whose general conduct is blameable; but
how much greater must the effect be when in real history our
feelings are interested in favour of a monarch with whom, to say the
least, his subjects were obliged to contend in arms for their
liberty? After all, however, notwithstanding what the more
reasonable part of mankind may think upon this question, it is much
to be doubted whether this singular proceeding has not as much as
any other circumstance, served to raise the character of the English
nation in the opinion of Europe in general. He who has read, and
still more, he who has heard in conversation discussions upon this
subject by foreigners, must have perceived that, even in the minds
of those who condemn the act, the impression made by it has been far
more that of respect and admiration than that of disgust and horror.
The truth is that the guilt of the action--that is to say, the
taking away of the life of the king, is what most men in the place
of Cromwell and his associates would have incurred; what there is of
splendour and of magnanimity in it, I mean the publicity and
solemnity of the act, is what few would be capable of displaying.
It is a degrading fact to human nature, that even the sending away
of the Duke of Gloucester was an instance of generosity almost
unexampled in the history of transactions of this nature.
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