te creature had once
bit his own glove at Cadiz, in Spain, at the mention of his name; and he
permitted his own bull-dog, Strafford, to be executed by his own enemies,
though the only crime of Strafford was that he had barked furiously at
those enemies, and had worried two or three of them when Charles shouted,
'Fetch 'em!' He was a bitter, but yet a despicable, enemy, and the
coldest and most worthless of friends; for though he always hoped to be
able some time or other to hang his enemies, he was always ready to curry
favour with them, more especially if he could do so at the expense of his
friends. He was the haughtiest yet meanest of mankind. He once caned a
young nobleman for appearing before him in the drawing-room not dressed
exactly according to the court etiquette; yet he condescended to flatter
and compliment him who, from principle, was his bitterest enemy--namely,
Harrison, when the Republican colonel was conducting him as a prisoner to
London. His bad faith was notorious; it was from abhorrence of the first
public instance which he gave of his bad faith--his breaking his word to
the Infanta of Spain, that the poor Hiberno-Spainard bit his glove at
Cadiz; and it was his notorious bad faith which eventually cost him his
head; for the Republicans would gladly have spared him, provided they
could have put the slightest confidence in any promise, however solemn,
which he might have made to them. Of them it would be difficult to say
whether they most hated or despised him. Religion he had none. One day
he favoured Popery; the next, on hearing certain clamours of the people,
he sent his wife's domestics back packing to France, because they were
Papists. Papists, however, should make him a saint, for he was certainly
the cause of the taking of Rochelle.

His son, Charles the Second, though he passed his youth in the school of
adversity, learned no other lesson from it than the following one--take
care of yourself, and never do an action, either good or bad, which is
likely to bring you into any great difficulty; and this maxim he acted up
to as soon as he came to the throne. He was a Papist, but took especial
care not to acknowledge his religion, at which he frequently scoffed,
till just before his last gasp, when he knew that he could lose nothing,
and hoped to gain everything by it. He was always in want of money, but
took care not to tax the country beyond all endurable bounds, preferring,
to such a bol