look with the same sort of admiring despair with which our sculptors contemplate the Theseus, and our painters the Cartoons.  To be a real, hearty, deadly enemy of the liberties and religion of the nation was, in that dark conclave, an honourable distinction, a distinction which belonged only to the daring and impetuous Clifford.  His associates were men to whom all creeds and all constitutions were alike; who were equally ready to profess the faith of Geneva, of Lambeth, and of Rome; who were equally ready to be tools of power without any sense of loyalty, and stirrers of sedition without any zeal for freedom.

It was hardly possible even for a man so penetrating as De Witt to foresee to what depths of wickedness and infamy this execrable administration would descend.  Yet, many signs of the great woe which was coming on Europe, the visit of the Duchess of Orleans to her brother, the unexplained mission of Buckingham to Paris, the sudden occupation of Lorraine by the French, made the Grand Pensionary uneasy, and his alarm increased when he learned that Temple had received orders to repair instantly to London.  De Witt earnestly pressed for an explanation.  Temple very sincerely replied that he hoped that the English Ministers would adhere to the principles of the Triple Alliance.  “I can answer,” he said, “only for myself.  But that I can do.  If a new system is to be adopted, I will never have any part in it.  I have told the King so; and I will make my words good.  If I return you will know more:  and if I do not return you will guess more.”  De Witt smiled, and answered that he would hope the best, and would do all in his power to prevent others from forming unfavourable surmises.

In October 1670, Temple reached London; and all his worst suspicions were immediately more than confirmed.  He repaired to the Secretary’s house, and was kept an hour and a half waiting in the ante-chamber, whilst Lord Ashley was closeted with Arlington.  When at length the doors were thrown open, Arlington was dry and cold, asked trifling questions about the voyage, and then, in order to escape from the necessity of discussing business, called in his daughter, an engaging little girl of three years old, who was long after described by poets “as dressed in all the bloom of smiling nature,” and whom Evelyn, one of the witnesses of her inauspicious marriage, mournfully designated as “the sweetest, hopefullest, most beautiful, child, and most virtuous too.”  Any particular conversation was impossible:  and Temple, who with all his constitutional or philosophical indifference, was sufficiently sensitive on the side of vanity, felt this treatment keenly.  The next day he offered himself to the notice of the King, who was snuffing up the morning air and feeding his ducks in the Mall.  Charles was civil, but, like Arlington, carefully avoided all conversation on politics.  Temple found that all his most respectable friends were entirely excluded from the secrets of the inner