that their regard to his interests was all simulated; but, from a certain easiness which had no connection with humanity, he submitted, half-laughing at himself, to be made the tool of any woman whose person attracted him, or of any man whose tattle diverted him.  He thought little and cared less about religion.  He seems to have passed his life in dawdling suspense between Hobbism and Popery.  He was crowned in his youth with the Covenant in his hand; he died at last with the Host sticking in his throat; and during most of the intermediate years, was occupied in persecuting both Covenanters and Catholics.  He was not a tyrant from the ordinary motives.  He valued power for its own sake little, and fame still less.  He does not appear to have been vindictive, or to have found any pleasing excitement in cruelty.  What he wanted was to be amused, to get through the twenty-four hours pleasantly without sitting down to dry business.  Sauntering was, as Sheffield expresses it, the true Sultana Queen of his Majesty’s affections.  A sitting in council would have been insupportable to him if the Duke of Buckingham had not been there to make mouths at the Chancellor.  It has been said, and is highly probable, that in his exile he was quite disposed to sell his rights to Cromwell for a good round sum.  To the last his only quarrel with his Parliaments was that they often gave him trouble and would not always give him money.  If there was a person for whom he felt a real regard, that person was his brother.  If there was a point about which he really entertained a scruple of conscience or of honour, that point was the descent of the crown.  Yet he was willing to consent to the Exclusion Bill for six hundred thousand pounds; and the negotiation was broken off only because he insisted on being paid beforehand.  To do him justice, his temper was good; his manners agreeable; his natural talents above mediocrity.  But he was sensual, frivolous, false, and cold-hearted, beyond almost any prince of whom history makes mention.

Under the government of such a man, the English people could not be long in recovering from the intoxication of loyalty.  They were then, as they are still, a brave, proud, and high-spirited race, unaccustomed to defeat, to shame, or to servitude.  The splendid administration of Oliver had taught them to consider their country as a match for the greatest empire of the earth, as the first of maritime powers, as the head of the Protestant interest.  Though, in the day of their affectionate enthusiasm, they might sometimes extol the royal prerogative in terms which would have better become the courtiers of Aurungzebe, they were not men whom it was quite safe to take at their word.  They were much more perfect in the theory than in the practice of passive obedience.  Though they might deride the austere manners and scriptural phrases of the Puritans they were still at heart a religious people.  The majority saw no great sin in field-sports, stage-plays, promiscuous dancing, cards, fairs, starch, or false hair.  But gross profaneness and licentiousness were regarded with general horror; and the Catholic religion was held in utter detestation by nine-tenths of the middle class.