on the English throne, gave him, in 1800, an annuity of £4,000 a year from his own privy purse, and a home in London if he liked to accept it; and, as "Cardinal York," Henry was a welcome and honoured guest at the English court and in London society until his death in 1807.

He had never advanced any claim to the English throne like his father and his brother, but during his period of prosperity, previous to the advent of Napoleon, he had the desire to leave some record of his ancestry and hereditary rights, and he therefore had a very beautiful bronze medal coined in Rome in 1798, representing his profile and titles on the obverse-" Henry IX Dei Grat. Mag. Brit. Franc. et Hib. Rex-Dux Eborencis (York) Card. Epis. Tusc.; and on the reverse an emblematic female figure of Rome weeping over his crown lying on the ground, and showing St. Peter's and a bridge across the Tiber in the background, surrounded by the singular inscription, "Not by the good wishes of men, but by the will of God" ("non desideriis Hominum, sed voluntate Dei"). He could not help being the grandson of James II and his only surviving heir to the crown of England, for that was by the will of God; but by the good wishes of men (and also by the will of God) the throne was occupied by another King, and Rome was weeping over it.

With Henry's death the Stuart family came to an enda dynasty so weak and yet so popular, and still retaining so unique a position in the sentiments of the British nation.

Thus have we endeavoured to show the rich fund of historical interest that is associated with "the changes in the Royal Arms," and to revivify by the spirit of the Kings and Queens-some of them long past, but still living in what are sometimes thought of as the simply worthless "dry bones" of technical heraldry.

105

THE FOREIGN RELATIONS OF CROMWELL WITH FRANCE AND SPAIN.

BY ROLAND J. A. SHELLEY.

Of all the characters that have played their part on the stage of English history, it is surely not audacious to assert that few, if any, excite greater interest in these opening years of the twentieth century than does that of Oliver Cromwell-he who un-made a king, and yet could not, or dare not, accept the final honour of royalty himself.

In no slight degree has this interest been fostered by Mr. John Morley's scholarly biography of the Protectora work at once analytical yet broad-minded; and, as far as possible, free from those irritating outbreaks of bias that mar the work of many a historian, and render its worth to the student of a future generation an almost negligible quantity.

Though, indeed, beyond the vaguest of outlines, there does not, it is to be feared, exist in our halcyon days of week-end literature much detailed knowledge of the events of our history, the salient features of the Protector's career are fairly well known. And strange it would be were it otherwise. The man who, of all others, had the largest share in severing for awhile the links of kingship, must surely attract the attention of the most superficial reader, however lightly the latter may care to glean for the less potent features of such a life of action.

It is my purpose to deal here with one momentous epoch of the stormy days in which Cromwell held sway. In what position did the Lord Protector find himself when

H

peace was made with the Dutch early in 1654? If his ambition had for a time been satisfied by his appointment as supreme magistrate of the Commonwealth, none the less was his strong spirit troubled by the varying power of the factions around him. Independent might hate Presbyterian, Royalist might hate both; but doubtless all were agreed in this, if in nothing else: that they viewed with violent dislike the government of him who had for divers reasons roused their resentment. And no one knew more surely than did Cromwell himself on how slender a foundation his power was built. The Royalists he could afford to treat with almost contemptuous indifference; but the other two great parties in the State, whom alike he had outwitted, consisted of men of desperate, nay, fanatical courage, whose machinations required all his energy and skill to combat. It does not seem strange, therefore, that he should have recourse to some scheme by which he could draw off public attention from the condition of home politics, by launching on what is now-a-days called a spirited foreign policy. It has recently been said that whatever our political views may be in time of peace, Englishmen should be of but one party when facing an enemy. And perhaps Cromwell, with intuitive discernment, was of a like opinion. It would be altogether an ungrounded statement to aver that he sought a merely as a means to occupy men's minds from the intricate position of domestic affairs. But when we remember his stern determination to act, not only as Protector of the English Commonwealth, but also of the Protestant States on the Continent, surely this must have appeared to him the psychological moment to put his plans into force; the more so as he could count upon the religious, even more than upon the patriotic spirit of his countrymen to lend him every support.

A glance at the state of European affairs during the first half of the seventeenth century is here essential. That period was rendered famous, or, shall we say infamous, in the annals of modern history by the Thirty Years' War, which terminated in the Peace of Westphalia, 1648. The cause of strife was the injudicious acceptance by the Elector Palatine Frederick, son-in-law of our own James I, of the crown of Bohemia, offered to him by the insurgent Protestant States, in opposition to the Emperor Ferdinand, who had some two years previously been proclaimed and crowned King during the lifetime of his cousin Matthias. The importance of the Thirty Years' War to a great extent lies in the effect it had upon the balance of Continental power. At its commencement the House of Austria was the predominating force in Europe; for though not then to be compared with the transcendental supremacy it enjoyed at the abdication of Charles V in 1556, it was nevertheless of dominating influence. During those long years of combat, when the tide of success was now with the Imperial troops, led by such veterans as Wallenstein and Tilly, and now with the Protestant States, aided by the matchless skill and courage of the dauntless Gustavus Adolphus of Sweden, France was destined to take an important part in the events that culminated in the Treaty of Westphalia.

The death of Henry IV had shortly been followed by the annihilation of all those benefits to his country that had been derived from his vigorous and economical administration. But with the advent of Richelieu a new state of affairs was reached. To curb the insolence of the great nobles, to render the royal authority paramount, and finally, to check the supremacy of the House of Austria: these were the aims of the subtlest statesman of his age; and when, in 1642, he passed to his grave, the first two of