where the grossest licentiousness found its
grossest example in the person of the sovereign. Profligate as private
life naturally is in all the dominions of a religion where every crime
is rated by a tariff, and where the confessional relieves every man of
his conscience, the conduct of Louis XIV. had made profligacy the actual
pride of the throne.

The feeble and frivolous Charles was more a Frenchman than an
Englishman; more a courtier than a king; and fitter to be a page in the
seraglio than either.

The royal robe on the shoulders of such a monarch, instead of concealing
his vices, only made them glitter in the national eyes; and the morals
of England might have been irretrievably stained, but for that salutary
judgment which interposed between the people and the dynasty, and by
driving James into an ignominious exile, placed a man of principle on
the throne. Unfortunately, the reign of William was too busy and too
brief to produce any striking change in the habits of the people. His
whole policy was turned to the great terror of the time, the daring
ambition of France. He fought on the outposts of Europe. All his ideas
were Continental. The singular constitution of his nature gave him the
spirit of a warrior, combined with the seclusion of a monk. Solitary
even in camps, what must he be in the trivial bustle of a court?--and,
engrossed with the largest interests of nations, what interest could he
attach to the squabbles of rival professors of licentiousness, to
giving force to a feeble drama, or regulating the decorum of factions
equally corrupt and querulous, and long since equally despised and
forgotten?

The reign of Anne made some progress in the national restoration. But it
was less by the influence of the Queen than by the work of time. The
"gallants" of the reign of Charles were now a past generation. Their
frolics were a gossip's tale; their showy vices were now as tarnished as
their wardrobe, and both were hung out of sight. The man who, in the
days of Anne, would have ventured on the freaks of Rochester, would have
finished his nights in the watch-house, and his years in the
plantations. The wit of the past age was also rude, vulgar, and
pointless to the polished sarcasm of Pope, or even to the reckless sting
of Swift. Yet manners were still coarse, and the Queen complained of
Harley's coming to her after dinner,--"troublesome, impudent, and
_drunk_." Her court exhibited form without dignity, and her