w& m i^n^j^^.neS'i^i^jff The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924028115610 I he ilalc shONVs wlii'ii this vohime w.in (.ikii r,i r<-iic-« this I'Onk i-.ipv IIk- 1-. ill No. .1 ml ki> ' I " llir lihl.tMiiii * '' HOMI IISI. KULl ' All ll..,.ks Nll|.|,-Cl (» KivjII lloiiks nni u\cd tiir uislrtiition cir rcsourch .irc lelui ri.il'lc w illiiii I wc'ek^. Volumes ul periudi cals and ol puiiiphlels are held in the library as much as possible. For special purposes they are Kiven out tot a limited time. Borrowers should not use their library privileges for the bene !U of other persons- Books not needed •Jurins; re-cess periods should be returned to the library or arrani;e- nients made for their return during borrow- er's absence, if wanted. Books needed by more than one person are held on the reserve list. BooIvS of special value and gift books, when the giver wishes it, are not allowed to circulate. Readers are asked to report all cases of books marked or mutilated. Do not deface books by marks and writine. Cornell Unt^ DA 407.A1B36 1879 Chiel actors '" "^f, PH'^Vl. .irMl'l'iNI 3 1924 028 115 610 IDA PilBX ■\y A y THE CHIEF ACTOKS IN THE PURITAN^ REVOLUTION. THE CHIEF ACTOES IN THE PUEITAN EEVOLUTION. BT PETEE B.ATNE, M.A., AvtltOT of "The Bays of Jezebel," "Life and, Letters of Sugh MilUr/' £c., &c SECOND EDITION. Hontron : JAMES CLAEKE & CO., 13 & 14, FLEET STREET. 1879. AJ^B2& UNIVERSITY UBRARV/ LONDON . W. SPBAIGHT AND SOKS, PBINTBBS VETTfiB LANB. PEEFACE. THIS volume was planned as a whole before the publi- cation of any of its parts; and not one of the fragments, which, with the exception of a preHminary sketch on Land in Fraser, appeared in the Contemporary Beview, is now repubhshed without important alteration. A considerable proportion of the book is altogether new. My object has been to bring into distinct representation the chief moving forces in the Puritan Eevolution. Selecting a certain number of actors in the drama of the period, I have endeavoured to put myself into their position, seeing with their eyes, and, in the exercise of at least dramatic sympathy, feeling as they felt. Should it occur to the reader that the views advanced in one place are not always consistent vnth those advanced in another, he wiU do well to ask whether the impression may not be due to the dramatic method which has been dehberately adopted. The judging faculty, however, proper to every writer who discusses historical questions, has not been completely suspended. One great advantage I have derived from the publication of the draft-studies of the personages chosen for de- lineation — namely, their being subjected to criticism by B 2 iv "Preface, the newspaper Press. My thanks are particularly due to my critics in the Spectator and Academy. Their observa- tions I have most carefully v^eighed, and if I have not been able to agree wiila them, I have not ventured to hold my own without reconsidering my positions. I have made it my rule to go as much as possible to the men or women themselves about whom I was forming an opinion, — their written words, their recorded conversations. My original researches have been confined to the pamphlet- ary catacombs of the British Museum. Often, by means of a few dingy pages, unread for centuries, I have found myseK face to face with the people of the seventeenth century. Having — unfortunately, perhaps — neglected at the outset to retain references to the writings alluded to, and possessing neither time nor patience adequate to their recovery, I determined to sweep my pages clear of all references whatever to original documents. This is the less to be regretted for two reasons ; first, be- cause, when I depend much upon a forgotten pamphlet, as on Vane's Letter on the State of Affairs in 1656, or the con- temporaneous narrative of the coronation of Charles IT. by the Covenanters, I quote verbatim what is essential to my purpose ; and, secondly, because the Puritan Eevolution was not a thing done in a corner, and a just apprehension of its moving forces and cardinal incidents is, after aU, to be attained rather by honest and inteUigent study of docu- ments, hke the Great Eemonstrance of 1641, embodying the views of parties, and of books, like those of Clarendon, Whitelocke, and May, and of letters and speeches, Hke those of BailUe and Cromwell, which are accessible to all the world, than by antiquarian research. It has been unavoidable that my observations should Preface. v occasionally take the form of critical and qualifying com- ment upon views put forward by previous vsrriters. More or less I take exception to statements made by Lord Macaulay, by Mr. Carlyle, and, though very rarely, by HaUam. It would be a great mistake to infer from this that I do not value the writings of those men on the Puritan Eevolution. On the contrary, I regard them with an admiration ap- proaching to reverence. In the opening chapter, now first published, I endeavour to convey some impression of the dominant ideas of the Puritan period, as contrasted with those of our own time ; and indicate, with the utmost brevity, my conception of the deepest meaning of the whole Puritan movement, from the point of view of what Mr. Carlyle and the Germans would caU world-history. It must not be inferred from the tone of the first chapter, that there is anything abstruse or theoretical in those which follow. Among recent writers from whom I have derived assist- ance, I ought to mention, in addition to the three already named, Godvdn, Brodie, Lingard, Guizot, Disraeh, Sanford, Forster, Markham, Bisset, Masson, Goldwin Smith, Gar- diner, the two McCries, and Mr. J. Bruce. CONTENTS. Men CHAPTEE I. Three Centueies Ago 1 CHAPTER II. The Teansitiok Period : James the First , . . .25 CHAPTER HI. The Anglo-Catholic Reaction : Archbishop Laud . . 65 CHAPTER rV. Henrietta Maria ... 101 CHAPTER V, Charles the First 147 CHAPTER VI. The Cotenastbrs, Charles II., and Argtlh . . 209 CHAPTER VII. Montrose 257 CHAPTER VIII. Milton 297 CHAPTER IX. Sir Henry Vane 347 CHAPTER X. Olivee Cromwell 387 CHAPTER XI. Clarendon 435 I. THEEE CENTUEIES AGO. CHAPTBE I. THBEE CENTURIES AGO. WITH an abruptness almost startling, the leading phenomenon — the most prominent and massive fact — of the Puritan period announces itself as one which is constantly dealt with by the philosophers of to-day. The fact of impassioned faith in God, too broadly inscribed upon the Puritan period to escape the most cursory inquirer, is one which current philosophies of evolution profess to classify, to interpret, to explain. From our conception of what that fact meant — whence it arose, what it involved — ^will all our ideas of the Puritan period take shape and colour. One school of evolutionists declare off-hand that the faith of Cavaliers and Puritans ahke was a foundationless dream. If there is no Universal Spirit — ^if man is but part and parcel of a " stupendous and inexorable " me- chanical process — it is mere mental disease, mere folly and frenzy, to be haunted by beKef in God. According to this school, the abstract and brief chronicle of human history is, that man emerged from ignorant, unworship- ping animahsm, feU under the influence of spectral illusions, has continued under their influence, except in individual cases, until this day, but wiU ultimately cease to beheve in Ues and tremble at. ghosts, and will develop into a knovidng and philosophical, but again unworshipping, animal. Human progress, therefore, has been from behef 1—2 Three Centuries Ago. in delusion to belief in mechanical necessity ; all religions have been rooted in lies, and have blossomed into lies; and the right thing has always been not to dig about and dung them, not to graft or prune them, but to bum them up. The other school of historical evolution — at the head of which are Goethe and Carlyle — ^hold that man signalised his elevation above the animal world by recognising himseK as the Child of the Infinite. The truth dawned upon him early, but at first the dawn, though glorious, was faint, inexpressibly faint ; as those tremblings of light on the waves which Dante and Virgil saw afar on the horizon when they had left behind them the kingdoms of despair, — as those first steps of the morning, blood crimson and fiery gold, which Turner saw and painted, high above the brow of the Ehigi. According to this school, all rehgions have been rooted in truth, and have blossomed, more or less, into blessing and beauty ; but no rehgion has ever embodied, or can ever embody, the whole truth. Nor is it in rehgion alone that man's relationship to the Infinite is attested. In art and in philosophy man reaches after the Infinite, and so soon as, in either, he ceases to aspire to an ideal perfection, he dwindles and pines. Even in pohtics he is inspired by the vision of a social heaven. No noble picture ever consisted of mere foreground, and without an opening to the Infinite the whole landscape of human life becomes petty. But the foreground has also its inexorable claims. All grandeur of aim, all elevation of character — all the sublime in history — depend upon the vividness with which man reahses his relation to the Infinite: aU earthly success, all material prosperity, all passionate enjoyment of the threescore years and ten, with reasonable prospect of maldng them fourscore and ten> depend upon clear recognition that things visible and tangible, from political and religious institutions down to The Two-fold Lata of Progress. paving-stones, from conceptions of God enshrined in sacred books down to street ballads, are imperfect, and ought to be improved, and that man has unhmited sovereignty over the second causes of nature, assured, without reservation, that God approves of his weKare, and of the regulation of his life in accordance with his ascertained needs and capa- cities. It is possible to overdo either of these mighty ten- dencies, which combine to constitute the eternal law of progress. If man feeds too much on sublimities, he goes mad, beautifully and graciously mad, like Saint Theresas and Saint Xaviers, and perhaps hke some of our Puritan friends, or grimly mad, hke inquisitors seated round an auto dafe;i£ he feeds on bread alone, he retrogrades into a beast. It does not startle evolutionists of this type to be told that the ideas entertained respecting the Universal Spirit have at any particular period been crude. Imperfection must be admitted on both sides ; the point at issue is whether imperfection has been the partial perception of a truth, or whether it has been the partial dehver- ance from a He. If the heart of all true reUgion has been consciousness of relation to the Infinite, it is certain, from the obvious circumstance that the finite cannot comprehend the Infinite, that every rehgion which we can observe in the past wiU. be more or less defaced by error. The worshipping creature, be its object of worship but a stock or a stone, has passed into a different order from that of the wolf or the ape, which does not worship at all ; but the highest-mounted mind cannot, in image graven with the hand in silver or gold, or in image graven far more subtly and richly by the ideahsing faculty of the soul, or in creed or formula or theological system, set forth the Almighty to perfection. These considerations may strike some as speculative and unsubstantial ; but to such I would remark, first, that in our day fundamental (Questions are discussed, nor neces- Three Centuries Ago. sarily discussed with frivolity (for no one habitually talks about what he has no care for), at dinner-tables and in widely-read novels ; and, secondly, that I do not know any way in which the historical phenomenon called the Puritan Revolution can be understood so well as by contemplating it as primarily a readjustment of conceptions and arrange- ments arising out of man's relation to the Infinite. Thus alone can we philosophically classify it among the revolu- tions of history. All embodiments of the Infinite, all forms of creed and worship, being necessarily tentative and imperfect, there comes a time when each successive embodiment is first vaguely felt to be imperfect, then to be intolerably and wickedly imperfect, and, lastly, to be^ a thing that must be broken away from and shuddered at as idolatrous. Man- kind have always recoiled from the. two extremes of atheism on the one hand, and idolatry on the other. The recoil from atheism has been natural and intuitive. A process of what may be called, according to the estimate formed of it, philosophy or sophistication, is necessary to overpower those imperious instincts of the reason and the conscience which enjoin man to seek a First Cause as the source of matter, and a Supreme WiU as the fountain of morals ; therefore atheism has always been the creed of a few. Those few have, for obvious reasons, been persons of exceptionally vigorous mental constitution, who make themselves visible and audible to an extent altogether disproportionate to their numbers, and, as clever, talMnf people have invariably done, take the ai-guments which convince themselves to be irresistible by the race, and "think their Uttle sect manldnd." But nature is against them— human nature; if they chooso to call it human folly, that will not alter the fact of its stubborn tenacity. Atheism has never been anytliing but the harbinf^er of change in rehgion. The atheists of antiquity had com- Atheism and Idolatry. pleted their demonstrations when a reKgion of slaves and paupers came up to possess the world. Our modern atheists write clever essays, which many persons sit at home to read in preference to going to church. But the Mormons and the Spirit-rappers make more converts in a week than Positivists make in a year ; and that, although Mr. Harrison and Mr. Congreve pathetically endeavour to heighten the attractiveness of atheism by caUing it a rehgion. I desire to speak with the respect I sincerely feel for Comte and his brilliant disciples ; but their system does not satisfy the cravings which connect man with the Infinite, and therefore it lacks the element that gives potency to even the rudest rehgion. Modern atheists will do sapping and mining work in the service of Ultramon- tanism, Mormonism, and other soaring or crawling isms ; but they wiU not recast the nature of man. 'Whatever esti- mate is formed of religion by the philosopher, the historian recognises it as a colossal fact. In his closet the philo- sopher may satisfy himseK that it is mist ; looking out on the world, the historian sees that it is mountain. Opposition to idolatry, however, is not natural and uni- versal in the same sense as the recoil from atheism. Since it is impossible for the finite mind to comprehend the Infi- nite, and since the very highest and most difficult act of the human intelligence is to beheve in an unseen and unimaginable Spirit, worship has, in aU ages, had recourse to symbols of the Divine ; and only at intervals, and through the impulse of individual men, has discontent with these symbols — opposition to idolatry — ^revealed itself vrith suffi- cient power to become an important force. At intervals, however, it has thus made itself manifest. All reUgious founders and reformers, all prophets and poetic seers, have been, strictly speaking, not asserters of the existence of God — ^that they held it practically impossible for man to disbeheve — ^but purifiers of worship, breakers of images. 8 Three Centuries Ago. denouncers of idolatry, and promulgators of more elevated conceptions of the Infinite Spirit. Such was Moses against the idolatries of Egypt ; such was Mahomet against the idolatries of Mecca; such the Eeformers and the Puritans declared themselves with a thousand voices to be against the idolatries of Eome, and of the imitators of Eome. The progress of mankind has" resulted from the development of rehgions, the removal of their excrescences and defacements, the blooming out of the less perfect into the more perfect, not from the obhteration of faith. That produces the landscape of Sahara — clear as crystal, flat as a grave-stone, leafless for ever. The recoil from idolatry, the breaking of graven images, the recasting of creeds, has always been a difficult, painful, dehcate, and tragical business. To reverence the embo- diment of the Divine, for the sake of the Infinite Spirit it represents, is a duty ; to abandon the embodiment when, from palpable inadequacy, it is felt to mzs-repre- sent the Infinite Spirit, is also a duty. How apt are the two to clash ! "0 sacred be the flesh and blood to which she links a truth Divine ! " is the petition, addressed to the iconoclast, on behalf of the feminine devoutness which clings to symbols hallowed by reverent use, by the poet of a time when refinement, inteUigence, and gentle- ness abound; but iconoclasts have not generally observed this rule. They have been men of great force of character ; they have acted under intense emotional excitement; and they have taken their own hves in their hands. They have believed themselves to act in obedience to an im- perative mandate, which, in most instances, they expressly regarded as the inspiration of God, and which they dared not disobey. Their temper has been that of Mahomet when he told his judicious, expostulatory uncle, Abu Thaleb, that, " if the sun stood on his riqht hand and the moon on his left, ordering him to hold his peace, he cox;ld not obey." Image-Breaking. They have had slight respect for feminine scruples. Image-breaking, symbol-changing, has always hitherto been a terrible business, with music of thunder-peals, the battle of the warrior, and garments roUed in blood. It was so in the Puritan period- That it must of necessity remain always so were a hard conclusion. In past time, the iconoclast — notably the iconoclast of the Eeformation and Puritan period ^— has practically combined with his impassioned energy in destroying one embodiment of the Divine a per- suasion, equally impassioned, that the embodiment which he proposed to put in its place was perfect and un- changeable. The symbol, the formula, long believed to be infallible, was found to be fallible, pernicious, de- spicable ; but another infalhbihty was put in its place, and he who dared to call in question the new infaUibiHty was thought worthy of death. If we would understand the actors in the religious revolutions of the past — if we would know how they felt, and penetrate the secret of their seK-respect — we must firmly apprehend this circumstance. They were confident that they had reached perfection, and woe to him who laid a sacrilegious finger upon the ransomed ark. But men of all shades of opinion have, in our days, become familiar with the idea that perfection is not the hkehest thing for any generation to attain ; and the clear and calm admission that there will always be room for new approximations to truth, and that there cannot possibly be sin in candidly investigating and judiciously modifying old forms of faith and worship, has at length furnished a basis, at once broad and logical, for toleration. Knowing that the Infinite cannot be perfectly embodied in finite symbols, we are not tempted to think that to alter the ■method of its embodiment is to blot out the sun from the sky. We are inexcusable if, not content with walldng in our own way to heaven, we try to force our neighbour to 10 Three Centuries Ago. take the same track ; but our ancestors had more excuse in falling into this egregious error. A good proof that we have escaped this danger will be afforded, if we can put ourselves into the position of our fathers with true dramatic sjonpathy, and, divesting ourselves of prepos- session, deal out justice even-handed to antagonistic parties. Happily this even-handed justice has become a habit in the intellectual high places of our country and time. Per- haps the most eloquently fair and appreciative estimate of Calvin in the Enghsh language is from the pen of a writer who, in theology, holds with Servetus ; and the moral noble- ness of the Eeformers and Puritans has been energetically acknowledged by one who, if I imderstand him aright, beheves that even Mr. Mill was too much disposed to theistic compromise. " To what quarter," says Mr. John Morley, " in the bright historic firmament, can we turn our eyes with such certainty of being stirred and elevated, of thinking better of human life and the worth of those who have been most deeply penetrated by its seriousness, as to the annals of the intrepid spirits whom the Protestant doc- trine of indefeasible personal responsibility brought to the front in Germany in the sixteenth century, and in England and Scotland in the seventeenth?" The bold spirits in question stand in close intellectual and moral relationship to ourselves; for the United Kingdom is now what the batthngs of the seventeenth century made it ; and those who know England weU affirm that, after all superficial changes — EituaHst revivals, Broad Church eccentricities, ]philosophical gyrations — the backbone of the population continues Puritan and Biblical.* There are periods in the history of nations as of men which determine their future — ^periods of transition, of • I obsorvod lately an opinion to this eftoot in a shrewd leading article in tho Times newspaper. English Puritanism. 11 crisis, of difficulty, of conflict — ^in which, like " iron dug from central gloom," they are " Heated hot with burning feara. And dipped in baths of hissing tears. And battered with the shocks of doom To shape and use." Such, for England, was the Puritan period, and this is probably the chief reason why it has been commonly considered the most memorable in English history. Prom the fourteenth century, or earher, there was Puritanism in England, in the sense of dissatisfaction with the religion of the Church. "Whether as represented by men eminent for abOity and culture, like Wicklyffe, or as embraced by the people, Puritanism was chiefly, if not solely, a resistance to the doctrine and practice of Popery, — to the idolatry by which the spiritual truth of Christ's reHgion was said to be corrupted and obscured, — ^rather than to the government of the Church by the Pope. In other words, it was primarily spiritual and personal, comparatively indifferent to theories and organisations, and laying stress upon the life rather than upon the raiment. Curious it is to observe how, amid change of names and badges, the character of a nation wiU remain substantially unchanged! This quality of indifference to system and insistence upon the thing practically wanted, accompanies us through six centuries of the history of popular rehgion in England. Wicklyffe translated the Bible, preached to those who would hear him, sent out his evangelists, without troubHng himself about formal modification of the govern- ment of the Church. Cromwell we shall find setting up his Court of Triers, cutting straight to the essential business of putting good ministers in and turning bad ministers out, exactly as he would have set about procuring efficient officers for his Ironsides, and continuing obstinately bHnd to the beauty of Episcopal system on the one hand, and 12 Three Centuries Ago. Presbyterian system on the other. Bunyan wrote the Pilgrim's Progress, which all innocently-devout persons, even if they call themselves Papists, like to read, and preached to immense audiences, without giving a hint of his ecclesiastical whereabouts. Whitefield and Wesley were great preachers and teachers ; and, even when organ- ising, thought not of the organisation as sacred in itself or as of any importance except as subservient to the main work. Wicklyffe was glad of assistance from the Crown to shield him from the Pope, and the early Puritans in general leant I to the side of the civil authority, not because they were more vnlling to obey the King than the Pope, if the King had wanted them to deny the truth, but because it was the Pope who made his sway irksome to them. Even when the King ordered them to the stake, it was the Pope and his instruments, the bishops and priests, who set him on. Hatred of Popery was thus hterally burnt into the heart of the English commonalty and middle classes. It was as the sweet glimpse of dawn after murldest night for the Puritans when the EngUsh sovereigns, who, indeed, had from of old been frequently in trouble vsdth the Pope, came to an irreparable breach with Bome. Henry VIII. and the councillors of his son, Edward VI., took in hand the re- modelling of the Church, and converted it into the Anglican Estabhshment. Henry annexed the popedom, so far as that could be done within the realm of England. All who speak with authority on the point — that is to say, all who are not pledged to partisanship by professional honour as Anglican advocates or divines — have treated it as an indis- putable proposition that the English Crown, in consti- tuting itself head of the Church of England, absorbed all the authority previously wielded by the Pope, spiritual as well as temporal. What can be averred on the other side is that the Church, when in deed sm-rendering her liberties to licnry, attompted, by an evasive word, to retain Crown. The Anglican EstahUshmeni. 13 rights for Christ. This fact will always famish a basis for the contendings of a hierarchical party in the Church, and was likely, when a weak monarch and a strong priest (say Charles Stuart and William Laud) came into conjunction, to have consequences. But the surrender was, in fact, complete. Even the right and function of ordaining bishops, as Lord Macaulay unanswerably showed in controversy with the late Bishop Phillpotts, was explicitly appropriated by the Sovereign. The actual ordainers — those who trans- mitted the mystical influence that had descended from the finger-tips of the apostles — ^were commissioned, under Edward, to ordain, not by permission of, not even by authority of, but " vice," in the person of, the King. And on no point did the Parliamentary majority, when the day came for their taking to themselves the prerogatives of the Sovereign, entertain clearer ideas than on this. No Presby- terian charming, no pious generalship by the Puritan Synod of Westminster, could for one moment mystify Cromwell and the Long Parliament as to the complete and absolute subordination of the Established Church of England to the civil power. Having assumed the rights and functions of the Pope, the English monarchs gradually began to find that they might encounter difficulties pecuhar to their new capacity. The tremendous agitation of the revolt against Bome, heralded by Wicklyffe and Huss, assisted by the scholars of the Renaissance, and, in point of fact, reaching its high-water mark rather than commencing, in Luther's defiance of Leo, had shaken to its foundations the eccle- siastical system of the Middle Ages, loosened every joint in the framework of feudaUsm, and filled all men with the fiery wine of new ideas. The slxunbrous old time, when the Commons had to be kept up by fines to the tiresome duty of serving in Parhament, was past. Taught 14 Three Centuries Ago. by the Eeformers to tliink for themselves in matters of religion, and to read their Bibles ■without leave asked of Pope or priest, people began to think on all subjects, and to be conscious of political as well as of religious personality. Theological as the impulse imparted by Luther primarily v?as, its influence corresponded to the large nature of the man in being a general revolt against superstition, against mental servility, against moral sickliness, against all arti- ficial and monastic sanctities, and in favour of simplicity, industry, free thought, home-bred affection, and innocent enjoyment. He protested against sacerdotal domination in the name of God and of God's good gifts, Wein, Weib, und Gesaiig ; and it may prove that this first form of the great Protest of the sixteenth century vsras, after all, its deepest and vnll be its latest. But the large-hearted German did, as a matter of fact, in so far as the w^est of Europe \?as concerned, only pre- pare the way for a Frenchman, not so large-hearted as he, but of still more astonishing quaUty of brain. Calvin ex- hibited in combination all the greatest traits of the French character, unfortunately not also all its best, for, like Pascal and Eobespierre, he lacked its gaiety, and was too dread- fully in earnest. But he had its finest courage, its tenacity, its intensity, and its superb capacities of logical method. The extent of his influence throughout Europe is unques- tioned. Hooker's eloquent attestation has made it familiar to aU readers. "His writing but of three lines," Hooker tells us, " in disgrace of any man," was " as forcible as any proscription throughout aU Eeformed Chm-ches ; his re- scripts and answers " were "of as great authority as decretal epistles." But the nature of his influence is now little understood, and the majority of educated Englishmen have probably no idea connected with him except that ho burnt Servetus, which it is absolutely certain he did not do. Calvin. 15 He exerted himseK to procure a capital sentence against Servetus, and he succeeded ; but he tried to have the mode of execution changed to decapitation. This is expressly admitted by Dr. Wilhs in his panegyrical biography of Servetus recently pubUshed. Language does not furnish words too strong to express the vehemence vvith which aU men ought to disapprove of putting one to death for theolo- gical extravagance ; but in relation to Calvin's character and influence, the death of Servetus has no specific importance, except as illustrating his austere sense of duty and his behef in the infinite maHgnancy of theological error. It may seem a paradox, but it is the expression of a fact, that the nature of Calvin's influence is obscured for us by •what we see and know as Calvinism. "We think of a creed, a framework of dogma ; a very different thing it was to have that creed in the form of burning enthusiasm and contagious fervour. The creeds and dogmas of modern Calvinism are as the slagg and lava, cold and hard, lying round the crater of a volcano that has gradually been fiUing itseh with snow. Or you may compare Calvinism, when the glow of its spiritual enthusiasm in Western Europe was at its height, to the illumination of a city by ten thousand jets of fiery light, and Calvinism, when the glow died off and the dogmas remained, to the metal framework along which ran the lines of lamlDent flame, when the illumination is over. In Calvin's letters, and in his Institutes of the Christian Eeh- gion, we still feel the throb of that moral fervour which was the secret of his power. His letters form the best example of rehgious inspiration which the world has seen since the letters of St. Paul. The Institutes are in all, save metrical form, a great rehgious poem, as imaginative in general scheme, and as sustained in emotional heat, as Paradise Lost, though, of course, not to be compared, for beauty of language or picturesqueness of detail, with Milton's poem. Calvin treats, in four successive books, of 10 Three Centimes Ago. Ckrist the Creator, Christ the Eedeemer, Christ the Inspirer, and Christ the King ; if he had written in verse, avoided argumentative discussion, and called his work The Chris- tiad, it would have been the most S3anmetrical epic in existence. The grand principle of Calvin is contemplation of the universe in God revealed in Christ. In all place, in all time, from eternity to eternity, Calvin saw God. Such faith will be infinitely appalling or infinitely consoling, according to our conception of the Divine character. If God is cruel, capricious, arbitrary, it will be appalling ; but if God is infinite justice, infinite love, infinite truth, blended in one indivisible ray of whitest hght, then the thought of God's all-embracing sovereignty merely is that the universe sleeps in the arms of God as a babe in the arms of its father. The modem behever in the doctrine of universal mechanical necessity assumes that the God of the Calvinist was arbitrary and capricious. But this is a mistake. The God of the Calvinist was, by hypothesis, absolutely perfect, absolutely unchangeable. Given the universe : the mechani- cal fataUst says that its order is the order of physical force, how originating we know not, whither tending we know not, but fixed and unalterable, and therefore annihilating man's free will ; the Calvinist said that all things have been fixed from eternity by an infinitely wise intelligence, and that therefore man's free will is an illusion. It seems, prima facie, a more suflferable theory that all things ai'e immu- tably arranged by infinite inteUigence, than that all things crash along in everlasting struggle of bhnd forces according to no principle of order that can be indicated in language ; but, practically, the two systems issue in surrender of man's free will; and on man's free will, as an ultimate fact, attested by consciousness and verified by experience, though, of course, limited by the conditions of human, existence, it is necessary to insist against both. Wo knuio The Dark Side of Calvinism. 17 mind as a principle of order; our primary conception of matter is of something not ordering, but ordered : there is, therefore, more rationality in absolute submission to Infinite Mind than in absolute submission to infinite matter; but the free spirit of man need be enslaved to neither. The shadow-side of Calvinism is not its doctrine of God, which is sublime, but its doctrine of man. It removes all difficulties on the heavenward side by postulating infinite perfection — faultless justice, boundless love — on behalf of the Creator, and by simply announcing that He cannot be judged by the creature ; but it reduces man, except in the case of the elect, to a condition of piteous abjectness and desolation. It is one of the problems of history and of human nature — ^not, I think, insoluble, but most interesting — ^how a faith so appaUing in its conception of the lot of all except God's chosen people, should have been embraced with intense enthusiasm and by immense multitudes. Is it that man is so thoroughly religious a being — so profoundly penetrated with the instincts of faith and worship — that h6 cares more for the character of his God than for his awa., and arrives much sooner at that point of right and rational audacity which vnll question the justice of aU earthly beings and governors, than at that which dares to apply the most rudimentary tests of justice to what he has been taught to accept as the proceedings, in relation to mankind, of the Supreme Power ? I think so. Admitting that reverence for what is above us is a worthy and honourable feeling, we moderns neverthe- less cannot but wonder at the delight with which, in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, audiences listened to sermons and readers pored over books, in which they were told that they came into the world like "the eggs of the asp" which "are justly broken," and "ser- pents new bred " which " are justly killed, though thej 2 18 Three Centuries Ago. have poisoned none." To inquire firmly into the fairness of such an arrangement was to be "wickecUy acute." "If any of us," says a distinguished French theologian, whose work was translated into English and published in London five years before the meeting of the Long Parha- ment, " should crush to death an ant with his foot, no man would lay to his charge an action of injustice for it, although the ant hath not offended him, although he hath not given life to the ant, although he hath de- stroyed another's work which cannot be restored by man, and although between man and it there is no infinite in- equality, but a kind of certain and finite proportion. But man hath grievously offended God, and yet God hath given life to man, and there is no proportion between God and man, but as infinite a distance as between a finite and infi- nite thing. If, therefore, God shall crush those sinful men, which He is able to save ; if, patiently tolerating the vessels of anger. He shall make them the matter of His glory, shall any man expostulate with God, or think goodness wanting in Him, or accuse His justice?" The insensibihty of the age when this was written is curiously illustrated by the assumption that no one could possibly waste a thought on the crushing to death of an unoffending insect. The reference to the infinite distance between God and man is a matter which plays a pai-t of immense importance in the theological speculation and in the rehgious hfe of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. It is the idea which, more than any other, gives the key to an intelligence of human thought and human action in those years. " I have sinned against the Infinite God," thought the devout monk in his ceU before the days of Luther. " Unless I can make amends and obtain pardon, I shall be burnt aUve to all eternity. What shall I do to bo saved?" "Mortify the flesh and multiply good works," said the old Church. He set about it. He flagellated him- Finite and Infinite. 19 seK, haK-starved himself, and spent what energy remained in works of charity. In the days of comparative intellec- tual dormancy, this served well enough ; but from the time of the Eenaissance, Europe had no longer the mind of the child ; and the thought pressed in with agony upon a devout young Bemajrdino Ochino, a devout young Luther, that, siace he had offended the Infinite Being, his debt was infinite, and no addition of finite quantities could bring him nearer to the sum. The thought seems never to have occurred, or to have been shrunk from as blasphemy, that the sin must be measured by the capacity of the sinner as well as by that of the offended Deity ; and yet no thought could be more obvious, more reasonable, more irrefragably just. The farther the distance in intelligence between a wise and kind father and his child, the more allowance will the former make for the latter, nor wiU he fail to recollect that even the apprehension of that dignity, belonging to himself, which the child offends by disregarding, is precluded if the child is of extremely slender faculty and the parent superlatively wise. All men who let reason and conscience speak within them are now agreed that the essence of sin is conscious intention, and that guilt is absolutely limited by the faculties of the sin- ner. No man now fancies that it is irreverent to say that, if he was bom a quart, God will never damn him for not holding a gallon. Any such idea, however, as this would have been deemed atrociously wicked in the sixteenth or seventeenth century ; the devout Luther or Ochino, bur- dened with his sins, toiled through one severity of penance after another, in the vain effort to make a finite chain infinite by mere addition of links ; and it is when we realise how, in this effort, the ingenuous soul might be brought to the verge, of death, madness, or despair, that we understand the burst of inexpressible joy, the lighting up of the soul with the very resplendence of heaven, which 2—2 20 Three Centuries Ago. took place when the doctrine of salvation by free grace, through faith in Christ, flashed upon the mind. Christ had paid the infinite debt ! Being the Son of the Infinite God, He could produce a ransom of infinite preciousness. Works were nothing, faith was all, or, rather, Christ was all; and the believer, the Luther, the Bunyan, the Cromwell, raised from the blackness of despair into transports of grateful joy, was able to do, in sheer enthusiasm for his Saviour — " no longer in the bondage of law, but in the life of love " — even greater works than when, in spasmodic anguish, he had tried to build up, from the bricks and sUme of his own merits, a tower that should reach to heaven. We may reverently, and with immense profit, entertain an entirely different conception of the nature of sin and the character of God from that upon which this mental expe- rience depended ; but if we are too frivolous to enter with earnest sympathy into the feehngs of the myriads who passed through such a crisis, and who, in the strength thus attained, recast the civilisation of Europe, we shall not comprehend the history of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. That Calvinism, imputing everything to God and really divesting the human personality of aU attributes except recipiency, should have been more popular with the great body of the people than Arminianism, which set man again on his feet, administers a shock of smart sm-prise to the modem ; but if we understand that the very glory of the Eeformers was to have substituted God's grace for man's work in the business of salvation, we may be able to see how an abandonment of the sublime simplicity of the affair by reintroduction of human agency might appear to be a compromise of man's infinite gain and an ungracious haggling about God's infinite bounty. At all events, the men of those times thii-sted for the supernatural, and then, as always, the power of the Calvin's Mistake. 21 religious instinct, the consciousness of relation to the Infinite, roused men to transcendencies of impassioned feeling, which no consideration of mere mundane interests ever produced. It was not the softly-eloquent voice of Erasmus that awoke Europe, but the rugged accents of Luther and the mighty inspiration of Calvin. It was no merely fasciaating exhibition of the charms of freedom in thought and action that was required in order to break the spell under which the priesthood had for a thousand years held the conscience of Europe. The essential thing was that the spell should be broken. Doubtless you may say that Calvin, vpith his Genevan disciphne — sterner than that of Plato's EepubUc — and his shuddering persuasion that the heavens must faU unless Servetus were condemned to die, sought no emancipation for the human mind, and unlocked one prison gate merely in order to convey the captives to another. Calvin, Hke aU reformers in the past with the sole exception of Christ, fell into the error of finahty. If we have apprehended the truth peculiar to our own age — and, therefore, the most important and obligatory for us — ^that evolution is the law of the finite universe, the Infinite alone being changeless and perfect, we shall appreciate Calvin's mistake in thinking that the perennial fermentation of the Christian leaven, the immortal growing of the Christian tree, could be consistent with the transference of faith from one infaUibiLity to another infalhbility. But evolution at the same time teaches that the essential question ia respect to any development is not whether it is final and absolute, but whether it is of the growing kind, whether there is genuine vitaUty in it. The healthy leaf of May is not the leaf of June ; but because it is aU that the May leaf is required to be — not the leaf of Apnl cHnging shrivelled to a dead branch — ^it plays its part in the orchestral melody and beauty of summer. Calvin's fiery insistence on submission, by men and nations, to God's moral law, was, in the 22 Three Centuries Ago. essence of it, noble, supremely noble, vibrating in true sympathy with the purest heroisms the world has ever seen. It has been the way with prophets to lay unmeasured emphasis upon their own message, and perhaps even to exaggerate their own importance. A prophet in his rages will be as unreasonable as a mob, and the moody and melancholy fit in which Ehjah forgot the seven thousand men who fought Baal as honestly as himself, though not with equal capacities of bringing down fire from heaven, has been characteristic of modem as well as of ancient prophets. One cannot help saying, though the remark is a digression, that the habit of overlooking, or rather of furiously assaihng, the seven thousand, is more deplorably characteristic of certain modem prophets, inspired at least in the glory of their language, than it ever was. of pro- phets before ; although Goethe, the greatest of recent seers, was radiantly exempt from the slightest taint of it. Stem Calvin, \yith that eye of his in which the intensity of the lightning seemed constant, would have been much sm-prised to learn that Servetus, for all his obstreperous quarrelsome- ness and Voltaire-hke audacity, was yet, in virtue of that deep-lying faith and courage which forced him, at the risk of his life, to print his book, of the order of God's prophets. But he was. Be all this as it may, Calvin's word, at the time it was spoken, was the word on which the emancipation of Europe from sacerdotal thraldom depended. If he turned from a so-called infalhble Church to an infallible Book, he did so at least in the name of truth, and he called upon every man to prove, on the testimony, not of the priest, but of his own conscience, and of the inspiration of the Almighty in his own soul, that the Bible was the Word of God. He based the Church upon the foundation of the truth, no thouf^ht in the world being fai-ther from his mind than that The Befoi-mation. 23 of founding a sect, no aspiration of his soul being more ardent than that for the spiritual unity of Christendom ; but, as he told the king of France, in words with the ring, or rather the trumpet-blast, of true prophecy in them, the Church is where Christ is, on the mountain, in the wood, in the dungeon. Had the Eeformers done nothing more for Europe than change the mediasval priesthood into a pastorate, their service to civihsation would have been inestimable. Only a Mr. Buckle, manufacturing history out of formulas in a logic mill, could have committed the stupendous blunder of instituting any parallel between the priesthood of Spain, dispensing mystically the treasure of salvation to a torpid people, and the pastorate of Scotland, dependent for its influence, for its very existence, on its representing the religion, the culture, intelHgence, and national feeling of a peremptory and strong-witted race. Arousing intelligence throughout the West of Europe, the Eeformation suggested new bonds of community be- tween peoples, and particularly between the peoples of England and of Scotland. The party of the Eeformation in Scotland was avowedly and enthusiastically the Enghsh party. McCrie justly remarks that to have silenced the Scottish preachers at the time of the Armada would have been to do as much in favour of Spain as to land ten thousand invaders in the Httle kingdom. It was not until an Enghsh Episcopal dignitary cruelly assailed the Protest- antism of Scotland, more thorough-going and democratic than that of England, that this feeling began to be damped. When Bancroft's more formidable successor. Laud, at- tempted to arrest the Eeformation both in England and Scotland, and to make the Eeformed Church, instead of the daughter of God newborn, a mere shadow of the Church of Eome, the fiery spirit of the Eeformation, in England and in Scotland ahke, defied him, and the 24 Three Centuries Ago. Puritan Bevolution began its course. To look at that Eevolution from various points of view, by impartial and sympathetic identification of ourselves, for the time being, with a few of the principal actors — the chief embodied forces — in the business, will be our effort in the succeeding chapters. n. THE TEANSITION PEEIOD. CHAPTBE n. TEE TBANSITION PEBIOD. JAMES THE FIEST. THE "fractions" of a book on James I., ■which Leigh Hnnt rescued from Mr. Carlyle's Waste-Paper Bag, are so picturesque in style, and so illuminative as to the history of the period, that one regrets they are fractions only. Carlyle could have given us a rare book on James. In the piebald character of the man, and in the tragi-comic medley of events in his reign, he would have found exercise for dramatic sympathy and sardonic humour, and he would have had ample opportunity, in the course of the work, of iadicating the " deep presaging movement " of those forces which were to convulse English society during that Puritan revolution, of which his biography of Cromwell is our best literary monument. The reign of James, which we may roughly look upon as occupying the first quarter of the seventeenth century, was essentially an historical introduc- tion to the hfe and times of Charles I. Carlyle evidently demurs to the verdict of mere con- temptuous execration which has commonly been pronounced upon James. " His Majesty," he says, " as I perceive, in spite of calumnies, was not a coward." He will have it that James's discretion was of a kind not incompatible with courage. " He knew the value, to all persons, and to all iaterests of persons, of a whole skin ; how unthrifty everywhere is any solution of continuity, if it can be avoided ! He struggled to preside pacifically over an age 23 The Transition Period. of some ferocity much given to wrangling." We seem to detect a spark of positive enthusiasm for James in Mr. Carlyle when he speaks of his good nature and his " shining examples of justice." And yet the evidence is strong that James was both cowardly and unrighteous. It has generally been admitted to have been no shining example of justice that he gave in the case of Ealeigh. It has never been denied that it was the reverse of a shining example of justice that he gave in the case of Somerset. The truth is, he was an aggregate of confusions and incongruities. He was a spoiled child, in a deplorably hteral sense, .before he was bom. Nature's intention with him seems to have been to produce the ablest Stuart that ever graced the line since it sprang from the daiughter of Eobert Bruce ; but what Mr. Carlyle might call " black art " intervened to defeat nature's intention ; and the child born three months after the shock received by Mary Stuart from the drawn swords of Eizzio's murderers was physiologically a virreck — damaged irretrievably in body and mind. To revile James as a coward because he shud- dered at the flash of the cold iron is as thoughtless as it would be to scorn him because he could not stand on his legs till he was seven years old. Though damaged, how- ever, in mind and body, he was destroyed in neither. His limbs shook ; his nerves were those of a hypochondriac ; yet he had physical toughness enough to enjoy field sports. His tongue was too large for his mouth ; he stuttered and sputtered ; but he was a loud, voluble, Nivacious talker. His mind, hlie his body, had been shalcen into grotesque incoherence. Will and intelligence, instead of bein^ iu closest conjunction, like good sword in steady hand, had been flung apart. He saw with piercing clearness what it was best to do, and with streaming eyes, stammering and whimpering, wished to do it, and was not able. He would negotiate about a matter for years, foil in his object, and Queen EhzahetJi. 29 then sum up with the adroit shrewdness of his friend Bacon, in form of an apophthegm, the cause of his failure. " The wisest fool in Europe," Sully called him. There is nothing in Shakespeare wiser than the sayings, or foohsher than the doings, of Polonius. It was one of the fixed ideas of Enghshmen in the first half of the seventeenth century that Queen Elizabeth had been a great and glorious sovereign, and* that it was weU with England in her time. Knowing the Virgin Queen better than the men of that generation knew her, we can keep our admiration for her within bounds ; but from the day of her death until the day when Charles II. returned from his travels to ascend the throne, the reign of Ehzabeth was looked back to with enthusiasm by the great body of Englishmen. Eliot and Pym attested the fact in their con- tendings with James ; Charles I. knew it, and declared, in opening the Long Parhament, that his wish was to see " all things reduced to the good order and practice of Queen Ehzabeth, which, by the people of England, were looked upon with the greatest reverence ; " and it was one of the fundamental notions of OHver CromweU, who, to his second Parhament, used these words, " Queen Elizabeth of famous memory — ^we need not be ashamed to call her so." Impe- rious, proud, penurious, ambitious to do good to her people and be the crowned servant of England — with one hand on the money-bag and one on the sword — persecuting Papists and bidding her own bishops know their mistress — she was the kind of queen Enghshmen could love. Arbitrary and over-bearing, no doubt ; but Poyser could forgive his wife for being a termagant in consideration of her efficiency in minding the house, managing the dairy, and snubbing Squire Donnithome. Ehzabeth snubbed the Pope, stood forth frankly as the head of the Protestant interest in Europe, fostered the Eeformation in Scotland, befriended the Dutch, smashed the Armada, and did it all uncommonly cheap. 30 The Transition Period. She was neither too bad, nor what would have been quite as fatal, too good, to be the ideal sovereign of the great body of Enghshmen. James thought far too much of himself to learn anything from Queen EHzabeth. His poKtical notions, even if ab- stractly wise, were hopelessly irreconcilable with those of Ehzabethan Enghshmen. Account for the fact as we may — whether it was that he wished to shield himself firom assas- sination, or that he honestly desired to be fair and friendly to all his subjects — ^he was disposed to tolerate Koman Cathohcs. The fact is an honour to him in our eyes, but it grieved his own subjects. His foreign policy gave no more satififaction than his domestic. He was the first advocate of the doctrine of Enghsh non-intervention in Continental pohtics ; the head and, so far as appears, the tail and the body, of the Bright and Cobden school of his day. " Let us mind our own business ! Why should not the two great maritime powers, England and Spain, having the broad spaces of the sea for roadway, make room for each other ? We shall be Protestants; Spaniards will be Papists; but why should we injure each other for that ? Why should we not rather be alhed in those cases where our interests are identical?" This was the gist of James's non-intervention logic. The present generation, with its insular and pacific maxims, can hardly cast a stone at him. Advice, political or theological, he was ready to give to all lengths and breadths ; but whether people would hear, or whether they would forbear, he was not the man to strike. Not Lord Palmerston in all his glory could have had firmer faith in the potency of Great British exhortation than James. Persons have been met with in our own time cynical enough to sneer at the substitution of constitutional syllo- gisms and well-aimed quotations, even when fired off by Lord Eussell in his finest attitude, for cannon batteries and bayonet charges; and a similar scepticism was pre* Jameses Policy. 31 valent in the time of James. Eeckoning up tlie succours forwarded to tlie distressed Elector Palatine, his son-in-law, the wits declared that Denmark had sent a hundred thou- sand herrings, Holland a hundred thousand butter-boxes, and the king of England a hundred thousand ambassadors. The ambassadors did less good than the herrings. James's subjects were eminently disqualified to appre- ciate anj^hing but the eccentricity of his pacific opinions. They were fierce, impatient, irascible, and inspired with burning hatred both of Popery and of Spain. It was the avowed behef of the ablest Protestants, in the seventeenth .century, of men as statesmanlike as Pym and as ardently progressive as Milton, that peace could not be kept with Eome or toleration granted to Eomanists, because the Pope claimed to be above all monarchs and all laws. Jesuitism was in the heyday of its powers, and Jesuitic Popery, which, until Prince Bismarck once more treated it as a reahty, had become, for statesmen of the nineteenth century, a remi- niscence or a shadow, was regarded by the great body of intelligent Englishmen as a menacing and tremendous force. It had been revealed to them in the massacre of St. Bar- tholomew and in the Gunpowder Plot. Commanding the armies of Catholic Europe, it was soon to be engaged in internecine struggle with Gustavus Adolphus, the champion of Protestantism, who called all true Protestant hearts to his banner — a call heard and obeyed by many a brave youth in England and Scotland. " Those only," says Isaac Disraeli, " who have read the letters of the times can form any adequate notion of the agonising and imiversal interest which pervaded the Enghsh people at every advance or retreat of the Austrian TiUy, the Danish Christian, and the Swedish Gustavus." It was not long-winded arguments, but steel-clad squadrons, that James's subjects vsrished him to contribute to the Protestant cause. He had been ten years on the throne of England before 32 The Transition Period. his policy fully evinced its difference from that of Elizabeth. In 1610 the dagger of EavaiUac reached the heart of Henry of Navarre. Though he had formally joined the Catholic Church, Henry's schemes were generous tov^ards Protes- tantism and obnoxious to the Jesuits, and they w^ere com- monly believed at the time to have planned the assassina- tion. The general pohcy of James in relation to Conti- nental Protestantism had been influenced by Henry, and the death of the French king removed one of his leading Hghts. For about ten years, also, he enjoyed the services of SaKsbury, the judicious minister of Ehzabeth. It vyas in connection with the troubles of his son-in-law, the Elector Palatine, that James's distinctive and unpopular policy became conspicuous. The marriage itself had been enthusiastically approved in England. According to Tillieres, the French ambassador, Ehzabeth Stuart, James's eldest daughter, was " honoured and beloved " by the EngUsh people, whereas her brother Charles was "despised and hated; " and they were well pleased when she was given in marriage to a resolutely Protestant prince. The Univer- sities had got out their jingUng apparatus, and produced the amount of Latin verse required to celebrate the occa- sion. Among others chosen at Oxford to do the jingling creditably to the University were two men, one in the prime of manhood, the other in the bloom of youth, who have become knovm to history — ^William Laud and John Hamp- den. Stranger juxtaposition than that of Laud and Hamp- den in the composition of a love-song is hajdly to be fotmd in the drama of history, fuU as it is of sly humour and striking situations. Their epithalamium contained this prayer, with reference to the marriage : " That a progeny might thence arise unequalled by any land or race." Curious I Had Hampden's prayer not been granted there would have been no Prince Eupert to lead the Cavahers on Chalgrovo field, where Hampden fell ; but there would The Protestant Stuart. 33 also have been no female branch from the Stuart stem to ingraft on the Brunswick stock, and to yield an heir to the British throne when the male branch, against which Hamp- den fought, had been finally cut off. It is worth remem- bering that Prince Charles of Culloden stood not one whit nearer to James I. than his Brunswick cousins, and that Queen Victoria has in her veins that best stream of the Stuart blood which flowed off with her whom our fathers affectionately called " the Protestant Electress." Her Majesty inherits the throne of Great Britain as the Pro- testant Stuart ; and one may ahnost wonder that the Earl of Beaconsfield has not suggested a recurrence to the name of that ancient family, whose memory his father so fondly vindicated. The Elector Palatine was ambitious beyond his strength of wing, and, by hawking at the crovra of Bohemia, lost both it and his patrimonial Palatinate. Had James been a man of war, tens of thousands of Englishmen would have gladly followed him to redress in arms the wrongs of Frederick and his VTife. But James hated war, and there were other considerations besides his love of peace which might weR disincline him to a warhke expedition. The old feudal array of England had fallen to pieces, and could not be pitted against the standing armies which had arisen on the Continent. Fond of war in general, and eager for war in behalf of Continental Protestantism in particular, James's subjects had the vaguest ideas as to where the necessary funds were to come from, and became critically cool in a moment when told that, if the thing were to be done effectually, the cash must emerge from their own pockets. The feudal sovereigns had done their wars on the revenue of their landed estates and the contributions of their vassals and nobles, with smaU supplementary sub- sidies from ParHament. This method had now become impracticable ; but the modem system of finance had not 3 34 The Transition Period. taken its place. The grand misfortune of the Stuarts waa that they came to the throne of Great Britain in that period of transition between feudal and modem history, when the weapons of feudaHsm had rusted in the hands of sovereigns, but the duties of feudal kingship were still, vaguely yet importunately, demanded of them. Had James and Charles been men of ambition, energy, and military genius, they might have overcome all difficulties, conducted military expeditions into Spain or Germany, won great battles, and played a part in the seventeenth century as shining and perhaps as vain as that played in an earlier age by the conquerors of Crecy and of Agincourt ; but in that case, whatever we might have had in modem England, a Cromwell Protectorate, a Bismarck mihtarism, a Be- pubHc, French or American, it is highly improbable that we should have had that unique and perhaps inimitable institution — Parhamentary Kingship. James beheved, besides, in the Divine right of kings ; he furiously detested the doctrine of the Divine right of peoples. It was by the Bohemian people that Frederick had been called to th© throne, and he had stretched out his hand against his liege lord, the German Emperor. James, therefore, was averse to the idea of fighting for his son-in-law ; but he would negotiate for him to any extent ; and circumstances provided him with a field in which he could prosecute negotiations, as he thought, vnith a pro- spect of substantial results. His son Henry had died. His son Charles, whose cast of character suited him better, required a wife. Inasmuch as James was wise, he had discerned before leaving Scotland, and had written down in his Basilicon Doron, that the heir to the English crown ought to marry a Pro- testant; but inasmuch as he was only a wise fool, he played the traitor both to his own sagacity and to the interests of his country and his race, by making it his The Spanish Match. 35 grand object to marry Charles into one of the Catholic dynastic houses. It was so much finer to rank with the monarchs of Spain, France, and the empire than to hold out the hand of fellowship to the mob of princelings who headed the mixed multitude of Protestant Germany ! The Spanish Infanta was of the age at which those luckless beings, the princesses of old dynastic houses, are chaffered for by kings and ministers. Baby Charles and the Infanta — ^this was the scheme of James — should marry ; England and Spain should be cordially allied ; and the prepon- derating influence of the Spanish throne should be used at the Imperial Court for the restoration of the Palatinate to Frederick. Bristol, James's ambassador in Spain, whose talent, experience, and general abUity to judge are beyond debate, made up his mind that the project was feasible, and that, in the event of the marriage, Spain would honestly exert herself to replace Frederick in his seat as Elector Palatine. Though they might hate the EngHsh and love the Pope, aU sensible Spaniards felt that it was of extreme importance to Spain that such Enghsh- men as Ealeigh, Frobisher, and Drake, " Adventurous hearts who bartered bold Their English blood for Spanish gold," should leave Spanish commerce alone. They were will- ing, therefore, to pay some price for a stable peace with England. Under those circumstances it was natural that Spain, though perhaps insincere in the earHer stage of the negotiations, should consent to the marriage of the Infanta to Charles ; and if this is granted, it can hardly be disputed that James, holding a very bad hand, played as good a game for the Elector as was on the cards. The Spanish negotiation reached a crisis in 1623. Prince Charles had lately come of age. Buckingham was assiduous in his worship of the rising sun. Suddenly the Baby and Steenie, as James called Charles and Bucking- 3—2 36 The Transition Period. ham, announced that they were going to Spain in person. James expostulated, gesticulated, cried ; but he had himself, in his hot youth, crossed the sea to pay his addresses to Anne of Denmark, and as " the sweet lads " insisted, the " dear dad and gossip " of course gave way. Taking the names of Tom and Jack, Charles and Buckingham crossed the Channel, and proceeded vid Paris to Spain. Of Buckingham, perhaps the most interesting variety of that extensive species, the royal favoTirite, that ever appeared, it will here be appropriate to say a word or two. Queen EHzabeth had inherited from her father the faculty of knowing and valuing a man when she saw him. An incurable and offensive flirt, she Mked handsome and pleasant men, but knew that their agreeable quahties went no farther than to make them good playthings, and had strength of will to keep them in their place. James was not without discernment of intellectual defect in fascinating personages; but knowledge, here and elsewhere, was not, in James, synonymous with power. Against Somerset he appears to have fairly maintained his mental independence ; but VOHers, far more briUiant, ambitious, and daring than Carr, was resolutely bent on making him a slave in all respects. That Buckingham was a fool is nearly as certain as that his sovereign was ; but as James was a wise fool, Buckingham was a fool of genius. Felton's knife put an end to him at thirty years of age, before the nature and reach of his capacity could be finally estimated. That his figure was handsome and his face beautiful ; that he was splendidly accomphshed, and that his manner " flung hovering graces o'er him ; " that his comuge was steady and placid in the moment of general danger, and foolhardy when only his own life was at stake ; that he was active, adventurous, and speculative, in the style of the old EngHsh voyagers ; — all this may be regarded as proved. He enter- BtioMngham. 37 tained schemes of conquest in South America, which he got Gustavus Adolphus to sanction, and on which Crom- well, who became possessed of his papers, is thought to have founded an expedition. Equally certain is it that he was vain, unprincipled, irascible ; that his prodigaHty was outrageous ; that his arrogance and audacity verged on lunacy. Writers speak of his white velvet dress, hung with diamonds to the value of eighty thousand pounds, which he shook from him in his path, as a hon shakes the dew- drops from his mane. Such a lion among ladies was likely to be a most dreadful thing. Buckingham, the beautiful, madly arrogant Englishman, when he returned from France, some two years after his excursion to Spain, on the occa- sicji of Charles's marriage by proxy to Henrietta Maria, dared to throw love-glances at Anne of Austria, the young French Queen, and thus drew upon himself the dangerous frown of Eicheheu. When lion meets Hon, then comes the tug of conflict. The Cardinal, whose fine genius seems to have had the advantage (with a view to success) of being as xmtrammelled by religious scruples as that of Frederick of Prussia, or Voltaire, was himself a lover of his Queen. His sacred character as a bishop, his eminence as a theologian, would lend flavour and piquancy to such for- bidden fruit. The Queen is understood to have been not insensible to the charm of having fascinated the two most fascinating and prominent men in France and England respectively. AH things are said to be lawful in love, and Eicheheu, who was seven years older than Buck- ingham, and now no longer that dapper ecclesiastic, that " creature of porcelain " * whose ambition had first found wings in the service of the French Queen-mother, abso- lutely forbade his rival's presence in Paris. The destruc- tive wrath of Buckingham, prompting him to make his way into France at the sword-point and force the world • Michelet 38 The Transition Period. to own that he, not Eichelieu, was the better man, became an important factor in the political evolution of the time.* Such was the Buckingham in company with whom Charles, after having seen and remarked at the French Court the vivacious, dark-eyed, captivating Henrietta Maria, pursued his journey to Spain in quest of the Infanta. When Jack and Tom turned up in Madrid, the excitement among the Spaniards was great. Charles had touched the romantic nerve of the people, and it vibrated in vivid response. To a lover so frank and intrepid what could be denied? Philip declared that he would put his sister into Charles's arms, and that, if the Pope tefused his sanction to the match, it should be dispensed with. The Princess wished to marry Charles, but her con- fessor vehemently opposed the match. Tormented by the conflict between incHnation and duty, she was growing ill. " The friar," says Disraeli, " might have baffled aU the intri- gues of both cabinets, but they presented In'm one morning with a fatal cup of chocolate." Bristol was satisfied that the prospect of success was good. Then Buckingham spoiled all. Jealous of Bristol, insolent to the Spaniards, acting as a petulant and capricious fool, he resolved to defeat the projected match. The facile Charles was persuaded that he was being played upon, and that the delay which occurred was due to Spanish treachery. Philip and his ministers seem to have been falsely accused ; Buckingham frustrated the negotiation from pique and passion . but when the Duke returned to England, bringing back the Prince, and it became known that he had been chief actor in the business, the nation rushed to the conclusion that Pro- testant ardour had been his motive, and he rose to the • On tho relations between Buo1;mji;ham nnd Biohelieu I regard the teatiniony of Disraeli as oonolvisivo. It is extiotly on such a question that Isaac Disraeli was an acoompllshod expert. Power of the Crown. 39 zenith of popularity. The joy of all classes at receiving back Charles from the perils of the sea and of Popish Spain was unbounded. Such a clamouring and cacMing of delight from shore to shore of England, especially in the loyal city of London ! As if the affections and hopes of all the hens in the farmyard had been embarked ■with one adventurous duckHng on the horse-pond, and now the inestimable creature was once more safe on land ! If we were to receive back our Prince of Wales after having been sealed up for a vnnter in the Polar ice, we could not make greater fools of ourselves. Our ancestors called themselves free, and, in a deep sense, were so. They understood that no king had a right to crumple up the written law in the shut jBist of a despotic win. The prerogative of the Crown was, they vaguely conceived, the blazon and the buckler of the people. But an anoiuted king was for them a sacred personage. There was something preternatural about him. Superstition was still a colossal power, even ia Protestant countries; men believed ia vsdtchcraft and astrology as firmly as we believe in dividends ; and royal touch was still held to be miracu- lously potent in the cure of epilepsy. In its noblest form Shakespeare entertained this reverence for kings, and ex- pressed it perfectly and imperishably when he spoke of the " divinity that doth hedge a king." If you would realise the difference between the antique England of the Jacobean period and the England of the Victorian age, first read Macaulay's impatiently contemptuous sketch of James, — " his awkward figure, his roUiug eye, his rickety walk, his nervous tremblings, his slobbering mouth," — and then turn to the foUovdng lines, in which Shakespeare, who was a subject of Elizabeth and of James, eulogises both : — " Aa when The bird of wonder dies, the maiden Phoenix, Her ashes new-create another heir. As great in admiration as herself; 40 The Transition Period. So shall she leave her bleesedness to one Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour. Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was, And so stand fixed : Peace, plenty, love, truth, terror. That were the servants to this chqsen infant. Shall then be his, and like a viae grow to him ; Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine. His honour and the greatness of his name Shall be, and make new nations : He shall flourish. And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches To aU the plains about him." It is not reasonable to say that, in these lines, Shake- speare was a mere Court flatterer. The reverence for kings that pervades his historical plays was infinitely deeper than Court flattery. "What he VTrote about James was as natural, becoming, and right, in the eyes of his generation, as what Mr. Tennyson has written about Queen Victoria is in the eyes of ours. If Shakespeare had told James that his throne was " broad-based upon the people's vdll," he would either have received some serious mark of the royal dis- pleasure, or, if James had happened to be in his best mood, would have been sent for and treated, on his knees, to a sputtering lecture, an hour long, on the sacred and im- prescriptible rights of the Lord's anointed, while courtiers stood round in gaping admiration and archbishops declared in lowly accents that the cascade of nonsense was inspired by God. James welcomed back Charles and Buckingham with transports of dehght. " I wear Steenie's picture," wrote the slobbering nondescript, " in a blue ribbon tinder my waistcoat next my skin." But his days were henceforward to be full of sorrow. It was not possible for him to extin- guish his intellect so far as to be, in pohtical matters, Buckingham's unconscious or happy slave. Steenie had made Baby Charles quite his own, and they were in a league to keep James in the dork. Their plan was never to let him bo for five minutes out of sight of one or both of thorn. But every ambassador of that time who understood The Art of Intrigue. 41 his trade was a master in the art of intrigue ; and Marquis Ynoiosa and Don Carlos Caloma, the King of Spain's head men in England, contrived to reach the ear of James. Three months long they had watched for an opportunity, baffled by the vigilant favourite and the cunning prince. At last Caloma managed to engage the attention of Charles and Buckingham in one part of a room while Ynoiosa slipped a note into James's hand, telling him, doubtless, by a glance of the eye, that it was to be put into his pocket. The Prince and Buckingham were told, in the course of the afternoon, that, on account of a bitter cold and rheum, the King would be confined to his chamber, and could not see them. In the evening Carendolet, secretary to the Spanish Legation, was introduced into James's room, and assured biTTi that he, James, was surrounded by spies and informers, that no one dared to do his commands or to tender to him advice, except by the permission of Buckingham ; in one word, that Buckingham was king. James promised secrecy, and next day, when Charles and the Duke met him as he drove in his coach, he took in his son but shut the door against the favourite. His majesty had escaped, then? Not he. The Bishop of Lincoln, shifty, eloquent Welsh Williams, — indefatigable in the pursuit of useful knowledge, and alert to make the most of both worlds, — had Caren- dolet's mistress in his pay. The secretary told the mistress, and the mistress told the Bishop, and the Bishop told the Prince, and the Prince told Buckingham, and James was recalled to a sense of the dif&culty of emancipating himself from the yoke of his poor slave and dog by an ironically sympathetic question from said slave as to that rheum with which he had been troubled the other evening. For intrigue was one of the arts carried to a high state of perfection in that rehgious age. The meshwork in which it encircled personages of importance was comphcated in its ramifications and fine in its threads. A clever ambassador, 42 The Transition Period. a Bristol, for instance, would be better served by the body- guards of the Spanish King than the Spanish King himseK; would have keys that could open Philip's most secret cabinets ; and would boast that he could furnish James with copies of documents before they were read by Philip in council. Buckingham, Bristol's great rival, proved, for his part, that two could play at this game, by keeping a spy in Bristol's own house. The most fervently pious men, the Puritan Cromwell, for example, would have no misgiving as to the maxim, licet uti altera peccato, would dispense the necessary pieces of silver to the domestic Judas, and would leave the conscientious question to the latter. Under these circumstances, a liberal-minded Charles II., conning the lessons of adversity in threadbare coat in Holland, would testify his fihal affection by his gratification at the fact that Dr. Dorislaus, who had taken part in the trial of his father, or Manning, or Ascham, had been assassinated.* And so the endless tragi-comedy, act after act, went on, and the whirligig of time kept moving, and at length a free Press and Baron Eeuter began to manage the intelligence department for irresistible Opinion, without, it may be hoped, much need of liars, assassins, and traitors, and surely with comparative advantage to all parties. James had not succeeded in breaking the yoke of Bucldngham, but it galled Tn'm to the quick. The Eai-1 of Bristol, ecUpsed and supplanted by the Duke, had retm-ned from Spain, and a persuasion gradually diffused itself that people had been misled as to what caused the vpreck of the Spanish match. HaAong nursed that pro- ject as a pet lamb in his bosom, James learned, with feel- ings which may be imagined, that it had been frustrated in more capricious wiKulness by Bucldngham. Knowing how deeply the King had valued the Spanish alliance, • I do not undortalto to aay that Chorloa was dirootly concerned in all those lyncliingB ; he certainly 'was priyy to some of them. A Coil of Intrigues. 43 Bristol doubtless calculated that Charles and the favourite could not permanently hoodwink him, and hoped that the Duke would fall, and that himself would regain power. He knew that James could not dispense with a favourite, but his notion, strange to say, was that Somerset, a convicted murderer, might return to Court in that capacity. James actually had an interview with Somerset, under cloud of night, in the garden at his palace of Theobald's, where he hugged his old favourite, and cried over him.* It was be- lieved by close observers at the time that Buckingham held his place by an extremely precarious tenure. The unhappy King was the centre of a coil of inextricable intrigues — Buckinghani plotting against Somerset, Bristol plotting against Buckingham, Baby Charles and Steenie plotting against the dear dad and gossip; Spanish interest, French interest of the Court and Eicheheu party, French interest of the Huguenot party, interest of the Elector Palatine, in- terest of the Puritans and patriots of England ; all pulling and wrestling and whirlmg as in delirious dance round James. It was enough to tease a poor old nondescript wise fool to death. And it did. 'Volumes might be written to trace the conflicting influences and describe the warring pas- sions of the scene ; but the game would not be worth the candle, and we ought to be thankful that obHvion, which, like death, is often kind, has spread over the whole its pall. • Somerset's interview with James, which has recently been called in question by an eminent historical critic in the Academy, is pronounced by Brodie "scarcely credible." HaBam, however, accepts it on grounds un- known, apparently, to Brodie. "King James," says Burnet, "in the end of his reign was become weary of the Dvike of Buckingham .... and so resolved to bring the Earl of Somerset again into favour, as that Lord reported it to some from whom I had it. He met with him in the night in the garden at Theobald's : two bedchamber men were only in the secret : the Eing embraced him tenderly with many tears : the Earl of Somerset believed the secret was not well kept, &o." This evidence is not unim- peachable, but it agrees so well with collateral circumstances, and with the tenor of the document alluded to by Hallam, that I cannot help thinking Bumet had got hold of a fact. 44 The Transition Period. The main historical facts which it is important for us to note are, first, that the Court was steadily growing in unpopularity during the last years of James's reign; and, secondly, that this unpopularity directed itself more against Buckingham and Charles than against the King. The popularity which the Duke had earned by bringing back Charles unmarried from Spain was short-lived. It was whispered that, whatever might be his motives for oppos- ing the Spanish match, they impHed no dislike of Popery, inasmuch as he had in Spain declared himseK prepared to become, if need were, a Papist. He was soon the best hated man in England, and the Prince, intimately asso- ciated with him, could not but share his unpopularity. The most important consideration of all, however, to explain the coldness with which the nation regarded Charles's accession to the throne, is that he identified him- self more closely than his father vsdth certain theological influences and tendencies, now coming prominently into view, which the majority of the people and of their repre- sentatives in ParUament regarded with bitter hostility. We may shut the book of England's history in those years imless we apprehend the interest taken in theological questions. That interest was fervent and universal. Landed proprietors, farmers, shop-keepers, nay, appren- tices and farm-labourers, cared more about abstract theolo- gical propositions than people now care about big loaf or free breakfast table. And, strange as it may seem, it is a fact which will be questioned by no one acquainted with the literature of the period, from the writings of Owen, Baxter, and Milton, down to street broadsides and muni- cipal petitions, that the theology which had been embraced with passionate intensity by the great body of the English people, was that which can be briefly and practically described as absorbing, beyond any other theological Bchome, tho human into the Divine. The fundamental Puritan Theology. 45 position of Puritan theology was that defined by St. Paul when he represents God as the potter and man as the clay. This wiU now strike many readers as a doctrine of utter slavishness ; but all can understand that, if attainment of infinite benefit and escape from inexpressible calamity were beheved to be connected with absolute submission to the DiAone wiU, a resistance proportioned to the strength of this conviction would be presented by those entertaining it to any attempt to prevent them from submitting them- selves implicitly to God. It has been demonstrated again aaid again in history, that under no influence does man become more terrible as a force than when he feels himseK a mere instrument in the hand of God. Take three his- toric names, with all they stand for, to prove this fact — the Hebrew David, Mahomet, Cromwell. " Certainly man," says Bacon, " being backed with Omnipotency, is a kind of omnipotent creature." The Puritan, ever in the great Taskmaster's eye, penetrated with the faith that his whole individuality was taken possession of by God, pre- sented a front of fierce opposition to the Papist on the one hand, and to the Arminian on the other. The Papist put the Pope and the Church between the soul and God ; the Puritan would hear of no created mediator. The Arminian ventured to assert, from the bosom of the Eeformed Church itseK, the rights of the human personahty; the Puritan recognised essentially but one right, one fate, for the finite being, to be irradiated eternally with God as light, or to be consumed eternally by God as fire. In the history of spiritual civilisation and of European progress, Arminius and his followers take an honoured place as daring to stem the current of tendency in their time, and to maintain, with their Hves in thefr hands, that the clay, if it ceases to be clay and becomes human, has a personahty not to be extinguished by God Himself — a personahty involving rights which, if justice admits of any definition whatever, can be 46 The Transition Period. and ought to be, reverently but firmly, pleaded against power even when infinite. But religion, if it has often been expanded and ennobled by the serene light of reason, has generally, if not invariably, been thereby weakened as a force ; and whatever Arminianism may have done to pro- mote in the largest sense the hberty of the human spirit, it is unquestionable that the cause of practical freedom, as against priest or despot, was in the seventeenth century mainly vindicated by the inexorable determination of the Puritans to be untrammelled in obeying the law of their God. Assailed by the Puritans, the Arminians leant naturally upon the State for protection, and while the historian of philosophy classes them as advocates of freedom, the historian of constitutional liberty must pro- nounce them politically servile. Moderating their jealousy of the civil power, they moderated also their hatred of the Papacy, and naturally cast in their lot with those Pro- testants who had least objection to the doctrine, ritual, and episcopal government of the old Church. If the importance of these statements in relation to the history of England in the first half of the seventeenth century has been appreciated, it will be understood that it was a great point for James, in respect of popularity, that his theology was Puritan, and that it was a strong point against Charles that he aUied himself from the first with the Eomanising and Arminian party. James's brain had been taken possession of la his youth by the Augus- tinian system of theology as repromulgated by the gi-eater Augustine of Geneva. He came from Scotland sound as a bell on the five points of Calvinism; and so late as 1618 his representatives in the Synod of Dort were instructed to side vpith the Calvinists. He ravished the hearts of fana- tical Calvinists by arguing that, since the Arminians repre- sented God's eternal decree as dependent on man's faith and perseverance, " which they make flow from the free- Presbyters and Bishops. 47 will of changeable man," they were logically bound to believe God to be " a composed substance of subject, and true accidents, no more an absolute simple essence, and so no more God." Of course, therefore, they were atheists. This argument, which wiU probably be unintelligible to most modern readers, was quite in the manner of seven- teenth century scholasticism, and gloriously conclusive in the eyes of the Puritan clergy. It is indeed true that James much preferred bishops to presbyters, and that the Enghsh Puritans gained no favour in his eyes by reminding him of those Caledonian ecclesiastics who, whatever their faults, were never accused of sycophancy. They had told him that he was " Christ's silly vassal," and lectured him and snubbed him vsdthout mercy. No doubt they told him also that he was the Lord's anointed, and James had wit enough to extract a good deal out of this. The prophet Samuel, striving to check the monarchical tendencies of the dege- nerating Jews, warned them that, once their king was anointed, they would be compelled to submit to him, how- ever afflictive he might be. James knew he had been anointed, felt that he was afflictive, and asked whether any subject pretending to logic could dispute the duty of sub- mitting to bim ? The " stubborn kii^k " clung to its notions as to the supreme right of the people, and would lend no countenance to despotic theories. Even those Enghsh readers who, while true to the national instinct of justice in other respects, cherish a curious grudge against everything Scotch, may be expected to acknowledge that there is a refreshing sense of moral erectness in the plain speech of the Presbyterian churchmen to the king, as con- trasted vrith the adulation of his bishops. Mr. Buckle himself, though his habit of turning the Hving men of the past into terms of a pedantic theorem, made him generally incapable of historical sympathy, and therefore of historical insight, gets into something like a glow of admi- 48 The Transition Period. ration at the intrepidity of Andrew Melville. It was heaven for James, after having been called a siUy vassal by gaunt presbyters in serge, to be told by surpUced pre- lates that he spake as an angel of God. But so long as his bishops said this, he hked them to be theologically in sym- pathy with the Eeformation, and out of sjonpathy with the Church of Eome. And with his subjects this was an immense point in his favour. "While Puritan theology reigned in Court and Church, the Pm'itan revolution, in so far as it was a religious revolu- tion — and its central force was religious — ^remained impos- sible. Revolutions are not made by trifles ; men do not really shed their blood in resistance to tolerahiles ineptice. Neither the bishops nor the ceremonies would have occa,- sioned civil war if they had continued to stand for that for which they stood in the days of Elizabeth and in the early days of James. At that time there was no irreconcilable breach between the Church of England and the Church of Scotland. EngHsh archbishops could find admiring audi- ences north of Tweed, and young Mr. Laud, preaching at Oxford, got himself sharply rebuked by his University superiors for his new-fangled high-AngUcan notions, so well fitted, he was told, to sow dissension between the Church of England and the Reformed Churches. John Knox, though he refused a bishopric, had been prevented by no scruple of conscience from ministering in an Epis- copal church. The symbols about which the Puritans fought had been of comparatively small consequence until they became typical, or were beUeved to have become typical, of the main issue between Rome and the Reformers. Then, indeed, the Church seemed to be once more inter- posing between God and the soul, and the palladium of Protestantism to be in danger. " Some men," sajrs Hume, " of the greatest parts and most extensive knowledge that the nation at tlus time produced, could not enjoy any peace Laud. ,49 of mind because obliged to hear prayers offered up to the Divinity by a priest covered with a white hnen vestment." As if one should appraise in money worth the thin pole and torn rag for which men struggle in battle, and wonder how they can sell their Hves for ninepence ! The man to whom the portentous change which had taken place was chiefly due has been already named. WiUiam Laud was about thirty years old when James came to England, but, though he was already possessed with the idea which had given him a place in history, he did not, for many years, occupy a highly important posi- tion. His advance was slow but sure. No man ever un- derstood better than he the art of stooping to conquer and cringing to subdue. Bishop Williams, possessed of a random generosity which enabled him to do a kindness to men he despised, held out his hand to Laiid and helped the " urchin " to Court. WiUiams had intrigued boldly and shiftily, as we have seen, for the favour of Buckingham, md had probably reckoned on making the haughty Duke his friend ; but the brilhant, wily "Welshman found himself sharply repelled, while Laud, who seems never to have suggested to Buckingham that he was anything but his, the Duke's, humble slave, " became," says Abbott, " the only inward counsellor with Buckingham, sitting with him sometimes privately for whole hours." Laud stepped as softly as an incarnate idea ; which, indeed, he was — the Anglican idea in flesh. Consumed by his one passion, he knew no friendship, no mere mundane fidelity or gratitude. He undermined his benefactor Williams, and sent him first to the seclusion of a country diocese and then to the Tower. Buckingham and Charles never imagined that they were being dominated by Laud, but the influence of the idea stole over them, and for Charles it became an enthu- siasm, an inspiration, a doom. Laud, in the cast of his theology, was an Arminian and a Roman. He believed 4 The Transition Period. in episcopacy by Divine right, in the radical distinction be- tween clergy and laity, in the mystic efficacy of sacerdotal functions and sacramental rites ; and attached immense im- portance to the symbohsm and ceremonial of worship. The sagacity which lay, hidden but indestructible, amid heaps of topsy-turvy rubbish behind James's goggle eyes, told hiTin that Laud was dangerous, and Steenie and Baby had a good deal to do before James, the vpise man, yielded, and James, the fool, took Laud into comparative favour. It need not be doubted that the ecclesiastic made way con- siderably vyith the old King. Buckingham's mother was a Papist ; it was arranged that Laud should lay siege to her. He engaged, in her presence, in controversy with Jesuit Fisher, and had an opportunity to display the ex- quisite advantages of his system : how it had all the attractions of the Church of Eome and none of the draw- backs of the Eeformed Churches ; how it disallowed the jurisdiction of a foreign ecclesiastic in England, but ex- alted the native primate and the native king ; how it rejected sundry errors of the Eomish theology, and yet afforded the stay of Church authority to diffident souls, and priestly succour and absolution to those who trembled at the thought of face to face intercourse with God. Here was a plan for reconciling discrepancies, for solving problems that seemed insoluble ! Could James but accept it, he might smite Jack Presbyter hip and tliigh, from the Dan of Church government unto the Beersheba of dogma. The lady declared herself converted, and Laud plumed himself on his conquest, although she returned to her old faith. It seems probable that, between the date of the Sj'nod of Dort and his death, James learned to look vsdth much less alarm and repugnance on Laud than he had previously done ; but the change would not be observed by the body of the people, whereas the devotion of Charles to Laud and Arrainianism was undisguised. Count Maiisfeldt's Expedition. 51 Though Bristol, Somerset, Ynoiosa and company were skilful intriguers, and though James was painfully sensible of his enslavement, Buckingham and Charles prevailed, and he never broke their toils. To the last his subjects tole- rated him, or more than tolerated him. He got credit for what was good in him, and Bucldngham was debited with the failures of the Government. The national pride was grievously wounded by the disastrous issue of the expedition despatched in 1624 for the recovery of the Palatinate. We may be very sure that James had in his heart distrusted and disliked the enterprise, and when it failed, this would be remembered. The calamity had been great and igno- minious. Twelve thousand foot and two hundred horse, under command of the renowned Count Mansfeldt, had embarked. When they reached the French coast, they were not permitted to land. Sailing for Holland, they were there also bidden to stand off. While they tossed on the grey seas that chafe agaiast the Dutch dykes, their provi- sions began to fail, and the men sickened and died. The Enghsh at home shuddered at hideous details of corpses washed ashore and eaten by hogs. Half the army having perished, a landing was effected, but the force was now too weak to accomplish anything decisive. In pacific enter- prises into which James really threw his heart, he had been successful. His poHcy in connection with the " plantation" of Ulster was judicious and public-spirited. There was something about him personally which, in spite of his repulsive characteristics, must have been like- able. He was sprightly, fond of anything hke a joke, never moody or morose. His verses on the expedition of Buckingham and Charles to Spain' are vivacious, con- taining the fine thought that love is like Spain with its alternations of burning plain and snow-crowned hill ; and the versifier was fifty-six years old. He possessed a kind of shrewdness, which accounts for 4—2 52 The Transition Period. the fact that men like Bacon could, without irony too ob- vious to be safe, speak of him as a Solomon. His hallucina- tions on the subject of witchcraft, which strike the present generation as a mixture of piteous imbecility and revolting cruelty, were no impeachment of his wisdom in the opinion of his contemporaries. He delighted in exercising his saga- city, and sometimes did so with excellent efifect in un- masking quacks and baffling conspirators. A creature called Haddock afforded him an opportunity of the former land. Haddock had been afflicted to an extreme degree with stam- mering in his speech, and, with a view to conquering the infirmity, had tried the plan of waking up in bed, after his nerves had been composed by a first sleep, and delivering sermons to an imaginary congregation. He was overheard talking loudly and solemnly in the dead of night, and the pious Hsteners, prone to believe in signs and wonders, con- cluded that he was preaching in his sleep under the in- fluence of supernatural inspiration. He became a notoriety, and many persons visited his shrine, doubtless to their edifi- cation and his own substantial comfort. At last his fame reached James, and the King went repeatedly to hear this new message from on high. Haddock's way was to com- mence his performance \yith a sermon, deHvered as if he were asleep, then to groan portentously, to yawn, and finally, to affect to wake. James made his observations, and communicated the result to the audience. Dreams and visions, he remarked, were commonly irregular, but in Haddock's sermons part always fitted in wth part ; the discourses improved in quality, also, in proportion to the number of the hearers. In short, there were unmistake- able traces in the sermons of their being prepared before- hand, and the preacher showed himself alive, while deliver- ing them, to the circumstances under which he spoke. His Majesty's reasoning proved victorious, and Haddock confessed that his whole exhibition had been a trick. James's Shrewdness. 53 Wise as we conceit ourselves, it may be doubted whether Mr. Sludge, the medium, would have had a much easier time of it ia the seventeenth century than he has in the nineteenth. To still better purpose did King James show that he had a way of his own of looking into matters, in the case of the infamous conspiracy against the Countess of Exeter. Lady Lake and her daughter produced a letter, which they swore to be in the hand of the Countess, confessing incest, witchcraft, and other crimes. They brought forward their maid, who stated, on oath, that she had seen the Countess, in her mansion at Wimbledon, vrate the letter, and had subsequently heard her read it aloud. The Countess stood, said the witness, at a window, while she, hidden behind the tapestry, herself unseen, saw all and heard all. The evidence seemed conclusive, and the Countess of Exeter had the prospect of a violent and ignominious death. James went, with some attendants, to the chamber at Wimbledon where the whole was said to have happened, measured the distance from the window to the tapestry, placed himself where the witness swore she had stood, told his gentlemen to do the same, and estabhshed, in the first place, that no one, standing there, could distinctly hear the voice of a person reading at the window. He then called attention to the position of the tapestry. It hung two feet above the ground. Any one lurking behind it must in- evitably have been seen. " Oaths cannot confound my sight," cried the staggering Solomon, transported with a sense of his own cleverness. The diaboHcal plot was frustrated, and the conspirators were severely punished. Facts Hke these prove that James was not devoid of the princely instinct which finds joy in doing good. Far from intelligently or steadily kind-hearted, he was in an extreme degree so/if-hearted, and a reputa- tion for soft-heartedness goes far with the crowd. Scott's CI The Transition Period, delineation of him in the Fortunes of Nigel is as trust- worthy as the best history, and when we leave the gar- rulous matchmaker over his cock-a-leekie, we feel how impossible it would be to get up indignation against so amiably preposterous a tyrant. We must say, also, that, unless his portrait by Vandyke, now at Windsor, is a miere he, he could on some occasions look dignified enough ; and the likeness drawn of him by Macaulay may be some- thing of a caricature. The ambassadors of foreign Courts, resident in London, doubtless found that their employers hked to be suppHed with bold caricature sketches of the Britannic majesty, with elucidative comments, spiced as highly as might be with Court scandal ; and it is perhaps due to this circumstance that modems have heard so much more about James's absurdities and faults than his virtues. The Londoners called him Old Jemmy, laughed at him, grumbled at him, endured him, and when, in 1625, he died, were inclined to be fmious with Buckingham for having, as they imagined, murdered him. The idea is not so extra- vagantly absurd as it may appear to this generation ; it was entertained by clever men at the time, for there were shrewd observers who beheved that James would by a desperate effort rid himself of the Duke, and Buckingham was not a man to be scrupulous ia extremity ; but we may safely beheve that the King had no fouler play than that of being worried to death by vexation and intrigue. III. THE ANaLO-CATHOLTO EEACTIOI^. CHAPTEE III. THE ANGLO-CATHOLIC BEACTION. WILLIAM LAUD. MENTION has already been made of Laud, but it will be necessary for us to look at him carefully before going further, as there is no understanding the Puritan Eevolution without accurately apprehending what he was and what he did. If, however, the reader will find Laud an instructive personage in various respects, it may be frankly confessed at once that an account of his cha- racter and performance offers httle in the way of enter- tainment. Laud produced an immense effect in history, but he was one of the most uninteresting and unpopular of men. In his lifetime few loved him, multitudes hated him -R-ith perfect hatred, and there were many dry eyes, few wet ones, when he died on the scaffold. He has continued unpopular with posterity. The party which, after a struggle of nearly half a century, brought him to the block, has continued powerful, and, whether within or without the Church of England, has maintained its antipathy to Laud. Almost no one has any enthusiasm for him. Which of us, unless the matter has happened to come specially, in his way, knows that, four years ago, occurred what, in the jargon appropriated to such occasions, would be called the Tercentenary of Laud ? "Whether the day was commemorated with solemn joy and prayerful searching of heart in select EituaHst circles, I cannot teU ; but there certainly was no such weeping or exultation in 58 The Anglo-Catholic Beaction. the camp of the Anglo-Catholic Plebrews that the Egyptians of Protestantism heard it. Busy England did not pause for an hour to recall the fact that, on the 7th of October, 1573, in the quiet country town of Beading, the apostle and martyr of Anglo-Cathohcism — for such honour belongs to Laud more definitely even than to Charles I. — was bom. But the history of the last three hundred years would have been very different if the Eeading gossips had not on that day congratulated the paternal Laud, an innkeeper of the town, on the birth of a son. It is not improbable that some reader, who has but a vague acquaintance with the subject, may be startled by the assertion that a part of prime importance in the history of England was played by Laud. It seems an offence alike to patriotism and to common sense to assign such work to a man whom one of the most widely known and persuasive of Enghsh authors has written down a driveller. Lord Macaulay was never dishonest, and his information on most matters connected with English history was exten- sive; but he was not without strong prepossessions, and while his rapidity of judgment carried h\m quickly to deci- sions as to character, his confidence in himself precluded his revising those which had been hastily and passionately made. He dismisses Laud vsdth impatient scorn as a " superstitious driveller," compressing into a few shai-p sen- tences what he deems satisfactory evidence that this is an adequate account of him. The whole of that eA-idence is drawn from Laud's Diary. It is as follows: — "We turn to his Diary, and we are at once as cool as con- tempt can make us. There -wo learn how liis picture fell down, and how fearful he was lest the fall should be an omen ; how he dreamed that the Duke of Bucking- ham came to bed to him, that he saw Thomas Flaxney in green garments, and the Bishop of Worcester with Ids shoulders wrapped in hncn. In the eoily part of Laud's Diary. 59 1627, the sleep of this great ornament of the Church seems to have been much disturbed. On the fifth of January he saw a merry old man with a wrinkled countenance, named Grove, lying on the ground. On the fourteenth of the same memorable month he saw the Bishop of Lincoln jump on a horse and ride away. A day or two after this, he dreamed that he gave the King drink in a silver cup, and that the King refused it, and called for glass. Then he dreamed that he had turned Papist; of all his dreams, the only one, we suspect, which came through the gate of horn. But of these visions our favourite is that which, as he has recorded, he enjoyed on the night of Friday, the ninth of February, 1627. ' I dreamed,' says he, ' that I had the scurvy ; and that forthwith all my teeth became loose. There was one in especial in my lower jaw, which I could scarcely keep in with my finger till I had called for help.' Here was a man to have the superintendence of the opinions of a great nation ! " Is this not too summary a method of proceeding with a celebrated man ? Laud may claim to be judged by his waking moments, not by his dreams. Lord Macaulay presumably enjoyed sound sleep, and we all set less store now-a-days by our dreams than our ancestors did. Science has entered even dreamland with disenchanting step. But it is a curious land, let science say what it will. The inci- dents and sayings of waking existence are therein trans- posed, distorted, turned topsy-turvy, tossed and heaped together as the materials of a wild grotesquerie, now terrible, now fantastic, now humorous, generally trivial and absurd. It is as if a crew of mischief-maldng, fun-loving imps, who dehght, Kke Puck, in things " that fall out pre- posterously," had got possession of the brain when reason and will were dormant, and had followed up the graver business of the day with broad farce or monstrous panto- mime. The antics of the dream-imps, if not obliterated GO The Anglo-Catholic Reaction. from the memory by the flash of dawn, furnish the lightest chat for our brealcfast-tables, and are then put out of mind for ever. A man who should at present jot down his dreams, unless they were very remarkable dreams indeed, or unless he hoped to derive from them some useful hint of a psychological nature, would be thought extremely foolish. But this way of taking the affair is of yesterday, and from before the days of Homer until after the days of Laud, dreams were regarded v?ith profound and eager interest by mankind. In the time of Laud high importance was still generally attached to dreams. Clarendon devotes four pages to an account of a phantom which appeared three times, at dead of night, to give warning, some months before the assassination of the Duke of Buckingham, of the danger to which he was exposed. And how many men of genius, energy, and vigilant shrewdness might be named, who would be reduced to the rank of imbeciles and drivellers, if some one personal trait, some perversity, hal- lucination, or crotchet, were made the test of their mental cahbre ! Wallenstein was a dreamer of dreams, or at least a behever in dreams, as well as Laud ; Hobbes maintained with fierce dogmatism that he had squared the circle ; Voltaire was vainer than a school-girl ; Goethe filled volumes with an absurd theory on light ; Ticho Brahe used to. have recourse to an idiot in hope of supernatural instnic- tion. The hst might, of course, be extended indefinitely, but may as well be closed with two instances, each of whicli can be adduced in Macaulay's own words. Napoleon was " not exempt from the influence of that most pernicious of superstitions, a presumptuous fatalism." Dr. Johnson, " incredulous on all other points, was a ready believer in miracles and apparitions. He would not believe in Ossian ; but he was willing to believe in the second sight. He would not beUeve in the earthquake of Lisbon ; but he was willing to believe in the Cock Lane ghost." And yet Laud's Diary. Gl Johnson's waldng fooleries were never thought by Lord Macaulay to give proof of that imbecility which we are to find demonstrated by Laud's dreams ! If the follies and weaknesses of eminent men are to be made the standards of their strength, and to neutralise the positive evidence of their capacity, it will indeed be true that no man can be a hero to his valet. To judge of Laud's abihty from his Diary is a great mistake ; but the Diary is in its way a noteworthy docu- ment, and those who form their ideas of its contents from Lord Macaulay's samples will be much in the wrong. His quotations are not false, but, from being thrown together, instead of spread over a number of pages, they produce an erroneous impression. There is no dream mentioned in the Diary till Laud is fifty years old ; he lived some twenty years longer ; his visions, if such trivial matters deserve the name, extend over that time ; and Lord Macaulay has found room in his half-page for almost all that would strike a modem reader as pecuharly siUy or ludicrous in the narrative of the twenty years. If you thought it worth while to make a record of your dreams at all, you could hardly fail, in the course of twenty years, to set down as much nonsensical dreaming as Laud's. Absurd as the Diary is apt to seem to a modem reader, I venture to say that the right and intelligent spirit in which to regard it is emphatically not that of impatient scorn. Its vein of what the rudely practical man calls childishness, and what in some sense is childishness, affects one in a kindly way to the old Bishop. He enters memoranda of the weather, of the tides, of the time when harvest was gathered home, in a way which distantly reminds us of White of Selbfrne. The comparative absence of reference to great affairs is conspicuous. Laud rarely touches on them with a pen- stroke. May the cause not have been that, in this whoUy private and personal document, he jotted down only or chiefly C2 The Anglo-CatJioUo Reaction. those " unconsidered trifles " which had an interest for a wifeless and cliildless old gentleman who, in more tranquil times, would have delighted to watch the habits of robins and dormice, or to puzzle Mr. Lewes or Professor Bain with questions as to the influences which act upon the nerves, and set in motion the delicate machinery of fancy, when thought is suspended by sleep ? Sometimes the juxtaposition of incidents infinitely un- important vyith events which, directly or indirectly, affected the course of European history, is amusing. " I dreamed that I had lost two teeth. The Duke of Buckingham took the Isle of Bhee." The wound inflicted on the national pride of England by the issue of the expedition to the Isle of Ehee was one of the express causes which led to the revolution that cost Laud and his Sovereign their lives. The entries as to the weather have an interest from the vividness with which they bring back upon us the old time, which, as argued about by historians, is so apt to seem a mere abstraction. "June 16th, 1624. — The great dry summer." " August 24th, 1630. — Extreme thunder, light- ning, and rain. The pestilence this summer. A great dearth in France, England, the Low Countries, &c." " January 1st, 1631. — The extremest wet and warm January that ever was known in memory." The follow- ing June is "the coldest June clean through that was ever felt in my memory." And the harvest is "not in within forty miles of London after Michaelmas." This was certainly late; and when we hear again of "barley abroad within thirty miles of London at end of October," we call to mind that farmers in the seventeenth cen- turj* did not understand their business so well as in the nineteenth. We meet with hints as to the state of the roads which might do something towards silencing those imaginative writers who are always decrying their own time. " My Laud in the Highlands. C3 coach had been twice that day overturned between Aber- markes and my house " at Aberguille in Wales. In Scot- land he is as insensible to the picturesque as Nicol Jarvie himself. On the 1st of July, 1633, he crosses the Forth at Burntisland, on the 2nd he is at St. Andrews, on the 3rd he is over the Tay to Dundee, on the 4th he is at Falkland, on the 7th at St. Johnston, on the 8th at Dunblane and Stirling ; and the impression left upon his mind by his tour through this region of romance is to be guessed from the single sentence in which, as with a sigh of rehef, he sums up the matter : " My dangerous and cruel journey crossing part of the Highlands by coach, which was a wonder there." Here is a jotting quite in the manner of White of Selborne : — " December 1st, 1635. Many elm-leaves still upon the trees, which few men have seen." In the preceding November the afternoon tide was the greatest ever witnessed ; it " came within my gates, walls, cloisters, and stables at Lambeth." This is the incident of the robins : — " Two robin red-breasts flew together through the door into my study, as if one pur- sued the other. That sudden motion almost startled me." Archbishops then brought their coach and horses to their Lambeth Palace by the ferry-boat, and sometimes, it appears, there were mishaps. " When I first went to Lambeth, my coach, horses, and men sunk to the bottom of the Thames in the ferry-boat, which was overladen, but, I praise God for it, I lost neither man nor horse." It is but fair to Laud to add that many passages in the Diary evince a quietly fervent piety ; that he by no chance says anything more bitter of his enemies than that he prays God to have mercy on them ; and that the references to servants who died in his employment have a warmth of affection which it is not easy to think compatible with the " diabolical temper " that Macaulay imputes to him. " Mr. Adam Tories, my ancient, loving, and faithful servant, then C-4 The Anglo-Catholic Reaction. my steward, after he had served me fall forty-two years, died, to my great loss and grief." Professor Masson, whose exhaustive biography of Miltoii embraces a careful and elaborate study of Laud, sees that Lord Macaulay's hypothesis of superstitious imbecihty is untenable, and brings forward a theory of his own to account for Laud's elevation. " Perhaps," suggests Pro- fessor Masson, "it is that a nature does not always or necessarily rise by greatness, or intrinsic superiority to the element about it, but may rise by peculiarity, or proper capillary relation to the element about it. When Lord Macaulay speaks of Laud as intellectually an 'imbecile,' and caUs him ' a ridiculous old bigot,' he seems to omit that pecuHarity which gave Laud's nature — whatever its measure by a modern standard — so much force and pungency among his contemporaries. To have hold of the surrounding sensations of men even by pain and irrita- tion is a kind of power ; and Laud had that kind of power from the first." This is interesting, ingenious, and not without practical use to the student of Laud's career. There can be no doubt that he had hold of the sensations of most men by " pain and irritation." All witnesses, including Clarendon, assert or admit that he was an eminently disagreeable person. His voice was raspy, his manner abrupt and repelhng. He was to the life the kind of man whom that hmner, whose pen tells more than Titian's brush, had in eye when he wrote of men " Of such vinegar aspect That they'll not show their teeth in way of suiUo, Though Kestor swear the jest be laughable." Laud was one whom, unless you were of his o%vn set, j'ou would have walked a good many miles to miss. His bite was bad ; his bark made you expect that his bite would be worse than it might turn out to be. He refers, in a letter to Strafford, to liis having been said to have fangs, and his Laud's Bise, 65 physiognomy in moments of irritation must have had no very distant resemblance to that of a rat. The most head- strong of men was Hkely to think once, twice, thrice before making Land his enemy, and nearly the same amount of hesi- tsmt reflection might be engaged in before making him very much of a friend. Still, no man succeeds merely by making people wish to get out of his way; and before granting that Professor Masson's hypothesis is quite satisfactory, we should require better proof that the problem of Laud's ascent to power and predominance yields to no simpler solution. The real state of the case is that Lord Macaulay's account of Laud as a drivelhng simpleton, and Professor Masson's more subtle theory of its being, of two disagree- ables, the less disagreeable to succumb to Laud than to face and fight him, really do Httle more than present the problem of his advance in its most difficult form. If such a man could become eminent, it certainly would have been easier for a man who was not superstitious and not per- sonally irritating to have done the same. Look broadly at the facts to be accounted for. An Oxford student, son of a Beading innkeeper, without connection, vnthont wealth, without brilliant parts, without pleasing manners, makes his way, step by step, in the hierarchy of a Church in which blood or money seem as necessary to promotion as oxygen to life, until he is Primate of all England, and by many degrees the most powerful Primate that had ruled the Church since the breach with Eome. To explain this and more, we are told that he was so silly as to write down his dreams, which were of much the same texture as other people's; that he was morose, choleric, imable to take a joke or penetrate a hoax, or help being disagreeable. Why, this is as if you tried to prove the weakness of an eagle's wing-bones and muscles by saying that, when it flew to the rock-sheK yonder, a thousand yards in air, it carried at its 5 66 The Anglo-Catholic Beaction. feet a hundred-weight of carrion. When HazHtt, in the ahnost sublime insolence of transcendent spite, remarked that we could not beheve Julius Caesar to have been an able man if his face had been like that of the Duke of Welling- ton, he forgot that, if young Arthur Wellesley had looked supremely dull, there would simply have been one more difficulty in the way of his winning, or ever having a chance to win, the battles of Assaye, Talavera, and Waterloo. In Hke manner we reply to those who enlarge on Laud's imbe- cihty or disagreeableness that, unless he possessed some elements of positive and energetic efficiency, some strength potent enough to overpower those adverse forces and fling them beneath his wheel, this famed Archbishop of Canter- bury, this Cyprian of the AngHcan Church, would have hved and died the most despised of college pedants or of country parsons. After all, there is no superlative difficulty in the case. Laud is a type — a remarkably pure type — of a kind of man that always goes far. Early in life he became possessed ytith the AngHcan idea. He comprehended it with sym- metrical completeness, embraced it vrith his whole heart, hved in it, died for it. If this absorption, this devotion, in the degree of intensity which characterised Laud, is to be reckoned as genius, he was a man of genius ; otherwise he was not. He assuredly had none of those qualities, fre- quently annexed to genius, which impede success. He did not diffuse or dissipate his energies; he was not fitful, impulsive, negUgent, desultory ; he concentrated his whole soul in one purpose. Punctuality, accuracy, indefatigable patience were his methods. These generally lead to success. Authors have extolled the genius and energy of Straf- ford, and none of them more warmly than Lord Macaulay ; but, carried along in the torrent of his own rhetoric, his lordship does not stop to ask how Wentworth, vnth his Strafford and Laud. 67 capacious intellect, his sagacity, his Imowledge of men, shoiild have found his friend of friends in a " ridiculous old bigot." Strafford's letters to Laud are replete with evidence that the statesman profoundly respected and en- tirely trusted the divine. Strafford solemnly assures Laud that he " reverences " him " more than any subject in the whole world," that he will sooner " lean and trust " upon Laud's judgment than upon his own. "I have here en- closed," he once writes, " wherewith I will not trust any man on that side but yourself, with whom I am resolved to communicate every secret, concern it honour, life, or what else concerns me most." " In sadness," he says again, " I have wondered many times to observe how universally you and I agree in our judgment of persons, as most commonly we have done ever since I had the honour to be known to you." These are not the words of convention or of compliment. To represent them as such is to call Strafford the most despicable of liars, the most vulgar and coarse of flatterers. If any should persist in taking this view, let them read Strafford's letter to Laud of 27th September, 1637, and Laud's reply of 24th October in the same year. Strafford's is couched in terms of enthusiastic trust and confidence. He pours into the ear of Laud all his difficulties, and recites the accusations with which he is assailed. Laud's reply is firm and manly. Of maudlin sentiment, of effusive un- conditional sympathy, there is none ; and the combination of firmness with tenderness, of frankness with deHcacy, of judgment sound and shrewd with earnest sympathy, goes far to prove that Laud was not unworthy of the trust reposed in hira by Strafford. The impression derived by me from the correspondence as a whole is much stronger than is hkely to be conveyed by the preceding quotations. The writers are drawn towards each other by sympathy in one grand aim, clearly apprehended, resolutely adopted 5—2 68 The Anglo-Catholic Beaction. by both. Laud was in the Church what Strafford was in the State. Laud's letters to Strafford are throughout those of an able man. It is he, rather than his correspondent, who takes the leading part in the colloquy, the deference and respect on both sides being great, but those on the side of Strafford more marked, I think, than those on the side of Laud. Passages taken apart from the context can convey but a partial idea of the capacity shown by the writer; but the following could hardly have been penned except by one who understood affairs and was a shrewd judge of men. Laud, as his manner frequently is, plays the part of Mentor to Strafford, who was twenty years his junior: — "My Lord, when I say the less assistance the more merit, I did not put you off with a compliment, for my answer was real. 'Tis true, able and well-affected men are brave associates, and great services are done at ease by such instruments. But wot you what? Where many are employed at once, and all very able, there usually proves to be ia some a. fretting canker-worm of ambition, and that for particular aims makes such a division as gives far greater impediment to the greatest affairs than any want of sufficiency can make ; and, there- fore, by your Lordship's leave, the conceit which you express, of all able, and all hearty, and all running one way, and none caring for any ends so the King be served, is but a branch of Plato's Commonwealth, which flourishes at this day nowhere but in Utopia, and thither I have no purpose to send your Lordship." It is inconceivable that Strafford should have graciously and gratefully taken school- ing like this from Laud, if he had not believed him to be intellectually his fellow. There is nothing in Strafford's part of the correspondence to suggest that he had any consciousness of writing to an ecclesiastic. He speaks as statesman to statesman, imparting to Laud all his ideas. Strafford arid Laud, 69 apprising him of all his plans, solicitous of his approval, and valuing his advice. Strafford was exerting himself to the utmost to put the King in possession of an efficient military force. Not only in Ireland did he prosecute this object, but he took measures to have driUing pushed forv^ard in that BngKsh county in which he had formerly presided over the Council of the North. He thus writes to Laud upon the subject : — " Those that I sent into Yorkshire to exercise those trained bands, out of desire, I fear, to be back again, vraite me word they are all become perfect in their motions and postures. But I beheve no miracles, and I have so much of the soldier in me as to know to make such a number of men serviceable will require much more time than they have spent amongst them, which makes me write unto them to stay there all this vpinter, and perfect what they have begun. Indeed, my Lord, the trained bands of Eng- land win never be considerable, tiU the King and the Lords of the Council take it to heart, tiU they roundly call the lieutenants and their deputies to the discharge of their duties, punish severely all neglects in the officers, all dis- obedience in the soldiers, and in them that ought to find the arms and do not." To these characteristic sentences Laud replies in terms not only of cordial sympathy, but of exact appreciation. Strafford's letter is dated November 27th, 1638; Laud answers on the 29th of the following December : — " I see your Lordship's care hath extended further into your government in Yorkshire; and your judgment is as right there for the stay of the officers which you have sent to exercise the train-soldiers. For I beheve as few miracles as you do, and in a military way least. And for the train- bands of England, I am clearly and have been long of your OBinion, and it hath exceedingly troubled me to see the carriage of these businesses at the Board. And which is 70 The Anglo-Gatholic Beaction. worse, I have no great hope to see it better. For even upon this great occasion, I do not find so serious and vigorous proceeding as I could wish." Ecclesiastic though he was. Laud did not require to wait to be instructed by Strafford either as to the import- ance of putting the Crown in command of a powerful army, or as to the means by which that end was to be secured. Ohver Cromwell himself could not have written with more accurate discenmient of what was the essential thing to be done, with more masculine insistence upon the necessity of not talking about it, but doing it. That is the way in which Laud habitually vyrites, and Laud's habits of action were in keeping with his habit of speech. Clarendon mentions that, at one period, his of&cial duties included certain functions connected with the commerce of London, such as now faU to the Board of Trade, which brought him into relations vrith the merchants of the City, and that, instead of discharging them in a formal and perfunctory manner, which, in an ecclesiastic with so much ecclesias- tical work on his hands, could hardly have occasioned surprise, he made a point of thoroughly investigating and mastering mercantile questions. Such was Laud's manner in every instance ; and this is the man whom we are asked to dismiss as a contemptible driveUer because, in an alto- gether private and personal record, amid notes of the weather, the tides, the number of leaves on the elm-trees in December, he jotted dovm his dreams ! A smile of sympa- thetic humour — that, and no more than that, is what the absurdest parts of Laud's Diary deserve ficom an intelligent historian. But if we are bound to admit that Laud was no more a fool than Strafford was, we are by no means called upon to approve of the scheme which they cherished in common. Had they succeeded in their main aim, the current of English history would have been changed, and those who Aim of Laud and Strafford. 71 believe that, all things considered, the change must have been very much for the worse, wHl rejoice that they failed. Fundamentally they wished to reinforce the Church and the Crown, and the Church and the Crown could not have been reinforced in that age without the establishment in England of a comprehensive and searching despotism. It is possible, by ingenious suppression or (Zepression of parts of the truth — ^by clever setting in juxtaposition and comparison things which may be made to look very much alike, but are essentially different — ^to represent the difference between Strafford and Laud on the one side, and Hampden, Pym, and the Patriot party on the other, as slight. Stated in words it might be so ; but indeed and in truth it was vital. In order to bhght and lull a whole forest of Aus- traJian timber it is not necessary to fell every tree, but only to inflict a few cuts upon each, and thus to perform the operation of barking. In process of time you behold, in place of what was once a leafy, waving forest, a skeleton army of bare and haggard stems. In hke manner the wounds may seem slight which destroy the sources of a nation's independence, the springs of its crescent vigour j but if they are inflicted at a critical period the evil done is irreparable. The question of that age, in Spain, in France, in Great Britain, was whether privilege in State and Church — ^privi- lege in the State commanding the army and dispensing aU. civil patronage, privilege in the Church dealing out to the laity exactly so much knowledge as suited the views of the dominant powers — ^was to be supreme, and all national pro- gress to have this supremacy as its absolute condition ; or whether nations were to be permitted to grow, as living things must, if they are to continue in a state of health. In Spain and in France, privilege triumphed, and the People were put beneath its feet. The result in Spain is thus described by Mr. Motley: — "A vast mass, entirely un- 72 The Anglo-Catholic Beaction. educated, half-fed, half-clothed, unemployed, and reposing upon a still lower and denser stratum — the miUions namely of the ' Accursed,' of the Africans, and last and vilest of all, the 'Blessed' descendants of Spanish Protestants whom the Holy Office had branded with perpetual infemy because it had burned their progenitors — this was the People ; and it was these paupers and outcasts, nearly the whole nation, that paid all the imposts of which the pubhc revenue was composed. The great nobles, priests, and even the hidalgos, were exempt from taxation." The result in France was the implacable embitterment of the popular mind against long, noble, and priest ahke, the squandering of the national energies in wars so fooHsh and so wicked as those of the Grand Monarque, and a frightful paroxysm of intoxication, with natural accompaniments of blood and blasphemy, when at last the nation attempted to drink the cup of freedom. It is part of the inexorable logic of fact and nature that you cannot have the growth of the Hving creature, plant, animal, man, nation, seriously injured in the growing time, and then set right in subsequent years. The stunted tree, the starved child, the crushed and spirit-broken nation, bear the marks of their injury to the end. "We have under Strafford's own hand a statement of his intention. " Now I can say," he writes firom Ireland, " the King is as absolute here as any prince in the whole world can be, and may be still if it be not spoiled on that side." " The debts of the Crown," he says again, " being taken off, you may govern as you please ; and most resolute I am that may be done without borrovsdng any help forth of the King's lodgings." There you have Thorough in a nutshell. He desired to put into the hand of the King an irresistible armed force, and permanently to reheve him from the necessity of applying to ParUament for suppUes. Strafford found in Laud, and Laud found in Strafford, the exact complement of the particular view of each. Laud ancL Strafford. 73 Strafford embraced the general project of despotism in its temporal aspect, Laud in its spiritual bearings. Laud never, so far as I have been able to discover, had any hope of gaining over the people, or the Parliament vphich repre- sented the people. There had in that time been no dis- cussions of the constitution of Parliament, no foreshadowing of the suffrage controversies of our day. The general im- pression was that all law-abiding subjects, all who paid their way, and had sense enough to be interested ia pubhc affairs, had a right to take part in selecting the men who "were to speak for England at Westminster ; no one doubted that Parliament correctly represented the pubhc sentiment of England ; and successive Parhaments had been more and more determined in their opposition to Laud's Anglo- Cathohc policy. The Commons were enthusiastically Pro- testant, impatient of aU coquetting with Eome, suspicious of clerical pretensions ; and Laud, knowing that, though extremely powerful in his influence upon individuals, he had no hold upon masses of men, acted upon the conviction that his Anglo-Cathohc scheme could be carried out only by means of the Eing. He could magnetise a man — ^none better; but he had not that massive greatness towards which nations gravitate. Of Charles he had entire posses- sion, and if Charles, head of the Church, should prove able to make hght of the opposition of Parhament, his own rule, more or less masked by the Eoyal authority, would, within the pale of the Church, be absolute. He had, therefore, the most intelligent apprehension of the importance to his plans of Strafford's efforts to secure a military basis for that government by Eoyal will and pleasure, which he wished to substitute for the ancient government of England by a monarch controlled by law and checked by Parhament. Strafford, on the other hand, having sat by the side of the Puritan patriots, and shared their counsels, — knowing the inflexible resolution and the daimtless courage that lay 74 The Anglo-Catholic Beaction. beneath the thoughtful brow of Hampden, the combination of the spirit of independence with the spirit of religion in Pym, — ^was perfectly aware that the success of Laud in the Church would vitally promote his own success in the State. Sacerdotalism in the one was, he instinctively felt, the natural and most efficient ally of despotism in the other. To the eye of the historian, trying to penetrate to the essential truth and nature of things through their external shows, — to see what theological controversies and eccle- siastical revolutions reaUy mean, — one decisive proof that the Eeformation was in closer harmony with the religion of Christ than the Papacy lies in the fact that, wherever the movement held its natural course, it associated itself with the great body of the nation, and was the cause of the people. Apart from all theories about it — ^inscribed in- delibly in those records, whatever may be their character otherwise, which depict the Hfe and detail the death of the Teacher of Nazareth — Christianity is the religion of the common man, of the many, of the poor; and when two systems, both caUing themselves Christian, ask us to decide between them, there can be found no better test of their claims than the question whether they take the part of the privileged and predominant few against the many, or that of the many against the few. The Papacy, though its comprehensive and marvellous system is fitted with elements well adapted to act upon the sympathies of masses, has, on the whole, since the uprising of the Western nations against it in the sixteenth centur}', been on the side of kings and nobles against peoples ; and this is an over- whelming presumption that it is not what the Galilean Carpenter intended His Church to be. Eome has found it easier to come to terms with lungs than with peoples. The Churches of the Eeformation have, on the whole, leant upon peoples rather than upon Idngs. In the AngHcan Churcli, indeed, the democratic tendency of the original Beligion and Freedom. 75 movement of the Eeformation was gradually checked, thwarted, reversed. But in that great Puritan phalanx ia which marched the Presbyterians and Independents, the followers of Calvin, the soldiers of Cromwell, there appeared from the first, and has continued to the last, the sturdiest sympathy with civil freedom. During that period of transition from feudalism to modernism, when all which contiuues vitally free in modem pohtical institutions struck root, it was a sturdy sympathy with freedom that was needed — a sympathy pre- pared to fight for hberty to the death. On this point, the testinaony of Hume is entirely conclusive. He was thoroughly informed as to the facts, and only the evidence of irresistible facts could have prevailed with him to admit that religion, except as a synonym for philosophy, had ever been a source of great benefit to nations. " In that great revolution of manners," says Hume, " which hap- pened during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the only nations who had the honourable, though often melan- choly, advantage of making an ejBFort for their expiring privileges, were such as, together with the principles of civil Hberty, were animated with a zeal for rehgious parties and opinions. Besides the irresistible force of standing armies, the European princes possessed this advantage, that they were descended from the ancient royal families ; that they continued the same appellations of magistrates, the same appearance of civil government ; and restraining themselves by all the forms of legal administation, could insensibly impose their yoke on their unguarded subjects. Even the German nations, who formerly broke the Eoman chains and restored hberty to mankind, now lost their own Hberty, and saw with grief the absolute authority of their princes firmly established among them. In their circumstances, nothing but a pious zeal, which disregards aU motives of human prudence, could have made them 76 The Anglo-Catholic Beaction. entertain hopes of preserving any longer those privileges Vi^hich their ancestors, through so many ages, had trans- mitted to them." Speaking of England, and remarking that the character and administration of James favoured the party intent upon establishing a free constitution, he adds these memorable words : — " But, notwithstanding these advantages acquired to hberty, so extensive was royal authority, and so firmly estabhshed in all its parts, that it is probable the patriots of that age would have despaired of ever resisting it, had they not been stimulated by religious motives, which inspire a courage unsurmounted by any human obstacle." Those who have any difficulty in understanding how Strafford could take a special interest in the manipulation of the Church by Laud will do well to ponder our next quo- tation from Hume, the last we need take from him for the present : — " The same alliance which has ever prevailed between kingly power and ecclesiastical authority was now fully estabhshed in England ; and while the Prince assisted the clergy in suppressing schismatics and innovators, the clergy, in return, inculcated the doctrine of an unreserved submission and obedience to the civil magistrate. The genius of the Church of England, so kindly to monarchy, forwarded the confederacy ; its submission to Episcopal jurisdiction; its attachment to ceremonies, to order, and to decent pomp and splendour of worship ; and, in a word, its affinity to the tame superstition of the Catholics, rather than to the wild fanaticism of the Pm-itans." Strafford, who recommended whipping as a suitable mode of treatment for Hampden when he appealed to the law against the King, was not likely to undervalue Laud's efforts to tame the Pm'itans. On Laud's appointment to the Primacy of England, he congratulated his friend in high spirits, exulting in the prospect of those great things which his confederate would now, he hoped, be able to achieve. Laud, looldng gloomily aa'oss the Irish Sea, Thorough. 77 reminds Strafford, with a melancholy whine, of the tram- mels in which he is held by the Common Law, of the indecision of the King, of the little that one can do, how- ever willing, to break this England to unaccustomed servi- tude. Here is a letter which, unless we are far gone in the cynical contempt or the settled indifference with which it is now fashionable in so many quarters to regard our national liberties, we can hardly read without a tremor of agitation : — "I must desire your Lordship not to expect more at my hands than I shall be able to perform, either in Church or State ; and this suit of mine hath a great deal of reason in it ; for you write that ordinary things are far beneath that which you cannot choose but promise yourseff of me in both respects. But, my Lord, to speak freely^ you may easily promise more in this kind than I can perform : for, as for the Church, it is so bound up in the forms of the Common Law, that it is not possible for me, or for any man, to do that good which he would or is bound to do. For your Lordship sees, no man clearer, that they which have gotten so much power in and over the Church wiU not let go their hold ; they have indeed fangs with a wit- ness, whatsoever I was once said in passion to have. And for the State, indeed, my Lord, I am for Thorough, but I see that both thick and thin stays somebody, where I conceive it should not ; and it is impossible for me to go thorough alone." "Who the "somebody" here aUuded to was does not admit of question. It is a most important point in favour of Charles I., who has perhaps received hard measure from Lord Maoaulay, that the pace of Strafford and Laud was too heavy for him. Had there been a third in England capable of choosing despotism as end and lawless force as means, with the unflinching determination of Strafford and Laud, and had that third been Charles, even Pym and Hampden, Vane and Cromwell, might have 78 The Anr/lo-CathoUc Beaction. failed to withstand the realisation of Thorough. But Charles was not the man to go third with Laud and Strafford. With or without allies, the men sufficed for each other. As we read their celebrated correspondence, we seem to behold the two artists at their work, cunningly shaping a sword for the destruction of their country's freedom. They saw eye to eye, and joined hand to hand. They stood in that position which is best of all fitted to secure agree- ment — their aim the same, their conception of means and methods the same, their spheres of operation so distinct as to obviate all risk of coUision. Other men might support this or that despotic project ; Laud and Strafford threw their souls into the scheme of despotism as a whole, took their lives in their hands, and went in " thorough and thorough." Like two ravens, they answered each other, croak for croak, across St. George's Channel, the sympathy of each cheering the dark soul of the other, and smoothing its dusky plumage till it smiled. Laud was in eloquence and briUiancy the inferior man of the two ; but in industry, in zeal, in intensity of appHcation and steadfastness of purpose, he could not be surpassed. He made his soul like unto a wedge. He knew neither doubt nor scruple, turned neither to the right hand nor to the left, paused for no recreation, and was never caught slimibering. Like Bobes- pierre, he believed every word he spoke ; his devotion to his Anglican idea and to his ecclesiastical order may be compared, for simplicity, fervour, sincerity, and disia- terestedness, to the devotion of Eobespierre to the idea of human perfectibility and to the cause of the unMended multitude. It is this kind of man who, as Mirabeau said of Bobespierre, goes far ; and it is by no means an inexplicable circumstance that many of Laud's shining contemporaries, starting along with him in the race, found themselves thrust aside or left behind by the wiry, sleepless zealot, aU iron and dull-burning, but unquenchable fire. Laud's Sycophancy. 79 Laud's rise into importance was not rapid. At St. John's, Oxford, where lie was chosen scholar in 1590 and fellow in 1593, his career was that of a careful, diligent, capable man, not that of a man of brilliant genius or splendid parts. He soon gave proof of Arminian leanings in doctrine, and anti-Puritan leanings in Church govern- ment and discipline. He early displayed that faculty for making himseK useful to his Mends, and beariag hard upon his enemies, which is one of the loiacks of men who get on. SmaU in stature, forward, confident, strenuous, with his eyes always about him, and his activity never at fault, he was a valuable ally and a dangerous foe. He courted Neile, Bishop of Durham, who became his zealous patron, and to whom, if we may believe Dr. Abbot, he told tales of "all the honest men" about the University whose discourses savoured of Puritanism. It was this Bishop Neile who, when King James propounded at the dinner table the question whether he had not the right to take his subjects' money if Parliament obstinately refused to grant it, made answer, " God forbid you should not, for you are the breath of our nostrils." Laud was a self-constituted spy both upon books and men. When he suspected a man of too cordial sympathy, with the Beformed Churches, he set his black mark upon him, in order that Neile might take note of it, and speak a word to King James in his prejudice. He took kindly to the part of spy ; and there was in him more than a trace of the sycophant. He would stretch a point to secure the favour of a great man. His marriage of Charles Blount, Earl of Devonshire, to the divorced wife of Lord Eich, is an instance in point. Blount, when the mere younger brother of Lord Mountjoy, had wooed, and, so far as affection went, had won the Lady Penelope Devereux, daughter of Walter Devereux, Earl of Essex. The Essex family declined the match, and married her to 80 The Anglo-Catlwlic Bcaction. Eobert, Lord Eich, a man of wealth, estate, and title, whom she did not like. She bore him, however, seven children, but in the meantime renewed her intimacy -with. Blount, and had children by him also. Blount dis- tinguished himseK in Elizabeth's Irish wars, inherited the title of Lord Mountjoy by outHving his brother, and became also Earl of. Devonshire. Finding Lady Bich divorced, he resolved to marry her, vwth a view to doing- justice both to her and to his children by her. It was manifestly the right and honourable course to pursue. Laud performed the ceremony, appealing to Catholic^ Lutheran, and Eeformed doctors in defence of the step. Had he stood manfully by this vindication of his conduct, we might have regarded the transaction as telling in his favour, and as pleasantly relieving, by its fresh and bold outflow of human sympathy, the arid ecclesiastical desert of his Ufa. But he did not dare to drink of the waters of nature which. had gurgled up at his feet. His tone of reference to the affair is that of one who had done what he repented of and had regretted. He kept the 26th of December, the day of the year on which he married the Earl, as a day of fasting and humihation. We are forced, therefore, to beUeve that» unless a change took place in his opinions on the point, which seems most unlikely, he did for a patron and a great man what he would not have done if reason and conscience had not been under a certain amount of constraint. King James was much offended by Laud's conduct in this matter. He was displeased also v?ith the impatient zeal of Laud in pressing for an enforced conformity of the Scottish Church to the AngHcan model. It struck James that there was something dangerously restless about Laud, an incapacity to let well alone. It is a fact not without significance for one who studies the characters of James and of Charles, that the former never took heartily to Laud, whereas the latter grappled Laud to his soul with hooks of James and Charles. 81 steel. James, with all his absurdity, had in him an inex- tinguishable spark of sagacity, of native Scotch prudence and canniness, which kept him from such fatal mistakes as ruined his dignified, accomphshed, and, in all superficial respects, superior son. James was a blundering, babhhng man, whom an instinct of what was safe and what was fatal kept always from the irretrievable step. "We may Hken James to an Irishman, far gone in drink, maldng his way by moonlight through the famihar bog, staggering, tumbhng, bemiring himself, but always avoiding the hole in which he would drown; Charles to a self-confident traveller, fur- nished with lantern and all the apparatus of a prosperous journey, but who mistakes the quaking scum of the morass for firm, green turf, trusts his foot to it with impulsive haste, and sinks to rise no more. King James would never have attempted to seize the five members in the House of Commons, or staked his Hfe on the success of Hamilton's invasion of England. James's wealmesses and defects were on the surface ; he was less a fool than he looked : Charles was, in all practical affairs, essentially an incapable man, with shows of abihty that deceived others and half- deceived himself. True to his cHmbing, cat-hke nature — ^for if he had the strength of the tiger, he had the wariness and wiHness of the cat — Laud attached himself to Buckingham, and, while doing his best, by purring flattery, to assuage the hostiKty of the reigning monarch, courted the heir apparent. The accession of Charles, in 1625, dates the attainment by Laud of a position of commanding iirfluence. King James, though he had fretted and fussed against the Puritans, and hked a Church that would fool his vanity to the top of its bent, could not, with that instinct of practicaUty of his, muster up any right enthusiasm for so fine-spun a faith as AngHcanism. The zeal of Charles for Anghcanism soon equalled that of Laud himself. The part played in history G The Anglo-Catliolic Eeaction. by this system has been so notable that it is worth com- prehending ; and if we would truly comprehend it, we must understand its strength and feel its beauty, as well as fairly recogtiise its defects. The Anglican conception of the Church of Eome, in the first place, whatever might be the verdict of a severely scientific criticism upon its essential rightness, is more large and liberal, and appeals more powerfully, both to our intellectual and our emotional sympathies, than that of the Puritans. For these the Church of Eome was Antichrist. Such an idea is truly appalHng. It seems to sweep God's sunlight for a thousand years fi:om the face of the world. We shrink in horror from the thought that the mediseval Church, penetrating with the fine reticula- tion of its common Christian sentiment into recesses of the German forests, and into valleys of the Caledonian hills, in wloich the Eoman legions never made good their footing, binding Europe into a imity of Christian brother- hood finer and deeper than the unity of the empii-e of the Ccesars, was but a masterpiece of devilish organisation ; that the Crusaders, who shed their blood to rescue the sepulchre of Christ from the infidel ; the monies and nuns, whose prayers arose night and day in Alpine valleys, their table spread for the wayfarer by day, and their unquenched taper guiding his steps in the darlmess; the bishops and abbots and preaching friars, who, amid covmtless instances of failuxe and of falsity, on the whole, comforted the poor and taught the ignorant — that each and all of these were the subtly-hoodwinked emissaries of the spirit of evil. The strictly sequent corollary to the Puritan view of Anti- christ — namely, that the Church of Christ, rightly so-called, had in all those ages been represented by a trickling streamlet of quostionablo orthodoxy, giving drink to minute sects, Berengarians, Albigenses, and the rest, and swelling into a mighty river only in the days of Luther and Calvin, Anglicanism. 83 — is a notion whicli seems to stagger to its foundations all trust in human progress. When, therefore, from the vantage ground of the nineteenth century, we contemplate impartially both the AngHcans and the Puritans of the seventeenth, Ave can vi^R understand how, in firmly main- tarning against the Puritans that the Church of Eome, whatever her faults, was a Church of Christ, and not the synagogue of Satan, Laud and his AngHcans would have ground of potent appeal to expansive minds and generous tempers. Lookiag back with affectionate reverence upon mediaeval Christendom, Laud and his Anglicans quahfied their accept- ance of the Reformation with profound regret that CathoHc unity had been broken, and with intense desire that it might be restored. " I cannot but wonder," said Laud, preaching to Par- liament, " what words St. Paul, were he now ahve, would use, to call back unity into dismembered Christendom. Por my part, death were easier to me than it is to see and consider the face of the Church of Christ, scratched and torn till it bleeds in every part, as it doth this day ; and the ' Coat of Christ,' which was once spared by soldiers because it was seamless, rent every way, and, which is the raisery of it, by the hand of the priest. . Good God! what preposterous thrift is this in men, to sew up every small rent in their own coat, and not care what rents they not only suffer, but make, in the coat of Christ ? What is it ? Is Christ only thought fit to wear a torn garment ? Or can we think that the ' Spirit of unity,' which is one vdth Christ, will not depart to seek warmer clothing? Or, if He be not- gone already, why is there not unity, which is wherever He is ? Or, if He be but yet gone from other parts of Christendom, in any case for the passion and in the bowels of Jesus Christ I beg it, make stay of Him here iu our parts."- 6—2 84 The Anglo-Catholio Beaction. It would not be fair to Laud to say that he put uni- formity into the place of unity. But he held that uni- formity is a safeguard, one of the most important safe- guards, of unity. In the Epistle Dedicatory to Charles of his Disputation with Fisher, the^ Jesuit, Laud defines his position in these words : — " I have observed, farther, that no one thing hath made conscientious men more wavering in their own minds, or more apt and easy to be drawn aside from the sincerity of rehgion professed in the Church of England, than the want of uniform and decent order in too many churches of the kingdom ; and the Eomanists have been apt to say, the houses of God could not be suffered to He so nastily, as in some places they have done, were the true worship of God observed in them, or did the people think that such it were. It is true, the inward worship of the heart is the great service of God, and no service acceptable without it ; but the ex- ternal worship of God in His Church is the great witness to the world that our heart stands right in that senice of God." He protested against the conclusion that, because the Church of Eome had " thrust some unnecessary and many superstitious ceremonies upon the Church, the Reforma- tion must have none at aU ; " and maintained that " cere- monies are the hedge that fence the substance of religion from all the indignities which profaneness and sacrilege too commonly put upon it." Laud's reference to the " nastiness " of some of the churches touches upon a re- markable feature of English life in those times. St. Paul's was for a long period a thoroughfare and common lounge, serving many of the purposes of the modern Exchange and tlie modern Club ; and Mr. W. Longman, in his mono- graph on the Cathedral, mentions that similar desecra- tions occurred elsewhere. This was a subject on which Laud waxed veiy hot, repelling with shai-p indignation tlie Reverence for Holy Places. 85 charge of superstition, when applied to liis reverence for holy places. " This is the misery," he cries out, in a speech to the Lords of the Star Chamher ; " it is supersti- tion nowadays for any man to come with more reverence into a church than a tinker and his bitch come into an ale-house; the comparison is too homely, but my just indignation at the profaneness of the times makes me speak it." * If we deal justly, or, at all events, if we deal generously, with Laud, we shall admit that his main idea in connec- tion with ceremonies and the beautifying of the worship of God, was more massive than that of our modern Eituahsts. He does not seem to have gone much upon sacramentarian symbolism, or to have been spasmodically vehement on Apostohcal succession. " The Cathohc Church of Christ," he says, ia the exordium of one of his sermons, " is neither Eome nor a conventicle. Out of that there is no salvation, I easily confess it. But out of Eome there is, and out of a conventicle, too ; salvation is not shut up into such a narrow conclave. In this ensuing discourse, therefore, I have endeavoured to lay open those wider gates of the Catholic Church confined to no age, time, or place ; nor knowing any bounds but that ' faith which was once ' — and but once for all — ' deUvered to the saints.' " There is a masculine tone in these words, a manly preference of faith to form, which warrants us in saying that Laud would have regarded, with something of impatience, the fastidiousness of those modem Eituahsts, for whom agree- ment in behef, as distinguished from participation in some imaginary benefit of ApostoUc descent, or sacramental virtue, or priestly dress, is no claim to ecclesiastical recognition or brotherly sympathy. Once more, however, we must throw in a modicum of qualification. That last quotation shows Laud at his best. * HarL Misoell. vol. ix. p. 212, 86 The Anglo-CatJioUc Beaciion. "Wlien we see him converting his theory of Eitualism into practice — consecrating, for example, the church of St. Catherine Cree in London — we are at a loss to understand why, if he had in view chiefly the rational decoration and seemHness of worship, he should have proceeded as he did. The ceremonial consisted in what, for some part of it, at least, we can only define as regulated antics, bowings, steppings, jimapings bacltward and forward, according to number and measure, without any discernible principle of beauty or impressiveness. "As he approached the com- munion-table" — ^thus proceeded the consecration ia its most solemn stage — " he made several low bowings ; and coming up to the side of the table, where the bread and vnne were covered, he bowed seven times ; and then, after the reading of many prayers, he came near the bread, and gently lifted up a comer of the napkin wherein the bread was laid, and when he beheld the bread, he laid it down again, flew back a step or two, bowed three several times towards it, then he drew near again, and lifting the corner of the cup, looked into it, and, seeing the wine, let fall the cover again, retired back, and bowed as before." It has been calculated that Laud bowed here some two dozen times, with interspersed sldppings and pacings. When we recollect that, by the account of aU his contemporaries, he was a diminutive, red- faced man, we can hardly help feeling that there was more of grotesque pantomime than of the beauty of holiness in such a performance. It is stiU more difficult to beheve that Laud was not, more or less, conforming to some model of ritualistic symboUsm.* But if Laud himself had little in his composition except the stiffest prose, his theory on the subject of ceremonies and church-decoration opened a door for all the poetry of • Mr. Gardiner thinks that tlio account of tlio St. Catherine Cree con- secration roliod upon at Laud's trial was cxagj^eratod. His observations on tho subject have muoh weight, but are not, I think, conclusive. Poetry of Anglicanism, 87 Anglicanism. The devout Anglican of modern times may pardonably represent him to the imagination as a poet- priest, giving adoration wings of solemn beauty, on which to rise to heaven, trimming the lamp of sacrifice that its Hght might stream more radiantly towards the feet of God, and fill with more reverential illumination the temple upon earth. "Whatever there was for Laud, there was for George Herbert true poetry in the choral chant, in the coloured window, in the hallowed altar, in the hushed and glim- meiing aisle. In Herbert's church of Layton, which was ■ "for workmanship a costly mosaic, and for the form an exact cross," there, indeed, ministered a poet-priest. While Herbert prayed and mused upon the beauty of hohness. The Temple arose in solemn colour and grave, sweet melody, to his rapt imagination. Reflecting on the harshness and baldness of Puritan worship and Puritan church architec- tm-e in England until the most recent time, and contrasting with these all that has been done to invest the worship of the Church of England with lofty imagery and melting grace, we learn to appreciate the spell which Laud's enthusiasm for the beauty of holiness laid upon many of his contemporaries. It is certainly a mistake to suppose that Laud favoured Popery, as distinguished from the CathoUcism of the Latin Church. " The Pope," he says in a sermon from which we have abeady quoted, "which Bellarmine hath put into the definition of the Church, that there might be one minis- terial head to keep all in unity, is as great as any, if not the greatest cause of divided Christianity." He wrote to Straf- ford in March, 1633, " You must turn out the insufficient [schoolmasters], and especially those which train up the youth in Popery." He was tolerant of Papists to an extent which the Puritans condemned, but his tolerance would in the nineteenth century be called persecution. We hear of his causing to be brought up from Winchester " a Popish 83 TJie Angh-CatJioKc Beaction. schoolmaster and a Popish innkeeper, in whose house many gentlemen's sons of the western parts were bred up." The schoolmaster and the innkeeper were " at the Council- table," as the Eev. G. Garrard informs Strafford, in a letter of April 28, 1637, " put down " by Laud. A book was pubHshed by the Popish party in which " praying to Saints and to the Blessed Virgin Mary" was sanctioned; Laud had it called in and burnt by the hangman. His Anghcanism was the typical Anghcanism of the via media, the Anghcanism of Bishop Andrews. In his Diary, Laud styles Bishop Andrews " the great light of the Chris- tian world." In opposition to personal Papal infaUibihty, this school might have gone almost step for step with the Puritans. One of the theses which Andrews undertakes to maintain against Cardinal BeUarmine is, "that it maybe probably gathered from the second chapter of the second epistle to the Thessalonians that the Roman Pontiff is Antichrist." The theology of Anghcanism, according to Laud, is essentially Roman; but it is a vital point in the system to decline submission to the Pope. The Church of England "is," says Laud, "in a hard condition. She professes the ancient Cathohc faith, and yet the Romanist condemns her of novelty in her doctrine ; she practises Church government as it hath been in use in all ages, and all places where the Church of Christ hath taken any rooting, both in and ever since the Apostles' tunes, and yet the separatist condemns her for Antichristianism in her discipline. The plain truth is, she is between these two factions as between two millstones." Every reader of practical sagacity must see that, though the exact theological analyst and the coi-efully-just historian of opinion may succeed in distinguishing between Angli- canism and Romanism, and in understanding the sincere anti-Popery of Laud, the mass of men were and are sure to fall into mistakes on the subject. Anglicauism is a The Via Media. 89 faith for the hbrary, in Avhich the divine sits composing his treatise, or for the clerical conclave, where nice eccle- siastical distinctions have a professional interest ; but it is a bad w^orldng creed, and its passionate devotees have, with significant uniformity, been not laymen, but clergy- men. There is an organisation so fine of fibre, and so exquisitely strung, so delicately poised between Popery and Protestantism, that it can balance itself, hke Blondin crossing the Falls of Niagara, on the thin aerial line of the via media between Eome and the Reformation. But ordinary mortals have difficulty even in comprehending how the feat can be performed. It seems to have puzzled the Pope himseK, for he offered Laud a Cardinal's hat. It misled the Popish Queen of Charles, who took Laud for an excellent Cathohc. Possibly, indeed, Anghcanism may have drawn nearer to Popery in the days of Laud's ascendency than it had done in the period preceding the death of Bishop Andrews. Not only did Laud receive an offer of a Cardinal's ha,t, but he did not at once and peremptorily reject it. He took it into consideration ; he consulted the King about it, and it was made to hinx a second time before being finally dismissed. Could such an offer have been made to a Bishop who held, vnth. Andrews, that the Pope was probably Antichrist? "It must be confessed," says HaUam, " that these Enghsh theologians were less favourable to the Papal supremacy than to most other distinguishing tenets of the Cathohc Church. Yet even this they were inclined to admit in a considerable degree, as a matter of positive though not Divine institution ; content tp make the doctrine and discipline of the fifth century the rule of their bastard reform." In our ovwi day we have seen Anglicanism, revived in the purity of the Andrews type, develop into a flagrancy of Eoman doctrine which would certainly have startled Laud. 90 The Anglo-Catliolic Beaction. Need we wonder, then, that simple, unsophisticated men have been unable to lay a firm grasp upon the difference between Anglicanism and Bomanism, or that the practical consequences of their inability have been serious? An Anglican sister of mercy, with a little higher elevation, a sentiment of devotion rather more sub- dued and ethereal than those of her associates, becomes a Roman nun ; an AngUcan doctor, with a keener in- tellectual fire-edge and a more original, strenuous, and turbulent personaHty than the melodious Keble or the meditative Pusey, becomes a Eoman Newman. Such a faith can scarce be read by one who runs. Eugged, im- petuous Cromwell, much in prayer and often in tears, for whom the clear shining of Gospel light was the sole beauty of hohness, might fail in appreciating the sym- metry of its perfection ; austere Prynnes, their ears twice sawn from their heads, might be excused for not hearing its music of the spheres. "It must be confessed," says Hume, a cool, shrewd, and impartial witness, " that though Laud deserved not the appellation of Papist, the genius of his reHgion was, though in a less degree, the same with that of the Eomish : the same profound respect was exacted to the sacerdotal character, the same sub- mission required to the creeds and decrees of synods and councils, the same pomp and ceremony was affected in worship, and the same superstitious regai'd to days, postures, meats, and vestures." In point of fact, when we turn to the Pmitan side of the question, we find that there was one grand obstruc- tion to their acceptance of Laxid's beauty of holiness. That obstacle was compulsion. Laud, when he drew theo- logical distinctions in his chamber at Lambeth, might have a delicate hand, like that of a great artist strildng the lino 01 a face ; but it was a mailed hand he brought down upon all who did not conform to his regulations in pubhc. Laud's Intolerance. 91 His idea was Anglican uniformity in England, Scotland, and Ireland ; and any breach of this unifomaity produced in him a fierce and keen irritation, hke that physical irritation which we might fancy to be produced by the sting of a wasp in a spot where one had been flayed. He would not tolerate even the worship of foreign Pro- testants resident in London ; if they did not conform he worried them out of England. The Anghcan discipline and worship were imposed upon EngHsh regiments in foreign countries, and upon the foreign factories of EngHsh trading companies. Scudamore, the EngHsh Ambassador to the Court of France, was ordered to withdraw from feUowship with the Huguenots. This desertion of their struggling Continental brethren went to the heart of the EngHsh Puritans. Large numbers of EngHshmen took refuge in America ; but it vexed Laud to see them thus escape him ; and though it has been doubted whether at his instance Hampden and Cromwell were detained in England, there can be no doubt that the emigration of Puritans was checked. He even stretched out his rod over the colonial Churches, trying to bring them, too, into conformity. A few zealous Puritans founded an association in the last year of James's reign, for the purpose of buying up tithes which had been seized by laymen, and applying them to the support of preachers, or, as they were com- monly called, lecturers, who agreed with Laud neither as to doctrine nor as to ceremonial. The head-quarters of the society were in London, and OHver Cromwell, then an energetic farmer of Huntingdon, whose spiritual experience was very comforting to his friends, was one of its ardent supporters. " Building of hospitals," wrote Oliver, pleading for assistance to one of the lecturers, "provides for men's bodies : to build material temples is judged a work of piety ; but they that procure spiritual food, they that build up spiritual temples, they are the men truly charitable, truly The Anglo-Catholic Beaction. pious." The Association, both on account of the Puritan doctrine of its lecturers and the dependence of the whole affair on the laity, was offensive to Laud. The leaders were brought into the Star Chamber and condemned to pay a severe penalty. The scheme was broken up. England, Scotland, and Ireland were to have Laud's religion or none. It made the matter only the more exasperating that, m the placidity of his theological comprehensiveness, Laud could speak of ceremonies as indifferent. Was that which was indifferent for him to be wrought into links of iron wherewith to bind other men's consciences? Milton's ire against the Bishops reaches its intensest glow when he speaks of the indifferent things out of which they framed their intolerable impositions. Never has a system of persecution been put in opera- tion better adapted to tease into fury a proud and rugged nation than that of Laud's. To provoke to fury — not to subdue. It was not that tremendous terrorism by which Rome has sometimes steadied her tottering throne. TMien the simple alternative was prostrate submission or death by fire, and there was power in the oppressor to enforce it, human nature gave way, the spirit of a nation was broken, and perhaps the most pernicious blunder and the most heinous crime of which man is capable were con- summated. This was the case in parts of Italy and of Spain. Laud's tyranny produced a universal, fretting irri- tation, the few instances of severe personal punishment inflicted upon ecclesiastical deUnquents being just suffi- cient to stimulate indignation to the highest pitch, not sufficient to quell a brave and stubborn race. Such in- stances were the mangUng and branding of Dr. Alexander Lci^'liton, father of the far-famed and much-loved Arch- bishop Lcighton, of Dunblane. He was whipped, set in the pillory, branded with red-hot iron. His nostrils were slit, his ears cut off, the infliction taking place with an Persecution. 93 interval of a week, one nostril being slit and one ear cut off at a tinae. He was then thrown into prison, where he remained until the " general overturn." This was in 1630. In 1637, Prynne, a lawyer, Bastwick, a doctor of medicine, and Burton, a clergyman of the Church of England, were subjected to similar manglings. Prynne's ears had been cut off once before and sewn on again ; this time they were grubbed up by the roots. The men were aU heavily fined and sent to imprisonment in remote castles. It cannot be doubted that the language printed by these men was studiously offensive to Laud, the Bishops, and the Court ; but the injury which their words could have occasioned to the Government were scarcely appreciable as weighed against the influence of their tpr- turings, in presence of a large and sympathetic crowd. It has been said that Anghcanism in its pure type has no direct or necessary af&nity vsdth Popery. But as a matter of fact the via media has been always thronged with proselytes from the Church of England to the Church of Home. In their main position, that Laudism was cal- culated to bring in Popery, the Puritans were in the right. For one Eomanist who has taken refuge in Anghcanism, as affording biTn a comparatively free and comparatively pxrrified CathoHcism, five hundred Anglicans have passed into the Church of Eome. Appearance rules the world; and if two Churches are hke each other in appearance, it is their appearance, not their hidden and intrinsic qualities, that will influence men. The very best trap you can devise to bring an escaped bird back into confinement is the cage from which it has flown. The new freedom is agitating, perplexing; there are perils and difficulties, not a few, in finding a hvehhood among the wild forest boughs, tossing in the wind ; and the accustomed perch, the well-filled trough of seed, the water sparlding in its glass, seem so alluring as they are placed full in view. The bird that 9-1 The Anglo-CatUolic Beaction. ^Till be free must cast no lingering look backward upon tbe sweets of servitude ; its safe course is to fly at once out of sight of the cage. Common sense also, and the stiff logic that prevails in practical life, wiU insist that the Puritans, in demanding that the severance between England and Rome should be complete, and that the Church of England should frankly and irrevocably cast in her lot with the Churches of the Eeformation, had a right to judge Eome by what she was in the days when Luther and Calvin rose against her, not by an ideal past to which she had miserably given the lie. If her past was that of united Christendom and St. Ber- nard, her present was that of Monk Tetzel and the Inqui- sition. The fires of Smithfield and the massacre of St. Bartholomew were nearer to the Puritans in 1630-40, than the Reign of Terror of 1793 is to us in the present day ; and it is not too much to say that the poUtical history of Eng- land has been throughout the whole of this century, and is at this hour, powerfully influenced by the results of the ex- periment of pm-e democracy made by Robespierre and his friends in 1793. It is right and beautiful that the spirit of the past, in all that was immortal of it, should be trans- fused into the present ; but it is after all the spirit of the present that ought to rule the present, not the spirit of the past ; and even if we grant that what was noble in mediaeval Christianity, its valour, its reverence, its aspiration, its piety, its capacities of obedience and renunciation, ought to have been carried over into the Reformed Churches, we may still maintain that Anglicanism attempted to bring into the modern time not only the kernel but the husk of medioevalism. And it is a law which modem science, with each new advance, shows with new emphasis to be inexor- able and universal, that Natm-e casts away her husks and never takes them up again. All resuscitated religion, hke all resuscitated art, wants the breath of life. The ordi- Besuscitation. 95 nance of death is irrevocable, — there is no use, less than no use, in resisting it. Will you insist on doing so ? Will you by violence discrown the King of terrors ? Will you ■wrest from his arms the form that was so beautiful, that you loved so well? Quick, then; rend the tomb; bring your embalming apparatus, bring your spices, place the dear one yet again in the accustomed chair. What have you ? Does the heart beat, do the eyes overflow with light to meet your welcome, do the lips wear the old smile ? No. It is a mummy. This is artifice, not hfe. Commit it again to the grave ; and let gentle memory and reverent imagi- nation, working with spiritual colours that have no place or name, keep fresh before your mind's eye the hving form that alone can be the companion of your spirit. Protestantism might or might not do as great things for the human race as Medijevahsm had done, but it could do its own work only on its own basis. At this day, when we see Ultramontanism and progress arrayed in mortal conflict, we behold the latest confirmation of the asser- tion of the Puritans that the breach with Eome ought to be decisive. Laud has been justly called Charles's bad genius, and it is when we appreciate his influence over Charles that we understand in its deepest mahgnity the evil thing which Laud represented for such men as Hampden and Vane. He, more than any other, nursed Charles in that worship of his kingly office and himseK which was his ruin. In preaching before Charles and his Parhament upon " the pillars " of the world spoken of in the seventy-fifth Psalm, Laud proceeds thus : — " God doth not say here, ' I bear up the earth ' and the ' inhabitants ' of it, though He doth that too, and they cannot subsist without Him ; but as if He had quite put them over to the King and the great governors under him, He saith, ' I bear up the pillars,' and then I look, and will require of them, that they ' bear up '- 96 The Anglo-Catliolic Beaction. the State and the people. ' Let me speak a little boldly,' saith Gregory Naziazen ; ' show yourselves gods to your subjects ; ' gods and no less. ' Gods ' ; why then you must do God's work. And God's work, ever since the Creation, is to preserve and ' bear up ' the world. There- fore, as God bears up you, so you must bear up the earth and the people. God retains His own power over you ; but He hath given you His own power over them." This, if uttered in our day, might safely be interpreted into the infinitely great in sound, ofttimes infinitely httle in sense, of pulpit rhetoric ; but it meant more in the seven- teenth century, and above all it meant more for Charles. This was the kind of thing which blundering, stuttering James, pleased, doubtless, to have his ears tickled with it, would discern to be moonshine. But into the sickly mind of Charles, prone to illusions and mysticisms, it came like a deUcious, enervating, soul-entrancing syren-song. Pas- sive obedience to an anointed king became, in his fixed persuasion, a sacred duty. The anointed and mystically- endowed creature was of unspeakable value to his people, was almost incapable of being criminal if his own glory and defence were to be promoted, and would probably be guarded by special interposition of Providence from the fate which might overtake ordinary mortals. Such was the web of fallacy and fantasy in which poor Charles was, to his destruction, involved. Had Laud succeeded in con- forming England to his ideal as completely as he conformed Charles, the very fibre of the national character would have mortified ; and the spirit of the English race, known from the days of Froissart as high and proud, would have become that of the slave. In all the weight of meaning which in- spired men have thrown into the term, an England after Laud's own heart would have been an idolatrous England. Putting phautoius of a diseased imagination for real things, it would have bowed down in maudlin reverence before Laud's UnpopulaHty. 97 foolish or vicious kings, calling them sages and saints, Solomons and Hezekiahs. Such a nation, mistaking the dusky air in the charnel-houses of superstition for the pure light of religion, would have lost those erect and ruddy virtues vyhich dvpell with health of mind and body, and would have crept between heaven and earth in basest thraldom to the priest and the tyrant. Having been aided in his rise by the patronage of ecclesiastics and courtiers, having all his life haunted Universities and Courts, with no gift of familiarity or sociabHity, Laud's whole nature was antipathetic to the mass of mankind; and while he rested on Strafford, and hoped in the King, and rejoiced in the decisions of the Courts of Star Chamber and High Commission, he was profoundly ignorant of the England that lay at his feet. Strafford was more feared than he ; but Laud was the most unpopular man in the three Kingdoms. The comprehen- siveness of his unpopularity is, in one respect, greatly to his credit ; for he was resolutely honest in enforcing eccle- siastical discipline upon the upper as well as the lower classes. " Persons of honour and great quality," says Clarendon, " of the Court and of the country, were every day cited into the High Commission Court, upon the fame of their incontinence, or other scandal in their lives, and were there prosecuted to their shame and punishment." He was a man of a perfectly honest and intrepid spirit — that must be said for Laud ; and it is something to be set against the obsequiousness of model ecclesiasticism in our time. Laud's utter fearlessness, however, tempered as it was by no prudential tact or masculine sympathy with his kind, was a fatal quality for him. As James had half- prophesied, his scheme of ecclesiastical tmiformity was shattered upon the resistance of the Scotch. The attempt to introduce the Laudian service in Edinburgh in 1637 occasioned a riot, and the riot swelled into a revolution. 7 08 The Angh-Catholic Beaction. Wlien, after fifteen years of tyranny and misgovem- ment, the patience of the English people was exhausted, and the Long Parliament met, Laud was, at the same time with Strafford, placed under arrest. He said that his arrest exceedingly surprised him, and this may very well have heen the case, for he lived in a vain show, fancying that to take the ears off Prynne was to change the mind of a nation, and unaware of the mighty wrath that England was nursing against him in her heart. The tables were now turned, and Prynne became the implacable and unscru- pulous persecutor and prosecutor of Laud. Hated by aU Puritans, he was most of all hated by the Scotch, and it may be doubted whether even the intense and unweariable enmity of Prynne would have procured his death if the Scots, whom, in 1644, the English Commons were anxious to propitiate, had not urged that he should die. Mr. Darwin tells us that, in the general conflict of nature, the war be- tween species closely resembUng each other is most severe. It was in Laud, on the one hand, and in the Covenanting Scots who hunted him to death, on the other, that the idea of ecclesiastical imiformity as supremely desirable was held with most impassioned fervour. Laud sought Anglican uni- formity, the Scots sought Presbyterian uniformity, through- out the three Kingdoms. Neither idea could be realised ; and the Scots, when they had trampled on the dust of Laud, found that they had still to reckon with OHver Cromwell, John Milton, and other formidable persons for whom imposed and enforced uniformity, whether AngUcan or Presbyterian, was once for all insufferable. Laud was beheaded in January, 1645. He defended himself with the courage and pertinacity that had always distinguished liim, and he died bravely and gently. It was seemly that ho and Strafford should die. The question whether their doatli was just is not to be answered by reference to this statute or to that, to tliis or to that tech- Laud's Crime and Strafford's. 99 nical definition of high treason, but by considering whether the purpose and effort of their lives — not only theoretically embraced, but, to the utmost of their abiUty, practically carried out — amounted to a capital crime against all that, dm-ing the last three hundred years, has made our island prosperous and respected. If despotism is reaUy a noble and beneficent institution, as eloquent enthusiasts, dazzled by the splendours of triumphant energy in the few instances in wliich good and great men have been despots, wiU always be found to allege — ^if it is indeed well for mankind that the priest should stand between their consciences and their God, as mentally feeble and morally sickly persons will always vaguely feel — ^then Strafford and Laud, who, in the critical transition period of modern history, strove to place king and priest in England in the place which they then finally secm-ed in Spain, committed no offence worthy of death. But if, even under favourable circumstances, the drawbacks of despotism are, on the whole, greater than its blessings, and if despotism of the incompetent and the bad — which, practically, all hereditary and systematic despotism must be — is the most penetrating and pestilential curse that can afflict humanity, then the sentences of Strafford and of Laud were just. They two made it the object of their lives to seal up the eyes of England in the sleep of despotism, spiritual and civil. Their death was the right conclusion of a superb historical tragedy. The task was too much for them ; but let no one think of Land as a peeAdsh imbecile. He had all the faults, and they are grievous, of the ecclesiastical order; but he was one of the greatest ecclesiastics England has produced. 7—2 IV. HENEIETTA 3iO.EIA. CHAPTBE IV. EENBIETTA MABIA. HENEIETTA MABIA, Queen of Charles I., was the daughter of Henry of Navarre and Marie de Medicis. She inherited quahties of mind and temperament from both parents. Her courage, energy, promptitude, we may trace to the victor of Ivry, though the mascuHne strength of Henry was in her dashed with feminine vehemence ; and there are passages in her history, interpreted on prin- ciples of poetry and Platonism by Miss Strickland, viewed more prosaically by Hallam, which recall the passion and impulsiveness of the lover of the fair Gabrielle. From her Medicean mother she had an organisation exquisitively sensitive to beauty in painting, a capacity of attaining con- summate excellence in music, and an intense fervour of devotion to the Eoman Catholic Church. She was bom in Paris in 1609, a few months before her father was murdered by Eavaillac. The Pope was her godfather. Her mother committed her rehgious training to a Carmehte nun of the highest enthusiasm. In her sixteenth year she was married to Charles. The marriage articles provided that she and her retinue should practise the ordinances of their rehgion vpith fitting dignity, and that her children should be educated by her until their thirteenth year. There appears to have been a kind of understanding between the Courts of London and of Paris that this last engagement was a mere form. The French 104 Henrietta Maria, Court played fast and loose with the Vatican, the BngUsh negotiators with the Parliament and people of England. Marie de Medicis, however, looked on the stipulation as a reality, and the success of Henrietta Maria in giving it effect cost her children the crown of these realms. When she left France for England, she received a letter from her mother, enjoining her with the utmost solemnity to act in her new sphere as the missionary and protectress of CathoHcism. " The descendant of St. Lotiis," she was exhorted to strive, like him, " for the good of the faith and the exaltation of the Church," and to follow his example in being faithful unto death " among the infidels." The King met her at Dover. At the moment of his arrival she was at breakfast, but rose from table, ran down a pair of stairs, and on seeing him offered to kneel and kiss his hand. He " wrapped her up in his arms vpith many kisses." She had got ready a httle French speech. " Sire, je suis venue en ce pays de votre Majeste pour etre com- mandee de vous " — here she broke down and burst into tears, but Charles came to her relief vnih. more kisses and tender protestations. She was tiny in person, wdth features of large form but delicately shaped, brovsTi hair, dark eyes now touchingly soft, now sparkling hke stars, air spirituelle, complexion " perfectly beautiful," and something in her face which "made all the world love her." Not an un- pleasant thing for a bridegroom to "wrap her up in his arms with many kisses ! " Presently they started for Canterbury. On Barham Downs a pavilion was erected and a banquet prepared. The King, who had winning ways with those he loved, was tenderly gallant, carving with his own Eoyal hand for Henrietta, and serving her both vdth pheasant and venison. Under the June sky, in the bracing air of the upland near the sea, her spirits rose, and her joyful sympathy with the men and manners of her new home passed all bounds. Father Sancy. 105 Father Sancy, her confessor, conies sidhng up to her elbow, and whispers that it is the vigil of St. John the Baptist, when no good CathoHc would give scandal by eating flesh. Henrietta sticks to the savoury meat, and lets the austere shaveling sidle back again. Her EngUsh subjects, watch- ing these symptoms with eager Protestant eyes, are in ecstasies of dehght. " Can your Majesty," ventures one bold inquirer to ask, "tolerate a Huguenot?" "Why not?" answers Henrietta; "was not my father one?" They entered London by the river, where hundreds of glit- tering barges, with streamers flying, joined the Eoyal pro- cession. This briUiant dawn of married life was soon overcast, nor did the gay ecclesiastical contumacies of Barham Downs herald the emancipation of the Queen from the rule of Father Sancy. On the first day of her holding Court at "Whitehall, she showed that her eyes could flash the dark Hghtnings of anger, as well as beam vnth the piquant sweetness of coy surrender. Finding a room in- conveniently hot and crowded, she cleared it "with one scowl." Charles soon became aware that she was to be CathoHc first and Enghsh second. Neither her pride as a vrife nor her ambition as a Queen could prevail with her to take part in the coronation. Not even from a latticed box in the Abbey would she witness the ceremony, or counten- ance the schismatic Church of England. On no point could Charles be more keenly sensitive ; but Henrietta was inex- orable. She atoned to Father Sancy for the freakish pecca- dilloes of Barham Downs by ostentatious and abject sub- mission to her spiritual advisers. "While the latter rode in a carriage, she trudged through the mud on foot in peni- tential pilgrimage; and Charles always beheved, nor has the statement, though denied by Henrietta and mythically coloured by her enemies, been ever conclusively disproved, that she once went to Tyburn and paid reverent homage to 106 Henrietta Maria. those questionable martyrs who had died for the Gun- powder Plot. These things soon made her unpopular in England, but her conduct is not surprising. She must have felt, on establishing herseK in London, that something very like a fraud had been practised upon her. Her marriage articles conceded all that was required for the free and stately practice of her rehgion, and both King James and King Charles had made large promises as to the toleration of Catholics in general. She found herself in the midst of a nation fanatically Protestant, convinced that the toleration of Popery was a heinous sin, and shuddering at the " idol- atry of the mass." The strongest instincts of her nature, devotion to her Church, pride in her father and in France, sense of what was due to her as a wife who had given her hand under special conditions, and compassion for the per- secuted Catholics of England, combined to make her shake the torch of her faith in the faces of her English subjects. Not the less is it true that a more prudent woman might have done more for the English CathoHcs than was done by the impulsive and vehement Henrietta. She took the part of her priests and her French attendants with blind and passionate fervour. Poor Charles had a dreadful time of it between her priests, her women, and her own poutings and petulancies. There were upwards of four hundred foreigners in her train, mostly priests and women, and they seem to have addressed themselves, with the inge- nuity of experts, to the task of maldng mischief between husband and wife. He complained that when he "had anything to say" to Henrietta, he "must manage her servants first." At last he plucked up courage to order the whole crew to Somerset House, as a preliminary step to their quitting England. The scene which followed was tragi-comical in a high degree : women howHng, men ges- ticulating and vociforatiii^', the Quoon, led away by Charles The French Betinue. 107 from the immediate scene of conflict, breaking -windows in frenzied attempts to express sympathy with her departing household. He remained master, and soon followed up his triumph by giving the emphatic order to Buckingham to drive the French out of England " Hke so many wUd beasts." A body of yeomen had to be called in before the foreigners would budge. At sight of the armed men they yielded, and proceeded to the place of embarkation. The populace, furious against the French Papists, crowded round them as they went aboard, and Madame de St. George, one of the most obnoxious of the party, was struck on the head with a stone by a man in the throng. A gen- tlemen instantly drew his sword and ran the fellow through the body. No remonstrance seems to have been made or surprise felt at this off-hand infliction of death punishment for an insult to a woman. The influence of chivalry had not yet quite died out of the English mob. These summary proceedings against persons for whose attendance on the Queen of England provision had been made in the marriage treaty were viewed with more inte- rest than satisfaction in the Court of France. Charles forwarded to his confidential agent in Paris a letter on the subject, to be submitted to the mother of Henrietta Maria. He details 'vdth naive simpUeity the petulancies of his girl- wife, his tenderness for whom is all the while unmistakable. On one occasion, when certain lands had been assigned her, she resolved to have her own servants put into their man- agement, and " one night," writes Charles, " when I was in bed, she put a paper into my hand" with the names of those whom she intended to be thus favoured. He told her that her French attendants could not serve her as proposed. Sharp words ensued, and at last " she bad me plainly take my lands to myself;" if she could not put her servants into the places, she would rather have cash down. " I bad her then remember to whom she spake, and told her that 108 Henrietta Maria. she ought not to use me so. Then she fell into a passionate discourse, how she was miserable," &c., &o. She refused even to hear him, crying out that she was not " of that base quahty to be used so iU." He conquered, so, at least, he says — " I made her both hear me and end that discourse." He does not describe the means used, — a thing that might have been of interest to here and there a " poor married man." The Queen-mother sent over Marshal Bassompierre to see whether the course of this true love could not be got to run a httle more smoothly. The Marshal, a judicious, long-winded gentleman, was experienced in love troubles. He had once, poor soul, " burned more than six thousand love-letters, with which different ladies had from time to time been so good as to honour him." He discharged his deHcate task in London with fair success. Firmly defend- ing the Queen when he beheved her to have been misre- presented, and stoutly maintaining, for one thing, that the offensive pilgrimage to the shrine of the Gunpowder Plot martyrs was a legend founded on an innocent evening walli, taken after a day spent in religious exercises, he saw that she had been a good deal in the vsrong, and that Charles was, on the whole, an affectionate husband. Bas- sompierre returned to France to tell Marie de Medicis that there was not a little to be said in favour of the dis- missal of the French retinue, and that Henrietta had been wayward. He took Father Sancy back vnth him to Paris, — an excellent riddance. In the absence of the Frenchwomen, and with a sensible man installed as confessor in the place of Sancy, Henrietta learned to love her husband, and to exchange the fitful humours of married girlhood for the deeper joys of the attached wife. The death of Buckingham, in 1628, secured her the empire of Charles's heart, and she was hence- forward dearer to him than all the world. It is a note- The Queen and Buckingham. 109 wortlly circiunstance that Bossuet imputes to her influence the abandonment of the Huguenots, after the death of Buolringham, by the EngHsh Court. The great Duke, whose fundamental objects were success and popularity, may have been bent upon reconciling King and Parhament, and making himself the best-loved man in the kingdom, by strenuously adopting the cause of Prench Protestantism, and of Continental Protestantism in general. The strife between him and Henrietta had waxed so violent that he told her queens had lost their heads in England. Mere girl as she was, vvith none to help her but priests and women, Henrietta must have possessed imhmited courage to provoke the hostility of Buckingham. Possibly, indeed, she hardly knew what she was doing. Homer and Mr. EusMn pronounce a fly the bravest of hviag creatures. But I think the courage of Henrietta was ■ of steadier temper. Having never quailed before Buckingham, and having arrived at an understanding with Laud, she won and maintained ascendency over the weak and uxorious Charles. He wrote to her mother that the only dispute between Tn'm and Henrietta now was which should " van- quish the other by affection, each deeming the victory is gained when the Vidshes of the other are discerned and foUowed." At length, when she had been married five years, on the edge of summer, 1630 — May 29th — she had a son that Hved. Dr. Laud christened the little one Charles. Hen- rietta was immensely dehghted vdth him, writing to a French friend that he was a big, ugly fellow, and loeked wiser than his mother. For the next ten years she was the happiest of women. In her nursery -with, her boys and girls, or filling the galleries of Whitehall with her incom- parable voice while she sang to the child in her arms, she had all the felicity, as she herseK told Madame de Motte- ville, which she could possess as Queen, as mother, and 110 Henrietta Maria. as wife. Not forgetting her mission as protectress of the English Catholics, jealously shielding recusants, and secur- ing for her co-rehgionists the services of three successive nuncios of the Holy See, she nevertheless took at this time comparatively small interest in pohtics.' In the Court circle she vsras eminently popular, and she had already at least one personal adherent — ^her page, Harry Jermyn — whose part she had taken when Charles banished him from Court for seducing Eleanor VilKers, and who was prepared to go through fire and water in her service. Letters of the time speak of her as " nimble and quick, black-eyed, brown-haired, and a brave lady." Her eyes were celebrated by Waller : — " Such radiant eyes. Such lovely motion, and such sharp replies." Her wit is* attested by De Motteville, " infiniment de I'esprit." She was fond of gardening, and imported fruit- trees from Prance. Better still, there was her pet colony to be looked after, Maryland, as Charles fondly called it, whither 1,500 "homeless children," the gleaning of London streets in that pious time, had been sent. Dances, masques, and revels sped the rosy hours. Under these circumstances, her Majesty would probably have smiled in magnanimous good-nature, quahfied by con- tempt, at the disrespectful language appUed to Queens who patronised plays and dances, by Mr. William Prynne, if Dr. Laud had not seen fit to make an example of that noticeable person. William Prynne is as characteristic a figurae of the Puritan revolution of the seventeenth centmy as Jean Paul Marat of the Jacobin revolution of the eighteenth, though the balance of superiority, in respect both of solid ability and moral healthfulness, is greatly in favour of Prynne. It will be worth our while to talte a careful look at him. He had received a good education at the Bath Grammar Prynne. Ill School and Oriel College, Oxford, had become an "utter barrister" of Lincoln's Inn, and had begun, about 1630, to publish writings of a vehemently Puritan character. In 1633 appeared his " Histrio-Mastix, the Players' Scourge." Its title-page is so vivid a bit, not so much of the his- tory of the seventeenth century as of the seventeenth century itseH, that I shall quote it verbatim et literatim, suppressing only an imposing array of sentences from Cyprian, Lactantius, Chrysostom, and Augustine, printed as mottoes: — " Histrio-Mastix, the Players Scourge, or Actors Tragajdie, Divided into two parts. Wiierein it is largely evidenced, by divers Arguments, by tbe concurring Authorities and Eesolutions of sundry texts of Scripture ; of the whole Primitive Church, both under the Law and Gospell; of 55 Synodes and Counsels; of 71 Fathers and Christian Writers, before the yeare of our Lord 1200; of above 150 foraigne and domestique Protestant and Popish Authors, since ; of 40 Heathen Philosophers, Historians, Poets ; of many Heathen, many Christian Nations, Eepubliques, Emperors, Princes, Magi- strates ; of sundry. Apostolical], Canonical!, Imperiall Constitutions ; and of our owue English Statutes, Magistrates, Universities, "Writers, Preachers. That popular Stage-playes (the very Pompes of the Divell which we re- nounce in Baptisme, if we beleeve the Fathers) are sinf uU, heathenish, lewde, ungodly Spectacles, and most pernicious Corruptions; condemned in all ages, as intolerable Mischiefes to Churches, to Bepublickes, to the manners, mindes, and soules of men. And that the Profession of Play-poets, of Stage players ; together with the penning, acting, and frequenting of Stage-playes, are uulawfull, infamous, and misbeseemiug Christians. AH pretences to the contrary are here likewise fully answered ; and the unlawfulness of acting, of beholding Academical Enterludes, briefly discussed ; besides sundry other particulars concerning Dancing, Dicing, Health-drinking, &c., of which the Table will informe you. By William Prynne, an Utter Barrister of Lincolnes Inne." (Then foUow the mottoes.) " London. " Printed by E. A. and W. I. for Michael Sparke, and are to be sold at the Blue Bible, in Greene Arbour, in little Old Bayly. 1633." The promises, or threats, of this title-page, are conscien- tiously fulfilled in the book. There are a thousand pages closely printed, and the margins are crowded to the very edge with illustrative extracts, generally in Latin. The labour of collecting the enormous mass of materials must 112 Henrietta Maria. have been stupendous. Mr. Carlyle pronounces it impos- sible for mortal man in the present day to get through the book, and this, pace Mr. Gladstone and a few German pro- fessors, may be true ; but one can go to and fro in it, and walk up and down in it, hke Satan on a visit to the earth, with the rather pleasurable feeling of being in an entirely different world from that to which one is accustomed. Prynne was a rigid Anglican of the Edward VI. type, austerely zealous for the purification of the Church from Popery, Arminianism, Eituahsm, and of the land from vice. An intense fervour, gloomy but sincere, pervades his book, a genuine passion to sweep wickedness into the kennels, and do scavenger work for God. The gloom of Puritanism Ues in deep shadow on the thousand pages. Men are to have " the day of death and judgment always fixed in their most serious meditations." Dancing, unless it were "grave, single, chaste, and sober measures, men with men " — in short, the kind of dancing approved of by Mr. Spurgeon, and delectably iQustrated in a wood-cut by Funch — was not for a world hanging between heaven and hell. " Not dancers " go to heaven, " but mourners : not laughers, but weepers ; whose tune is Lachrymss, whose music sighs for sin; who know no other cinquapace but this to heaven, to go mourning all the day long for their iniquities ; to mourn in secret hke doves, to chatter like cranes for their own and others' sins. Fasting, prayers, mourning, teares, tribulations, martyrdom, were the only rounds that led all the saints to heaven." The very soul of Puritanism is in these words. It was in connection with dancing that Prynne laid himseK open to the attack of Laud. Prynne expresses himself as horror-struck at the idea of "Queenes them- selves and the very greatest persons" dancing. That Henrietta, brilliant and spirited, instinct vdth life and fire, should be a beautiful dancer, was no palhation of her Pnjnne's Real Offence. 113 offence in the eyes of Prynne. " Eegina saltat," he quotes from Theophylact, " at quanto pulchrius saltavit, tanto pejus, tnrpe enim est Eeginse aliquid indecorum dextre facere." This is insolent ; but one cannot help feeling some surprise at finding Henrietta Maria HbeUed in the Latin of Theophylact; and I have not been able to detect in Prynne — ^my search has not extended over every one of the thousand pages, but it has embraced every passage I could think of as hkely to afford an opening for the assault — any- thing more directly aimed at the Queen than these words. I am persuaded that it was something else besides the liberties taken with her Majesty that infuriated Laud against the book. It bums with fierce hostility to the Arminianism and Eitualism which the Archbishop was in- troducing into the Church. There is a scornful reference to " our late crouching and ducking unto new-erected altars" — a shaft that must have gone straight to Laud's heart. The Puritans, whose name was used by Laud as the true contradictory of orthodox, are praised to the skies ; declared to be " the holiest, meekest, and most zealous Christians," who are hated and reviled only " for their goodness." These were, I fancy, Prynne's true offences, and his dis- respect to the Queen was but seized upon by Laud as the handiest weapon wherewith to smite him. Prynne was summoned before the Star Chamber, con- demned to have his ears cropped, to stand twice in the pillory, to pay a fine of £5,000, and to be imprisoned for hfe. Continuing to write in prison, and giving further offence, he was tried a second time and sentenced to another fine of £5,000, more standing in the pillory, more cutting of the ears, and imprisonment in a remote castle. The money was never paid, but the other punishments were rigorously carried out. Inhumanly severe they must be pronounced, for the zeal of Prynne, though in- temperate and fanatical, was in the cause of moral reform. 8 ll'i Henrietta Maria. The phenomena of our time most closely analagous to his fervom* are the importunate zeal of some followers of Sir Wilfrid Lawson, or the applauded and salutary frenzy of Mr. Phmsoll in the House of Commons. Whether he de- served his treatment or did not, it was a transcendent blunder to make a martyr of him. His passion for moral reform, his fierce anger on account of Laud's patronage of Anglo-Cathohcs and persecution of Pmitans, were regarded "with sympathy too deep for words by an immense multi- tude of Englishmen. One of those who were vividly ahve to the injustice of Prynne's mutilation and im- prisonment was Cromwell. This is no mere inference from our general knowledge of Oliver. He took a most active part in subsequently redressing the wrongs of Prynne; and we have it on the evidence of his own words to the Parhament which met in September, 1656, that his conception of the Puritan cause, in some of its essential elements, was identical with that of Prynne. There were " a company of poor men," he told the mem- bers, who were " ready to spend their blood " rather than give in to that " compliance " with Popery which had been promoted by " the Bishop of Canterbury ; " and in accm-ate harmony with the spirit and procedure of Prynne in " His- trio-Mastix," he threw together " Popery and the profane nobihty and gentry of this nation," as having the "badge and character of countenancing profaneness, disorder, and wickedness in all places." His expressions about the con- tumely heaped on the saints almost hterally recall those of Prynne. " In my conscience," said the Protector, "it was a shame to be a Christian, within these fifteen, sixteen, or seventeen years, in this nation I It was a shame, it was a reproach to a man ; and the badge of ' Pmitan ' was put upon it." The Puritanism of Prynne, however, was not in all points the Puritanism of Cromwell. It was more of a Prynne's Puritanism. 115 formula, less of an inspiration; but this circumstance does not preclude its representing even a wider phase of Puritanism than that of the great Protector. Prynne was a lawyer, a learned lawyer, a legal and historical antiquarian ; and he inexorably conformed his Puritanism to the precedents and traditions of EngHsh history. Never deviating from his sturdy loyalty to the Crown, he opposed a King who was innovating on the Enghsh constitution, and a Primate who was innovating on the Enghsh Eefor- mation ; but when the monarchy was in danger, when Parhament was invaded by the sword, Prynne faced round, amid peril and obloquy, and defied the victorious army. A Church, not only Protestant, but treating the Pope as Antichrist, Calvinistic in theology and subject to the Estates of the Eealm ; a common law, and law of Parhament, which King and subject ahke should obey ; a House of Commons holding the money-bag ; a sovereign of the blood royal ; such was Prynne's formula. Be it a narrow formula, or be it a broad, he maintained it invin- cibly. As the Eevolution diverged from its iron hne on this hand and on that, he doggedly kept the path, and was loud in his remonstrances and protests. His sarcastic home-thrusts were directed as much against a Presbytery or an Independent congregation claiming Divine right, as against Bishops resting on apostohcal succession. On all occasions, when alarmed by heterodoxies and backshdings, he was ready with his " important questions," sixteen or so, wherewith to perplex innovators, and to detect the " spawn of Eomish frogs, Jesuits, and Franciscan Eriars." Harder head, set on more inflexible back-bone, than William Prynne's was never seen in England. He con- fronted CromweU. as boldly as he had confronted Charles, and defended Dr. Hewit when OHver singled out him and one or two others to die for insurrectionary Eoyahsm. It required a thoroughly brave man to do that. 8—2 116 Henrietta Maria. Prynne of course agitated for the recall of the dynasty, and there was no inconsistency in his accepting, at the Ee- storation, the office of Keeper of the Eecords of the Tower. Miss Strickland says that, in the last period of his life, he made the remark that King Charles ought to have taken off his head when he took off his ears. The words may have been spoken by Prynne in jest, but more probably they were the invention of some one whose ideas of the actors in the Puritan Eevolution were as confused and superficial as Miss Strickland's own. Prynne could serve the Crown after the Eestoration without its ever occurring to him to change his opinion of the tyranny of the aboUshed Star Chamber. I have seen a dull squib of the time of army ascendency in which he figures as recanting the " Histrio- Mastix." The charge of inconsistency was in that instance stupid, because Prynne could disapprove of excluding members from Parliament at the point of the sword, and of changing the dynasty, without faltering for an instant in his desire to see manners reformed and play-acting dis- couraged; and no more did consistency demand renun- ciation of his former seK because he acquiesced in a Eestoration which, whatever its shortcomings, did not bring back Thorough. Prynne recanted nothing; he was from first to last a constitutional Low-Church Puritan, holding that it might be right to make war upon the King, but only in his own name, in order to save him from evil councillors, and to enhghten him as to his own true interests and those of the country. In all this Prynne represented an immense multitude of Enghshmen. The fixed ideas which could not be eradi- cated from his mind could not be dislodged from the heart of the Enghsh people, and Charles II. was placed by acclamation on a throne which CromweU had not dared to ascend. It is hard to say whether dread and detestation of Popery on the one hand, or love of legitimate Eoyalty Instincts of Englislimen. 117 on the other, was the stronger instinct of the English nation. When the two came into direct coUision, the concession made by the one to the other was the least that the circumstances rendered possible. In their fear of Popery the nation resisted the Crown, and by a great majority approved of such constraint being laid upon the sovereign as seemed indispensable to secure the Protes- tantism of England ; but they did not sanction his death, or assent to a change of dynasty. Prynne's inflexible legalism proved more characteristically Bnghsh than tho subHme aspiration of Milton ; and the energy, capacity, and patriotism of CromweU were not such words to conjure with as the name of Stuart. This fact is eminently instructive. The Whig Eevolution of 1688 exhibited the forces of Pro- testantism and legahsm again in conflict, and once more the concession made by the one to the other was the least possible in the circumstances. A Popish monarch, frantic in his devotion to his Church, set about the re-establishment of Popery in England ; he was expelled ; but no further dynastic change was made than to substitute the Protestant branch for the Popish branch. A Protestant wears the Crown of these realms in the Stuart right ; the Protectorate flitted like a brief meteoric splendour across the poUtical firmament. Pryime's punishment was exceedingly damaging to the Court, and greatly intensified the unpopularity of the ,^ Queen. She was, however, more interested in her chil- dren than in poUtics, and might well feel that, so long as her influence shielded Popish delinquents from perse- cution, and Papal envoys looked after the faithful in England, and Dr. Laud was considered a not unfit person to be offered a Cardinal's hat, her best course was to let well alone. We have an account of her views on these matters from her own lips, reported to us by Madame de MotteviUe. There was no motive to induce Henrietta Maria 118 Henrietta Maria. to give, in 1645 or 1646, a false account of what had seemed to her to be the position of ecclesiastical affairs in England during the period when Laud was dominant ; and her hopes will serve as a measure, practically useful, of the natural and reasonable fears of the Puritans. She informed De Motteville that James I., in defending the reformed religion against Cardinal Du Perron, had " conceived a love for the truth " and a desire to escape from error. Thenceforward he v?ished to reconcile the two religions, but he died before executing " ce louable dessein." James's conversion by Du Perron may be absurdly mythical, as well as the additional statement of the Queen that Charles, at the tinae when he ascended the throne, was of pretty much the same way of thinking as his converted father ; but it is an interesting historical item that Henrietta Maria, on coming to England, beheved the Protestantism of the Stuarts to be a thing of surface and of show, their Popery to be honest and fanda- mental. Laud, she told Madame de Motteville, was at heart " tr&s bon CathoHque." If this was the estimate of the Protestantism of Charles and of Laud formed by Henrietta Maria, its endorsement by the Puritans caimot be called xmr reasonable. They feared what she hoped ; and she hoped that Charles and Laud would carry into effect the "praise- worthy design " of James to reconcile the Church of England to the Church of Eome. If her Majesty, between 1630 and 1640, was shy of show- ing her hand, she had ample reason to be satisfied that things were progressing favourably for her Church. The Jesuits sapped the Protestantism of the aristocracy. High functionaries, treasurers, secretaries of state, Weston, "SVinde- bank, many others, were Imown to be Papists. Puritanism was proscribed. The laws against Catholics were rendered, to a great extent, a dead letter. Strafford secured toleration for Papists in Ireland. Had Henrietta been a woman of con- Bummate sagacity and discernment, she might have seen The Meeting of Parliament. 119 that, under the smooth surface of EngHsh society, there slumbered forces capable of throwing Laud and his system into the air, and might have made it her grand object to procure toleration for Puritan and Papist alike ; but she judged by appearances, and was deceived. She was suddenly startled from her complacent dream. To reveal the stupendous strength of Protestant feehng in England and the inability of Laud to restrain it, one thing had been necessary, and but one ; the meeting of Parliament. Nothing in the list of their grievances, not the renewal and extension of the monopolies, not ship-money, not the viola- tion of the Petition of Eight, not the suspension of ParUa- ments for eleven years, agitated the Commons of 1640 so intensely as the anti-Protestantism of Laud and the conniv- ance of the Court at the infraction of the laws against Popish recusants. It was entirely honourable to Henrietta Maria that she should exert herself to shield her co-reUgionists from the fury of the great body of their countrymen. Hallam says of the English CathoHcs that they are " by no means naturally less attached to their country and its liberties than other EngHshmen," but that the patriotism of the seven- teenth century, which poured warmth and radiance on the Protestant, " was to them as a devouring fire." It was part of the religion of the Puritans to treat Popery as fii-e treats stubble. The Papists were driven into the camp of the Stuarts by those imperious instincts which urge men to fight for freedom, property, honour, life. Henrietta felt herself to be their protectress against overwhelming odds. She had never pretended to put her duty to her adopted country in competition with her duty to her Church. She now exerted herself with a valour that outran discretion, and an impetuous energy that overshot the mark. She intrigued with foreign Powers. She canvassed- the Patriots, winning over recruits like Digby, who, whatever their insignificance in respect of political capacity or personal character, were at least faithful 120 Henrietta Maria, to her. The gentlemen of her retinue, Harry Jermyn first of all, ardently adopted her cause, and a conclave of thorough- going Queen's-men held meetings with her in the palace, at which the most desperate and daring schemes were discussed. While Strafford's life hung in the balance, no day, Hen- rietta Maria told Madame de Motteville, passed without her having an interview with " the most wicked " of his enemies to plead on his behaK. They were brought, she said, by the back stairs into the room of one of her ladies, who was absent in the country. Alone, with a torch in her hand, she met them every night, and offered them anything they hked to ask, but in vain. The fine stage effect — " seule, avec un flambeau a la main " — befits an interview vpith such hare-brained people as Digby and Goring, but we must be on our guard against supposing that any of the leading men came to talk with the Queen under such cir- cumstances about the death of Strafford. In point of fact, it was not by negotiation with Hampden or Pym that Hen- rietta hoped, or seriously wished, to save Strafford. The sole possible basis of an agreement between the Court and the Parhamentary majority respecting the life of the Earl was the hond-fide adoption by Charles of a Patriot poUcy. But this would have implied abandonment of the GathoHcs, and Henrietta would have hstened to no such proposal. It is inconceivable, besides, that, if the interview was held \?ith men who could speak for the Patriots, the King should have been absent. If, therefore, the solitary flambeau is historical at all, it must have flared at midnight meetings of Henrietta Maria and other conspirators in the Army Plot of the spring of 1641, for the deliverance of Strafford. To have torn him from the ParUoment, and set him at the head of an irresistible mihtary force, would indeed have secured her objects ; and to this end she intrigued with Digby, Goring, Wilmot, and others. Charles was The Army Plot. 121 privy to their schemes, but may have held it wise to refrain from appearing in person at their midnight consultations. It is no disgrace to Henrietta Maria that the Catholics in- terested her supremely ; but if her fundamental aim was to secure ascendency, or even toleration, for the CathoHcs, she was naturally forced upon darker projects than could have been mentioned to the ParUamentary leaders. The credit which she takes in her narrative to De Motteville for zeal on behalf of Strafford is certainly not her due. It is nearer the truth to say that his blood is on her hands. Had she urged Charles to exert his prerogative, he would have refused to sign Strafford's death-warrant ; but in that case, the indignation of the Commons against the Queen would have known no bounds, and her participation in the Army Plot would, with other charges, have formed the basis of an impeachment for high treason. Charles always said afterwards that the sin which turned God against him had been committed to save the Queen, and it has generally been beHeved that he referred to his consent to the death of Strafford. If this is correct, a strong additional argu- ment is furnished for beheving that the interviews which she describes to De Motteville as having been held vdth "les plus mechans" of the Earl's enemies, were held reaUy with " les plus mechans " of his friends, those, to wit, who were prepared to have recourse to any expedients, however desperate, for his rescue. The Army Plot has been but sHghtly referred to by modem Enghsh historians, but it had a most important influence on the course of events. It was part of a vast network of schemes and conspiracies, by which the Queen, and, with more of reserve and caution, the King, hoped to overawe, or to get rid of, the detested Parliament. So early as February, 1641, Henrietta had pubhcly boasted that a truce had been concluded between Prance and Spain, in order that they might combine their forces, and advance 12'2 Henrietta Maria. to tile succour of the menaced Catholics of England. The English army that had been levied in the preceding snmmer to fight the Scots had not yet been disbanded, and its in- glorious career and scanty pay, both of which it was easy for emissaries of the Court to impute to the Parliament, disposed it to listen to wild proposals. Honourable mem- bers were for some time in the utmost alarm, dreading a forcible dissolution, dreading massacres and repetitions of the Gunpowder Plot. At one time the Commons rushed panic-stricken from their building. At another they took to vowing and signing protestations en masse, in the style of Scotch Covenanters or members of a French National Assembly, rather than in that of the solid Commons of England. It was in the trepidation inspired by the tampering of the Court vnth the army that the Houses insisted not only on the death of Strafford, but on the assent by Charles to the Bill forbidding the dissolution of ParHament except with its own consent. To modem vmters not nicely observant of the dates of events, and the relations of parties at successive stages of the revolution, this Bill seems an outrageous encroachment upon the rights of the Crown ; but it was approved of by the constitutional BoyaUsts, Colepepper, Falldand, and Clarendon. This demonstrates that it was not thought an extreme step. All sensible men in the House of Commons felt that it was necessary to provide against the forcible undoing of all that had been done by putting it beyond the power of Charles to treat the Long Parliament as he had treated the Short. The privilege of Parliament alone defended the Patriots from his vengeance. After every dissolution in his reign he had severely punished those who had opposed him in the House. " The icing's n^ady acquiescence in this Bill,'* says HaJlam, " far inoro clangorous than any of those at which he de- murred, can only be ascribed to his own shame and the Failure of the Plot. 123 Queen's consternation at the discovery of the late plot." Henrietta, in her feminine vehemence, had omitted to count the cost of faoluje, and the difficulty of execution, in so tickhsh a matter as getting rid of an English Parliament by an Army Plot. If you are to shoot a man through the head, and he is a very strong and very vigilant man, you had better be sure of your pistol and of your nerve. The weapon, in this instance, burst in the discharge, or rather by accidental ignition before being discharged. The frag- ments, so to speak, of the shattered piece, flew in all direc- tions. Jermyn, Percy, Digby, Sucklyn, Davenant, Goring, and Wihnot took themselves out of the way. The King disavowed connection with them, and issued a proclama- tion commanding them "to render themselves within ten days." The Queen had the unpleasant consciousness of having rendered herself liable to impeachment for high treason, and began to express the opinion that her health would greatly benefit by a sojourn on the Continent. Some have gone *^^e length of beheving that, where Jermyn was, - there her heart already was also, but Miss Strickland dis- countenances such scandal. The Parliamentary leaders were as anxious that her Majesty should stay at home as she was to go abroad. The men who had risked their lives ia the plot were her personal friends and aUies, and it was evident to Hampden and Pym that, if she went to France or Holland, those others would gather round her and begin organising mis- chief. Accordingly, they strongly resisted the proposal that she should quit England. On the 15th July, 1641, Pym brought up to the Lords, and next day Lord Bankes S resented to the King in presence of both Houses, a series r reasons "to stay the Queen's going into Holland." They set forth that the doings of the Papists were exceed- ingly alarming to honourable members, and seemed to be connected with the departure of her Majesty. The ]'2i Henrietta Maria. Papists had been selling their lands, gathering " gi-eat quantities of gold," and in many instances going abroad, as if to co-operate with disaffected persons who had previously taken flight. The Commons had heard that a great treasure in jewels, plate, and ready money was packed to accompany the Queen. Her illness had been admitted by Sir Theodore Mayerne, the King's own physician, to be connected with the mind rather than with the body. Henrietta saw good to comply with the request of the Houses, graciously affecting to be glad to remain. In August, however, though the ParHament strongly remon- strated against the trip, Charles insisted upon going to Scotland. The Commons could not prevent his departure, but they appointed a Committee to follow him to Edin- bm'gh, ostensibly to sm-round him with a dignity worthy of his station, really to watch his proceedings, and to try to penetrate that new system of plots in which he was beheved to be engaged. Hampden was in this Committee of Observation, and it is to be noted that from the time of this journey to Scotland, Hampden's distrust of Charles, and Charles's resolution to crush Hampden, were alike fixed and immutable. It was during this visit of Charles to Scotland that the Irish Eebellion flared up like a Mghtful portent, clothing haK the sky in blood-red flame. To what extent, and in what precise way and manner, it was connected with the projects of Henrietta Maria or Charles will long fui-nish ground for speculation ; but in order to realise its effect upon the Parliament, and upon the Protestant and Puritan people of England in general, we must take A\ith us two facts which made hfe in the seventeenth century a very different thing from life in the nineteenth. *• The first is the non-existence in those days of a free Press. Wo are apt to think and speak of our daily news- papers with careless contempt, half assenting to Mr. The Press. 12i; Euskin's description of them as " a thousand square miles of dirtily-printed falsehood." But the plain truth is that they have done us a service which is not easy to over- estimate. The hght of the gas-lamps in the streets of London is not so clear as that of a cloudless morning, but it suffices to spoil the game of the street brigand and foot- pad, and to destroy the behef in ghosts. The information diffused by newspapers is often inaccurate, but it has saved us from the tyranny of rumours, the distracting influence of hallucinations begotten of suspicion and ignorance. In the seventeenth century men hved in a perpetual twilight of surmise and conjecture, unable, in the dim atmosphere, to distinguish between facts and imaginations. Modem statistics have proved that the guesses of popular credulity and incredulity are, as a rule, absurdly wrong. The pre- vailing obscurity acted both upon the plotter and upon bim who beheved himself the victim aimed at in plots. In the former it fostered impracticable hopes, in the latter visionary fears. Popish fanatics attached wild expec- tations to projects as insane as the Gunpowder Plot ; Pro- testants of ordinary sagacity were driven to their wits' end by reports of imaginary fleets, to land imaginary armies on our shores, which, in concert with the native CathoHcs, were to cut the throats of all BngUsh Protestants. Our adult education by the daily Press renders the existence of such hopes and fears in our day impossible ; but in the seventeenth century all was guess-work, imagination, fitful hope, and vague alarm. Much of the alarm was doubtless more reasonable than it would now be, but it was in part chimerical, and the Hne between the reasonable and the chimerical could not be drawn. Accurately described, the Irish KebeUion would have been alarming in England ; announced by rumour, and exaggerated by phantasy, it was maddening. One month of the Times newspaper would have averted the Civil War. 12G Ilenrietta Maria. The other fact we have to take into consideration in forming an opinion on seventeenth century questions is the part then played by the Society of Jesus. Every one has learned from Macaulay that the " quintessence of the Cathohc spirit," in that great reactionary movement which "rolled back the flood of the Eeformation from the Baltic to the Mediterranean," was concentrated in the Jesuits ; but there is much in our common idea of a Jesuit fitted to obscure rather than elucidate the action of the great Society upon affairs in the seventeenth century. We think of the Jesuit as subtle, crafty, lying, a feline creature treading softly in the dark ; but the main impression derived by me from acquaintance with Jesuitism as exhibited in the htera- txire of the seventeenth century is that of reckless courage and impetuous aggression. Jesuitism represents for us the prudential and casuistical element in Catholicism ; in the seventeenth century it was an element of fire. The Jesuit might sometimes fall short in sagacity and in caution, in intrepidity never. The Jesuits were too pugnacious for the sober-minded leaders of the Church, and there was frequent uneasiness in the relations between the Society and Kome. Like a standing army, enhsted to do the fighting against Protestants, they were always eager for the fray. The subtlety attributed to the order is not incompatible with audacity. Balzac says that all the passions are Jesuistic, meaning, I suppose, that they go direct to their object, regardless of means, trampling down truthfulness, honour, and modesty as weU as fear. Even in the practice of hing and dissimulation, the Jesuits displayed an- impassioned ardour, which took them out of the category of common liars. The Jesuit who, for the sake of his Church, took his life in his hand and lectured as Professor in a Swedish Uni- versity, or preached to a trembling flock in a London upper room, or administered the host to a noble or a king who had found it convenient to live a Protestant but mshed to die a The Jesuits. 127 Papist, cast something of the splendour of passion and self- sacrifice even over his lying. At one period the Papal authorities were as vehement in their opposition to the English Sovereigns as the Jesuits could wish. Pius V. anathematised Elizabeth, and delivered over (on paper) her dominions to Mary of Scot- land. A bold Eomanist affixed the Bull of Excommunica- tion to the gate of the Bishop of London's palace, and won the crown of martyrdom for his pains. An insurrection of Eoman Cathohcs was instigated in the North of England, to be aided by Alva and his Spaniards from the Netherlands. The Pope, however, saw that the strife was desperate, and, says Disraeh, "both himseK and his successors granted a dispensation to their Enghsh Romanists to allow them to show outward obedience to the Queen — tOl a happier oppor- tunity ! " But the Jesuits did not recognise the necessity of moderation. Turbulent from sheer intensity of zeal, the Society, Kke Joab in the camp of Israel, drew bitter words of reproach and reproof from the Papal master it too vehemently served, and was a perpetual affliction to those CathoKc populations that were desirous of com- bitung allegiance to the Pope with loyalty to their native monarchs, and of living on good terms with their Pro- testant feUow-countrymen. There was feud between the steady-going Catholic clergy and the Jesuits. It was by no means the vsdsh of the latter that a pleasant life should be possible for Cathohcs in England while England remained heretical, or that the Pope should come to an accommo- dation v?ith kings who continued in schism. In the prisons, where persecuted Cathohcs were huddled together, disputes raged between these two parties, the principle of the one being Catholicism and, if possible, a quiet hfe, the principle of the other Cathohcism triumphant or death. The Jesuits most vexatiously comphcated that problem of toleration which presented itself to the Stuart Kings on 128 Henrietta Maria. ascending the throne of England. They had a mixed popu- lation of Protestants and Papists to govern, and justice requires the admission that one grand object of their poMcy was to prevent the Protestants from riding rough-shod over the Papists. Mr. Isaac DisraeH did good service to our historical literature by expounding and defending the Stuart pohcy in relation to the contending faiths. It lay in James, both as a thinker of wide intellectual glance and as a man of easy, kindly temper, to have anticipated the domestic and international policy of Eicheheu, conceding life, hberty, and equahty before the law to every loyal subject without distinction of creeds, and having respect, in deal- ings with foreign Powers, not to their reHgious behefs, but to a preservation of the European equilibrium. On first 'Coming iato England, James set his face against persecu- tion, and laughed at the Prndtans who implored him to save them from Popery, defining Puritans as "Protestants frightened out of their wits." But the narrow escape of King, Lords, and Commons from being blown up by fanatical Papists, took the edge from this jest. The Gun- powder Plot baffled James's wish to introduce a policy of toleration, but he continued to make it his object that no man should die for his religion as such; and his son, Charles, in declarations both to Marshal Bassompierre and to the Long Parliament, professed acquiescence in this object, as defining a sound pohcy of toleration. Perhaps the most im- pressive piece of evidence that can be adduced in A-indica- tion, or in condemnation, of the Stuarts, is that the charge of incurable duplicity has been brought against them both by Papists and Pmitans. Under stress of circumstances they promised more than they could per- form to both parties, but they honestly desired to prevent the one party from preying on the other. "Whatever their defects, the Stuarts struck a higher key-note of national pohcy in respect of toleration than the Tudo^s, and The Queen and the Jesuits. 129 the problem of toleration was rendered insoluble for them mainly by the Jesuits. These considerations, important in their general bearing on the history of the period, have special relation to the position and influence of Henrietta Maria. The Jesuits were emphatically the servants and soldiers of the Queen. They had most intimate relations with the palace, and when any decisive step was contemplated by Her Majesty and friends, there were whispers of it among the Jesuits in the prisons. In estimating the danger of her influence upon Charles, the Parliamentary leaders could not be bHnd to the fact that she had at her command a number of desperate zealots, in whose eyes war to the knife with Protestantism was virtue, and who were perfectly certain that death for their faith would earn them the crown of martyrdom. The dominance of the Puritans in the Long ParHament would naturally make her lean stiU more decisively on the Jesuits. While it was safer to be a Papist than a Puritan, she naight have been content to leave her co-reHgionists in the hands of Laud ; but when the Puritan Parhament arose to con- sume them "hke devouring fire," she could scarce fail to seek her aUies among those truculent warriors of the Papacy who met the Puritans vpith a hatred as fierce, a courage as proud, an enthusiasm as fervent, as their own. It was between Puritan and Jesuit that the agony of battle, in the second period of the Eeformation, lay ; and, but for the Puritan, the Jesuit would have won. Henrietta Maria can be specifically named as the author of the Civil War. At her bidding it was that Charles drew the sword. It is therefore not surprising that she should have been bitterly hated by EngHsh Protestants of her own time, and should be severely handled by modem Protestant authors. But reason bids us recognise that it is just as noble in Papists to fight for aU that makes Hfe valuable as it is for Protestants. In vehemently exerting herself for the 9 130 Henrietta Maria. Catholics, Henrietta Maria deserves our sympathy and admiration. If armed resistance on the part of an op- pressed minority was ever justifiable upon earth, it was jus- tifiable on the part of the Catholics of England and Ireland in the middle of the seventeenth century. The cry of the Puritan Parliament for Cathohc blood was as the cry of the horse-leech's daughter. True, the Puritans were not so bad as they seemed. Their words were drawn swords, but when told to kill, they put them back into the scabbard. They had not emancipated themselves from the theory of persecu- tion, but they had begun to outgrow its practice. The Par- Hament demanded that six or eight Jesuits, reprieved by Charles, should be ordered by him to execution. He deftly told honourable members to do with the prisoners what they chose, and not a hair of their heads was injured. The Jesuit Goodman heroically offered to die rather than be a cause of offence between King and Parliament ; they could not kill him. Henrietta Maria, however, and the Eoman Catholics of England and Ireland cannot be blamed for taking the Puritans, in the capacity of persecutors, at their own estimate. And if the lives of the CathoHcs who did not take up arms might be pronounced safe, the proscription of their religion was absolute. " If these men are to cany everything before them," Henrietta might have said, as she marked the proceedings of the Parliament, " the few Eng- hsh faithful to the Church, and the millions of Irish who devotedly cling to their ancestraf faith, which faith is also mine and was my father's, will commit a criminal act, pro- bably a capitally criminal act, every time they partake in rites essential to salvation." If she had not bestirred her- self on their behalf, she would have been despicable ; and can we severely blame her because, when standing up against fearful odds in defence of the oppressed CathoHcs, she did not confine herself to constitutional methods? English Protestants had never paid much respect to her The Celtic Blood-fever. 131 marriage articles, and she may be pardoned for setting small store by English law "when, as aU the world now acknowledges, it sanctioned cruel injustice. To say that Henrietta Maria sympathised with the Irish rebels — to hold it to be aU but demonstrable that she coun- tenanced the projected rising — is one thing ; to say that she directly or indirectly promoted the atrocities which soon covered the whole transaction with infamy would be quite another. The Irish rebellion as planned, and the Irish rebelHon as executed, were as different as Hght and dark- ness. The Celtic races are pecuharly liable to the blood- thirst, or blood-fever, which in times of revolutionary ex- citement turns human beings into fiends. The contrast between the professions of Celts before they go mad, and their doings when the delirium is at its height, is so astounding that a strenuous effort of thought is required in order to realise the sincerity of the professions. Uni- versal philanthropy was without question the motive of the French Jacobins. We all know what the Jacobins became when maddened by fear of aristocratic plots and Prussian bayonets, and when they had tasted blood. The manifestoes issued by the chiefs of the Irish rebellion at the outset of the enterprise were reasonable and just ; and if we honestly restrict our attention to their situation at the moment, we shall be constrained to admit, first, that their plea was sound, and, secondly, that it was impossible for Henrietta Maria not to vnsh them success. Consider the position of the Irish Catholics in the summer of 1641. Their religion had long been proscribed by law. Their property had been at the mercy of their con- querors. Their country had been governed by a numeri- cal minority, consisting of strangers and of Protestants. Nevertheless, under the civil rule of Strafford and the ecclesiastical rule of Laud, their life had been endm'able, and they had, on the whole, been content to submit. But 9—2 132 Henrietta Maria. Strafford had been struck down, and Laud was in the Tower. The Irish ParHament, which had crouched at the heels of Strafford in the day of his power, no sooner saw the Commons of England attacking him than they joined in the cry, full yeU, hke the hounds of Actaeon when they turned on their master. This fact is the key to the Irish rebellion. It is not of their old and standing grievances that the rebels speak ia the proclamation on which I ground these observations. It is of the prospect opened up to them by the predominance of a Parliament of Puritans, a Parliament which regarded it as a rehgious duty to ex- tirpate their faith. They could expect nothing better than such tyraimical repression as would render life intolerable. Which of us would not have rebelled, if we had then been Irish Catholics ? When they tasted blood, they went mad more Gallico ; but in the proclamation to which I refer there is no more hint or adumbration of massacre and outrage than there is in the National Covenant of Scot- land. The objects of the rising, as therein indicated, will continue just so long as it is just for men to fight for the altar and the hearth. They called themselves the soldiers of the Queen, and I beUeve that what they said was sub- stantially true. She had been their protectress. Their enemies were her enemies. The Parhament, whose ascendency they beheved to be incompatible with the ex- istence of CathoHcism in Ireland, was detested by her as cordially as by them. During the summer of 1641, when Henrietta Maria was iadustriously engaged in army plots, and in negotiations with CathoUc Powers for mUitary assistance to protect the Cathohcs of England and of Ire- land, " an unspeakable number " of Irish Ch\u-chmen, and " some good old soldiers," who had served in Spain, passed through London on their way to Ireland. These, whose movements were well known to the Jesuits, who again were perfectly in the confidence of the Queen, were not likely The Irish BeheUion. 133 to be misinformed as to the light in which Her Majesty would view any attempt on the part of the Irish Catholics to defend their cause and her own in arms. The rebels alleged that the Queen and the King signed comnaissions war- ranting the enterprise. This has been commonly regarded as incredible ; but the allegation of the insurgents was not a mere fiction, an impudent lie. To write on a bill the name of a commercial partner, with whom you are on confidential terms, and whose mind and wQl have been amply signified to you, is lax morality ; but it is a different thing from unsanctioned forgery. The King's dark plot- tings with Montrose, in Edinburgh, at the very time when the train was about to be ignited in Ireland ; the con- viction of Argyle and Hamilton that their arrest, if not death, had been schemed by Charles, and the presumption, almost amounting to certainty, that he intended to make a clutch at the military force in Scotland ; the circumstance that the nucleus of the little army with which Montrose afterwards did such wonders, consisted of Irish CathoKcs ; the reluctance of His Majesty to apply to the Irish Catho- hcs the name of rebels ; aU these items of evidence, taken along with the express statement of the rebels that they acted rmder his directions, justify the grave suspicion of the Patriots that he had a hand in the business. As for Henrietta Maria, there is no conceivable reason why she should have had more scruple in counting upon the aid of Irish Papists to rescue herself and her co- rehgionists from thraldom and from deadly peril., than in invoking help from French Papists or Spanish I'apists ; and though Charles did not adhere consistently and reso- lutely to the views of the Queen, but wavered between party and party Hke a wave of the sea, it was to the Queen, and not to the constitutional Protestants of Eng- land, that he gave ear at the critical junctm'e when it had become a matter of hfe or death for him to disabuse 134 Henrietta Maria. his Parliament of the idea that he had leagued himself with Papists, both Irish and Enghsh, against the rehgion and the liberty of the country. We can hardly blame the Queen for distrusting so cautious and haK-hearted an auxiliary as Clarendon, or for pressing on the King the dangerous and daring poHcy of a direct attack, in the first days of 1642, upon the Patriot leaders. The course she advised proved ruinous ; but a cordial alHance -with the High Church EoyaUsts could not have been rehed upon by her to ensure tolerable terms for the CathoHcs, and would not improbably have issued, at an early date, in the appUcation of the whole power of England to the suppression of the Irish rebellion, and the taking of a terrible revenge upon the rebels. Can we blame her for not yet throwing up the game ? Under her influence, Charles played false to Clarendon and Falkland, and irretrievably lost the confidence of the Protestant Cavahers. They fought for him because he insisted upon it, and by way of calming their consciences before submitting to the Puritan Parhament, but he never had their trust. Henrietta Maria made no secret to Madame de Motte- ville that she had advised the King to attempt the arrest of the five members. Her Majesty's Jesuit friends in the prisons had their agitated whispeongs of that event several days before it took place. It was debated in a secret conclave, of whose existence the outvntted Clarendon and the ingen- uous Falldand appear to have had no surmise. If we may believe " Coke's manuscript, preserved by Archetil Grey," and quoted by Forster, a "long and very passionate debate" occurred in the palace conclave on the night before the attempt, ending in the adoption by the King of the resolu- tion to make the arrest in person next morning. "When the time came, however, his prudence or his timidity prevailed, and, going to the chamber of the Queen, he tried to argue her Tlie Queen's Policy. 135 into an admission of the madness of the project. Her Majesty- was at the moment in conversation with Lady Carlisle, and Charles took Henrietta away with laim into an adjoining closet. She vehemently remonstrated, exclaiming, so loudly that Lady Carhsle could hear, " Allez, poltron! Go, puU these rogues out by the ears ; ou ne me revoyez jamais !" So he went. The rumour derives countenance from the fact that it has always been alleged that the hint of the approach of Charles was conveyed to Pym by Lady CarHsle. This friend and confidante of Henrietta Maria's was not the most creditable or safe of associates. The daughter of the Earl of Northumberland, she visited her father when he was confined in the Tower in James's reign, and entered into tender aUiance with the Countess of Somerset, then also in the Tower under sentence for murder. Encouraged by her friend the Countess, she eloped with " the gaijdy profligate. Hay, Earl of Carhsle." She is described as of a complexion pale as ivory, with " soft, dark eyes, glancing with treacherous voluptuousness." She knew how to set off the paleness of her complexion by a dress intensely black ; and Waller calls her, " a Venus rising from a sea of jet." Henrietta Maria's fundamental principle seems to have been that force alone could save the Catholics and herself. The proposed arrest of the Patriot leaders was but part of a project which comprised an appeal to arms. Without this, indeed, its foHy would have been not only supreme, but iaexpHcable. Lunsford, Digby, and a few other head- strong adherents of the Court, appeared in arms at Kingston. The attitude of the capital and the tramp of the Buckingham riders pouring into London to defend Hampden made them vanish quick enough, but neither Henrietta Maria nor Charles abandoned the warlike part of the plan. An ostensible occasion for her departure was found in the conveyance of the Princess Mary, a child of 136 Henrietta Maria. ten, affianced to the Prince of Orange, to Holland; but Her Majesty went witli the express purpose of preparing war, and carried with her the Crown jewels, to be sold or pawned for arms. Charles conducted her to Dover, ' and rode some leagues along the shore, watching the ship . on its course. Landed in Holland, relieved from the vexation of Charles's moaning incompetence, and the everlasting fret and worry of the Parliamentary negotiations, vsdth the faithful Jermyn and the fiery Digby at her side, Henrietta showed herself her father's daughter. Her activity and address were irresistible. Heavy-sterned Dutch Mighti- nesses became buoyant in her presence, their Puritan and EepubHcan sympathies melting like wax in the electric current of her glances and her words. She raised in a few months no less than two milhons sterling — an enormous sum for that period. In the early spring of 1643 she sailed from Scheveling in a first-rate En^ish ship, accompanied by eleven transports filled -nith ammu- nition and stores. All Holland seems to have cheered her on, and Van Tromp himself gave her convoy. Having surmounted every difficulty on land, she was encountered by perils of the sea. For nine days the squadron tossed and struggled in the teeth of a tremendous gale. Two vessels were lost, but her heart never failed her, and her perfect courage and irrepressible vivacity supported her retinue in the darkest hour. There was nothing for it but to seek refuge once more in a Dutch port. In a few days she re-embarked, and now at last fortune favom-ed the brave. A fair wind car- ried her to Bridlington Bay, on the Yorkshii'e coast. On the 22nd of February she set foot in England, having been absent almost a year. Next morning she was awaliened by the sound of great guns. Batten, the Parliamentary admiral, favoured by the tide, was cannonading the town, The Queen in YorksJdre. 137 and aiming his shot at the very house in which she 'lay. Two balls came crashing through the roof, and penetrated from top to bottom. Henrietta started up, threw herseK into what clothes she could snatch, and, " bare-foot and bare-leg," ran for her life. On the street of Bridhngton she perceives that her pet dog, Mitte, ugly and old, has been left behind. She runs back, goes upstairs, takes Mitte from the bed in her arms, and effects her retreat. "We next find her crouching with her women under a bank ; a ball, ploughing up the ground overhead, covers the party with earth and stones. The ebb tide enabling Van Tromp to try conclusions with Batten, the latter sheers off, and the Queen takes up her quarters in Boynton Hall, the seat of Sir Walter Strickland. Here she received a letter from Charles, full of affection, admiration, and " impatient passion of gratitude." He might well thank her; had his other friends served him as effectively as she, the war might have had a very different issue. Her Majesty was equal to all occasions, suaviter in modo, fortiter in re. Meeting a rough sea-captain, one of Batten's men who had fired upon her, on thp way to execution, she pardons him on the spot, converting him, by the gift of his life and the witchery of her smile, from a Eoundhead into a CavaHer ; but while being entertained at the table of Sir Walter Strickland, who, though on the Parliament side, was hospitably polite to his sovereign lady, she took note of the plate vnth. which the room was adorned, and mentioned to Sir Walter that it would be of service to the King. The plate was appropriated accordingly, the gallant host consoling himseK as he best might with a portrait of Henrietta, which she presented to him. Alive to more serious business, she received Scarborough Castle from Sir Hugh Cholmondely, and in- trigued vehemently with the Hothams for the surrender of Hull. 138 Henrietta Maria. Need it be said that the presence of the Queen was an inspiration for all CathoHc hearts in England? In particular it blew into white heat the loyalty of those Papists of the Midland and Northern counties who formed the bone and sinew of Newcastle's army. The Marquis detached 2,000 horsemen to conduct her and her train across the wolds to Malton, on the way to York. The centres of the King's interest in those parts were at this time York and Newark. In the south-east lay the counties leagued together in what is known to all readers of the pamphlets and newspapers of the period as the Eastern Association. At first six, and subsequently seven, counties, lying between the Thames and the Humber, were united offensively and defensively in the maintenance of the Parhament's cause, and had the advantage to possess, by way of soul to their body, that "very fiery particle," Oliver Cromwell. Her march from York to Newark re- quired skill and wariness ; but she effected it in fine style. Prom Newark, when about to start on her way to join Charles, she wrote with a nawe and feminine exultation highly characteristic but not unpleasant: — "I carry with me 3,000 foot, thirty companies of horse and dragoons, six pieces of cannon, and two mortars. Harry Jermyn commands the forces which go with me, as colonel of my guard. Sir Alexander Lesley the foot under him, Gerard the horse, and Eobin Legge the artillery, and her she-Majesty generalissima over all ; and extremely dihgent am I, with 150 waggons of baggage to govern in case of battle." The joy and enthusiasm of Henrietta could not fail to reflect themselves in every face in her httle army, and he must have been the basest of churls who would liavo grumbled at hardships which she shared vnth. the meanest soldiov. She wrote rebuking the King for not sharing ln;v confidence, and for vacillating in his re- Bolvoa. She took LJurton-on-Trcnt by storm. On the The Queen's Success. 139 2ncl of July she was at Stratford-on-Avon, occupying Shakespeare's house. On the 13th of the month, in the vale of Keinton, she and Charles met. Eighteen months had elapsed since she undertook the dangerous and difficult task of bringing succour from Holland. Her performance thereof, one of the most briUiant episodes known to me in Enghsh history, has not received from English authors the attention it deserves. Not one haK- page in the fag-end of an essay does our pictorial and copious Macaulay, whose spirited verses in celebration of the victor of Ivry might have disposed him to do justice to Henry's daughter, devote to this bright woman, a Catholic among a nation of raging Protestants, unsup- ported by any man approaching her in strength of cha- racter or braia, who electrified Dutch Mightinesses by her pathetic zeal, defied the dangers of the sea, ran the gauntlet of exasperated foes, and finally marched a gallant little army into the camp of her husband ia his extreme need. For a time it might have been thought that her coming had conclusively turned the tide of success in the Eoyal favour. This summer was for Charles the most promising period of the whole war. In spite of prodigious exertions by CromweU in the Eastern Association, and sturdy work in Yorkshire by the Fairfaxes and Manchester, the allied counties found their troops pushed steadily backward, and were unable to make good their grasp upon Lincolnshire. Hopton defeated the Parhamentary Earl of Stamford in the far south-west in May. Hampden fell in June. Waller was broken on Lansdown Heath in July. Bristol surren- dered to Prince Eupert in August. Had Charles then advanced on London, he might, in the opinion of many then and since, have carried everything before him. The voice of the Queen was still for war. ConcLuest, predomi- nance, dismissal of the abhorred Parliament, were the I'lO Henrietta Maria, objects on which she was peremptorily intent. Charles was willing enough to take her advice ; he " saw," Cla- rendon says, "with her eyes, and determined by her judg- ment ; " but he could not have her heart in his breast or her brains in his skull, and that was the thing wanted. Henrietta had touched the highest point of all her great- ness, crossing the meridian line at that proud hour when she rode, with Jermyn at her side, generahssima of her own tight little army. More depressing to her spirit than nine days of tossing on the waves, more trying to her courage and enthusiasm than the cannon shots of Batten shattering the floor on which she slept, were the grumbling, the cabaUing, the mahgnant spites and jealousies, the inter- minable factious babblement, of Charles's quarters. She soon had occasion to blame herself, as De MotteviUe says she did vdth unsparing severity, for dissuading the K^ing from a pacific pohcy when the prosperous state of his affairs, in the summer of 1643, made it hkely that he might obtain favourable terms. When the excitement consequent upon her arrival subsided, the invincible repugnance with which the Anghcan Cavahers regarded her influence upon Charles became apparent ; and it was gradually made manifest that the new argument, which her presence in England afforded those who affirmed that the Eoyal cause was the cause of the Papists, more than counterbalanced her 3,000 soldiers and 150 waggon-loads of arms and ammunition. "SMiat a weapon, for example, did this whole business of her Majesty put into the hand of Henry Vane when he went, in the course of this summer, to Edinburgh, to ask the Cove- nanters of Scotland to come to the help of the Pai-hament ! About the same time, om- friend Prynne, still staimch on the Patriot side, fighting the King in his ovm name and for his own sake, published one of his innumerable books, warning his countrynion against the appalling dangers in the wind from Popish plots and personages, and dweUing Clouding of the Prospect. 141 lamentably upon tlie subject of the Queen. I do not know whether she had landed when the book appeared, but the picture it presents of her influence with the King would be rendered all the more impressive by that event. Of " Queen Mary," said Prynne, they " might really affirm in reference to His Majesty, what some of their Popish doctors have most blasphemously written of the Virgin Mary in relation to God and Christ, that all things are subject to the com- mand of Mary, even God Himself e : that she is the Empresse and Queen of heaven, and of greatest authority in the king- dom of heaven, where she may not only impetrate but conunand whatsoever she pleaseth," &c., &c. The flush of loyal excitement produced by Her Majesty's landing was a poor compensation for the advantage it lent the enemy in giving edge to the taunt that the "King's men were fighting the battle of the Papists. In April, 1644, the glowing prospects of July, 1643, had so completely clouded over, that it was thought well the Queen should retreat into the west. She bade farewell to Charles on the 3rd of the month, never to see his face again. In the following June, at Exeter, under circumstances of great wretchedness, she gave birth to a daughter, the short- lived Henrietta of Orleans. A fortnight later, in dread of being arrested and taken to London for trial, she left her infant and sailed for France. The ship was chased by a Parhament cruiser of overwhelnung superiority, and seemed likely to be taken. Henrietta Maria summoned the captain into her presence, and ordered him, if he found escape hopeless, to blow up the ship. Her women and domestics uttered, not inexcusably, " des cris horribles." To perish, one and aU, because their mistress preferred certain death at sea to possible or probable death on shore, was too great a demand upon their devotion. Henrietta alone maintained a " courageous silence." Her conscience, she told De Mottevflle — ^for this notable incident we have from the lips 142 Henrietta Maria. of the Queen — smote her, but she could not break her pride, and accordingly " demeura indecise sur la gloire etemelle et la mondaine." The captain, however, contrived to make off, and she landed in Bretagne. The gentlemen of the district, hearing of her arrival, came forward and escorted her to Bourbon. She looked very ill and much changed, and was almost always weeping. Having remained at Bourbon until her health was restored, she proceeded to Paris. At this point we may leave her, the details of her Ufe in Paris having no essential bearing on the part she played in EngUsh history. She continued to exert herself with the old assiduity for Charles, intriguing with this potentate and with that, carting home rich harvests of promise, finding them yield a mere nothing of wheat when threshed out. She once told Charles that letters from the Duke of Lor- raine announced that 10,000 men were to be sent to his rescue ; and the sanguine folly of the man was perhaps egregious enough to make him capable of being lifted from the ground in a balloon hke that; but no one else was deceived. Rev power with the King continued absolute. She scolded him when he evinced any disposition to sur- render the mihtia, sneered at his superstitious fondness for bishops, and specifically gave the order in obedience to which he rejected the demands of the Parhament and the Scots at Newcastle. Some of her expressions to him were harsh, and it must be admitted that the balance of affection was much on his side ; but it was not in the nature of things that the clearest and most determinate of women should sympathise with or passionately love the most fitful, irresolute, and casuistical of men. It is fair to recollect, also, that there are traces of tenderness in her letters. " Be kind to me, or you Mil me," she once says. Clarendon casts on her the suspicion of having discouraged plans for the escape of Charles from the Isle of Wight ; bat the sleek Harry Jermyn. 143 Chancellor, having vainly cringed to her and fawned upon her, hated her mortally. When the King was in the gripe of the regicides, she exerted herself to the utmost in his behalf. Hallam seems of opinion that the fortitude with which she bore separation from her husband was due in part to the solace derived from Harry Jermyn. He had been her page from an early period in her married hfe, had put his life in jeopardy as an agent in her plots, had ridden at the head of her guard when leading her to the camp of Charles, had been rewarded with the title of Baron of St. Edmunds- bury, and had again shared her exile. In short, he had been as true to her as any of his old mariners to Ulysses, " and ever with a froUc welcome took the thunder and the sunshine" of her fortunes. He was not of a romantic disposition, a circumstance which might not be funda- mentally adverse to his success with a mercurial woman. "What I have seen of his writing gives me the idea of a shrewd, cool, sarcastic man, of limited enthusiasm, capable of disregarding the prismatic and vaporous adornments of rumour and taking his own measure of things. He remarks to Digby, a propos of help to be sent to Montrose, that the Marquis, if he obtained it, " might make his victories pro- fitable as well as miraculous." In Jermyn's portrait there is a saucy kind of look, as if he had experienced a good deal of scorn in his day, and was competent to return it with usury. Miss Strickland is indignantly certain that there was nothing vrrong in his relations with the Queen — aU dehcately resplendent Platonism. Hallam is not so con- iident, being probably less versed in the finer sensibilities of the heart. After Charles's death, Henrietta married Jermyn and bore bim children, without which, Miss Strickland thinks, the Platonism would have been still more dehcately resplendent. In her devotion to her Church, Henrietta never failed or 141 Henrietta Marie flinched. For the poor Catholics she risked her hie in England, and in her letters from France she strictly en- joined Charles never to forget or forsake them. She thought more of the spiritual interests of her children than of their sitting upon the throne of England, compassed heaven and earth to make proselytes of them, and was piously tyran- nical in her attempts to force the boy Duke of Gloucester into Popery. In the gloomiest times her vivacity and her ■wit could brighten up her circle. If in some sad story, vyhile her cheek was wet with tears, a humorous incident or trait of character occurred to her, she would flash sud- denly into briUiant mimetic representation, and set every one near her laughing. She checked herself in an account of the fall of Strafford to say that he was an ugly man, but had the finest hands in the world. Having, as she knew or fancied, lost her youthful beauty at twenty-two, she held a theory that the bloom of womanhood always faded at that age. She had all a woman's pride of rank, and, after the Eestoration, took a leading part in the disgraceful intrigue to undermine the reputation of the Duchess of York. In her closing years, she founded a rehgious house, and lived much among nuns and priests. It is interesting to observe how, under the artistic touch of Bossuet, Henrietta Maria beams into a heroine and saint. The enamel of eloquence flows over the bust, cover- ing all cracks and blemishes, throwing about the whole the witchery of colour. When the blemish is eminent, the colouring is proportionately bold. So just, says Bossuet, so severe to herself, was this saint ; " a persecutor irrecon- cilable of her own passions," Rather strong of the woman who proposed to send a captain, a crew, and a bevy of attendants sky-high, because she preferred death at sea to death on shore ; who acted as Hemietta acted in the affair of Anne Hydo ; and whose Platonism vyith the seducer of Eleanor Villiors is more clear to Miss Strickland than to Bossuet's Funeral Sermon. 145 Hallajn ! But he does no more than justice to the CathoHc zeal of Henrietta. The children of God in England, says Bossuet, when Henrietta appeared as their protectress, had neither altar nor sanctuary; and the tribunals which ought to have been their places of refuge denied them justice and pity. But when the " worthy daughter of St. Louis" landed, things began to wear a different aspect. A chapel, fitted up with becoming magnificence in Somerset House, restored to the Church her ancient forms. The prayers, the devotions, the retraites of the Queen supported the re- putation of " the thrice-Christian house of France." There the priests of the Oratory could preach, undaunted by the scowl of heresy. There the Capuchin fathers dared to lift up their voices in a strange land, and the afflicted faithful of England joined with them in singing the songs of Zion. Henrietta Maria was indeed faithful to her Church; and her championship of the Eoman Catholic cause in England brought her husband to the block and her descendants to beggary. 10 V. CHAELES THE FIEST. 10—2 CHAPTEE V. CHABLES THE FIBST. WE have now arrived at that actor in the drama of the Puritan Eevolution who has been regarded by many, not by any means by all, as playing the principal part in that strange eventful history ; principal in pathos and in a glory more sublime than that of success, the glory of martyr heroism and saintly endm-ance ; a figure that naturally rises before the imagination when in thought we con over sad stories of the death of kings; the melancholy, heavy-laden figure of Charles the First. Knowing something of his father, of Laud, of Bucking- ham, of Henrietta Maria, we are not without preparation for inteUigently looking at himself. From James he inherited peculiarities both physical and mental ; but fate bestowed on him a full proportion of his father's defects, deducting the sagacity and geniahty that redeemed them in old Jemmy, and making no better com- pensation for this cruel drawback than consisted in a few gifts and graces, calculated to shine as adornments of kingly strength, but not to act as substitutes for it. He was an ailing child, and exhibited indelible traces of James's tottering gait and stuttering articulation. The anecdotic annals of the early life of celebrated men are apt to be coloured by Hghts reflected from their career, but a crowd of witnesses ascribe to Charles, from very early years, unusual wilfulness. If Lilly can be trusted, 150 Charles the First. "the old Scottish lady, his nurse, used to affirm that he was of a very evil nature even in his infancy," and his own mother predicted harm from his self-will. Per- sistence in whim, tenacity of pique, are, however, no vouchers for force of character, and Charles was with- out question distinguished by infirmity of purpose. As compared v?ith his elder brother Henry, he was booMsh, and Henry is said to have marked him out for Arch- bishop of Canterbtiry. He hated the coarseness, con- fusion, sordid Htter and buffoonery of his father's Court; had a true taste in art, evinced by his surrounding himself vyith a constellation of noble works by Titian, Giorgione, Eaphael; and, though capable of intense at- tachments, was reserved and unsocial. James failed in dignity, but failure in dignity does not make a good- natured king unpopular; Charles was pxmctilious, proud, and generally disHked. James was foohshly familiar; Charles went to the opposite and more perilous extreme of surrounding himself vnth frost-work barriers of etiquette, and ticketed the rooms of Whitehall in the ratio of their accessibihty to courtiers of various ranks. Few men are seriously angered by the famihar advances of a king, but there is reason to beheve that Charles procm'ed himself embittered enmity by harsh enforcement of his regulations as to the rooms. In James the religious element was in- tellectual and logical; in Charles it was more allied to mysticism, devout reverie, and the enthusiasm of mental surrender. Fine veins — ^feminine, priestly, artistic — ^ran through his character with beautifying effect ; but the rock in which they showed was not of sufficient strength. Authors have indulged in sweeping statements as to the acclamations which greeted Charles on ascending the throne ; but the truth, easily discerned beneath a few superficial phenomena, is tliat everything except the con- fused sentiment of loyal affection and random hope which Unpopular from the First. 151 attends all princes at the beginning of their reign was against him. There were bonfires and bad poetry, but the nation was in a dangerous humour. The people had loved Henry, the rough prince, fond of martial exercises, and supposed to lean to the Puritans ; and Charles was already associated in the popular mind with the new-fangled and detested notions of Dr. Laud. Before James's death, the Protestantism of Charles was so much distrusted that schemes were afloat in hot and foolish heads for changing the order of succession. In a document addressed by Somerset to James in the last period of his life, it is actually hinted that Count Mansfeldt's object in coming to England was to act the spy or "skowte" on behaK of the Elector Palatine, with a view to the substitution of the Calvinistic Frederick for the Anglo-CathoHc Charles. Such aji idea was of cotirse preposterous ; but if Somerset could put it in black and white and place it under the eyes of James, we may be sure that a mixed multitude were agitated vyith vdld alarm as to the danger to be incurred by English Protestantism from the accession of Charles. A proof still more impressive of the unpopularity of the new King is derived from the fact that he, or Buckingham in his interest, was accused by the multitude of having poisoned James. In the disputes in which he was speedily involved vdth Parliament, the intensity of the popular feehng on the subject of the new Arminian and Anglo-CathoUc theology was curiously manifested. Montague, a clergyman who had made himself conspicuous by his Arminianism, and whom Laud and Charles ostentatiously patronised, was formally accused by the Commons, and was declared, first of all, to have insulted the late king's memory by his Arminian doctrine. Such a charge could not have been seriously pressed in a court of law, but its having been made by the House of Commons is a striking evidence and illustration of the disadvantage under which, from the very 152 Charles the First. commenoement of his reign, Charles I. carried on his Government. He had all his father's difficulties, and most formidable difficulties of his own. He was impopular from the first. Such indications of the public feeling as have been specified are apt, from their mere triviality or absurdity, to be taken no account of by historians. The morning mist having vanished utterly, no one remembers the effects it produced on the landscape; but if we want to know how some one lost his way and perished among the mountains or in the wood, it will be necessary for us to recall the precise aspects of his situation. From the first day of his reign, and we may safely add to the last, Charles groped his way through a fog — a fog of mis- understanding that enveloped him and his subjects alike. This will become plain when we reahse the exact circum- stances in which he was placed. Of Bucldngham — who, iu the last years of James and the first years of Charles, was practically at the head of affairs — it has been already remarked that he was a fool of genius. The audacity, the impassioned energy, the speculative resource, even the insight (in occasional flashes) of genius, were his ; but he lacked the judgment and the patience without which genius is the ^ving of Icarus. He may be credited with the policy of the French match, and candour wiU admit that it was in some respects able, high-toned, and generous. It was, first of all, the old Elizabethan pohoy of hostility to Spain, and thus addressed itself to the sympathies of that great body of EngHshmen whose ideas of England's duty in the world were confined to the two simple objects of fighting Spain abroad and crushing Eoman Cathohcism at home ; but it brought this traditional policy into accordance with modern requirements by a system of aUionces with France and the Northern Pro- Btichingham' s Schemes. 153 testant Powers. The mere hammering of Spain was to be only a part, and a comparatively insignificant part, of the general programme. Justice to Buckingham bids us suppose that he had attained some apprehension of those principles of national administration and of inter- national amity which have now, for about two centuries, been put in practice by the leading nations of Europe, and which, at the period of which we write, lent inspira- tion to the noblest statesmanship at once of Wallenstein and of EicheHeu. Loyalty to the King — acceptance of the civil constitution of the realm — was to be required of subjects as the sole condition of their enjoying civil rights and religious Hberty. CathoHc and Protestant sub- jects were to live side by side in peace ; and Catholic and Protestant Powers were to make common cause against any of their number which proved masterful and encroach- ing. The Austrian Empire, animated vnth the spirit of that Catholic revival which had taken place under the auspices of the Society of Jesus, wielding the resources of a vast territory and an immense population, and having at its command such warriors as Tilly and Wal- lensteiu, was formidable not only to Protestantism, but to the best interests of the European Commonwealth. With the general design of checking the predominance of the Empire, the particular pm'pose of restoring Frederick to his Palatinate would well agree. Christian of Denmark, uncle of Charles and of the Electress Palatine, would naturally fall in with the views of the Allies. England and France, differing in rehgion but harmonising in their European poUcy, knit together by the gold ring of a royal marriage, would head the League. If this outHne of the policy and plans of Buckingham and Charles is substantially correct, we can scarcely refuse to admit that such views were consistent with a conscious- ness of patriotic intention, and were not unfitted to inspire 151 Charles the First. in the Duke and his master an intelligent enthusiasm. Were they not such as might have been favourably enter- tained by the English people and by the leaders of the House of Commons? We must pause before replying in the affirmative. The scheme of Buckingham was funda- mentally the scheme of Eichelieu; and when we look searchingly into Eicheheu's policy we find that it could not have been safely taken over wholesale by the Parliament and people of England. By the civil power Eicheheu meant emphatically and distinctively the power of the king. France was in that stage of poUtical evolution when the people, oppressed by many aristocratic tyrants, hope to find in the king a dehverer. England had now entered upon that much more advanced stage of poHtical evolution, during which the nation assumes, throiigh the instrumen- tality of representatives, the government of itseK. It had already become impossible in England, though many a weary year, many a dark day of battle and of civic strife, were to pass before the fact of its impossibility was admitted on all sides, that the will or word of a king could be accepted as an adequate guarantee for the rights of subjects. The course of events has demonstrated that, even in France, the guarantee offered by Eicheheu, to vdt, the promise of the sovereign, was not to be rehed on. " Sub- mit impHcitly to the King," said Eicheheu in effect to the Huguenots ; " surrender your privileges into his hands, and you shall enjoy civil freedom and reHgious tolera- tion." The great body of the Huguenots Hstened to his voice. They permitted themselves to be borne along on the wave of national impulse that tended to throw all things at the foot of the throne. They left the naino- rity to struggle alone. In vain did the brave burghers of Eochollo uplift the banner of liberty as well as that of religion. In vain did the Duke de Eohan call upon the ?he Huguenots. 155 Huguenots throughout France to rally to the defence of the last of their fortresses, adjuring them to remember the motto, " Complete victory, secure peace, or honourable death." The spirit of compromise, "with its enervating plausibilities, was too strong for him. The mass of the Huguenots left Eochelle to its fate. They had their reward. EicheHeu did not play them false. They were allowed to worship God under their own vine and fig-tree in the sunny South of France. And what was the result? Why this — that their religious liberty, secm-ed only by the word and will of the sovereign, not rooted in the Constitu- tion of France, was torn up by the first sovereign whom the Jesuit and the knave could incite to the enormity. Louis XrV. took back the boon which Louis XIII. gave, and the proscription of the Beformed Church throughout France, and the expulsion of the Huguenots from the kingdom, showed the fatal mistake of those Frenchmen who had left the sword of CoMgny to rust in its scabbard, and had been content with toleration by sufferance. Every Englishman who rejoices that such a thing as the Eevocation of the Edict of Nantes was impossible in England — that, before the seventeenth century closed, toleration had been em- bedded in the very foundations of our Constitution — has cause to thank God that the Puritans did their work more effectually than the Huguenots, that the assertion of political freedom went hand in hand with the vindication of rehgious hberty, and that neither was trusted to the word of a Mng. Charles and Buckingham, therefore, though there was much that was not merely plausible and imposing but truly enhghtened in their designs, fotmd themselves speedily entangled in a coil of difficulties. Eicheheu's scheme of first striking down the Huguenots with the royal hand, cased in iron glove, and then extending to them the same hand in the silken glove of clemency and toleration, was 15G Charles the First. too complicated for the rough and half-informed intelli- gence of the Bnghsh people. What English Protestants wanted was that the fighting Huguenots should be directly and effectually succoured, not by negotiation, but in arms. The theory of absolute royal supremacy, which played so important a part in Eicheheu's system, could neither be explicitly brought forward in England, nor safely acted upon in treating with Louis. Buckingham and Charles, therefore, even while James stiU lived — ^for the French match was arranged before his death — were at cross-pur- poses both with the Erench King and with the English people. A promise of toleration in favour of the English Catholics was given, which the EngHsh Crown, opposed on this point by the settled will of the nation, could not make good. A promise of ships, to be used as Louis might deter- mine, was also given ; and we may beUeve that if Charles and Buckingham exacted no stipulation that they should not be used against Protestants, the Duke and the King were thoroughly acquainted with Eicheheu's intention that the Huguenots, when reduced to submission, should be tole- rated in the exercise of their rehgion. But the mere idea of sending ships to the enemy of the Huguenots alarmed and irritated the Enghsh people. The King and his favourite attempted to solve the insoluble problem they had taken in hand by dextrously hoodwinking aU parties. Henrietta Maiia had been but a short time the Queen of Charles, when she found reason to complain that she and her brother had been deceived. When the time came for performance of the promise about the ships, the result was equally disastrous for Charles and the Duke. They adopted the method which, when put in practice by shopkeepers and schoolboys, is called lying, and, when put in practice by kings and ministers, is called diplomacy. Nicholas, secretary to the Lord Admiral, who was employed in the business, had instructions to prevent, Double-dealing. 157 or at least delay, the delivery of the ships, but at the same time to conduct himseK so that the French ambassador might beheve that he was " sent of purpose, and with fuU instructions and command, to effect his desire, and to cause all the ships to be put into his hands." When at last the ships were dehvered, every man iu them, with the exception of one gunner, made off. The vessels were used against the Huguenots, and Charles, for aU his double-dealing, gave an offence to the Enghsh Puritans, which they remem- bered against him on that day when he came to lay his " grey, discrovmed head " on the block. This double-dealing, were it only for its impracticabihty, brings prominently into view the folly that mingled with Buckingham's genius; but more palpable illustrations of the same thing aboimd. He had not that instinct of the practical man which absolutely forbids exultation in the end before calculation of the means, and inexorably disbe- lieves in royal roads to any goals worth reaching. Joseph of Austria, as Frederick of Prussia remarked, was a clever man, but always put the second before the first. That was the reason why Joseph told his friends to write on his grave-stone that he had failed in everything. Mirabeau and Napoleon, both of whom had a dash of quack in their composition, talked about there being no such word as "impossible ;" but sharp discernment of the limits of possibiHty is, in fact, an essential condition of success ; and Napoleon, if he had recollected, on the eve of his Eussian expedition, that his professed contempt for impossibihty was useful only for fanfaronading purposes, might never have heard the sighing of the waves at St. Helena. It does not seem to have occurred to Buckingham that if he was to carry out all those grand martial schemes of his, the first thing to be done was to procure a few thousand drilled men, who could be depended on to fight, 153 Charles iae First. and a sufficiency of qualified officers to lead them. He proceeded on the assumption that a few thousand losels, clutched by press-gangs, forwarded by justices who took the opportunity to clear off the scum of the population, and then hounded, in a state of semi-starvation and chronic mutiny, to the ports, defrauded of their pay, and stealing cattle to keep the flesh on their bones, were sure to conquer the soldiers of Spain, France, or the Empire. Of course, they did nothing of the land. Of course, expedition after expe- dition issued in disaster and shame. Count Mansfeldt's expedition was a tale of horror and calamity, the plain result of ^terprise without foresight, and attempted co- operation without clear understanding. The nation which had vanquished the Armada next saw the banner of England return torn and drooping from the attack upon Cadiz. But our man of genius — our fool too arrogant to learn — finding that his projects of a French aUiance had suddenly caught fire, and that he had a French war on his hands, sailed for Eochelle without taking the indis- pensable precaution of clearing away that cloud of sus- picion and fear which his own and his master's double- dealing had interposed between himself and the minds of the townsmen. Can we wonder that they distrusted him ? Could they forget that Enghsh ships formed part of the fleet which finally and fatally closed the sea against them by defeating Soubise? When Bucldngham appeared with his squadron in the offing, the Eochellers refused to admit him. Are we sure, even now, that they made a mistake? The probabihty is that, if he had entered Eochelle, he would have done no more than obtain for the to-RTismen, with ostentatious parade of the influence of Charles in the business, and on condition of their submitting to the pro- pitiated Louis, those terms which, on submission, they could obtain for themselves. Any how, they refused to admit him . Ho dotermined to attempt the Isle of Eh&. At first, Buckingham's Folly. 159 encountering no force capable of meeting him in the field, he fancied he was conquering and to conquer ; hut having no real knowledge of the art of war, he threw away time and men in attacking, without the requisite artillery, St. Martin's, the principal fort in the island. The French then came upon him in overwhelming numbers, and though he displayed great personal valour, he lost two-thirds of his army, and was forced to return, with the wreck of the expedition, to England. This was in July, 1627. Add to all this, by way of forming an adequate idea of Buckingham's lack of judgment and self-command, that he gave way to an insane passion for the young Queen of France, compeUing her to caU upon her attendants to protect her from his advances, and thus drawing from Louis a peremptory injunction that he should be excluded from France. The Hcentiousness of Bucldngham suggests unpleasant speculation as to the morals of his bosom friend, Charles, and lends some countenance to what Milton says as to the looseness of his demeanour, and LiUy as to his having had natural children. Milton, however, was cer- tainly unjust to Charles. Had the Duke been shrewd enough to apprehend the conditions of success in war, the current of English history might possibly have been changed, for no nation has yet been found v?ise enough to resist the intoxica- tion of military success. Each of the disasters which followed in quick succession in the years of Buckingham's ascendency was of more value to England than ten glorious victories could well have been. But this is the reflection of one who contemplates Enghsh history as a whole. At the time when Buckingham returned de- feated from the Isle of Ehe, the grief and anger of the nation knew no bounds. Charles stood by him faithfully, a circumstance which would have been to the King's credit if we could add, which we cannot, that he did so with a due 160 Charles the First. sense of responsibility for the blood and substance of his people, or that he showed king-like energy in ; probing the causes of the failure. But he was as destitute of practical talent as the Duke, and had no notion of the process by which defeat can be converted into triumph. He always acted as if he believed that success or failure is a prize or a blank drawn in a lottery. When an expedition collapsed, he saw nothing else that could be done except to fit out another ia the old way of routine. Buckingham had come to grief; well, let Denbigh, Buckingham's brother-in-law, try his hand: Denbigh brought back the fleet under the imputation of having flinched from the enemy; let it be Buckingham, then, once more. A new expedition, accord- ingly, was fitted out, and Buckingham was appointed to the command. The destination was again Eochelle. We are now in the summer of 1628. During the three years of the reign of Charles over which we have been glancing, the Parliament of England played no unimportant part on the stage of affairs, and we must have a look at their proceedings. History in action is a bird's-eye view ; history in literary delineation can be no more than a selection of particulars. The historical describer has always to regret that he must show events, not as they actually occurred, simultaneously and in %'ital connection, but in succession. He wishes he could recur to that old Mexican or old Egyptian and Assjaian method of writing history, in which it was painted, in feathers or otherwise, on broad walls. Here army meets army in shock of conflict in the open field; there heroes dis- lodge "pinnacle and parapet upon the tortoise creeping to the wall;" here the column pours through the breach; there the King and his councillors meet in grand palaver ; in the next compartment the Queen and her ladies look on with amiable interest while lions crunch the heads of captives. Could the panorama of events be transferred to The Stuarts and Toleration. 161 tlie printed page, we should have seen how, while EngUsh seamen were deserting their sliips en masse rather than serve against Huguenots, while Enghsh armies were choking in French swamps, while the banner of Pro- testantism, once proudly upheld by the arm of Elizabeth, was being struck down from Bohemia to Eochelle, the Commons of England sat in the background, and took note of the whole in vexation, shame, and wrath. Charles met his first House of Commons iu June, 1625, two or three months after he began to reign, and it soon appeared that they already looked upon him and Bucking- ham with iuviucible distrust. Their deepest cause of suspicion and alarm was rehgious. They suspected that, in the negotiations preceding the King's marriage, con- cessions had been made to the Enghsh Cathohcs of a nature to which they would not have given assent. They were not prepared to view Eicheheu's principles of tolera- tion with intelligent sympathy, even if those principles had been distinctly placed before them. Once for all, the Enghsh nation would not hear of toleration of Papists. Reasonably or unreasonably — and they would have been grossly and criminally unreasonable if the loyal CathoHe had not had the Jesuit by his side — English Protestants were more afraid of Papists than Eicheheu and those whO' shared his enlightenment were afraid of Huguenots. I feel bound, for my part, to own that Buckingham and Charles were on this point ahead of their countrymen. Toleration is assuredly the point on which the judicious; advocate of the Stuarts vdll most strenuously insist. Be it remembered, however, in justice to our fathers, that there were no Protestant Jesuits of whom Eichelieu had to take account. And at all events, it was folly and falsehood in Buckingham, it was folly, falsehood, and vain- glory in Charles, to pretend to Louis, Eicheheu, and Henrietta Maria, that they could procure toleration for 11 162 Charles the First. the English Catholics when they knew, or ought to have known, that Parliament woxdd sanction nothing of the sort. A wise and thoughtful Prince, earnestly bent upon introducing toleration into his kingdom, and accurately acquainted with the temper of his people, would have been aware, if placed in the position of Charles, that nothing could bode worse for the enjoyment of rehgions freedom by the BngKsh Catholics than the diffusion among the Commons and throughout the nation of a conviction that toleration had been promised by the King, at the instance of a foreign monarch, and without reference to Parliament. But the Commons were alarmed for their Protestantism on another account. They were afraid not merely of sub- jection to the Pope, but of those principles which the Papacy consecrates. In the innovations of Dr. Laud, they beheld the abandonment of the essentials of Protestantism, the readoption of those religious doctrines and sentiments which, at the Eeformation, England had cast out with a fervour of enthusiasm not then cooled. Enghsh Pro- testants of that generation did not know, as we now do, that a body of clergymen may be, and continue, Eoman Catholic in theology, ritual, and habit of thought and character, vdthout submitting to the Pope. We moderns have Hved to behold many of the Anglican clergy ashamed of the name of Protestant — a name which Laud owned on the scaffold — and to hear a voice so authoritative as that of John Henry Newman declare that, when he was in the Anglican State Church, he had taught the essen- tial principles of Bomanism as distinguished from Pro- testantism. But our fathers had not the aids we possess in drawing fine theological and ecclesiastical distinc- tions. Their nerves had not been trained to stand without wincing the spectacle of a Eomish clergy bat- tening on the pastures of an Estabhsloment intended by Parliament and people to be Protestant. They were, Irritation of Parliament. 163 therefore, pained and alarmed by the changes made by Laud. They saw the table at which Christians commune with each other in sympathetic memory of Christ — chief symbol of a religion which is primarily not sacramentarian but social — ^being reconverted into an altar for the perform- ance of a superstitious rite of propitiation. They saw the reformed pastor, leader in the congregation in virtue of his moral, spiritual, intellectual superiority, and of that alone, being reinvested with mediatorial attributes, ' called a priest, furnished with apparatus of salvation in form of mystical sacraments, and armed v^ith a most potent weapon of domestic intrusion and espial in auricular confession. They saw the personal responsibility of every man to his God being transformed into the submission of all judgments to the Church, aptly accompanied by the sycophantic prostration of all wills before the King. Charles had opened his heart to Laud and his doctrines with that entire acceptance which springs from . what Goethe called wahl- verwandtschaft — a constitutional unison, a relationship in feeling, faculty, and habit of soul, which we but clumsily translate into " elective affinity." Here were causes enough of discrepancy, and it would be no difficult matter to extend the hst. Bhnd to the signs of the times, Charles was surprised, on meeting his ParKament, to find the Houses indisposed to put confidence in his administration; irritated about Popery, Arminianism, and the influence of Buckingham ; stingy of supphes. He tried them first at London, then at Oxford, but found that nothing Hke the amount of money was to be had from them which his high-flying schemes required. He dis- solved them, therefore, in a passion ; even Buckingham's entreaties could not make him pause. In 1626 he met his second Parliament, but ■with, it he fared no better, rather worse, than with his first. The Commons now made a dead set at Buckingham, their aim 11—2 164 Charles the First. being fundamentally to subject the whole administration to the direction and supervision of ParUament. They proceeded to impeach the Duke, but Charles saved him by a dissolution. His third ParUament met in 1628, and for the third time he was confronted, as by a spectre that he could not lay, by the Patriot party. Who and what were they? They represented,' first of all, a very large proportion of the material wealth of BAgland. The Commons were computed to have among them three times as much riches as the Lords. "With the fact that they were men of sub- stance may fitly be taken the fact of their ingrained conservatism. Engaged in initiating a revolution, they deprecated change : their whole revolution took the shape of opposition to change. It is indeed true, as Hmne af&rms, that "it is ridiculous to consider the English Constitution before that period as a regular plan of liberty." The sovereign of England could still unaffectedly beheve that his kingly honour and his duty to God and his country required him to maintain his own will and judgment against Parhament. The Pmitan leaders, on the other hand, Ehot, Pym, John Hampden, John Hampden's young cousin, Ohver Cromwell, a rough-hewn slouching feUow from the Eens, Thomas Wentworth, and others, had no parchment programme of constitutional freedom. They indeed reverenced Magna Charta, and were all that Mr. Carlyle means by " constitutional pedants," — that is to say, they attached high importance to form and precedent, reverenced the collective reason and -will of nations, and would not have let the angel Oabriol rcigu in peace in England if he had superseded law and Parliament ; but they were not pedants in the sonso of mistaking phrases for facts. They had an indestructible and substantially correct notion of what English liberty had been in the past, and of ■what was necessary in order that it might be carried over The Patriots. 165 into the future. With the presaging instinct of greatness they were aware of " the spirit of the future time, yearning to mix itseK -^^ith Hfe," and were resolute that Enghsh freedom should be transmitted unimpaired to their pos- terity. They knew that the political institutions of Europe were ia a state of transition, and that the hberties of England must now be set on an impregnable basis or lost for ever. They appreciated Eicheheu's work in France, and were inflexibly determined that no Enghsh King should become what EicheHeu aimed at maldng Louis. They knew what Philip II. had done in Spain, and that, even in Arragon, where the black business had been most dif&culi, "the grinning skulls of the Chief Justice of the kingdom and of the boldest and noblest advocates and defenders of the national Hberties, exposed for years in the market-place with the record of their death-sentence attached, informed the Spaniards, in language which the most ignorant could read, that the crime of defending a remnant of human freedom and constitutional law was sure to draw down condign punishment." Among those who, in tones of clear and fervid elo- quence, enforced the principle and pohcy of reahsing the new by preserving and adapting the old, was Sir Thomas Wentworth, a dark man, of good Yorkshire blood, whose massive head, strong brows, and keen, compressed hps, could not escape observation as he sat in the front rank of the Patriots. "We must vindicate — what?" asked the future Strafford. "New things? No; our ancient, legal and -vital hberties ; by reinforcing the laws enacted by our ancestors; by setting such a stamp upon them, that no licentious spirit shall dare henceforth to invade them." Bent upon vindicating the law, the party was appropriately strong in legal talent, counting in its ranks Coke and Selden, each with extensive cellarage of brain, in which lay stowed away immense treasm'e of law leaj-ning. 1C6 Charles the First. They had their fixed ideas, those men, their passionate persuasions; some, it may be, narrow enough. I think they were ahnost unduly anxious about the money-bag, and that, though their sympathy with German Protestantism and the expelled Elector was sound, it did not count for much in coin. They were for the most part Puritans. Their Puritanism meant a passion for the Bible as against the Church, for Protestantism as against Popery, for spiritual worship as against ceremonial worship, for purity of morals as against debauchery, profaneness, frivolity, for freedom as against despotism. Popery they hated with perfect hatred, regarding it as a tyrannical usurpation of authority over the human spirit, and as, at the same time, insidiously but profoundly immoral. It was for them what Isaac Disraeli has described, a masterpiece of diabolic subtlety, combining the obduracy of Moloch with the poisonous sweetness of Belial. " The very power," says Disraeli, " which ventured to invoke, from the silence of its Jewish tomb, the severe and sacred spirit of the abrogated theocracy, with the same wave of the wand summoned from its gay funereal urn the wanton genius of departed Pagan- ism, and dared to combine in the novel system the charac- teristics of both. The Pope, seated on his eternal throne, smiled even amid his subhmity, and the same power that founded its rule on eternal terror, estabHshed its empire by endless indulgence. Eoman CathoHcism is a combination of the supernatural agency of the Judaic Theocracy, and the seductive ceremonies of ancient Poljrtheism." The Puritans of Charles's Parliaments would have heard these words with groans of unutterable acquiescence. " The more fools they ! " will the sceptical coxcomb of these days exclaim. Two things, however, are true re- specting those old Puritans : first, that it was a question of essentials, no mere dispute as to words, forms, vestures, badges, between them and Laud ; secondly, that their zeal Hume on Beligious Motives. 167 towards God, their intense emotional heat, dusky as may seem its flame compared •with the serene enthusiasm of the modem scientific inquirer, was indispensable to animate and support them in the work they had to do. On this last point the testimony of Hume may be deemed conclu- sive. The Patriots, he tells us, would probably have despaired of resisting the Eoyal authority, " had they not been stimulated by religious motives, which inspire a courage insurmountable by any human obstacle." Few words written by Hume are more memorable than these. No better test of the genuineness of a man's sympathy with the spirit of pohtical freedom can be found than his capacity to enter into, and approve of, the conduct of those Puritan Patriots who sat in Charles's early Parliaments, and who extorted from him the acceptance of the Petition of Eight. It was not ^n the least a romantic business in which they were engaged ; it was a sternly practical, matter-of-fact concern, in the details of it dreary and prosaic. Immensely more pleasant would it have been for the Commons to flatter Charles and Buckingham, and to have let themselves be hurried along in indiscriminate enthusiasm for schemes with which, as they might easily have persuaded themselves, were bound up the safety of Protestantism and the honour of England. Nothing could dazzle them from the precision of their determination that personal sovereignty should not finally establish itself in England, that the prerogative should not be paramount to liberty and law. They were great in discernment, in civic courage, in patience ; in conservatism that reverenced the very husk of the old, and would yet, by invincible instinct, make way for the green, living bud of the new as it inexorably superseded the old. We have seen that never for one week did Charles get on well with his Parliaments. Imperious, vain-glorious, devoid of sagacity and savoir /aire, he irritated where he 168 Charles the First. ought to have studiously soothed. He had to drive a team that might have baffled the vv^ariest and strongest of despots, and he proceeded as if they could be quelled by cracldng the whip. In his first speech to his third Parliament, he told the members, by way of inducing them to table the nation's money, that, " if they should not do their duties, in contributing to the necessities of the State, he must, in discharge of his conscience, use those other means which God had put into his hands, in order to save that which the foUies of some particular men may otherwise put in danger." In other words, if the Commons did not vote him money, he would take it. The lord-keeper was directed by his Majesty to put this beyond doubt by explaining that the "way of Par- liamentary suppHes " had been chosen " not as the only way, but as the fittest." It was ^ kind of rehgion with Charles to assert his prerogative. Satan, squat at his ear in the form of a sycophant priest, had told him that all property of the subject was "by Divine right " the king's, and he seems reaUy to have believed it. The Commons had a most tickhsh part to play, for if they did not make a firm stand they would quietly become the mere pageant of an autocracy, and if they angered Charles he might peremptorily dissolve them, as he had done twice already, and " deem himself justified " — the words are Hume's — " for violating, in a manner still more open, all the ancient forms of the Constitution." Hume expresses high admiration of the capacity displayed by the Patriots under these difficult and delicate circumstances. It was in the first summer months of ll)'28 that the Commons, having voted five subsidies, but not yet actually handed them over to the Court, pressed the King to accept the I'ctition of Bight. If one ^^•ero requii-ed to state shortly the object of that celebrated instrument, it might be described as the limitation of the prerogative to such ar The Petition of Bight. 169 extent as should render it impossible for the sovereign to carry on the government independenltly of Parliament. The Petition of Eight specified all those methods by which the King and Buckingham had replenished the exchequer without consent of ParHament, and stamped them with reprobation. The Petition of Eight purported to crave nothing as a favour, nothing strictly new ; it claimed the acknowledgment of Eight. There was no rhetoric, there- fore, in its composition, no appeal to general principles ; only specification of fundamental laws, the Great Charter, statutes of Edward I., Edward III., writs of Habeas Corpus. On the strength of these, both Houses of Parhament asked the King to rehnquish and disallow benevolences, forced loans, arbitrarily imposed taxes, arbitrary imprisonment, martial law, and the billeting of soldiers upon subjects. The Lords had hesitated and haggled a good deal, but the Commons refused to have their specific demands folded up in generahties, or to be put off with flourishes about his Majesty's conscience, honour, and regard for the well-being of his subjects. Hume remarks that the Lords "were probably well pleased in secret that all their sohcitations had been eluded by the Commons," but, if so, it was base in them to curry favour with Charles and. Buckingham by increasing the difficulties of the Commons at such a crisis. The King had recourse to shuffling and evasion, and it was not untn the Commons showed their angry humour by con- demning Manwaring, the priestly inculcator of abject sub- mission by subjects to their king, to fine and imprisonment, and by censuring Buckingham, that he accepted the Petition of Eight in regular form. Grudgingly, ungra- ciously, as one who gnawed his tongue for pain, did Charles give way ; but the Conamons received the concession with transports of grateful joy, and immediately passed the Bill for five subsidies. But their work was not yet done. It vi^as indispensable, 170 Charles the First. if the Petition of Eight were not to prove a dead letter, that a Commission, which had hp.en issued before the meeting of Parliament with the express purpose of pro- viding a machinery for levying money by im-ParHa- mentary means, should be cancelled. Buckingham and all the considerable officers of the Crown had been included in this Commission, which was instructed to pay less regard to form and circumstance than to the essential business of finding the cash. Hume describes the Com- mission as " a scheme for finding expedients which might raise the prerogative to the greatest height, and render Parhaments entirely useless." Another commission had been granted of a still more alarming character. A thou- sand horse were to be raised in Germany, to be transported to England, and used for such purposes as might seem good to His Majflsty. This is the Hist bold development of that policy, for cherishing which Strafford lost his head. To put an end to all such projects, and to introduce a comprehen- sive change into that system of administration which had wasted the treasure, spilled the blood, and tarnished the laurels of England in four disastrous expeditions, the Commons struck direct at the man who, in their eyes and the eyes of the nation, stood sponsor for them all — the Duke of Bucldngham. Charles rushed once more to the rescue, and prorogued the Session on the 26th of June, 1G'2S. The hatred with which Buckingham was regarded had now reached that terrible pitch at which the bravest may well be appalled, when monomaniacs take the infection, and the glaring danger of the hated personage colours the night visions of his friends. Nothing, ho-ncver, could shake that dauntless heart. He put aside the warnings of thoRo who told him of apparitions announc- ing his doom, and soothed his Duchess, whose affection for her brilliant lord had boon proof against reiterated infidelities, and who looked upon this new expedition ^vith Buchingham. 171 peculiar apprehension. Untouched as he was by fear, Bucldngham seems to have given tokens of an unwonted peusiveness and melancholy on this occasion. In bidding farewell to Laud, he said that, amid the adventures of war, he might, of course, fall like another man, and he asked the Bishop to commend his wife and children to the King. His hope as to the issue of the expedition was that the appearance of the Enghsh fleet on the scene of conflict would furnish occasion for a settlement between the French King and the Huguenots, and that thus Charles might honourably make peace with France. It is impro- bable that Louis and EicheHeu would have been induced by a mere demonstration of force to bow to Buckingham and his master; and all we know of the Duke's character assures us that, if haughtily defied by the French King, he would have fought. That he should have succeeded is barely pos- sible. In order to do so, it would have been necessary for him to inspire his men with perfect confidence in himself, and with the courage, dash, and stubbornness which disaster on disaster had reduced to the lowest ebb. The task might have proved too hard for Clive, Suwarrow, or Cromwell ; there is no reason to believe that Bucldngham was equal to it. The utmost we can say is that it is the part of genius to astonish the world, and that Buckinghara was a man of genius ; that a splendid example of valour and a taste, however slight, of success, have frequently transformed poltroons into excellent soldiers; and that, therefore, it is not absolutely impossible that Bucldngham might have relieved Eochelle by some such miracle of energy and invention as that by which, in the following century, Peterborough took Barcelona. It certainly is not impossible that, if Eicheheu and Louis had found Bucldng- ham in earnest, and the spirit of Puritan England fairly aroused in his armament, — ^if one or two severe blows had convinced them that they had to deal with a really for- 172 Cnarh'.s the First. inidable enemy, — they might have been glad to come to an accommodation. The flash of fortune, therefore, ■which Bucldngham had so long expected might have come at the eleventh hour, and might even then have availed to open up that prospect of alliance with France, for maintenance of the European balance in Germany and restoration of the Elector Frederick to his Palatinate, which has been described as the cherished dream of Buck- ingham's ambition. It was not to be. The univereal hatred of the Duke acted upon the diseased brain of John Felton, and, partly in revenge for a real or imagined wrong, partly in the confused notion that he was doing England service, he plunged his knife into Buckingham's heart. The deed was done at Portsmouth in August, 1628. The Earl of Lindsay, who took the command of the fleet after the Duke's death, made hardly a show of forcing an entrance into Eochelle. The only feasible mode of accounting for what seems the cowardice and lethargy of an Enghsh commander and EngHsh sailors and soldiers on that occasion is by supposing that the instructions of the former enjoined him to reheve the town if the utmost show of war would do it, but to stop short of actual hostilities. This view accords perfectly -with the two-faced pohcy adopted in the affair of the ships. Charles was neither wholly for the Huguenots nor wholly against them, and his half-hearted, double-minded intervention had no result but this, that the agony of Eochelle was protracted beyond its natural term, and that extremities of starvation and plague were endured by the gallant townsmen wliich, if there had been no ground for hope that England was coming to their aid, they could not reasonably have encountered. After one of the most heroic and heart-thrUling defences recorded in history, Bochcllo surrendered. Richelieu had enclosed witliin his deadly cjubnicu 15,000 iiochollers ; Jean Guiton, the man Sessio7i of 1629. I73 of iron, at the head of 4,000 Uving skeletons, confessed that the end had come. The fall of Eochelle, the attempt made by Charles to persuade the judges to declare that Felton could be legally put to the torture, the diffusion of a suspicion that he was trying to shuffle out of the Petition of Eight, the increasing favour of Laud, the strengthening influence of the Queen, and the ostentatious patronage of Manwaring, Cosins, Sibthorpe, and Montague, the advocates of Arminianism, Anglo-CathoHcism, and passive obedience, which occurred in the recess, tended to impair that harmony between King and Parhament which might have been expected to result from the death of Buckingham. The Commons could not but feel that the assassination of the Duke, over which there had been at first in patriotic circles a display of oarse and cruel exultation, had introduced no new era. The Session, therefore, which commenced in January, 1629, was stormy. The Lower House resolved itself into a Committee of EeUgion, fiercely determined to check Laud's counter-reformation, which they believed to be a palpable conspiracy in the interest of the Pope. A grand remonstrance was on the way, a remonstrance in which Laud was to be named, and in which the claims and prin- ciples of the Petition of Eight were to be re-affirmed and, on one important point, specialised. Charles was to be made to feel that, if he was to levy tonnage and poundage, he must do so, not in virtue of a single formal grant, at the beginning of the reign, as Henry V. and succeeding kings had done, but by express permission of Parhament during a time limited by statute. The more ancient practice had been that of temporary grant, and to this the Commons were resolved to recur. They had voted tonnage and poundage for but one year, and alleged that, in raising the tax without a renewal of the vote, Charles had violated the Petition of Eight. Incensed and alarmed, the King hurried 174 Cliarles tJie First. to dissolve the Parliament, and after a scene of excitement unprecedented in Englisli Parliamentary history, during ■which, while Hollis and others held down Speaker Finch by main force in the chair, resolutions against Popery, Arminianism, and illegal exactions were passed by acclama- tion, the Session abruptly closed. This was in March, 1629. Charles breathed freely as one who, to use his own word, had succeeded in trampling down a brood of "vipers," and determined to govern henceforth without Parhaments. It would be possible to dispense with sub- sidies, if the Treasury could be reHeved of the demands of foreign war ; and peace was accordingly concluded with Prance and Spain. If Bucldngham's idea had been that the nation, dazzled by victories abroad, might be heedless of the consolidation of despotism at home, the scheme was now abandoned. It was about the time of Buckingham's death that Sir Thomas Wentworth deserted the popular party and joined the Com-t. The opinion of Pym and the Patriots was that his desertion was an act of deliberate apostacy; and no other decision would be just. The best that can be said in mitigation of his guilt is that the maudlin romance of personal devotion to Charles may have sentimentalised and softened into vice the robust virtue of his devotion to England, and that he may have been influenced by that fastidiousness of temperament and of intellect, wliich takes refuge from horny-handed freedom in the stateliness of despotism. The poHcy of Thorough— a word which we found in the correspondence of Laud and Strafford, and wliich has been adopted to denote the system of administration during those years when Parliaments were suspended in England — was no special device of any man's. It was naturally suggested by Charles's situation, and was the embodiment of his arbitrary disposition, his wilfulness, his detestation Charles's Personal 'Reign. 175 of Parliaments, his 'oelief in his Divine right and duty to be an autocrat. During those years he was a resolute and high-handed despot. Men who had irritated him by their Parhamentary opposition were imprisoned. The most intrepid, proud, and high-principled of his opponents. Sir John Ehot, was denied the recreation and change of air that might have saved his life, and languished to death in the Tower. "With refined and resolute cruelty, Charles refused his body to his children, and ordered it to be buried in prison. Monopohes of soap, salt, wine, leather, seacoal, hampered industry. The King's forests were arbitrarily extended in disregard of private rights ; and it is notable that whereas James, with a genuine Idngliness of satisfac- tion in increasing the resources of his country and the prosperity of his subjects, had interested himself in planting Ulster with men, Charles was perpetually bent upon ex- tending the breadth of his acreage under trees and game. It is but fair, however, to remember that Maryland was colonised in this reign. Where Strafford was present, whether in Yorkshire or in Ireland, there was energetic civil administration, and Laud ruled the Church with a rod of iron ; but the impo- tence which had characterised Charles's general admi- nistration from the first continued to prevail. Though he devoted much attention to the fleet and was fond of building large ships, the narrow seas were not safe for Enghsh vessels or the English coasts for Enghsh subjects. " The merchants," said the Commons, describing this period in the Eemonstrance of 1641, "have been left so naked to the violence of the Turldsh pirates, that many great ships of value, and thousands of his Majesty's subjects, have been taken by them, and do stiU remain in miserable slavery." It has been said that Buckingham's comprehensive and daring schemes of foreign policy were abandoned; but Charles could not refrain from meddhng 176 Charles the First. with his neighbours. He intrigued with Spain against Holland, and with the Netherlands against Spain, not reaping a shred of advantage in either case, but filling both parties with resentment against him. These negotiations cast a painfully detective Hght upon Charles's character. For the promise of the isles of Zealand, he was ready to assist Spain to subjugate Holland ; and in the idea that the Netherlands might accept him for sovereign, he was willing to help them to throw off the Spanish yoke.* His negotia- tions with France offended Spain, his negotiations with Spain offended France. It is difficult to imagine any motive for these proceedings except personal ambition. Charles alienated the sympathy of every foreign Power, and in his misfortunes had no friend either among Catholics or Protestants. Scorn for his capacity and for his greed was the sentiment vnth which he inspired Continental statesmen. Strafford discerned that the thing essentially necessary, if Charles were to reign despotically over England, Scot- land, and Ireland, was a drilled and disciplined army. Laud pointedly agreed vnth Strafford as to the absolute necessity of raising a military force that could be relied on. These two singled out each other, and were singled out by their contemporaries, as the pillars of the new despotism. Strafford himself did not feel the need of strenuously driUing troops more acutely than Laud. Strafford himseK could not have regarded with more contempt and distress the administrative imbeciMty which reigned in London than Laud. The intellectual range of the Archbishop was narrow; his temper was morose and fanatical ; he was an ecclesiastic, and not more than an ecclesiastic ; he committed almost incredible mistakes ; * Clarendon and Hardwioko Stato Papora, quoted by HiUlam. The doublo-doaling, the meanness, the pompous and reaultless imbecility of Charloa'H foreign policy, aro admirably exhibited in Mr. Gardiner's narra- tive of his Personal Qovorumcnt. Laud and Charles. 177 but in the sincerity of ids belief, in the concentration of his energy, in his complete and disinterested devo- tion to his AngHcan idea, he was great. In his main aim of securing the priesthood and the episcopate for the Crown, he succeeded ; and the Church of England wears his image and superscription to this hour. No sooner was the grip of Fjra on the throat of Strafford, than the Irish Parhament sided with the EngHsh Com- mons ; but when the Short Parhament of 1640 refused to grant supphes. Laud's clergy in Convocation tabled their money. After Buckingham's assassination. Laud's sway over Charles became absolute. It was a strange relation ia which the ecclesiastic stood to his sovereign ; a relation in which every word of the priest was a word of reverent assent, every look a look of abject submission — ^nay, every thought the thought of a willing and grateful minion ; but in which, nevertheless, the intellect, conscience, and wUI of the sovereign were mastered by the priest. Charles was one of the few men who perfectly understood Laud, and was an Anghcan of Laud's type. An Anglican king and an AngUcan high priest, each supreme in his own sphere, each divinely commissioned to rule over England, each encompassed with a mystic sacredness and iaviola- bility ; the high priest enjoining the people to submit in all things to the king, the king putting all the civil authority of the State at the service of the Church : this was the vision that enthralled the imagination of Charles. There was an irresistible charm for a man of intense vnlfulness, and whose intellectual strength was not in proportion to his religious sensibility, in a theory which made self-assertion a duty, and enabled him to beheve those who resisted him to be damnable sinners. It was the illusion in which he was wrapped by Laud that gave a martyr serenity to his Bad and weary face, a fortitude not less than heroic to his 12 178 Charles the First. bearing in many an hour of tribulation ; but if it supported him, and promoted the purposes of Vandyke, it was infinitely baneful to England. The vices of weak men become subtly and powerfully noxious only when they are consecrated, for themselves and others, into virtues. To be perfectly correct, however, in our understanding of the relation between Charles and Laud, we must bear in mind that Laud's ascendency was never incompatible with a certain amount of self-assertion on Charles's part. The minute research of Mr. Gardiner has made it plain that Charles could occasionally resist Laud, and the instances in which this resistance took place are suggestive. The purity of motive, the perfect coxurage, with which Laud opposed corruption in high places, re- ceived but a half-hearted support from Charles. One Sir Anthony PeU was a creditor of the Crown for £6,000. He apphed again and again to Treasurer Weston for pay- ment, vnthout effect, and betook himself for counsel to Sir James Bagg, a pohtical follower of Weston's. Bagg advised him to bribe the Treasurer, and offered to carry the money. A sum of £2,500 thus changed hands be- tween Pell and Bagg. Meanwhile the Treasurer died, and Pell, who had taken nothing by his bribe, and was now told by Bagg that he had paid over the money to Weston, sued Bagg in the Star Chamber. Whatever had become of the money, Bagg's conduct had been scandklous, and Laud exerted himself strenuoxisly to have it censured by the Court. But the King " refused," says Mr. Gai-diner, " to inflict any penalty whatever upon Bagg, and left him in possession of the governorship of the fort at Plymouth." Even in insisting upon it as a first principle of all ef&cient finance, that there should be no obscurity in the accounts, that " the King should know his o^vn estate," Laud found ho could not count upon the EoysU support. That infallible proof of practical incapacity, the secret cowai-dly wish to Hopes of the Papists. 179 liuddle up matters, was one of the diagnostic marks of Charles's character. From first to last he had a grudge against thorough efficiency and against splendour of loiightly principle. Strafford was too energetic for him; Montrose too chivalrous, direct, and dauntless ; Laud too much of a purist. It is observable, also, that Charles had always an underhand leaning towards Papists, which im- paired the completeness of his sympathy with Laud, with Strafford, and even with Clarendon. After Buckingham's death he seems to have hked no one quite so well as "Weston — an unprincipled, worthless man, surrounded vnth a cHque of Papists, calling himseK a Protestant because he found the lie profitable in this world, and keeping a priest always within hail, in order that, by dying a Papist, he might cheat God and the devil in the next. The Anghcanism of Laud, so different from the nobly comprehensive and philosophical Anghcanism of Hooker, was at first misapprehended by almost all his contem- poraries. " This," said both Puritan and Papist when the scheme of Laud began to unfold itself, " is Popery." Such was the opinion of the Queen. The Archbishop seemed to "Kewdetta, " dans son cceur tres-bon Catholique." She took his preparation of a Hturgy v?ith "peu de difference de lafoi orthodoxe," for introduction into the Church of Scotland, to be the commencement of an attempt to assimilate worship, throughout the three kingdoms, to that of the Chm-ch of Eome. The Pope shared these expectations. Panzani, the Papal emissary, opened a secret negotiation for the reunion of the Churches. The offer of a Cardinal's hat was made to the Archbishop. Anglo-Catholicism has suggested the same hopes and inferences in our own time. Dr. Newman tells us that, when he joined the Church of Eome, his Popish friends asked him when Dr. Pusey was to follow, and thought him uncharitable when he expressed no hope that his old friend would submit to the Pope. 12—2 180 Charles the First. The genuine Anglican is not a man of strong logical instincts, and can remain for an indefinite period in a position that is logically untenable. Anglicanism is to Popery what a fine copy in water-colours is to a great original picture in oils. The Pope and the Jesuits at last found Laud out ; and when they caught a glimpse of his true meaning, which indeed he had made no conscious efforts to hide, the recoil with which they started back from him was sharp. It was the keen antagonism of one who suddenly detects, in the soft accents and deferential manner and obhging con- cessions of an acquaintance, what Balzac calls la tendresse commerciale. This is a different thing from the tenderness of sympathetic friendship. "Oh, I see;" this was the feeling of the Pope on having his eyes opened ; " you would borrow for your Church of England aU the attractiveness and power of the Papacy — apostolic descent, time-honoured ceremony, solemn pageantry, melting music, sacramental salvation — and yet rebel against the Church's head, and erect your own Canterbury Popedom. Thank j'ou for your civility, and for snivelling so sweetly about a sister's fall ; but we shall spoil that Uttle game. You are not one whit nearer the true Church than the Puritans." Accordingly, when swords were drawn in the quarrel, the word firom Eome to the EngHsh Papists was to make no distinction between the heresy of Charles and that of his foes. The Papist pours upon the Anglican the concentrated venom of several fine essential hatreds — the hatred of the struggHng author for the paid and applauded plagiarist, the hatred of the wife for the fascinating beauty of the demi-tnonde, the hatred of aU men for the masked foe, the respectful rival, the traitor friend. Since the seventeenth century Eome has met every Anghcan advance with a spurn of contempt ; and the Anghcan who has become a Papist is uncompro- mising and incisive in his Popery. There is not a more Parliament in Abeyance. 181 decided Ultramontanist in Europe than Cardinal Manning ; and Dr. Newman, though pathetically mindful of his old love, has said piercing things of the hybrid entity which he once " imagined to be a portion of the Catholic Church," which he left as a "mere national institution," and which he finally perceived to be "the veriest of non- entities."* He explicitly declares that in attempting to defend the Anghcan Church against the theology of Eome, he adopted Bome's " main principles and many of its conclusions," " obHterating thereby or ignoring the very rudiments of Protestantism." The sum total extracted by the Court from the pockets of Enghshmen during the eleven years when the Consti- tution was in abeyance, was not large in proportion to the wealth of the country' ; and we need not scruple to concede to Clarendon that, in the absence of war and the general quickening of intelligence, the country enjoyed material prosperity. Nor can we dispute Hume's statement, that, when spread over so many years, the number of mutilations, whippings, and gags administered to the Puritans, under the auspices of Laud and the Star Chamber, was not extremely great. But aU the more on these accounts ought we to admire the conduct of those English patriots who fretted under the yoke of Charles. Few nobler spectacles are presented by history than that of the English people in those years when, from the nobles in their castles to the yeomen in their cottages, all classes were agitated by poignant distress at the thought of law insulted and Parha- ment suppressed. There is more of the secret of England's ordered hberty and rooted greatness in the gratitude and admiration vidth which. Hampden's countrymen looked upon his conduct in the Ship-money case than in ten such fields as Agincourt. The nation felt that, in the person of Hampden, the fundamental laws of England confronted • All three expressions are gleaned from one page of the "Apologia." ].S2 Charles the First. a despotic King and servile judges, and that, in Hampden's defeat, a blow had been struck at the essentials of English liberty. At the Court, though there must have been misgivings, the prevailing mood was one of cynical com- placency. The witty privy councillor " would ordinarily laugh," says May, " when the words liherty of tJie sulject were named." Those enamoured of political servitude were, however, "but a small part of the nation." The great majority, including " the common people and the country freeholders," "were sensible of their birth-rights and the true interest of the Idngdom," and "would ra- tionally argue of their ovrai rights, and those oppressions that were laid upon them." How long the profound disaffection might have smouldered without insurrectionary conflagration, if no spark had fallen to kindle it from without, no man can tell. The decision against Hampden was given in 1637, but no insurrectionary movement betrayed the profound indigna- tion of the people. Laud, it is commonly said, committed an imbecile mistake in trying to force his Anghcanism on the Scotch. But Strafford as well as Laud thought that the Scotch could offer no formidable resistance. The Irish deputy said, in so many words, that five months would suffice to reduce Scotland to obedience. Throughout England the sympathy of all classes was with the Scots. Vaguely, but vdth substantial correctness, the great body of the people felt that the Scots had cast off the yoke of Laud and the bishops, that the object of the war in which the King had become involved -mis to extend throughout the island that system of ecclesiastical unifonnity and subjection of the entire spu-itual life of the nation to one man, which had in England been found so galling. Lilly expresses with self-evidencing accuracy the prevailing mood of the public mind. Even the nobility, bo tells us, marched with gxeat reluctance; "for Charles's Camp on the Tweed. 183 the English and Scots having now lived lilts brethren or natives, or people of one nation, one amongst another for almost forty 3'ears, and having intermarried one with another, both nobiHty or gentry and others, they thought it a very strange thing, and not lawful or convenient, that this nation should now take up arms, and engage against the Scots, only to satisfy the insatiable lust of a few domineering priests and haJf-Popish bishops." Glancing for a moment into Charles's camp on the Tweed in 1639, we note a fact or two which help us to realise whaijjlife was actually like in the olden time. The men fare largely upon salmon — so largely, that they soon begin to complain of having too much of it. They are barbarically unclean in their persons, the soldiers beguiling their leisure by engaging in a species of hunting which, says the contemporary describer, suggested a riddle in the days of Homer — ^What is that species of game which, when taken, is left on the hunting-ground, and, when not taken, is carried home ? The fact that it is most unpleasant even to speak of such things at present, measures our superiority to our ancestors in social refine- ment. After the blooming out of the whole Ehzabethan literature, after Spenser had vratten his Faery Queen, and Milton his Comus, the habits and the manners of Enghshmen in the seventeenth century continued such as would now be thought revolting among coal-heavers. Some of the soldiers were armed with primitive muskets, which they discharged with matches, some with bows and arrows ; and a dispute was maintained between the parties as to which was the better weapon. The argument of the bows-and-arrows men of course was, that the bow had given England the victory on many a field, and "had been at the siege of Bullen." Could an instrument of war, which had been higlily esteemed by Hannibal and Csesar, by Edward Long- 18i Charles the First. shanks and the Black Prince, be displaced by a new- fangled, complicated, fire-spitting machine, that might burst in a man's hand and blow his eyes out ? Eloquent arguments, however, do not arrest historical development * as it moves on from stepping-stone to stepping-stone. In the army with wliich Charles commenced the war in 1639, there were primitive muskets and bows and arrows; in the army with which Cromwell ended it, in 1651, there were no bows and arrows, and at least a portion of the force was provided with a bran-new, flint-locked musket, the unmistakable progenitor of the weapon with which Frederick of Prussia and the Old Dessauer won their battles, and of the Brown Bess of Waterloo. True to the old instinctive argument, Wellington continued sceptical on the subject of arms of precision, and died believing that the weapon which had served him so well in the Peninsula could never be superseded. Having touched upon historical evolution, we may recall another phenomenon of the year 1639, which is not without significance firom that point of view. It was in 1639, when England rang from sea to sea with theolo- gical debate and the furious strife of poHtical parties, that Jeremiah Horrocks, a Lancashire curate only twenty years of age, worked over Kepler's calculations of the transit of Venus across the sun, and discovered that the gi-eat astronomer had made a mistake. As the day which his own investigation showed him to be the correct one approached, Horrocks arranged his telescope so that it should cast an image of the sun on a sheet of paper placed in a dark chamber, and inscribed ^^•ith the mathe- matical figm'es necessary to enable him to make his observations. The critical day was the '2kh of November, a Sunday, and Horrocks suspended his intense watch in the chamber to conduct first the morning service, then that of the afternoon. One cannot help wondering whether the Jeremiah Horrocks. 185 devout Puritans in liis congregation were aware of any lack of savour in his sermons on this day, or whether he con- trived to harmonise the requirements of science and of religion by preaching on the text, " The heavens declare the glory of God." He must have been more than mortal if, as the short November afternoon drew to its close, and the sunbeams fell slant through the church windows, and the priceless moments, during which alone the planet could be visible, were stealing quickly away, his voice did not falter, and his heart beat high. At a quarter-past three he entered his dark room, and there, travelling along the disc on the wall, was the black spot that marked the track of Venus in the far-away heavens. One half-hour was his in which to observe and measure the transit ; then the sun set. No other eye had seen the planet travelling across its disc, for the single friend whom he had told to look out, no sooner beheld the actual fulfilment of the prediction, than he lost his head from excitement and became good for nothing. Had the proceedings of the young Lan- cashire curate been widely known at the time, it is pro- bable that he would have been severely censured for the scientific interludes to his sermonising on that November Sunday, and not impossible that, if the mob had heard of the dark room and the miracle which drove his friend temporarily out of his senses, he might have shared the fate which overtook the quack magician, Dr. Lamb, a few years earher, and been torn to pieces. But the faculties which, to use the language of the time, had been owned of God in the appearance, at the predicted hour, of that black speck on the face of the sun, could not fail to vindicate themselves; and when more than two cen- turies had passed, our generation beheld the most civiHsed nations of the world vie with each other in sending out expeditions to observe the recurrence of that transit of Venus which the young Lancashire curate of the seven- 18G Charles the First. teenth century witnessed in his silent and sequestered room. Charles did not like the look of the army of the Covenanters as it lay encamped on Doune Hill, and the Scottish leaders were anxious, if possible, to avoid actually drawing the sword against their King. A pacification was accordingly patched up. But it was short-lived. The Covenanters, it must be admitted, carried matters with a liigh hand, and Charles and Laud, for their part, were far from sincerely consenting that the Scots should have their own way in religion. War, therefore, again broke out, and Charles, at his wits' end for money, was absolutely com- pelled to summon Parhament. It met in April, 1640, and must be pronounced, in view of all that had gone before, conspicuously moderate and loyal. But, though not refusing money, it proposed to inquire into grievances, and Charles dissolved it. Having relieved himseK of the presence of Parhament, he marched to encounter the Scots, who had this time crossed the Tweed. If readers would understand the state of affairs which fifteen years of misgovemment had produced in long-suffering England, they have but to place vividly before their imagination a few of the facts relating to the levy of Charles's army in 1640, col- lected by Mr. J. Bruce, in his careful and lucid Notes on the Treaty of Eipon. The people, as represented by the yeomen, fanners, and train bands who came together in aims, were pos- sessed with two ideas, which agitated them almost to frenzy — the idea that money ought not to be illegally raised, and the idea that England was being betrayed to the Pope. Instead of shouting for the King and bacldng the constable, Charles's soldiers rent open prison-doors, and fiot free those immuvod for refusing to pay the taxes. Bailiffs attempting to raise ship-money were "g-rievously Charles's Soldiers. 187 beaten." It was of no use to distrain — people would not make a bid for the goods brought to the hammer. The Sheriff of Oxfordshire, collecting ship-money, finds, where- ever he comes, that the constables have disappeared, and that gates are " chained, locked, and barricaded." Mutiny pervades the troops, and the officers are in danger of their lives. In Norfolk, there are "murmurs, discontents, and outrages," and the recruits "utterly refuse to be dis- ciplined." At Warminster, the soldiers get hold of the notion that their commander is a Papist. They propose to him that they shall all receive the sacrament. He declines; in that case, they say, they cannot march with him ; and so they " cashier their captain." At Farringdon, the men murder Lieutenant Mohun, threaten their officers vrith death, and put them aU to flight. At another place the officers require to kill some of the men in seK-defence. At Wellington, Lieutenant Compton Evers does not go to church. The troops take it into their heads that he is a Papist, and murder him " vnth circumstances of frightful atrocity." An attempt is made to arrest four. Twenty start from the ranks exclaiming that they all did it. Beating, cashiering, mm-dering their officers, opening prisons, wasting the country, incensed to madness against Laud and the Pope, beheving that the Scots are their brothers in religion and in hatred of despotism, the tumultuary multitude that Charles foolishly calls an army, welters on towards York. Of only one officer do we hear who managed to secure the goodwill of his men. Young Prank Windebank, son of the Secretary, finding himself suspected of Popery, and in danger of being murdered, bent to circumstances, read prayers and sang psalms at the head of his regiment, and backed up these edifying exercises with a drop of drink and largesse of tobacco. The men perceived that there was nothing wrong with Prank's theology, and whi]e less 188 Charles the First. shifty officers trembled for their lives, he became immensely popular. In the midst of an armed mob, greatly more inclined to coalesce with the Scots in a campaign against himself and his bishops than to fight on his behalf, Charles could not but perceive at York, in the summer of 1640, that a crisis had arrived. Strafford was at his side, but the Earl, who had recently, after long begging, obtained his title, was racked with a painful malady, and found the occasion too much for him. There is some evidence of his having made an attempt to kindle the martial ardour of the EngHsh, whose national pride, if skilfully appealed to, might certainly have been inflamed into vengeful fiuy by the rout of Conway by the Scottish army at Newbum, but beyond this we fail to discover one spark of genius or of inventive statesmanship in the proceedings of Strafford at this juncture. He evinced as complete an ignorance of the state of public feeling in England as Laud, and he had not Laud's excuse of being an ecclesiastic and of iwt having been a patriot. Strafford found that the King had really no party, and he seems, in consequence, to have been amazed and bewildered. The one rational advice that reached Charles came from the Archbishop. It was to hold out the hand to several of the leading patriots — who at tliis time had met in London to consult and petition — and, in particular, to offer the command of the army to Essex. To such an offer the Earl, ambitious of distinction, " seemed not averse ; " and if Essex had been placed at the head of the army, and reasonable concessions made to the popular party, it is in the highest degree probable that Charles might have ended the war with something like distinction. The Queen approved of Laud's project, and wrote to the King in its favour. It was, in fact, the best that could be suggested in llio desperate circumstances to which Charles The Long Parliament. 18D ■was reduced. His thorough incapacity rendered him bhnd even to the meaning and point of the advice, and he made to the Queen and Laud the pompously imbecile reply that he had already invited Essex " to come along with the forces of his county." They kaew that as well as he, but something more than the invitation addressed to everj-- leading man in England was required to act upon the vanity and ambition of the Earl. Having no policy of his own, Charles yielded to the representations of his nobility assembled at York, and agreed to summon Par- hament. On the 3rd of November, 1640 — a day memorable in the annals of England and the world — the Long Parha- ment met. The cardinal fact to be apprehended in connection with the Long Parhament at the time of its meeting is, that it was substantially unanimous, and represented a substan- tially unanimous nation. Lords and Commons pronounced condemnation upon the pohtical and ecclesiastical govern- ment to which England had been subjected. Frightful as the misgovern m ent had been, the reverent affection with which his people regarded Charles was not, so far as can be gathered from the speeches of the leading patriots at the opening of Parliament, destroyed. It was not in sheer hypocrisy, nor was it wholly — though it may have been in part — ^with a view to conciliation, but mainly in sub- jugation of heart and intellect (in a manner inconceivable to this generation) by the illusive spell of anointed sove- reignty, that Pym spoke of Charles as " a pious and virtuous King, who loved his people, and was a great lover of justice." If it is impossible to beheve that Pym thought these words literally true, it is certain that the Commons of England heard them without imputing dupU- city to the speaker. They attest for us the marvellous potency of an illusion which not only assigned to the King a constitutional incapacity to be called to account, 190 Charles the First. but actually credited him, to a very considerable extent, ■with Divine immunity from -wrong-doing. Eudyard, a sturdy Puritan, told the House that evil counsellors had not "suffered His Majesty to appear unto his people in his own native goodness." "They had echpsed him by their interpositions. Although gross, condensed bodies may obscure and hinder the sim from shining out, yet he is still the same in his own splendour. And when those bodies are removed, all creatures under him are directed by his Hght and comforted by his beams." Ought we to admire, or at least to respect, this dispo- sition of the Commons, as the childhke simpHcity of noble natures ? Hardly. The illusion was, after all, a he, and few hes have been so pernicious. It lured Charles to his doom ; smiling him on by the falsehood that he possessed a charmed life. It threw an element of perplexity and quasi-insincerity into the speeches, remonstrances, procla- mations of the Parliament, every musket fired against the King being fired in his name, and professedly for his sake. One caimot help entering into the feehng of Charles when, in answer to a Parhamentary declaration, punctiHously respectful to himself and fiercely condemnatory of his measures, he exclaimed, " We could wish that our imme- diate actions, which we avow, and oinr own honour, might not be so roughly censured and wounded, under that common style of evil councillors." The first object of Lords and Commons at the meeting of the Long Parhament was to strike down the most pro- minent instruments of the King. Seven of the Commons, Pym at their head, Hampden bringing up the rear, im- peached Strafford of high treason before the Lords. About the same time Laud was sent to the Tower. The Arch- bishop's unpopularity had reached a chmax, and shortly before his arrest a mob had come swarming and vocife- rating about Lambeth, with supposed intent to sack the Fall of Strafford. 191 episcopal palace. The rioters did not effect an entrance, and, in fact, did nothing more than raise a noise. In making the noise, however, they used a drum. It was beaten by a poor creature called Archer. He was seized and tried for high treason. The beating of the drum had, it seems, technically amounted to this crime ; but it is monstrous to imagine that Archer had levied war against his soveireign. He was, however, hanged, drawn, and quartered ; and unless we are to suppose that a warrant in Charles's hand, printed by Professor Masson, remained a dead letter, he was first put to the torture. In the in- terval, therefore, between the death of Felton and the death of Archer, Charles's tyrannical audacity had in- creased. Those also who think that the patriots of the Long Parhament dealt harshly with 'Charles before the outbreak of the war, ought to recollect that so late as 1640, the Boyal prerogative still included the right to put any man to the torture, and that Charles used it to this effect. Strafford's friends and his own judgment warned bim that he ought to avoid London, but the King told biTn to come. He was too strong a man to be quite after Charles's heart. There were sycophant bishops enough at hand to supply the King with casuistical reasons for breaking his promise and abandoning his devoted servant ; but it is pleasant to find that Juxon, the creature of Laud, acting doubtless under the inspiration of his patron, told him that he was bound by his word. Charles felt that to sacrifice the Earl was a black and cowardly sin, and he was ever haunted with remorse for it. Strafford went to the block ; Laud's ecclesiastical poHcy was reversed ; Windebank and Finch fled the kingdom; the Courts of Star-Chamber, High-Commission, and of the North were abohshed ; and the sudden dissolution of Parliament was obviated by a Bill forbidding the step, except with its own consent. The 192 Charles the First. nightmare rose from England's heart, and the nation breathed freely. Such may be considered the position of affairs when the Parliament was prorogued in the summer of 1641. The brightness passed away with the noontide of the year. When the Houses met again in autumn, the unanimity which had reigned at the opening of the Long Parhament had disappeared for ever. Causes of alarm and foreboding had startled the leaders of the patriot party. Laud was in the Tower, and Strafford in the grave, but Charles was acting under the influence of Henrietta Maria. The confidence of the Houses and of the nation could be secured only by the installation of a Patriot Ministry, and to this the repugnance of Charles was invincible. It became plain, soon after the death of his great minister, that he was involved in a new reticulation of intrigue. After adjourning Parliament, he proceeded to Scotland, Hampden and one or two other trusty and sagacious patriots accompanying him; and the dark plot- tings in which he there engaged with Montrose, of which the aim seemed to be to put him in possession of a mihtary force, were not calculated to promote confidence. In his absence, discoveries had been made among the papers which Secretary Windebank left behind him when he fled, by which Henrietta and Charles were impUcated in schemes for bringing a foreign army into the island. The Irish re- bellion had broken out, agitating men's minds with its inexpressible horrors ; and the rebels declared themselves to be the Queen's soldiers, and loyal to the Iving. The fears of the patriots were increased by their per- ceiving that an undiscerning pubUc had already forgotten Thorough. Charles had been welcomed back from Scot- land with effusion, and feasted in Guildhall. Hampden, Pym, and the leading patriots apprehended a strong re- action, and made up their minds that it was absolutely The Great Bemonstrance. 193 necessary that a Patriot Ministry should be at the hehn of affairs. This was one chief object of the Great Bemon- strance. But the Commons, instead of being united in presenting it to the Crown, as they had been united against Strafford, were divided into two fiercely hostile parties, in numbers not very unequal. The Eemonstrants carried their point, but it was by the narrow majority of less than a dozen. The document which they presented to Charles is an eloquent summary of the oppressions and calamities of the fifteen years of maladministration which preceded the impeachment of Strafford, with a representation that the pernicious system must not only be put an end to,, but replaced by entirely different counsels. Had Charles re- ceived it with meekness, referred, in proof of his sincerity, to the death of Strafford and the imprisonment of Laud, and appealed to the representatives of the people to trust him, it can hardly be doubted that in a few weeks he would have possessed a majority in the House of Commons. By what words, then, shall we measure the folly of Charles when we say that his practical answer to the Great Bemonstrance was an attempt to effect in person the arrest of Pym, Hampden, and three other leading patriots, on a charge of high treason? Lord Macaulay holds that the criminality of this famous proceeding was great, but that it was not particularly foolish. The ordinary opinion has been that the criminahty was less than the folly ; and this opinion seems to be correct. Those men had opposed Charles since his accession to the throne. He looked on them as the murderers of Strafford. He beHeved them to have been guilty of treason. He expressly said in the House that, in connection with a charge of treason, all privilege was suspended. "Where, in this, do we detect atrocious criminality? The immeasurable folly of the attempt is proved by the consideration that, whatever had been the immediate issue, Charles could not possibly have 13 391 Charles the First. reaped from it anything but calamity. The treason of ■which he accused the five members was connivance at the Scotch invasion of England. But in the Eemonstrance the warmest approval is expressed of the pohcy pursued by the Scotch ; and whatever might be the relentings of the popular heart towards Charles, the great body of the Enghsh people felt that the advance of the Scottish army had been the immediate cause of the dehverance of England. Can it be doubted that, if he had succeeded in •dragging five of the boldest and best-esteemed patriots from the House, or if, in obedience to his orders, their blood had been shed by the ruffians who attended him to its door, the severed parties would have rushed together, like .elements chemically combined by an electric spark, and presented a front of uncompromising opposition? The Scottish army had been disbanded but for about three months, and could be immediately recalled to its standards. If Charles had succeeded in his attempt on the five mem- bers, a Scottish army would soon have been marching on Xiondon, amid the acclamations of Englishmen. Charles's failure ruined him ; but it ruined Mm slowly, by opening the way to other blunders and mishaps ; had he succeeded, his ruin would have been suddai as weU as complete. His bran-new London popularity vanished in a moment. Thousands of swords were dravra in defence of the ParUa- ment. From Buckinghamshire 4,000 riders poiu-ed in to protect their beloved Hampden ; and the Commons, who sat for some da,ys after the attempt in committee of the whole House in the city, retm'ned to Westminster amid the triumphant shouts of the Londoners. Seeing these things, Charles retired to Hampton Com-t, telling the Parliament, who adjured him to retm-n, that he -did not consider his person safe in the vicinity of "\Vest- minstc;r. A few of his most desperate adherents assembled ,at Kingston, and an immediate appeal to arms seems to The Militia. 195 have been contemplated by the King. This was imprac- ticable, but Charles had taken his resolution, and did not abandon it. He proceeded to Canterbury, and, thence to Dover, with Henrietta Maria, who, under show of accom- panying the Princess Mary to her af&anced husband, Wnham, son of the Prince of Orange, sailed for Holland. Charles laiew that the Queen's life was in danger on account of her intrigues. She carried with her the Crovra. jewels of England, to be pavTned for arms. Up to the day when Charles attempted to arrest the five members, the patriotic party had confined itself to the demand that the King should prove his ex aiiimo adoption of a hberal pohcy by taldng into his councils such men as the nation could trust. "When he showed his hand by striking a direct blow* at the hfe of the leading patriots, they named a new condition of reconciliation as essential, — that he should put the militia under command of ParUa- ment by accepting a hst of Ijord-Lieutenants of counties framed by the Houses. Their general scheme of settlement they embodied in nineteen propositions. In June, 1642, these were presented to Charles at York, and decisively rejected. In July the royal standard was unfurled at Nottingham. , The effect of the acceptance of the nineteen propositions would have been to transform the regal authority of the Plantagenets and Tudors into that now possessed by the sovereign of England. Charles declared that, if he accepted the propositions, he would be a king only in name. With- out question he would have become what the sovereign of • England now is, 4he hereditary first magistrate of a Eepubhc in form of a monarchy. It was natural and par- donable that he should consider such a transformation to be humiliating. Constitutional sovereignty of our modem type had not at that time been seen in the world. It was unknown to, the ancients. Hear an eminent historian of 13—2 196 Charles the First. Greece on that subject. " To establish a king who will reign without governing — in whose name all government is carried on, yet whose personal will is in practice of little or no effect — exempt from all responsibility, without making use of the exemption — receiving from every one unmea- sured demonstrations of homage, which are never trans- lated into act except within the bounds of a known law — surrounded with aU the paraphernalia of power, yet acting as a passive instrument in the hands of ministers marked out for his choice by indications which he is not at Hberty to resist" would, thinks Grote, have seemed to Aristotle impracticable. This unique phenomenon, in which " the fiction of superhuman grandeur" is combined ^vith "the reality of an invisible strait-waistcoat," could not be imagined imtil it was seen. Cromwell, though he arranged the election of his ParUaments as he chose, and was unscrupulous in manipulating them, never suc- ceeded in getting one to work with him. WiUiam III. chafed so furiously under the attempt of Parliament to dictate his policy, that he told Somers he would rather abdicate than bear the intolerable yoke. In the seven- teenth century the Enghsh nation groped bhndly and instinctively after constitutional sovereignty ; but the thing could be reaHsed only through a gradual process of evo- lution not then accomplished. The process was incom- plete even in the days of George III. ; for poor George fretted himself mad in his long endeavour to combine an element of personal autocracy with representative Hngship. Logically and formally the evolution has not been completed at this horn- ; for the sovereign of Great Britain swears in the coronation oath to obey not Par- liament, but God, which a man of stubborn will and sensitive conscientiousness might easily find to be by no means one and the same thing. The royal veto is still theoretically valid against Acts sanctioned by Lords and Commons. Bepresentative Sovereignty. 197 Parliamentary monarchy has been perfectly realised, not as a logical theorem, but as a fact, in the reign of Queen Victoria. And it has turned out that a representative sovereign is not by any means a sovereign only in name. In the affection of a nation, transmitted from father to son, and hallowed by reverent associations, there is real power. Nor can it be said that the representative sovereign lacks either distinctive functions or princely honour. To discern what the will of the nation is, and to give effect to it with rigorous suppression of personal bias, is no easy task ; and may we not add that a monarch to whom a great people has " lent its terror," and whom it has " dressed in its love," occupies a position of as high honour as is good for mortal ? It seems scarcely possible to agree with Lord Macaulay that Charles was not conscientious in his adherence to the Anghcan Church. There is nothing in the King's personahty more substantial than his conscientious devotion to his Church. If he was not sincere in that, he eludes us as a shadow. Lord Macaulay forgot that there is such an art as casuistry, and that its purpose is to neutralise the scruples of sincere consciences by a series of ingenious artifices. Charles was as inconsistent as Lord Macaulay says he was. He estabhshed Presbyterianism in Scotland ; for a certain price, in the form of mihtary assistance, he would have estabhshed Popery in Ireland; he assented to the provi- sional estabhshment of Presbyterianism in England. Could he, then, asks the sharp and logical essayist, have any con- scientious objections to set aside Anghcanism in his southern kingdom? The answer is that the very office of the casuist is to find minute distinctions between cases which seem to be in principle identical, and thus to recon- cile conscience to the one while not reconcihng it to the other. It may seem incredible that Charles should succeed in luUing his conscience asleep by the most trivial sophisms ; 198 Charles the First. but that it was an object dearer than life with him to quiet his conscience constituted the essential and differentiating fact in his character. He protected his conscience by elaborate entrenchments of school-girl fibs. His letters to Henrietta Maria, who possessed his entire confidence, have a curious interest for those who, like Bishop Butler, love to analyse the subleties and follow the vdndings of human motive. He parades his evasions before his wife as if he expected to be praised for his ingenuity. I " call " them a ParHament, you observe, but I do not " acknowledge " them to be such ! " Though I have stretched my wits to persuade them to accept of my personal treaty, yet examine my words well, and thou wilt find that I have not engaged myself in anything against my grounds." "It is true that it may be I give them leave to hope for more than I intended." It was, perhaps, the bitterest drop in Charles's cup that Henrietta Maria treated his conscientious scruples with contempt. His letters addressed to her from the Scotch camp in 1646, which have recently come to hght, and have been edited with shrewd commentary by Mr. John Bruce, depict him at one of the saddest points in his whole sad history. He loves the Queen with all his heart ; yet she has no patience with him, no mercy for him. She mocks at his zeal " in the affair of the bishops." After enormous pressure, and vdthout any concession in return, he had consented to the establishment of Presbyterianism in England for three years. Henrietta, caring only that no such cession of the military power of the Idngdom should be made as would prejudice Prince Charles, vehemently but quite wrongly beHeved that, if he thi-ew up the Church altogether, he would be allowed to retain the mihtia. So she pricked into him thus: " Permettes moy" — ^her impa- tient, misspelled French is better than an English trans- lation — " de vous dire, quo jo crois, si je me pouvois The Queen. 199 dispenser d'une chose que je croiois contre ma conscience pour 3 ans, et pour rien, j'irois plus loin pour sauver mon royaurue." With exquisite feminine cruelty she tells him that he has himself to blame for his misfortunes, and that if he had listened to her, he would have been in a different position. " J'oserais dire que si vous eussies suivi nos avis, que Tos affaires seroient dans un autre estat qu'ils ne sont." This was hard, for Charles could rejoin that it was to save her life that he sacrificed Strafford. But he never blamed her. He pleaded with her hke a broken-hearted lover, im- ploring her not to drive him feom his last earthly asylum — her approbation. He expHcitly did her bidding ia the matter of the mihtia. The Commons of course stood fast on that point, for to do otherwise would have been to put a knife into Charles's hand with the moral certainty that, in the event of a strong revulsion of popular feehng in his favour, it would be used to cut their own throats. He wrote upon one of the Queen's letters, " The reason why the' ParHament answer went not ; " and when the answer, with the expected surrender of the militia, was not forthcoming, he was declared a prisoner. Macaulay could not imderstand Charles's casuistical sincerity, because of all mental conditions it was most in- tensely aJien to his own ; but there was a profound reason for the imputation by the Puritans to Charles and by Charles to the Puritans of hypocrisy. Charles believed the Puritans to be wilful sinners, the Puritans beheved Charles to be a wilful sinner, because neither admitted that God could possibly permit the existence of conscientious error. " They care nothing," says the King, writing from the camp of the Covenanters in 1646, " for rehgion but as it makes for their damnable ends." " Though he should swear iu," writes the Covenanter Baillie with reference to Charles, " no one wiH beheve it that he sticks upon Episcopacy, for any conscience." Neither of the contending parties knew 200 Cliarlcs the First. how wide are the posBihle Mmits of diversity in conscientious conviction, of honesty in reUgious profession. Believing that God punished with eternal fire all who disagreed with them, hoth parties tacitly inferred that it could only be wilfully and wickedly that any disagreed v?ith them. Practically the faith of that age was that rehgious truth is attainable on the same terms as mathematical and arithmetical truth, and that a man is as incapable of honestly beheving false doctrine as he is of honestly beheving that twice two are not four. All intelhgent persons now recognise that Mr. Martineau and Dr. Newman, the Pope and Mr. Spurgeon, are ahke honest and conscientious. As God sends His rain and His sunshine on all these, we can now, without thinking we offend God, tolerate them aU, respect them all. Both Charles and the Puritans were as sincere as mortal men could be ; but they could not mutually admit the fact ; for it is much easier to be zealous towards God than to be just towards our brothers or ourselves. A touching phase of the casuistical reasoning wherewith Charles sheltered his conscience is revealed in his self- communings on the death of Strafford, as poured into the ear of his wife. It was his fixed idea that God was angry with him either for sacrificing the Earl, or for letting the Bishops be expelled from the House of Lords, or for both, and that, if he sinned again in the matter of the Church, there could be no pardon for him. " I must con- fess," he writes, " that heretofore I have for pubhc respects (yet I believe if thy personal safety had not been at stake I might have hazarded the rest) yielded unto those tilings that were no less against my conscience than this, for which I have been so deservedly punished, that a relapse now would be insufferable, and I am most confident that God hath so favoured my hearty (though wealv) repentance, that He will be glorified either by reheving me out of these distresses (which I may humbly hope for, though not pre- His Casuistry. 201 sume upon), or in my gallant sufferings for so good a cause, which to eschew by any mean submission cannot but draw God's further justice upon me, both in this and the next world." These may be the words of a weak man, but they are those of one who is sincerely rehgious. Charles's casuistical ingenuity might have reconciled him to large concessions of a nature unfavourable to the Church; but death was easier for him than its unreserved abandonment. And let it be dehberately said that the mere fact of its being a necessity of life for Charles to preserve the citadel of his soul inviolate reveals a moral quahty which places him in a different class from certain historical personages who, in intellectual strength, were immeasurably his superiors. He never, like Napoleon the First in his period of spiritual decadence, or like Frederick of Prussia from first to last, took evil into his service, and resolved to succeed at whatever moral cost. Charles died cHnging to the hem of Christ's garment, and this separates him spiri- tually by the deepest of all chasms from the men whose god is success. Casuistry can do much, but it can neither fight battles nor wheedle nations out of the fruits of victory. Charles, though personally brave enough, and though he showed some dexterity and vigour in his operations against Essex and Waller, was a bad soldier. There was, indeed, no limit to his practical incapacity. He missed the mark at every critical juncture. When decision and promptitude were required, as in his early advance upon London and again after the capture of Bristol, he was lagging and dilatory ; when defeat was sure to be fatal, as at Naseby, he was precipitate. Experience could not teach him. When one instrument was broken he took up another, vsdthout any stringency of requirement that the second should be better than the first. The English Cavaliers are beaten ; perhaps the Irish Papists will pull us through : that hope vanishes ; 202 Charles the First. but the English Presbyterians are rising in our behaK : they are put down, but here come Hamilton and his Scots, and all may still be well. Sanguine yet not sure, ever learning but never coming to the knowledge either of the truth of facts or the principles of action, Charles was made for failure. His patient perseverance in blundering, his per- petual activity without progress, were deeper signs of practical incapacity, and infinitely more productive of calamity to himself and others, than mere indolence or impatience would have been. There is immense beneficence in a clear, bold word, yea or nay. Could Charles have said once for all, as our generation has heard Count Chambord say, that he would reign as a divinely-appointed autocrat or not at aU, he would have saved himself years of misery and his country rivers of blood. But never in his life was he anything except by halves, and to no party did he ever give complete satisfaction. He could neither serve God nor take the devil into his pay ; and aU men were disappointed in him. Lilly, who was familiar with the gossip of both camps, says that even the CavaHers only half trusted him, and did not dare to reahse the thought of his being completely victorious. Again and again he had excellent cards in hand ; but he never could make up his mind to play them rationally. It was a sound scheme " to work the Scots to his design " in 1646 ; but in order to do so it was necessary to agree with the Scots, and Charles could not persuade himseK to that. When the Scots marched out of England, having fomid it impossible to take him with them as a friend, and not choosing to take him as a prisoner, he still had good cards if he could have adopted the tone of the Independents, avowed himself the champion of toleration, and made terms with the army. But Cromwell and Ireton found that he was trilling with them. Charles had been bred in an element of intrigue, and was an intrigi;er all his life ; yet he His Evasions. 203 could no more keep a secret than a net can hold water. It looks hke insanity to have put into black and white and committed to a messenger a statement that he intended to hang Cromwell and Ireton at a convenient season ; hut it was scarcely more foolhardy in Charles to speak of Crom- well and Ireton as he is said to have spoken in the letter intercepted in the Holborn Tavern than it was to speak of Argyle and the other Scotch leaders as it is absolutely certain he spoke of them in letters despatched by him from the Scotch camp. Charles never perceived that, if he was to have the sei-vices of any party, he must adopt, honestly or dishonestly, that party's side. No man but he could have imagined that it was possible to bring the Scots under LesHe and the Parliament to mutual extermination, or, again, the Parhamentary Presbjrterians and the Indepen- dents to mutual extermination, by shilly-shallying between the two, his own conscience being kept quiet, and both parties being hoodwinked, by preternatural subtlety in the art of diplomatic evasion. Even Clarendon- found that Charles was with him only by halves, and emits a lament- able waal on the "King's plots within plots. It has often been pleaded in favour of Charles that he tried hard to make terms for his friends ; but the grievous fact is that he displayed httle depth of feeling on behalf of the brave and devoted men who lost life or fortune for his sake. "He was seldom," says Lilly, "in the times of war, seen to be sorrowful for the slaughter of his people or soldiers, or indeed anything else." A chill-blooded man, of low, though tough, vitahty and lethargic feehngs, he was capable of much languid wretchedness, but not of acute suffering. The state of his body after death showed that the organs had not been wasted or worn ; it was physically probable that he might have lived long ; and it is doubtful whether the loss of a friend or even of a battle ever cost him a night's sleep. Though he was a bad disciplinarian, 201 CJiarles the First. and the riot in his camp and the rapine of his soldiers did him infinite harm, he could not do a daringly generous thing to the most wilUng of friends. Might he not, for example, have spared the life of poor young Colonel Winde- bank, even although a court-martial had consigned him to death? Colonel Windebank held Bletchington House for the King. The place was strong and weU-manned ; but the Colonel had lately been married, and his young wife and a bevy of her lady friends were with him ; and Cromwell, who, with his Ironsides, had been shattering every force that looked him in the face, came fiercely demanding sur- render. Cromwell had not a breaching gun, not even foot soldiers, only a " few dragoons," and as he was a cavalry officer besieging was, he said, " not his business ; " but the name of him akeady (April, 1645) made both the ears of every one of the King's people hearing it to tingle. Agon- ised by the thought of what might overtake his bride and the other ladies ia the event of a storm, Windebank lost head or heart, and took down the royal standard. The court-martial was bound to condemn him to die ; but the circumstances were touching, and were not hkely to recur. Charles might surely have granted himself the luxury of remitting the sentence. He made no sign, and the poor young Colonel had to bid his vrife adieu, and take the death- shot to his breast. " Never was so cold a heart ! " The words are spoken of Charles by Mr. Browning's Strafford ; and well spoken. It is important to discern the exact reason why Charles died, as there has been much mistaken writing upon the subject. Hallam and Macaulay argue that neither by national nor by municipal law could he be put to death ; but neither Hallam nor Macaulay precisely consider for what or by whom he was slain. It was not the Long Parliament that brought him to trial. The Commons of England wore faithful to their professions of holding the The Beasoii of His Death. 205 King incapable of wrong. The Parliamentary majority was cut down by military force into a minority, for the express purpose of making it a possible instrument to take the King's Hfe. The army, and the army alone, slew Charles ; and, in order to reach his life, it had to extinguish opposi- tion throughout England. Milton's " Defence of the People of England" is misnamed. A mihtary faction, whose yoke the people of England detested, were the sole clients of Milton. The people of England showed their feelings by purchasing scores of editions of the Eikon BasiHke, supposed to be Charles's own defence against the regicides, within the year of his death. By a distract vote of the Convention, from which even the Girondins had not yet been expelled, France killed her King ; by a company of Puritan soldiers, who had cut down the Parliamentary majority with the sword, and in defiance of England, Scot- land, and Ireland, Charles was adjudged to die. In the second place, it is to be recollected, in justice to those who did bring Charles to the block, that he was not even made the subject of judicial accusation for his share in the first war. At Hampton Court, many months after his last fortress had been surrendered, he was treated with lenity and consideration. It was because he plotted war within the walls of gentle and honourable imprisonment, because he called an invading army into England, that he was condemned to die. The men who tried him tore the figment of his personal irresponsibility to shreds. " The King can do no wrong ! This man, king or no king, was conquered in battle. In the dark, in easy confinement, he felt for a dagger, and came behind England, and did his best to stab her to the heart. Eor this he deserves to die ; and if ParUament cannot say so, we can, and do." Such was in effect their plea. Charles possessed some talents. He had a true taste in art. His gallery of pictures was rich in the productions of 206 Charles the First. Titian, Tiatoret, Giorgione, and Velasquez. Every one ■who engaged with him in discussion was struck with his power of following the clue through labyrinthine mazes of argument. His most remarkable faculty, however, was tha,t of detecting, by some curious instinctive sympathy, the kind of men whom he could make his own — men of splendid parts, but with a certain moral flaw or sickliness in them. This last was the nidus, as the naturahsts say, which pre- pared them for Charles's fascination ; and once he had exercised it upon them, he bound them to him by indis- soluble ties. It would have been a priceless talent if he could have stood by the men he got, and had known how to use them ; but he could not, and did not. It is interesting to observe how, to the last, he continued plotting and blundering. He was conducted, in the close of 1648, by Colonel Harrison, from Hurst Castle, opposite the Isle of AVight, to London. The route lay by Bagshot, where he formerly had "a Httle park," and where now hved Lord and Lady Newburgh, vehement EoyaUsts. His lord- ship possessed the fleetest horse in England, and it was arranged that Charles, as he rode through the glades of the forest, should complain of his horse, and should be re- mounted on Lord Newburgh's. The King was then to give his escort the shp, and, availing himself of his perfect linowl«dge of the wood, to make his way to an appointed rendezvous, where other swift horses were to be in waiting. The scheme, as Charles was concerned in it, of course got wind, and at the critical moment, when he had been long grumbling about the discomfort of hia seat, and was urgent for a new mount, the fleetest horse in England was found to be lame in stall. He thought it useless to try another, as he rode in the midst of a hundred picked men, well, horsed, every man " having a pistol ready spanned in one hand." He was quite in the dark as to the true state of affairs. He feared assassination, and lectured Harrison upoa His Execution. 207 the odiousness of the crime. Harrison told him he might keep his mind easy on that point ; what was in store for him " would be very pubhc, and in a way of justice to which the world should be witness." His Majesty could not see it ; now, as always, he missed the mark. "Whatever his failings or his faults, he had not " sinned against Hght;" at lowest he had not taken darkness for light, and said to evil " be thou my good." Therefore, it was with placid dignity that he laid his head on the block. VI. THE COVENANTEES, CHAELES H., AND AEGYLE. 14 CHAPTER VI. THE COVENANTEES, CHARLES II., AND ABGYLE. SO early as the middle of the twelfth century, Scotland had realised for itseK a national character so marked, that the Enghsh monk Samson, of St. Edmondsbury, traveUing in Italy, assmned by way of disguise the garb of a Scotchman, and, when meddled with, took to brandishing his staff and " uttering comminatory words after the way of the Scotch." It was the time of the strife between the rival Popes, Alexander and Octavian ; Scotland adhered to one Pope, England to the other ; and in the gibberish with which Samson answered those who questioned him, Bide, ride. Borne; turne Cantwereberei, Mr. Carlyle conjectures that the monk intended to harp upon the notorious rejec- tion of the jurisdiction of the Enghsh primate by the Scotch. The nationality thus demonstratively proclaimed in the twelfth century rooted itseK, in the beginning of the fourteenth, in a long and deadly struggle with England. From this time the spirit of independence burned more fiercely in Scotland than in any modern kingdom. Patriot- ism, elsewhere a virtue, was in Scotland a passion. " The thunder-phrase of the Athenian, grown ITp out of memories of Marathon," did not express a pride more high and intrepid than that with which Scotchmen remembered Bannockbutn. Not finding enough to occupy them at home, and turned by hereditary animosity from England, the stream of aspiring Scottish youth poured into the Continental countries, par- 14—2 212 The Covenanters, Charles II., and Argyle. ticularly into i^'rance. This circumstance lent a cosmo- politanism to the ideas of Scotchmen, — a habit of sym- pathy with the intellectual, rehgious, and political move- ments of the Continent, — which the out-of-the-way position of Scotland on the map of Europe would not have led one to expect. They served in armies, disputed and occupied professors' chairs in Universities, made way at Courts. Ardent, alert, and hberal-minded, they rejoiced in the classical Eenaissance which followed the fall of the Eastern Empire ; went fuU sail into the Humanist move- ment of the Eeuchlin and Erasmus time ; shared the laugh of pohshed circles against the obscurantist, the priest, and the friar ; cultivated Latin not on the monkish, but the classical models. When the Reformation absorbed the Renaissance — when the gay Academic satire of the LitersB Obscurorum Virorum gave place to the tremendous appeal of Luther's Bible to the heart of Europe — the Scots, at home and abroad, became vehemently possessed with the new enthusiasm, but did not lose the old. Mel- vUle's Latin Ode on the coronation of James di-ew the highest encomiums from Lipsius and Scahger. The Refoimers of Scotland came offering intellectual as well as religious light, invaded universities as well as pulpits, and founded grammar schools as well as theological halls. About one-third of the professors in the Huguenot semi- naries of France were Scotchmen. When RicheUeu and his master, having adopted the pohcy of granting the Huguenot Church toleration of worship, but, at the same time, depriving her of rights of self-government, were bent upon silencing champions of spiritual independence, the Scotchmen, Cameron and Primrose, were thought formidable enough to be expelled the Idngdom. The Scottish people had the vnt to value the culture as well as the theology of the preachers, and the tradition of learning which belonged to Puritanism in the days of State of Scotland. 213 Milton and of Melville has never been broken in Scotland. It was broken in England by the Ironside captains and corporals, who were the most savoury preachers of their day. The pious peasant in England has a suspicion of learning — ^thinks it unspiritual and worldly; the rudest Scotch congregation hkes a " coUege-bred minister." Sensible people will admit that the Scotch form the shrewder judg- ment of the two ; for, if a preacher is spiritual, he can be none the worse for being able to go to the fountain-head of his doctrines ; and, if he is unspiritual, he is more tolerable with a few ideas in his head, than when his whole stock- in-trade consists of the rant and cant of ignorant pietism. The Latin culture of Buchanan, Arthur Johnston, and Melville, and the mathematical science of Napier of Merchiston, though exercising influence on the people, was after aU but a superficial glitter. Ferocity and super- stition characterised both the nobihty and the commons of Scotland. Frays to the effusion of blood were of perpetual occurrence. The oppression of the poor by lords and lairds was, in extreme instances, almost incredible. In a note to M'Crie's Life of Melville, we hear of a hundred poor persons being, by some legal process or other, put into the power of a noble lady, and held to ransom by her at five pounds a- piece. Two or three who could not pay she hanged out of hand, on the ground that, having failed to make good a stake in their country to this hmited extent, they could not have much worth in them. A practical person! — who seems to have been of the tribe of the old Hohenzollerns, and might have had a word of favour from Mr. Carlyle. True it is, nevertheless, that the old Scotch commonalty were mirthful and humorous ; had caught from their friends the French the gift of gaiety, and from their friends the Itahans the gift of song ; and were much addicted to dancing. Feudal Scotland, in days when Europe was young — ^when the bishop, the abbot, and the priest ruled simply 214 The Covenanters, Charles II., and Argyle. over nations of simple soldiers, and kings were still content to be patted on the head and admonished by the semi- divine Papa of Christendom, sitting where the mysteriously- mighty CsBsar had sat — was a jocund, noisy place, ringing always vpith laughter or with battle. The popular min- strelsy of Scotland has taken the ear of the world as no popular minstrelsy ever did, and is accepted at this hour as the best expression of the pathetic mirth and the humour- ous distress, the Bacchanalian revelry and the sly fan, of the great common heart of mankind, from Hampstead Heath to Cahfomia. But now the feudal era was passing away. The era of industrialism was coming in. The dangers which originated and kept up the feudal arrange- ments had vanished, and from no country had they departed more completely than from Scotland. There were now no Danish pirates to land at the Eed Head, to harry Angus, and to be met by the Scottish spearmen on the green of Loncarty. With a Scottish King on the throne of England, the Border marauder, who could of old count himself an honourable and effective guerilla soldier, found his chivalry collapse into theft. The feudal riders everywhere were leaving their helmets imbumished, and yoking their nags to the plough. The Scots took genially to works of peace. Strafford, who, like other eminent persons of those days, kept an "own correspondent" in places where useful information might be going, sent a spy into Scotland at the time when drill for the future Covenanting army was com- mencing. He reported that the rustics grumbled dismally in their squads, begging to be let off to the plough-tail. There was an enonnous quantity, said the spy, of weapons in Scotland, everybody being possessed of sometliing of the sort ; but the quality was bad. This is the last rustle we seem to hear of the "aim-caps and jinglhig jackets," the keen-edged Andrew Forroras and biting dirks, of old Scot- land. The Scottish Lowlands had never been so pacific The Covenant. 215 since the days of Agricola as they were in the first fifteen years of the reign of Charles I. Ploughing and harrowing, ditching and delving, were good; but they scarce sufficed to employ the mental and physical energy of Scotland in the suspense of feudal broils. The nation was ready for some great excitement, and gradually all wild or hilarious noises merged in the deep, stern swell of Covenanting enthusiasm. The Scotch had embraced the Eeformation in its most intense and impas- sioned form. As Jehovah had cleft the Eed Sea to bring His people out of Egypt, so had the gates of the mystic Babylon been opened that the Eeformed Church might go fi:ee. The infallible Book, inspired in its minutest syllable, went before the chosen people like a pillar of fire. The Pope had been deposed ; Christ alone reigned in the Church: but the spirit and model of His administration were to be taken from the Old Testament. The Divine King of the Church was "Jehovah-Jesus." Eigidly con- sistent in their acceptance of infallible inspiration as uniform and universal in the Bible, the Covenanters read the wiU of God as much in the slaughter of the Amaleldtes as in the Sermon on the Mount, as much in the blood of Baal's priests curdling in Kishon, or gluing together the fingers of Ehjah, as in the still smaU voice of Horeb, or the smile of Christ on the little ones in His arms. Jehovah- Jesus reigned as directly, and by substantially the same methods, in Scotland as on Mount Zion. In various Old Testament passages the Hebrews are described as entering into covenant with God, In these the Scots found an inspired warrant for adopting a similar course. Time could not invalidate, or circumstances mo- dify, the sacred stringency of such a covenant. There were many Scotchmen alive seventy years ago — there may be a few at this hour — who regard "the Covenants" as still binding on the people of Scotland. 216 The Covenanters, Charles II., and Argijle. James had diKgently promoted Episcopacy in Scotland for twenty years, but it was with the soft, obstetric hand of an old and safe, though bungling and babbling, practitioner. Charles and Laud took up the matter, and what had been a smouldering heat of discontent and disaffection became in a few years a raging flame. Charles ahenated the nobihty by betraying an intention to reclaim as much as was obtain- able of the lands seized by them from the old Popish Church, and by exalting his bishops into a position of invidious and unconstitutional importance in the Scottish Privy Council. It was with passionate distress that the Scottish clergy found themselves dravni into conflict with the Church of England. "We have with the Enghsh Church," wrote BailUe," nought to do but as with om- most dear and nearest sister ; we wish them all happiness, and that not only they, but all other Christian Churches tliis day, were both almost and altogether such as we are, except our afflictions ; " but the heart of every Scottish pastor throbbed fiercely at the thought that Laud was at last bending the stiff neck of Scotland's Church to subjec- tion to Canterbmy. A darker and more practical alarm even than that of subjection to Canterbury loomed now in the back-ground : — "The elements of the Lord's Supper," says BaiUie, whose grand virtue is that he felt exactly as the great body of Scottish Presbyterians felt in his tuue, and wrote exactly as he felt, " began by them to be magni- fied above the common phrase of Protestant di^•ines, a corporal presence of Christ's humanity in and about the elements to be glanced at, ... a number of adorations before those elements, and all that was nour them, both the altar, basin, chalice, and chancel, to be m-ged," &c., &c. Which could mean only, thought Baillie and all men in Scotland, that the kingdoms were to be again saturated with the deadliest errors of Antichrist. The Scottish Presbyterian clergy, conscious that on many of them, when The Question of Orders. 217 they were ordained, no episcopal hand had rested, were fearfully excited on another point, that, namely, of holy orders. " They (the Laudians) side here," cries BailHe, "with the Papists in giving to all the Protestant Churches a wound which our enemies proclaim to be mortal, fatal, incurable." In' these im-ecclesiastical days no reader can picture to his imagination the excruciating agony — yes, excruciating agony — ^with which Baillie and his brethren contemplated the desertion of the Reformed Church by the Anghcan clergy on the question of orders. In the heart of the Protestant camp, the spirit of religious caste, of spiritual aristocratism, had reappeared ; and on the whole of Reformed Christendom the supercilious Anglican cast that glance of contempt which, for all but disciplined and sturdy souls, is maddening beyond the most exquisite physical pain. Such was the unanimity of the Scots that the Anghcan party in Scotland fell short even of advocates. The bishops took flight for the broad fields of the south. The whole of Scotland, with the exception of a handful of Highlanders, of Papists, and of Aberdonians, glided out of the hands of Charles and his Government, and into those of the popular committees which arose by a natural process of crystallisa- tion out of the circumstances of the time. The often- described Jenny Geddes riot, which occurred when the attempt was made to introduce Laud's Service Book in Edinburgh in 1637, was but the shake of the vase of pre- pared liquid which precipitated the crystallising process. The idea of a renewal of the National Covenant descended on the tiimultuous masses like an inspiration. Noblemen by scores, magistrates and clergymen by hundreds, people by tens of thousands, calUng " God, His angels, and the world " to witness, swore that they would stand by the King in defending and preserving the religion, hberties, and laws of Scotland. The women were deeply moved. The 218 The Covenanters, Charles II., and Argyle. Dowager Marohioness of Hamilton, along with other high- bom ladies, took to barrow-trundling and turf-cutting, when it was essential to push forward the fortifications of Leith ; and when her son appeared in command of a fleet in the King's interest in the Forth, she rode about, pistol at girdle, declaring that, if he attempted an armed landing, she would shoot him. The Glasgow maid-servants, with doubtless a helping hand, so far as respectability permitted, from their mistresses, mobbed and almost murdered a preacher who had thrown some Laudian taint into his sermon. Even cracked-brained harridans caught the gene- rous infection, and the Meg Merrilees of the period was a quack prophetess named Michelson, who poured forth rhapsodies about the " covenanting Jesus." The Covenanters had no lack of capable leaders. Alexander Henderson was probably, aU things considered, the ablest Scotchman of the period. Enthusiastically Pres- byterian, he was at the same time superior in sjonpathetic largeness of mind to the body of his clerical brethren. His gift of conciHation was greater than that of any of them. He did not write books, and has left Httle record of himself in print ; but the unanimous suffrage of his contemporaries pronounced him a high and remarkable man. Rutherford, fervid, eloquent, with tendencies to devout effusiveness and revivahsm ; Gillespie, great in the controversial learning of the period ; Dickson, rich in the pithy wisdom of proverbs ; Baillie, already mentioned, whose picturesque and vi\-id letters are a series of photographs from the general proces- sion of men and events in wliich he took paort ; these and many other such formed the stars of second and third mag- nitude in the clerical firmament. In the foremost tlu'ong of distinguished laymen who signed the Covenant was young Montrose, of whom we Bhiill hear in the sequel. More cautiously and with slower step, advancing from the backgi'ound ■with many a circum- Argtjle. 219 spective glance, the Earl of Argyle, akeady mature in years, came to take his place among the leaders of the moYement. Argyle had frankly admitted to his own mind that the accession of the Scottish Mne to the throne of England must sooner or later involve the absorption of Scotland into the political system of the island. He was able to appreciate the constitutional and Puritan movement of England, as directed by such EngUsh patriots as Hamp- den and Pym, in its twofold aim of securing a Protestant Church and a constitutional throne ; and could perceive that, if the objects of the Enghsh patriots were attained, a harmony of relation between Scotland and England would ensue, more genuine, unconstrained, beneficial, and perma- nent than could be the result of a scheme to make Charles the Divine-right despot, and Laud the Divine-right primate, of the three kingdoms. The religious enthusiasm of the time had penetrated the recesses of Argyle's nature, but it was rather as a slow-burning, dusky heat, compatible with subtle forms of seK-seeking and revenge, than as a sacred, searching fire, fatal to meanness and favourable to magna- nimity and heroic valour. He was a complete and compre- hensive failure as a soldier. He put his trust, he finely said, not in the os gladii, but in the gladius oris, and did not reflect that, in revolutions, the two are apt to be- come one. It was at the Glasgow General Assembly of 1638 that Argyle finally declared for the Covenant. The Marquis of Hamilton, Charles's near kinsman, was the King's manag- ing man on that occasion. We can see the Marquis, kindly-tempered, fond of popularity, anxious to do the best for all parties, trying to smooth the Presbyterian waters vidth the oil of his silvery eloquence. But his efforts to save any part of the Laudian system were vain. Episcopacy was cast out of the Church of Scotland. The leadership of the Church, in so far as it could be held by a iJ'20 The Covenanters, Charles II., and Argyle. layman, fell from the hand of Hamilton, and was taken up by Argyle. Charles's feeling on this entire business is concentrated for us in the word by which he characterised the Covenant — " damnable." In 1639 he got together an army, and marched with it to the banks of the Tweed ; but the sight of the Covenanters in their encampment on Doune Hill frightened him into a pacification. In 1640 he again tried war, and called a Parliament in April of that year, in hope of encouragement and supplies.; but the Commons showed sympathy with the Scots, and this was the reason, as the patriots beUeved, and as they expressly affirmed, nine months later, in the Great Eemonstrance, why the Parhament was, after a session of three weeks, dissolved. Charles persisted in his war ; the Scots advanced to meet him ; the English van, 5,000 strong, was put to flight at Newbum on the Tyne, leaving sixty slain on the field of battle; and Charles, reduced once more to extremities, summoned the Parlia- ment, which met on the 3rd of November, 1640. It proved to be a Parhament of patriots. The Commons had no desire whatever that the Scottish army should be with- drawn until the Bill forbidding dissolution without consent of the Houses had become law. Those were the days of perfect understanding and mutual benefaction and benedic- tion between the Covenanters and the Puritan leaders. The street ballad-singers of London chanted the praise of the Scots. Can we be surprised if the sense of success mounted with something of an intoxicating effect into the Scottish brain, and if the Covenanting leaders, particularly the clerical leaders, had a vague consciousness of rising Ilyperion-hke upon England, with announcement of the dawn? Baillie, in the joy of liis simple heart, confidently hoped that " we victorious Scots " would bring " all the King's dominions to our happiness." Why not? Had not Preshytenj in England. 221 Mr. BaiUie, in his fierce little book, dissipated all the errors of the Laudians ? Had not he and other Presby- terian luminaries, supposed to be convincing as to the Divine perfections of Presbytery beyond possible resistance by sane minds, hastened up to London, and been warmly received in the Presbyterian city ? Scottish Lay Commis- sioners, acting in full accordance with the divines, lent an impetus to the Presbyterian cause in England, and accele- rated to a dangerous degree the pace of the Puritan Beformation in the Bnghsh Church. At the commencement of the Long Parhament the Enghsh nation agreed with the Scotch in peremptory rejec- tion of the policy and work of Laud. Pym and Falkland, Hyde and Hampden, were aHke determined that this elaborate assimilation of the Church of England to the Church of Eome should be broken off; that the Protest- antism of the country should be undisguised and thorough- going; that the Eeformed Church should not be insulted by disallowance of her orders ; that a large and liberal rule should be observed in the matter of ceremonies. An im- posed and semi-Eomish Episcopacy was fiercely rejected by the Enghsh people. If the only effectual way of getting rid of Anglo- Eomanism were the introduction of the Presbyterian system, as the experience of the Scots seemed to prove, then the vast majority of Enghshmen stood prepared to accept Presbyterianism. Such appears to have been the general feeling of Cromwell, Vane, and Milton on the sub- ject in 1641 and in the first year or two of the war. But for an imposed and exclusive Presbyterianism, as contrasted with an imposed and exclusive Episcopacy, there was, in England, if we except London and one or two country districts, no enthusiasm. In Scotland the people were so enamoured of Presbytery that they would have perpetuated its organisation in spite of ParHamentary edicts; in Eng- 222 The Covmanterg, Charles II., and Argyle. land the people were so indifferent to Presbytery that, when Parliament proclaimed it the established religion of Eng- land, the people were too listless to set it up. He who is tempted to think that the human mind can be won or persuaded, or in any respect gained over, by force, would do well to study the history of Presby- terianism. Independency, and Episcopacy in England. When Presbyterianism stiU wore the garments of mourn- ing, Milton sang the praises of Presbyterian discipline in words of melody so sweet, and splendour so glowing, that they must have ravished the ears of Mr. BaiUie as with the very harpings of heaven. With the first blow struck upon the framework of Episcopacy, reaction commenced ; with each succeeding blow it strengthened; and at last it became a feeling so potent that its mere inexorable passive stubbornness rendered the permanent reign of the saints impossible, and undid all that the sword had done in the Puritan Eevolution. After remaining untU the Long Parliament had carried through the acts and achievements of its memorable first session, the Scots marched out of England. Chajles fol- lowed them to Edinburgh in August, 1641. He found that no Government was possible in Scotland, except that of the Covenanters. Argyle and Hamilton were now agreed in policy. The King yielded on all points. Old Alexander LesUe, who had commanded the Scots in England, was created Earl of Leven, and Argjle a Marquis. The triumph of the Covenanters in Church and State was complete. The close alliance and mutual understanding which subsisted at this period between the followers of Pym and Hampden and the Scottish Covenanters, are put beyond reach of question by a number of clauses in the Great Ecmonstrancc, presented to Charles soon after his return from Scotland. It was made a special charge against the The Great Bemonsirance. 223 bishops that they had shown themselves "very affec- tionate to the war with Scotland," and had issued a prayer to be read in all churches "calHng the Scots rebels." The conduct of the Covenanters in their recent advance into England, their " duty and reverence to his Majesty, and brotherly love to the English nation," were extolled. An important suggestion which had emanated from the Covenanters, was adopted and pressed upon the King, to wit, that " a general Synod of the most grave, pious, learned, and judicious divines of the island, assisted by some from foreign parts," should be convoked, to con- sider the affairs of the Church, and submit the result of their dehberations to Parliament, with a view to their receiving " the stamp of authority." The Parliamen- tary leaders were convinced that civil freedom could not be safe while a Prelatic Church lent her whole force to the maintenance of absolute power on the throne. Pointedly interesting, as an expression of the views of Hampden, Pym, and the first generation of Puritan leaders, on matters which were ere long to be furiously disputed be- tween Presbyterians and Independents, is the statement of the remonstrant Commons that it was " far from their purpose " to cast loose the reins of discipHne, or " to leave private persons or particular congregations to take up what form of Divine service they please." The Comm.ons ex- pressly claimed, however, in conjunction with the King, supreme jurisdiction "in all affairs both in Church and State." The Presbyterianism of the Eemonstrants would not conmiend their general views to Charles. " Their clear intention," he would feel, "is to bring in upon me the whole system which I have been compelled to sanction in Scotland." With as much composure as he could assume, but with rage in his heart that proved irrepressible and fatal, he returned a cold answer to the Commons, and 224 The Covenanters, Charles II., and Argijle. secretly prepared a thunderbolt to smite their leaders ; in short, he attempted the arrest of the five members, and thus brought on the Civil War. Looking from their coign of vantage upon the mus- tering of the forces, and upon the confused fighting of the first year of war, Argyle and Leven, Hamilton and Mont- rose, could not but be interested spectators of the fray. At peace with the King, the Covenanting Government of Scotland remained also on terms of amity vdth the Parlia- ment. In August, 1642, in comphance with the wish of the Houses, the Scots sent an army to Ulster to fight the rebels. The EngHsh Parhament engaged to supply the Scottish troops in Ireland with provisions ; but they failed to make good their promise ; and hundreds of men, as the Scotch Commissioners in London plaintively stated to the Commons, perished "for want of bread." It was from the Parliament that an invitation came to the Covenanters to take part in the affairs of England. In the autumn of 1643 the tide of success seemed to set steadily in favour of the liing, and the Commons were alarmed. Henry Vane and some other deputies proceeded to Edinburgh to propose a new treaty. The enthusiastic Puritan devoutness of Vane, joined vrith his impassioned activity and moving eloquence, prevailed against the opposi- tion of Hamilton, which Charles thought too languid, and against that of Montrose, which was fervid and desperate. It was a case — there are many such in history — ^when the arguments on both sides were so powerful and so evenly balanced, that either the one set or the other might be held to be conclusive by honest men. Montrose, who loved Charles with a love passing the love of women — namely, with the love of romantic young men for their incar- nated ideals,* could point to Leveu's coronet and to • See Moi'toun to Tvpslmin, in Bvowning's " Blot on the Scutcheon s" " What passion like a boy's for one Like you P " The Covenanters. 225 Argyle's marquisate, and ask whether the recipients of these honours had not found him a forgiving and a generous King? What more, he might ask, was there that Charles could grant the Scots? "Was it their part to force Puritanism on their hereditary monarch, and to carry Presbyterianism into England on the point of their pikes ? But Argyle and Henderson were aware that Montrose did not exhaust the logic of the question. If Charles had now given the Covenanters what they asked, he had twice drawn the sword to give them the alter- native of death or submission, and the English Puritans had held his hand. The leaders of the Parliament had hitherto been resolutely true to the Scots. They had quelled the natural promptings of pride and courage when the Tyne had been stained by the Scots with Enghsh blood; they had rebuked their King for countenancing bishops who called the Scotch invaders rebels ; they had stood by their leaders, at the risk of open war, when Charles wished to treat them as traitors for conniving at the proceedings of the Scots. Would not the desertion, in the hour of their extreme need, of alhes to whom they thus owed everything, in favour of a King who had given them nothing but what he could not help giving them, have been, on the part of the Covenanters, ingratitude? And did not a penetrating inquisition into the he of their inte- rests point equally to an unreserved aUiance with the Par- hament ? Charles's candid opinion of their Covenant was stiU, they well knew, summarised in the expressive word that has been quoted. When he had broken the neck of Enghsh Puritanism, would he be long in finding a rope wherewith to hang Scotch Presbyterianism ? There would then be no Enghsh Parhament to stand by them, and the defeated patriots, crushed by Charles and his bishops, would not waste a sigh on their Judas-like waihngs. These con- siderations were too obvious to escape the sagacity of the 15 226 The Covenanters, Charles II., and Argyle. Scotch. The clergy spoke decisively on the side of the Parliament. Though a few of the nobles wavered, though Hamilton betook himseH to Charles (to be imprisoned for his failure), and Montrose resolved to draw sword for the King, the Covenanters were substantially unanimous in espousing the cause of the Bnghsh Puritans. The assistance of the Covenanters was given on certain conditions, which seemed at the time to leave no door open for misunderstanding. The Scots were, as formerly, cautious to avoid the appearance of forcing Scottish insti- tutions upon England. They did not ask their allies to transfer to England the doctrine, discipline, and worship of the Scottish Church. A new instrument, entitled the Solemn League and Covenant, set forth that the Church, throughout the three kingdoms, was to be reformed in accordance with " the Word of God and the best Eeformed Churches." The creed, the ritual, the discipline ultimately adopted were to result from the dehberations of that Assembly of Divines which the English Parliament had already called, and with which a few leading Scotch divines were to be associated. It was not an " extension of the Scottish system to the other two kingdoms," as the generally accurate and candid Eanke supposes, that was "expected" or proposed by the Scots, but the preparation of a common scheme by the Presbyterians of England as well as of Scotland. They did neither more nor less than carry out the pohcy sketched in the Great Eemonstrance. This is the essential fact which vindicates them in accept- ing the invitation of the Parliament to enter England ; and, in judging their subsequent conduct, we have simply to ask whether they did or did not belie their professions and abandon their principles. The ParUament engaged that the Solemn League and Covenant should be subscribed throughout England. The Scottish Government promised to despatch an army to co-operate with the Parliamentary Marston Moor. 227 troops, stipulating that an English fleet should patrol the Scotch coasts, to prevent descents from Ireland or else- where, while the Scottish army was in the south. The maintenance of the monarchy was an integral portion of the Solemn League and Covenant. Again, therefore, the Blue-Bonnets, upwards of twenty thousand of them, strenuously marching through the January snow — ^it was now 1644 — crossed the border. They advanced rapidly, sweeping the Duke of Newcas- tle's people out of the northern counties, and establishing themselves in the northern ports. In May they had formed the siege of York, acting in conjunction with Man- chester, Fairfax, and Cromwell. On the 2nd of July they took part in the great pitched battle of Marston Moor. Mr. Langton Sanford, in his exhaustive study of the action, demonstrates that it was an obstinate and eventful struggle, bravely contested on both sides. We are to remember that the great body of the Scots were now for the first time seriously engaged. In the old days of holiday-soldiering on Doune BQU, and when 5,000 EngKshmen were driven off in panic by a few cannon shots and musket volleys at New- bum on the Tyne, the Scottish army, drilled by soldiers of fortune, who, with old Alexander Leslie, had been attracted back to Scotland by the prospect of military employment, was the best force in the island. But between August, 1642, when the Eoyal standard had been raised, and July» 1644, when the battle of Marston Moor was fought, EngHsh troops had been acquiring a very different quahty from that of the runaways of Newbum. Eupert was an efficient cavalry officer, and his troopers, and those of Goring, were accustomed to conquer. Newcastle's White-Coats were powerful, firm, and spirited troops. On the Parhament side, Cromwell had selected, drilled, and habituated to victory a body of men, small indeed, but invincible, which formed the nucleus of the force of the associated eastern 15—2 228 The Covenanters, Charles II., and Argyle. counties, and diffused throughout the whole that intrepid and steadfast spirit which it had caught from its leader. Cromwell's Ironsides were in the left wing, and here also was a disproportionate amount of the talent available for the conduct of the battle. Not only did CromweU lead his own men, but David LesHe was in this part of the field, while Scotch Crawford headed the English infantry, and performed his part so well that it was fiercely disputed at the time whether it was to Crawford or to Cromwell that the triumph was mainly due. Mr. Clement Markham, in his excellent biography of Fairfax, points out that Cromwell wi'ote inadvertently or uncandidly of the " few Scots " under David LesHe. These formed, in fact, a large proportion of the ParUamentary horse. The victory of the Parliamentary left vdng was speedy and complete. The left wing of the Cavahers was also at first successful. Fairfax's Yorkshire- men, posted on the ParMamentary right, got entangled in Moor Lane, and were broken and driven back by the Royahst left. The Parhamentary centre, held by the body of the Scottish foot, was thus imcovered, and the assault in front and flank by the choice troops of Goring and New- castle was too much for the raw Scotch levies. They fought with resolute valour, the fire of their long lines flashing in red tongues through the dusk, " as if the element itself had been on fire." Before the joint attack of the Eoyal left and the Eoyal centre, they were, however, forced to give way, thrown into considerable confusion, driven, in part at least, from the field. Old Leven, after vainly exert- ing himself to rally the fugitives, took to flight, and rested not till he reached Leeds. A seasoned soldier ought to have known better the strange tm-ns and tides and possi- bihties of battle. David Leslie, and Crawford, and Frizeall, who had splendidly maintained the honour of Scotland, may well have been ashamed of liim. It is more important to observe that the other officers in command of AjUr the Victory. 229 the centre had not acted -unworthily, and that not only was the strife long and bloody before the Scots gave way, but that there was evidently an important rally of the centre to take part, along with the easily-victorious Parliamentary left, in the final defeat of the far less victorious and much more exhausted Eoyalist left, "What seems to prove con- clusively that the defeat of the Scots in the centre was but partial, is that, without any perceptible interval after the battle, a formidable army was under command of Leven. After the victory of Marston Moor the Parhament lay no longer under oppressive fear of the King. An energetic, audacious, and very able party among the Bnghsh Puritans did not care how soon they got rid of the Scots. The effusive gratitude and admiration with which they had been received when they came trampling down the snow to aid their brothers, gave place to that severe honesty of criticism which accompanies the disenchantments of lapsed affection. The Scots, appeahng to their sacrifices for the common cause, were told with painful candour that they had come into England to fight their own battle at England's expense. The rude wit of the Ironsides did not spare the Presbyterian divines, and there began to be doubts as to the plenary inspiration of the Covenant itself. The party of Presbyterian Eoyalists, Scotch aiid Enghsh, made a dead-lift effort at Uxbridge, in the com- mencement of 1645, to come to terms with Charles. But the King, and still more, perhaps, Clarendon, preferred going down in the old ship to being saved on a Presby- terian raft. From that time the Presb5d;erians lost heart in the war. Their assent to the New Model meant, to a con- siderable extent, " You Independents must finish him ; there is no help for it ; but we have misgivings as to the possibHity of setting things right by war, and therefore will be out of it." All the same there were heartburnings enough in the carrying out of the New Model, with its 230 The Covenanters, Charles IT., and Argyle. exclusion of stiff-necked Presbyterians from all important military of&ce in the English army. Crawford, in spite of his consummate service in leading the English foot at Marston Moor, was thrust from the ranks of the remodelled army, in compliance with the imperious demand of Crom- well. Manchester, " a sweet, meek man," says BailHe, was shelved through the same irresistible influence. Fairfax became Cromwell's factotum and echo. The Independents gloried in OHver as their man of men, and old Leven did not echpse the rising star, or regild his own tarnished laurels, by any brilliant feat of arms. It was about the very time when the Scots were in death-wrestle with Newcastle's "White-Coats on Marston Moor that an event occurred which added a stem energy to the reproachful groanings of the Covenanters. They had, as we saw, stipulated in their treaty with the EngHsh Pai- Hament that, when Scotland divested herseK of her troops at England's request, a sufficient naval force should be de- spatched from England to guard the Scottish coasts. This part of the Parhament's engagements had not been ful- filled. CoDdtto and his Irish landed in Argyle, and out of this egg Montrose hatched a cockatrice, or rather a leash of cockatrices, wherevnth to scourge and mangle Scotland. The Marquis of Argyle, averse to war, managed affaii-s for the Covenanters during the absence of their ai-my in England, and Montrose had now an opportunity of paying off old debts. The diplomatic Marquis had put on his wiliest smile, and tried to settle Montrose -snth the gladius oris; but, poet as he was, Montrose would give only os gladii by way of reply ; and with tliis he did so dazzle and bewilder and bedevil the poor man that he at last sent Iiim skipping to the Scottish camp in England. It is almost impossible to exaggerate the effect of Montrose's campaigns in breaking the strength of Scotland. Need we wonder that the Covenanters began to think that the ParHament Charles with the Scots. 231 had treated them unhandsomely, and to reflect, in an extremely disenchanted state of mind, on the profuse promises of Vane ? June had become December, and the fountain of gushing eloquence was ice. A sudden gleam of what seemed brilhant fortune visited the Covenanters ; but, after lingering about the horizon and hghting it with tantalising glimmer for several months, it went out in murk deeper than what had been before. Leaving Oxford in the summer of 1646, and hovering about for five days in a state of indecision as to whether it was to the Parliament or to the Scots that he ought to surrender himself, Charles entered the Scottish camp at Newark. The Covenanters fell back on the stronger position of New- castle, and there negotiations commenced. True to their Parhamentary aUies, true to those professions of loyalty to the King and the monarchy which were embodied in their Covenant, the Scots implored Charles to agree to a settle- ment on the only terms on which he could preserve his throne. The great body of the Enghsh nation heartily desired peace ; the ParHament stiU possessed what in another year it had ceased to possess, complete control of affairs ; the conflict had been carried on within the lines of the constitution ; and Crown and ParHament had but to resume the old forms of business in order to work again together. Ohver CromweU joyfully hoped that he might sheathe his sword in an England where idolatry, vdll- worship, and licentiousness should no longer mock the people of God. Argyle proceeded to London, and addressed a select gathering of the magnates of the kingdom. On this occasion he appears at his very best, speaking with a placid, magnanimous wisdom, which contemplated and embraced the affairs of Scotland within the general system of the island. Touching deHcately but with pre- cision on the principal services which the Scots had rendered to the Enghsh ParHament, and on the principal 232 The Covenanters, Charles II., and Argyle. benefits they had received in return, he expressed in the largest terms his sense of the importance of imion to the two nations, and declared — an almost incredible stretch of cosmopolitanism for a Scotchman of those days — that he was prepared to merge even the name of Scotland in that of the kingdom as a whole, if thereby the union with England could be made more harmonious. Nor did iie shun to hint that he was no pedantic stickler for the indispensability of Eoyal approval to arrangements neces- sary for the national welfare. Salus populi was, he said, lex suprema. Argyle made a favourable and profound impression in England at this time ; and it may be noted that, as this principle of his had been formerly brought forward by Strafford, it was subsequently referred to, first by Ireton, and then by CromweU, in arguing against the inviolability of Charles. Neither Cromwell nor Ireton, indeed, was in Argyle's audience, but we need not doubt ;that they knew and considered what he said. Had the King been honestly desirous of the success of any plan save that of the mutual extirpation of Presbyte- rians and Independents, an arrangement might probably have been made. It would not have been a bad arrange- ment. Whatever might have been the Parliamentary edicts for the enforcement of the Covenant and the estabhshment of Presbytery, a national Church of England on the Pres- byterian model would practically have been tolerant, lax, and comprehensive. Looked at from ^^ithout, the Presby- terian Church wears a formidable appetu-ance — battle- mented and grim, with palisado formularies and great guns of dogma. But, within, it has always been easy-going and popular, governed by the sentiment of its members, and issuing its censures at long interviJs. It was a fixed idea with almost all religionists in the seventeenth century, that the State ought to sanction and establish some one pattern of ecclesiastical uniformity. This was, in fact, the after-glow Proposed Presbyterian Settlement. 233 in the atmospliere from the setting of the great idea of the unity of Christendom, which had illuminated the mediaeval Church. Laud's scheme for giving effect to this inherited instinct of Christian imity had hopelessly broken down. The main body of laymen, and a large proportion of clergy- men, in the Church of England, were doctrinally Presby- terian ; as, in fact, they have continued to this day. When the excitement had subsided, and the Scots were well beyond the Tweed, and a sprinkhng of moderate Episcopa- lians had been sent by the constituencies to temper the Presbyterian majority in the House, room might easily have been found in England, as the right and left wings of a central Presbyterian Church, for congregations retaining the old service, and for congregations preferring the Inde- pendent model. This would have contented Argyle, Hen- derson, and, when the Covenanting fervour cooled a Httle, aU rational Scotchmen. This would have contented Pym and the earher race of Puritans. It would have contented Milton. We know from Cromwell's own words, vmtten when Presbyterians and Independents were far more exas- perated than they yet were, that it would have contented him. Had such an arrangement succeeded, the historical results might have been, first, an anticipation by two hun- dred years of those relations of perfect amity and social coalescence which in our own days reign between England and Scotland ; and secondly, a constitution of society in England more simple, homely, less exclusive, a culture more widely diffused and popular, than we have had under the auspices of " the Church of the upper classes." It could not be. Old Jemmy, with his knack of blun- dering into a safe course, the Merry Monarch, with his habit of bovring to necessity, would have started the coach again ; but between his conscience and his wife, Charles I. succeeded only in bringing matters to a beggarly dead- lock. He could neither satisfy the Scots by accepting 234 The Covenanters, Charles II., and ArgyU. their Covenant, nor give the Parliamentary people security for their necks by surrendering the militia. It was in vain that the Commissioners implored him on bended knees and with streaming tears to save himself. He was inexorable. There was absolutely nothing for the Scots to do but to leave him with their EngUsh allies, and to march into Scotland. At the time of their march, there was paid to them a part of what had long been due by the EngHsh ParHament. Such payments had been made formerly when no King was in the case. Had Charles been a thousand miles away, the money would have been due all the same. If the Scots had dravra sword for Charles when he rejected their terms, they would have made themselves guilty of every drop of blood shed by them since they came into England. If they had refused to take the part of their hard-earned arrears which was paid to them, merely because of the colour which their adversaries might falsely put upon the transaction, they would have acted with an imbecility which, even on the stage, would be too feebly romantic for legitimate effect. But because the transference of the King, and the payment of the money, were of necessity associated in time, historians, who ought to have known that it was one of their most honour- able and stringent duties to tie the gaJl up in the tongue of slanderous faction, and to wipe from honest men the slime of lying imputations, have disgraced themselves by the careless assertion that the transaction stained the fame of Scotland. But justice has begun to be done in this matter. " The money payment," says Eanke, " was brought in a somewhat offensive way into connection with the surrender of the King." This is the truth neatly stated. Out of an offensive coincidence was coijicd an infamous falsehood. Amid disappointment and foreboding, in the last days of 1040, the Covenanters marched out of England. They had lost their most brilUant soldier, Lawrence The English Presbyterians. 235 Crawford. Too recklessly brave, he had been struck by a caimon ball, fired probably at a venture from the walls of Hereford. He was but thirty-four years old, had served on the Continent, in Ireland, in England, had reached all but the highest commands, and had given proof of a valour and a capacity which might have matured into the quaKties of a great general. About this time died also Alexander Henderson, their largest-minded, largest- hearted divine, a man supremely needed by Scotland in the difficult time that was at hand. The English Presbyterians, though they had always honoTired and deferentially listened to their Scottish bre- thren, were not sorry that they left England. They had ceased to be popular, and the Presbyterians in ParHament felt that it would weaken rather than strengthen them, if their policy were supposed to be inspired from Scotland. The fortunes of the EngUsh Presbyterians were in the wane. The long, heart-breaking controversy on toleration arose ; the dispute on toleration became compHcated with the dispute between the ParHamentary majority and the army; and in the summer of 1647 supreme power passed into the hands of the mihtary leaders. The inviolability of Parliament, sacredly dear to the nation, was outraged* Lord Macaulay's expression, "no sooner was the first pressure of mihtary tyranny felt than the nation, unbroken to such servitude, began to struggle fiercely," conveys a wrong idea. There was no national struggle ; but the Presbyterians, or, more strictly speaking, a large section of them, fought, as the moderate or Girondin party in the French Eevolution fought, for the ascendency they had lost, and for the retention of the Eevolution in its original grooves ; and a certain nunaber of Cavahers joined them. The cry of this fighting party, both in its Cavaher and its Presbyterian sections, was that an arrangement must, at all hazards, be made with Charles. There were Enghsh 236 The Covenanters, Charles II., and Argyle. Presbyterians, however, of the highest influence, including Fairfax, who not only held that there was no absolute necessity for coming to terms with the King, but that it was their duty to fight, side by side with Independents, against those Presbyterians who were still prepared to stake all on the good faith of Charles. It was Fairfax, Presbyterian as he was, who, in the stiffest fighting he had ever known, conquered the Presbjrterian Eoyahsts of Kent and Essex. With the Presbjrterians of England who took the same side as Fairfax, not with those Presbyterians who died by the sword or by famine rather than relinquish the hope of saving Charles, the true blue Covenanters sympathised. When Duke Hamilton and his brother Lanark, having concluded something between a treaty and an intrigae with Charles in the Isle of Wight, proceeded to Edin- burgh in the beginning of 1648, and called upon the nation and the Church to combine in a supreme effort for the rescue of the King, the religious Covenanters in a body refused, and the Church put its ban on the enterprise. Hamilton, who had often shone in council and conference, but had never quite succeeded in anjrthing, went heart and Boul into this, his last undertaking, on behalf of a master who had treated him sometimes kindly, sometimes harshly, but whom he had earnestly served, and whom he honestly loved. The Scottish nobiHty, vnth the exception of Argyle, of Loudon, and a considerable minority, raUied round the Duke. But the sagacity of the Scottish burghei-s and peasants was not at fault, and Hamilton's army consisted of great lords and of those whom the great lords could compel to join the standard. The best Covenanting officers, including Alexander and David LesHe, decUned to take service under the Duke. He was himself totally incompe- tent to conduct an important operation in war ; and BaiUie, his lieutenant-general, best Imown by the beatings he got Hamilton's Invasion. 237 from Montrose, was not of weight enough to make his authority felt by the weak Duke and the wilful nobles. The army, numbering in effectives less than twenty thou- sand men, straggled loosely into England by way of Annan and Carlisle. General Monro, with about two thousand five hundred cavalry, had crossed from Ireland to share in the enterprise, and was in Cumberland. Sir Marmaduke LangdaJe headed a body of Eoyahsts in Lancashire. The Duke went stumbling bhndly on, van and rear twenty or thirty miles apaxt, incapable of holding his force in hand, and quite uninformed, or naisinformed, as to the movements of the enemy. Meanwhile, Cromwell, hastening from the siege of Pembroke, breaks in from Yorkshire upon the left flank of the long, straggling hne of march. It is now August 16th, 1648, and the main body of the Scottish foot is in Preston. Hamilton, vdth a few of the cavalry, is present, but the principal divisions of the horse are either far ahead under Middleton, or far behind under Monro. Next morning there is an alarm. Sir Marmaduke, guard- ing the flank four miles to the eastward, is furiously assailed, and sends to the Duke for assistance. Hamilton and BaUhe, persuaded that the attack comes from one Colonel Ashton, who, with a few thousand Enghsh Presbyterians, had turned out to fight the Scots for having come without the sanction of the General Assembly, treat the affair as of no consequence. The essential matter, think they, is to get the foot across the Eibble. Instead, therefore, of dravnng up the army in battle array on Preston Moor, and sending expresses to hurry Monro forward and Middleton back — the thing which must have been done had they known that CromweU was upon them — ^the Scotch commanders send some sHght unavailing succour to Sir Marmaduke, and march the entire body of the foot, Math the exception of two brigades, across the river. Oliver was in his most fiery mood, and had with 238 The Covenanters, Charles II., and Argyle. him an army of nine or ten thousand men, among them a large proportion of veteran Ironsides. Sir Marmaduke and his north-country EngKsh fought uncommonly well, but the overwhelming force under Cromwell drove them in upon Preston. The two brigades of Scottish foot, attacked by Cromwell's victorious troops, unsupported by their own cavalry, deserted by Bailhe, who was on the other side of the river, fought so stoutly for hours that Cromwell fancied he was engaged wdth the whole Scottish army. "At last," he vmtes, "the enemy was put into disorder ; many men slain, many prisoners taken ; the Duke, with most of the Scots, horse and foot, retreated over the bridge." The Duke was not in the throng of fugitives that Cromwell looked on. At the head of his guard of horse, he had kept the field like a perfectly brave man, until the enemy cut in between him and Eibble Bridge. Sir Marmaduke was with Hamilton, as also Sir James Tm-ner, who is imderstood to have sat for Scott's Dal- getty. The charge of Cromwell's horse came at last direct upon them. Hamilton met the assailants face to face, and " put two troops of them to a retreat." But they came on again. A second time the Duke and his officers chased them off. Once more they raUied and charged, and, for the third time, giving the word, " King Charles ! " Hamilton went in on them. They were broken and chased so far this time that a few minutes could be had by the Duke and his friends for consultation. " Then Sir Marma- duke and I," says Turner, " entreated the Duke to hasten to his army." They put spurs to their horses, swam the Eibble, and thus got round to "the place where Lieutenant- General Baillie had advantageously lodged tlie foot, on the top of a hill, among very fencible enclosures." Tliis glimpse of Duke Hamilton seems vividly typical of the career of the man. Brilliantly charging, when the battle has been lost for want of generalship ; succeeding in the The Duke's Incompetence. 239 little matter, but failing in the main enterprise ; now, as always, he wins admiration, or pity, but does not hit the mark. The real battle of Preston ought to have been fought next day, the 18th of August. The cavalry might have been concentrated; the foot were steadily posted on their bill amid fencible enclosures ; BaiUie and Turner, the only men among the leaders who had the sHghtest tincture of military knowledge, said, in effect, " Stand fast, and try it." But the babbling nobles and the distracted Duke over- ruled Bajllie and Turner, and the army filed off in the night, to perish miserably; the starving regiments, sepa- rated from their leaders, fighting to the death under any " spark in a blue bonnet " who told his comrades to stand shoulder to shoulder, and die like men for the honour of Scotland. Cromwell, who, unlike Clarendon, knew what war was, bears testimony in many places to the courage of the Scots, but nowhere more exphcitly than in his letters on the frightful welter of Hamilton's expedition. The coUapse of the enterprise was no sooner known in Scotland than the Argyle and Church party flew to arms and obtained command of the country. Cromwell marched to Edinburgh, and was received with most respectful deference by the Marquis and the clergy. Ohver and Argyle sat banqueting at the same board, while Leven pre- sided. Once more Covenanter and Puritan spoke as brethren to each other, but the glow of enthusiasm in the meeting can hardly have been very bright. CromweU must have felt that these Scots ought not to love him with so much Scotch blood on his hands, and the Covenanting clergy must have suspected that the arch-patron of the sectaries, the apostle of toleration, the impatient repeUer of all clerical pretensions, could have no irrepressible affection for them. Hamilton had been taken prisoner, and condemned to 210 The Covenanters, Charles II., and Argyle. die. The London Presbyterians exerted themselves to save him. He clung to life, and hoped that the capital sentence might he commuted into a fine of £100,000. He had for ten years been the rival, but had never ceased to be the friend of Argyle, and a word from Argyle to Cromv^ell might possibly have saved him. But Cromwell had been put into his most savage temper by this whole Presbyterian insurrection. That Cavaliers, mahgnants, despisers of the saints, should have fought against the godly he could under- stand and pardon ; but that these, who had shared their counsels and their dangers, should have turned against them and joined the enemies of the Lord, made his fury bum like a furnace. By pleading for Hamilton, Argyle might have brought upon himself a dangerous frown from Cromwell. A man with heroic fire in him would have run the risk. But always when we hope for the heroic touch in Argyle, we are disappointed. Coldly, ruthlessly, he had taken the Ufe of the noble Montrose and the wild and brave Colkitto : and now the thin Hps opened not to ask mercy for Hamilton. Another head was to fall besides that of the Duke. Not with fiercer tenacity did Presbyterian Koyalism struggle with Fairfax and CromweU in the field, than Presbyterian or constitutional Eoyahsm struggled with the Independents in the ParHamentary arena at Westminster. Attaining full command of the House, and supported by the feehng of the country, infallibly attested by the results of successive elections to vacant seats, the English Presbyterians patched up at the eleventh hour a kind of arrangement with Charles. But it was not for this that Cromwell had fought. Advancing with long strides from the North, he was in London in the first days of December, 16-i8. It was tremblingly, painfully, and as sHghtly as could anywise serve their end, that the army chiefs had formerly violated the sacredness of Parliament. But the sword struck more The Comvionwealth. 241 sharply wlieii whetted with the blood of Preston. Upwards of a hundred of the representatives of the people were rudely thrust from the doors of the House of Commons. Charles found suddenly that the game pf circumlocution and evasion was up, and that the ingenuous and clever scheme of extirpating his enemies by means of each other — that characteristic and unique product of his genius — was turning out a failure. He had trifled with the negotiators, after his mUitary defeat, for some three years : the soldiers settled with him in about six weeks. Amid the amazement and horror of England, Scotland, and Ireland, even Henry Yane flitting into the background in silent dismay, Crom- well and the army took the life of Charles. Alone they did it. The Parliamentary remnant, assuming unlimited power, repudiated monarchy, and proclaimed a Commonwealth. Here, then, is a nut to crack for those gentlemen whom we saw at their wine with Cromwell at Edinburgh. What were the Covenanters to do ? If they threw over the Eoyal family and made terms with the Commonwealth, they would be permitted to dwell in peace and safety. Scotland was theirs to rule as they pleased. Hitherto, amid the severest temptations, thej' had observed the league with their Puritan brethren of England. Though the soldiers they had sent to fight the Irish rebels had been left to die of famine, though the neglect of the English Parhament had let in Colkitto and Montrose upon them, though the Scotch Commissioners had been dismissed from London with a coolness almost amoimting to contumely, though the Presbyterian eleven had been excluded from the House of Commons, the Covenanters stood by the EngHsh Puritans. With a unanimity, a magnanimous moderation, for which they have got Uttle credit, they had accepted from the Assembly of Divines at Westminister a complete scheme of ecclesiastical constitution, including a directory for public worship and that English version of the Psalms, 16 '2-12 Tlie Covenanters, Charles II., and Argyle. which, for stem Hebraic majesty and pathos, for rugged grandeur and freedom from all modern pettiness and prettiness, is unequalled among metrical translations. When Hamilton, invaded England, the General Assembly of the Church had done the ParHament excellent service by condemning his expedition, and menacing with their dreaded cens\ures aU who took part in it. And now, when tidings reached them from Ireland that Cromwell was bearing down all before him "hke a fiery torrent," could they not combine duty with interest, and let Eoyalty alone ? The difficulty was that the terms of the Solemn League and Covenant, embodying the views of Pym and Hender- son, were express. They had sworn to stand by their rightful Eng in defence of their rehgion and liberties. So long as their rehgion and hberties were assailed, they were bound to maintain these, in the King's name, though they fought against the King's person. But if the religion and liberties were guaranteed — if the King accepted the Solemn League and Covenant tendered to him in the name of England and of Scotland — there was no alternative but to break their oath or to draw sword in his behalf. Those Covenanters, poor souls, belonged to an age when men looked upon the act of putting their names to political or theological documents, not as enhghtened clerical gentle- men now look upon subscription to creeds, but as mer- cantile gentlemen still look upon endorsement of bills. Bounteous time had not yet brought forth that soft-spokeu school of divines whose character and epitaph have been written by Rhadamanthus Eusldn in the single word "Equivocation." In the oath wliich the Covenanters and the English Puritans had alike sworn, there was no ambiguity. In order to rcahse the situation, we must resolutely call to mind that Prince Charles, when he accepted simpUciter diaries II. 243 the terms of the Covenanters, was a stripUng of twenty. In working out his argument in defence of Cromwell, Mr. Carlyle insists with eloquent vehemence upon our recollect- ing that the curtains of the future rose gradually before Ohvcr, and that he took step after step without Imowing what a day might bring forth. " How much," asks Carlyle, " does one of its foresee of his own life? Short way ahead of us it is all dim; an itnwound skein of possibiUties, of apprehensions, attemptibihties, vague-looming hopes." True, perfectly true ; just, exquisitely just. Although Cromwell was upwards of forty when the troubles com- menced, and was the ablest and most far-seeing man of his time, we are most reasonably asked to believe that he was sincere in his professions of affectionate reverence for the King he beheaded, and of devoted submission to the Parhament which he turned into the street. But "with artistic skOl which has the effect of consummate special pleading, Mr. Carlyle associates all our ideas of the Prince Charles whom the Covenanters crowned with the Charles II. of the Eestoration. In 1650, Charles was of the same age as the "boy Ohver," son of the Protector, whose premature death Mr. Carlyle pathetically commemorates. He had given proof of personal courage and of talent ; he had fought for his father, beginning when he was a boy of twelve ; but there was no reason to believe that he inherited the scruples which made an arrangement with Charles I. impracticable. He had indeed given a commission to Montrose, who landed in Scotland in arms ; but was it to be expected that, at twenty, he should appreciate the views and feelings of the Covenanters, nicely enough to under- stand that it was impossible for him to be assisted hoth by them and by Montrose? He had given no proof of piety; he was fond of mirth and pleasure ; but will it be main- tained that a party undertaking the defence of constitu- tional monarchy in Great Britain could have justly 16—2 244 The Covenanters, Charles II., and Argyle. disinherited the heir to the throne, on the ground that he was not personally pious ? On such terms the institu- tion of monarchy would be impossible. Had the Covenan- ters rejected Charles for any such cause, they would have proved themselves either morose and narrow bigots, or cowardly hypocrites, or plain fools. There was some consistency on the part of the Independents, when they laid stress on the levity of the Prince ; for the Indepen- dents insisted upon proof of conversion before admission to church membership; but the Presbyterian theory has always been that the evidence of conversion is discernible by God's eye only. BailUe expHcitly maintains that "it is unjust scrupulosity to require satisfaction of the true grace of every church member." The Covenanters, treating with a boy of twenty, said that they were bound to judge him with charity; and a more reasonable plea was never put in at the bar either of justice, of mercy, or of common sense. Had it been possible to take a vote of the whole Enghsh and Scottish nation at the time, the result would without question have been the acceptance of Charles, on terms httle different from those of the Covenanters. Fairfax positively refused to take the command against them. Nay, I am convinced that, but for the blood of Charles I. on his hands, but for his fear of Presbyterian ascendency, but for the danger and diffi- culty there might be in bringing the army to own a king, CromweU himseH would have consented at this time to the proclamation of Charles II. If the Prince was already a finished' dissembler and a thorough-paced liar, which I neither affirm nor deny, the Covenanters were not bad enough men to be capable of recognising him as such. The position of the Covenanters is unassailable on the score of logical and moral consistency ; but if many have been found to do them injustice on this point, no one can deny their superb courage. They alone dared to defy the Cromwell in Scotland. 245 army which, since its great leader formed it, had shattered every force opposed to it ; they alone dared confront Cromwell when he returned to England, after having, in a few months, trampled the Irish rebels into the dust. The command of the Covenanting army was given to David LesHe : the right man, for he had proved himself an intrepid and successful soldier. But he was a cavalry officer, and he was no transcendent mihtary genius ; other- wise he could hardly have missed the great mihtary lessons of Eohert Brace's life, that good infantry are more than a match for the best cavahy, and that the strength of Scot- land lay in her spears. It was a deeper, and, as it proved, a fatal misfortune that a Committee of Estates and Church thwarted and trammelled him. His management of the campaign, in so far as it was not overruled by their insolent inspirations, was masterly. Knovnng that his troops were for the most part mere recruits — for aU who had got a tincture of soldiering either in the ranks of Montrose or of Hamilton were excluded as mahgnants — ^he declined battle with Cromwell's veterans, lay in strong defences at Edin- burgh, practised his men in marches before the enemy and in night attacks and skirmishes, and harassed and wearied the EngHsh till they began to fall sick in great numbers. It is now drawing to the end of August, 1650, and CromweU, Lambert, and Monk — for all the best mihtary heads and hearts of the Puritan army are here except Fairfax — find, with inexpressible reluctance, that they must retreat. To give the enemy the slip in such cases, if but for a few hours, is one of the approved manoeuvres of generalship, but the Puritan commanders did not gain a minute upon David Leslie. Scarcely had they drawn out of their huts when he was upon them, trampling down the rear with his cavalry, always leaning against the Lammer- muirs, or otherwise throwing himself into an impregnable position, when Cromwell faced round for battle. Ohver 246 The Covenanters, Charles II., and Argyle. was now engaged in an operation to which he was unaccus- tomed. Pie was getting his first and last lesson in the art of conducting a retreat. His generalship, in the last days of August, was inferior to Leslie's. Intending to fall back upon England, he ought to have secured by a strong party the difficult gorge leading southward from Dunbar. Leslie, who had a born soldier's eye for topography, cut in, though he was the pursuer, before the Enghsh van, and, writes OHver, "blocked up our way at the pass at Copperspath, through which we cannot get without almost a miracle." Had Leslie been left to finish his work as he began it, he would, as these words attest, have given checkmate to Cromwell, and brought to a successful end the finest piece of military work in the whole of the civil wars. But he was not allowed to finish it. Baillie, writing at the time and infalUbly informed as to the circumstances, distinctlj- states that the descent of the army from the heights above Dunbar was decided upon against the judgment of the Scottish general. Cromwell penetrated at a glance the meaning of those preliminary movements by which, on the evening of the 2nd of September, Leslie prepared for an engagement. Thrown out of his calculations, sm-prised when he expected to surprise, finding that his horsemen, though they charged boldly at first, had not the staying power of the Ironsides, and that, when broken, they galloped in panic over the infantry they ought to have sup- ported, Leshe soon gave up the battle for lost. Had Lawrence Crawford been there to manoeuvre the foot and steady them in the shock of conflict ! — But such speculation is foolish. Cromwell's victory was complete. About 3,000 Scots were slain, about 10,000 takcii ; the army which had chased the English to Dunbar was annihilated. Now then, surely little Scotland will give in. She had Bent thousands to die by sword and famine in Ireland, thousands to fall in battles and sieges in the fu'st Civil "War The Covenantee's. 247 in England. The plough of destruction had passed over her hack, in six deep, blood-watered furrows, under the heavy hand of Montrose. Her nobiUty, her gentry, the flower of her mounted men, and about 15,000 of her foot soldiers, had followed Hamilton to be trodden into the mud of the Lancashire lanes. And now her last and finest army was broken to pieces, her thirty cannon taken. Nor was the loss of the army the worst that the Covenanters had to bear after the catastrophe of Dunbar. Divisions appeared among themselves. A number of the straiter-laced annoimced that they had qualms of conscience on the subject of fighting in company with some of the old Eoyahsts who had crept into the ranks. These grumblers were called Protesters. Cromwell, whose principle, as he had peremptorily laid it down in a letter to Crawford, was that any man ought to be employed that would faithfully serve the State, and who was, at this moment, power- fully seconded by Monk, taken ia arms for Charles I., and the restorer of Charles II., artfully inflamed their conscientious irritation. Ulysses was not more skilful in the war of divisive words than Oliver. What with his cunning arguments, what vdth the swift smiting of his sword, he managed, soon after Dunbar, to ruin the Covenanting cause throughout all the south-western shires, and to leave Leshe nothing in Scotland south of Stirhng. Nevertheless, the remnant, such as it was — that is to say, the main body of the old true blue Covenanters — did not waver. The ways of Providence might be dark, but it was for them to walk by the simple shining of honour and dutj'. " The cause of God and the kingdoms, as hath been these twelve years past " — the cause maintained in the Great Eemonstrance, and in the Solemn League between England and Scotland — the cause of the ancient monarchy, recon- ciled, as they were bound in charity to beHeve it now reconciled, with freedom and rehgion — was that for which 248 The Covenanters, Charles II., and Argyle. they had fought from the first, and for which they would fight to the last. We have been losing sight of Argyle. The fact is that he was not one of those men who move star-like through the dusky past, forcing the historical eye to read events by their hght. His brain was large and clear, but his heart was cold. He worked out the intellectual problem of his time vrith exactitude ; but no swell of feeling rose in his breast to inspire him for mighty action, and to make him an inspiration to others. He saw that Prince Charles had granted all the English ParHament demanded of his father, that constitutional monarchy was now making its last stand against the power of the sword, that a Puritan settle- ment, under a young King, with guarantees of its per- manence as firm as the Puritans chose to require, would be the natural, safe, and honourable conclusion of the Revo- lution. Seeing all this, he could not abandon Charles. But neither could he throw himself into his cause with the seK-sacrificing, whole-hearted enthusiasm of Montrose. He balanced himself so evenly between yes and no, and cast so many wistful glances towards the camp of Croiuwell, that Charles suspected him of a design to deUver him up, and actually took flight from Perth under this impression. He returned, indeed, within forty-eight hours, but one can guess whether the relations between himself and the INIarquis were hkely to be cordial. Some tune after the rout of Dunbar, Argyle presented to Charles for signature a letter which was to form the basis of an agi-cement between them. In this curious document, the Prince engages to make Ai-gyle a Duke, a Knight of the Garter, a gentleman of the bedchamber, to "hearken toliis counsels," and, in the event of Charles's restoration to the throne of England, to " see him paid the forty thousand pounds fiterhng due to him." This is not the sort of loyalty wo expect from a hero. Coronation of Charles II. 249 But the fighting Covenanters were of a different temper from Argyle. Let us not impute his chill and calculating spirit to men who might respect but who never loved him. On the 2nd of January, 1651, as if in solemn announcement, four months after Dunbar, that they still held to their principles, and would die for their King, the Covenanters crowned Charles in the Church of Scone. He was con- ducted by his nobles from the old palace to the old church, the spm-s carried by the Earl of Eglinton, the sword by the Earl of Eothes, the sceptre by the Earl of Crawford and Lindsay, the crown by the Marquis of Argyle. On the King's right walked the Great Constable, on his left the Great Marshal. Over his head a canopy of crimson velvet was borne by six earls' sons, and four earls' sons upheld his train. In the church, on a raised platform duly carpeted, was placed the throne. Ere he ascended it, Charles seated himself in a chtfir placed before the preacher, on the com- mon level of the congregation, and took part in Divine service. Mr. Eobert Douglas, Moderator of the Conamis- sion of General Assembly, preached the sermon. The text was that stem passage of the Hebrew annals, in which we are told how Jehoiada, priest of Jehovah, and the faithful captains of the host, rescued the boy Joash from the daughter of Jezebel, the intriguing, blood-thirsty AthaHah, and crowned him as the covenanted King of Israel. Mr. Douglas dealt plainly with Charles in his adversity, but the Church of Scotland had not flattered Kings in the day of their power. He was exhorted to be all that Trajan had been said to be — devout at home, courageous in war, just in his judicatories, prudent in his affairs. Of the doctrine of Divine-right royalty — that sugar of lead which the Anghcan Church has so industriously dropped into the ears of her Kings — there was no trace. " Kings are deceived," said Mr. Douglas, " who think that the people are ordained for the King, and not the King for the people." "The 250 The Covenanters, Charles II., and Argyle. King is the minister op God foe the people's good." " The King hath his distinct possessions and revenues from the people ; he must not oppress and do what he pleases ; there must be no tjrranny upon the throne." Scotsmen may reflect with pride that these words were spoken to the last King ever crowned in Scotland. After service, the ceremony of coronation proceeded. Charles, kneeling and Hfting up his right hand, said, " I, Charles, King of Great Britain, France, and Ireland, do assure and declare, by my solemn oath, in the presence of Almighty God, the searcher of hearts, my allowance and approbation of the National Covenant, and of the Solemn League and Covenant . . . and that I shall give my Eoyal assent to acts and ordinances of Parliament passed, enjoining the same, in my other dominions." Observe the scrupulous respect shown to the rights of the English ParHament ! The Crown was set upon Charles's head by the Marquis of Argyle. Under the wintry heaven, as earnestly as ever from the heart of David or of Jeremiah, rose from the congregation that Hebrew cry — " Jehovah hear thee in the day When trouble He doth send." The trouble had come, and Jehovah did not avert it. Cut off from all the world, with OHver Cromwell before them and the haggard hiUs and moaning ocean behind, the Covenanters still held out for eight long months ; and then Leslie, giving his antagonist the slip with an adi'oit skill that OHver never equalled, marched -with his little army for England. Did Argyle cast in his lot with the intrepid remnant, and do at least one perfectly heroic thing? Alas, no ! His heart failed him ; he remained behind ; and the glory of Worcester is not his. Steadily penetrating into England, Lambert on liis flank and Cromwell in his real-, Leslie conducted his army to Worcester. With a mean effusivcnoss of enthusiasm for the winning side which drew Worcester. 251 a contemptuous rebuke from Cromwell himself, the forces of the English counties came flocldng, vulture-like, to be in at the death. Enormously out-numbered, Hi-armed, half- starving, the httle Scottish army fought on for four hours, vindicating for ever the honour of Scotland by spurning, ■with death before its eyes, the offers of accommodation made by CromweU at the price of sacrificing the King. The sword was now supreme in England, Scotland, and Ireland, and Cromwell expressly said that Scotland had given the army more trouble than any other part of the three kingdoms. The Covenanters, who sank in their attempt to establish the monarchy on a constitutional basis ten years before the Restoration, were the fathers of the historical Whig party. The name was first appHed to those Covenanters who rose upon and disarmed the stragglers from Hamilton's expedi- tion, as they made their way back to Scotland. The name, or nickname, then given them, was afterwards justly applied to that political party which maintained their prin- ciple of submitting neither to the will of a tyrant nor to the dictation of an army, of accepting neither a dynasty with- out hberty nor liberty with obliteration of the old Unes of the constitution. The Puritan Eevolution as led by Ehot, Hampden, Pym, — the Puritan Eevolution of the Bill of Eights, and the Great Eemonstrance, and the Solemn League and Covenant, — the Puritan Eevolution which fought the King in his own name, and had as one of its fundamental objects to make the monarchy possible and permanent — was Whig. Had it triumphed in 1650 instead of in 1688, there would probably have been retained in the pohtical and social constitution of England, and in the temper and habits of the people, more of the elevation and moral ardour of the Puritans than have been traceable since the 17th century. Even if we grant that Cromwell, Milton, Ireton, and the Ironside Invincibles of Naseby and 252 The Covenanters, Charles II., and Argijle. Dunbar, represent the purest resplendence of spiritual enthusiasm that ever glowed in England, we may maintain that this was too much ahove the habitual mood of the EngHsh people for permanence, and that, if a less lofty flight had been attempted, the utter collapse of Puritanism in England when CromweU died might have been obviated. At the same time, we must hesitate to blame Cromwell and the Independents. K they had no parchment right to toleration, — if neither the Great Eemonstrance nor the Solemn League held out any promise of toleration to separate congregations, — yet it was not in human nature that the conquerors of Naseby should surrender to the Covenanters that liberty of worship which they had wrung from Charles. And the Covenanters were at least as resolute in fighting against toleration as for the monarchy and the King. During the Protectorate, favour was shown by the ruhng powers in Scotland to that party among the Cove- nanting clergy which had distrusted and forsaken Charles. Protesters were placed in vacant charges by forcible inter- vention of Cromwell's soldiers, although the congregations detested the intrusion. This riveted the affection of the people to the main body of the Presbyterian preachers. The people clung to a Church identified with the cause of national independence ; and though the number of Pro- testers in the occupation of pulpits increased, the piinciples of the Sectaries, as Cromwell's men were called, made no way in Scotland. These considerations enable us to do justice to Charles in estimating the guilt of ingratitude laid to his charge on account of his conduct, at the Kostoration, to the Church of Scotland. On any sho^ving, it was bad enoiigli. But for eleven years before he ascended the throne, the ministers promoted to livings in Scotland had belonged to the party which did its worst to ruin him, whoHo divisive courses after Dunbar had caused bitter The Church of Scotland. 253 anguish to Charles's Covenanting allies. To those Cove- nanters who had stood by him to the last, Charles was not more ungrateful than the indolent facility of his character, and the furious anti-Presbyterian zeal of his chief advisers, might have led us to expect. David LesHe had no occasion to complain of Charles. He had given up his sword to Cromwell at "Worcester, but, like a brave and high-principled man, he declined to make his peace with the Protector, and remained in the Tower till the Eestoration. He was then rewarded by Charles with a pension and a peerage. The hostihty of Cromwell endeared the Church of Scot- land to the people. The atrocious maladministration of Scotland between 1660 and 1688 had a similar tendency. Physical defeat, political failure, ensured for the Church complete spiritual conquest. She had leant upon the sword, and it pierced her. She had been a great power in politics ; and under her . auspices disaster followed disaster, army after, army was destroyed. When she could not place a squadron in the field, when she was despised and persecuted by statesmen, she became finally and immovably enthroned in the affections of Scotchmen. She had the fehcity of being always on the side of Scotland's freedom, independence, or good government — ^freedom against Charles I., independence against Cromwell, good govern- ment against Lauderdale and Claverhouse. She continued, therefore, to be the Church of the Scottish people; and those who have seceded from her since the seventeenth century have seceded, not because they wished to change her, but because they objected to her being changed. No lesson of her history, however, is more impressive than the unquestionable fact that her intermeddling vnth pohtics resulted in calamity to herseK and to Scotland. Was this the reason why M'Crie, having told the tale of her struggles Tinder Knox and Melville, left the tale of her predominance untold? 254 The Covenanters, Charles II., and Argyle. For Scotland it was probably, after all, well that the victory of the Covenanters was wholly in the spiritual pro- vince. Had the simpleton Committee of Estates and Church let David Leslie deal with Cromwell in his own way ; had OUver been seriously crippled ; had the immense party in England which desired nothing better than that Charles should reign under constitutional restraints coalesced with the Covenanters and effected a settlement ; then the Scots might, or must, have attained an ascendency in the councils of the island which could hardly have promoted the general welfare. All thoughtful and well-informed Englishmen admit that the vindication of Scottish inde- pendence by Bruce and Wallace was a benefit to England. Scotland, had the Reformation been offered at the point of the EngUsh sword, would have rejected it as implacably as Ireland, and two Irelands would certainly have clogged the wheels of England. But if the Scots had conquered at Dunbar, they could scarcely have failed to become arrogant. Either they might have clung to their local independence, perpetuating a cumbrous and dangerous dualism in Great Britain, or they might have claimed more than their share in the common government. It was beneficial that Scot- land should achieve self-respect and the respect of England, but it was also desirable that the ingenium perfervidum should be toned down a little, and that Scotchmen should know that they were to Englishmen as one to seven. It is, perhaps, not far from the truth to say that, next to the victory of Bannockburn, the best thing that ever happened to Scotland was the defeat of Dunbar, and that high among the benefactors of Scotland, not far behind Wallace and Bruce, stands Oliver Cromwell. And the man who has made a grand prose Epic out of Cromwell's life is the Scotch Carlyle! During the Protectorate Argyle was a judicious trimmer, anxiously civil to Oliver, hated as false and half-hearted The End of Argyle. 255 both by Scotch and English. At the Eestoration he posted up to London, but Charles refused to see him, had him arrested, sent to Scotland, tried, and executed. This was a murder. For all that Argyle did against Charles I. he had obtained the amplest indemnity before he crowned Charles II., and there was no legal ground for exemptiug him from the general pardon granted to those who had gone with the stream between 1651 and 1660, or had intrigued against the Eestoration. Charles II. murdered Argyle. But it was a murder with palliations, — a murder under the strongest temptation. How could life be endur- able for Charles while Argyle continued to breathe? There was, for example, the letter about the dukedom, the Garter, the forty thousand pounds. It would not have been pleasant for Charles to have his attention called to that friendly transaction ! But that was not the worst. How could the gay Sybarite bear to have his dead past, his buried conscience, raised from the tomb, and set to glare withal on that scowHng brow, in those grey, search- ing eyes ? Conscience incarnated in Argyle, conscience, stalking grimly in among the throng of courtiers, say, when Charles sat wreathed ia smiles between Buckingham and Nelly, conscience recalling to him that hour when he sat on the floor of the old church of Scone, and heard Mr. Douglas thunder on the rescue of Joash and the sins of the house of Ahab, — that moment when he knelt before God, and, with uplifted hand, swore to maintain the Covenants, — ^would have made life not worth having for Charles. He committed murder; but no murderer could plead stronger temptation. vn. MONTEOSE. 17 r CHAPTEB Vn. MONTBOSE . a recent drama, or failure of a drama, on John Hampden, the hero speaks thus of Charles I. : — " O that he were a tyrant bold as bad ! His subtle vice is so like princeliest virtue. That princely hearts wiU shed their blood for him." This ex post facto prophecy apphes with special force to Falkland in England, and in Scotland to Montrose. " The noblest of aU the Cavaliers," Montrose has been called; " an accompUshed, gaUant-hearted, splendid man ; what one may call the Hero-Cavalier." In the crowd of striking figures that occupy the stage of the Revolution, there is no one so romantically briUiant as Montrose ; no one so pic- turesquely reheved against other figures that move amid the sad and stormful grandeurs of the time. Those con- trasted types of character which have been so well marked in Scottish history as to arrest the attention of Europe, — the cold, cautious, forecasting type, the impetuous and perfervid type, — were never so finely opposed as in the persons of the deep-thoughted, melancholy Argyle, and the impulsive and intrepid Montrose. James Graham, fifth Earl and first Marquis of Montrose, was bom in 1612, in one of his father's castles, near the town of that name. The Grahams were among the most ancient and honourable famihes of Scotland. Tradition talks of a Graham scaling, in the cause of old 17—2 260 Montrose. Caledonia, the Eoman wall between Forth and Clyde, and with clearer accents of a Graham who was the trustiest and best-beloved of the friends of Wallace, — " Mente manuque potens, et Vallaa fidus Achates," — who sleeps, beneath a stone bearing this inscription, in the old Church of Falkirk, near the field on which he feU. History, taking up the tale from tradition, informs us that one ancestor of Montrose died, sword in hand, at Flodden, and another at Pinkie. His grandfather was High Trea- surer to James I. ; then Chancellor ; finally Viceroy of Scotland. His father was President of Council, and in 1604 and 1606 carried the Great Seal as one of the foremost nobles of Scotland in the Parliaments held at Perth, when the nobihty rode in state. This Lord, who in his youth was hot and headstrong, had subsided, long before the birth of his son James, into a quiet country gentleman, vigilantly managing his estates. He was possessed of great baronies in the counties of Perth, Stirling, Dumbarton, and Forfar, and had exact ideas as to the number of oxen for his ploughs, of puncheons of wine in his cellars, of sacks of com in his granaries. He was an inveterate smoker, perpetually investing in tobacco and tobacco-pipes, a cir- cumstance which has attracted notice from the sensitive dishke with which his son shrank from the slightest smell of tobacco. Lord James, as from his infancy he was called, was the only son in a family of six. Margaret, the eldest of his sisters, was married to Lord Napier of Merchiston, son of the discoverer of logarithms ; and the brother-in-law, a man of parts and character, exerted a great influence on Montrose in his youth. Two of his sisters appear to have been younger than himself. He must have been a beautiful boy. The pride of his father, the pet of his mother and elder sisters, the heir to an exalted title and broad lands, he was Hkely to feel himself from childhood an important His BoijJiood. 261 personage, and to have any seeds of ostentation, vanity, and -wilfulness whicli might be sown in his nature some- vrhat perilously fostered. His boyhood vyas favourable in an eminent degree to the generous and chivalrous virtues. We can fancy him scampering on his pony over the wide green spaces of the old Scottish landscape, when roads were still few, and the way from one of his father's castles to another would be by the drove-roads, or across the sward and the heather. Travelling, even of ladies and children, was then almost universally performed on horseback. Lord James had two ponies expressly his own, and we hear of his fencing-swords and his bow. At Glasgow, whither he proceeded to study at twelve years of age, under the charge of a tutor named "William Forrett, he continued to ride, fence, and practise archery. He was attended by a valet and two young pages of his own feudal following, "Willy and Mungo Graham. He had a suit of green camlet, with embroidered cloak, and his two pages were dressed in red. He and Forrett rode out together, Lord James on a white horse. Among his books was the History of Geoffrey de Bouillon, and one of his favourite volumes was Ealeigh's History of the "World. The establishment was supphed vsdth "manchets," the white bread of the period, and oatcake and herrings were important items in the commissariat. These particulars, gleaned by Mr. Mark Napier from memoranda made by Forrett, enable us to realise vsdth vividness the hfe of the boy Montrose in the first quarter of the seventeenth century, when the Clyde was still a silvery river glancing by the quiet town that clustered round the old Cathedral of Glasgow. From Glasgow we trace him to St. Andrew's, where he matriculated in the University a few months before his father's death. He was fourteen when the shrewd and experienced Earl, whose predominance might have kept 262 Montrose. Mm beneficially in the shade, and exercised an influence to chasten and concentrate his faculties, was laid in the family- vault. From this time Montrose appears to have been very much lord of himself. His was a mind of that order which peculiarly required, to develop its utmost strength, all that wise men mean by discipline. To develop its utmost strength ; not necessarily to develop its utmost beauty and natural grace and splendour. There was no malice, or guile, or cross-grained self-wiU, or obstinate badness of any kind, in young Montrose. He accepted, with open-hearted welcome, the influence of Forrett, of Napier, of every worthy friend or teacher, vyinning and retaining through life their ardent affection. The poetry, the romance, of his nature bloomed out in frank luxuriance. But the gravity and earnest strength, the patient thoughtfulness, thorough- ness, and habit of comprehensive intellectual vision, which are indispensable to men who not only play a brilliant part in great revolutions, but regulate and mould them, were never his ; and we cannot be sure that, under the authority of a sagacious, affectionate, and determined father, he might not have attained them. There is no sign that, at college, he engaged seriously in study. He became probably a fluent Latinist, which no man with any pretensions to education could then fail to be; he was fond of Csssar, whose Commentaries he is said to have carried with him in his campaigns ; and he loved all books of chivalrous adventure ; but we hear of no study that imposed self- denial, or required severe application. He was a distin- guished golf-player and archer. There being now no heir, in the direct line, to the earldom and estates, he was counselled by his friends to marry early, and when only seventeen led to the altar Magdalene Carnegie, daughter of the Earl of Southesk. He was already the father of two boys when, on attaining his majority, he started on his Continental travels in 1CS3. Becepiion at Court. 2G3 For three years lie remained abroad, in France and Italy. He made himself, say his panegyrists, " perfect in the academies ;" leaamed " as much mathematics as is reqtiired for a soldier" (rather less probably than Count Moltke might prescribe) ; conversed with celebrities, poK- tical and erudite ; and devoted himself by preference to the study of great men. Doubtless these were years of eager observation, of eager and rapid acquisition. He seems to have already impressed a wide circle with the idea of his superiority, and he was prone to accept the highest estimate which his flatterers formed of him. Eetuming from the Continent in 1636, he presented himself at Court. Charles received him coldly, and he was hurt. There is no need to believe with Mr. Napier that the Marquis of Hamilton elaborately plotted to prevent his acquiring influence with the King. Clarendon's remark respecting Charles, that he " did not love strangers nor very confident men," accounts for what happened. A dash of ostentation and self-confidence was conspicuously present in Montrose ; and, as his sister Catherine was known to be at this time lurking in London in an adulterous connection with her brother-in-law, it may have occurred to the King that it would be not unbecoming in the young gentleman to carry less sail. In Scotland, he found himself a perjpn of consequence. He was in the front rank of the nobOity, his estates were large, his connection extensive ; and there was a general persuasion that he was capable of great things. It was of high importance to secure such a man to the popular cause, and Montrose was not indisposed to throw himself into the movement. The scheme of Thorough, in its two branches of enslavement in Church and State, had been appHed to the Scottish Parhament and to the Scottish Church. Mr. Brodie, whose valuable work on our Constitutional History has been, perhaps, too much thrown into the shade by 264 Montrose. Hallam, points out the grasping arbitrariness with which, in his visit to Scotland in 1633, Charles laid his hand upon the civil as well as the rehgious Hberties of Scotland. On returning from his travels in 1636, Montrose became con- vinced that both were in danger, and with all that was best in the intelligence and most fervent in the reUgion of Scotland, he prepared for their defence. Against Thorough the National Convention of 1638 was Scotland's protest. It corresponds, in its essential meaning, though not in time, to the impeachment of Strafford by the Commons of England. In each instance the respective nations may be pronounced unanimous. Clarendon acted with Hampden and Pym against Strafford ; Montrose put his name to the National Covenant as well as Argyle, and sat upon the same Table, or, as we should now say, managing committee, of Covenanting Nobles, with Lotliian and Eothes. BaiUie says that the Covenanters found it difficult to " guide " him ; but this arose, in the earher stages of the business, not from any defect in his Covenanting zeal, but because he would do things in a high-handed, and what appeared to them an imprudently open way. The Tables, for example, had looked after the Presbyterial elections to the Glasgow Assembly of 1638 vdth a particularity savouring rather of paternal government on the modem Imperial type than of a government extemporised for the purpose of vindicating, as one chief thing, the freedom of Presbyteries in Scotland. This fact turned up inopportunely in the Assembly itself, through the awkwardness of a clerk, who blurted out the name of the man whom one of the Presbyteries had been instructed by the Edinburgh Tables to return. The Eev. David Dickson endeavoured to explain, hinting that the name in question had been sent down to the Presbytery through negligence. Montrose would not countenance even this modicum of pious guile. He started to his feet, put aside canny David's explanation, and declared that the Montrose a Covenanter. 265 Tables would stand to every jot of what they had written. He had no secretiveness in his nature, and could do nothing by halves. He was at this time a resolute and even an enthusiastic Covenanter. Partly, perhaps, with a view to humouring and leading him, partly, also, because they knew that he was at heart true to the cause, the Covenanters named him Generalissimo of the troops which proceeded to Aberdeen in the begin- ning of 1639, to check the Marquis of Huntley, who was in arms in the Eoyal interest, and to chastise the anti- Covenanting town. He was accompanied by General Alexander LesHe, nominally his Adjutant, really his in- structor. Montrose took his first practical lessons in war with the aptitude of genius born for the field. The Aber- donians and the Gordons felt the weight of his hand, and the EoyaHsts in the north-east of Scotland were effectually quelled ; but even while enforcing the Covenant at the sword-point, he proclaimed that his zeal for the religious liberties of Scotland was not more honest than his allegi- ance to his Sovereign ; and there sprang up and gradually strengthened in him the idea that Argyle and his party, were pressing matters too far, that enough had been con- ceded by Charles, and that the day was drawing near when it would be necessary to make a stand for the Monarchy. In point of fact, sincere as was the Covenanting zeal of Montrose, it was never so fervent as in some of the Covenanters. He was a religious man, but his religion was a very different thing from that of Cromwell, Vane, or Argyle. With them religion was a,n impassioned energy of spiritual enthusiasm ; v^th him it was the devout and reverent loyalty with which a noble nature regards the Sovereign of the universe. If the main current of tendency in those years was religious, — if the main factor in world- history was religious earnestness, — the circumstance that 266 Montrose. Montrose was not a supremely reb'gious man, would account for his having played a glittering rather than a great part in the Eevolution. Cardinal de Retz's compli- ment gives the reason why it was impossible for him to be a Scottish Cromwell. Cardinal de Eetz pronounced him " the sohtary being who ever realised to his mind the image of those heroes whom the world sees only in the biographies of Plutarch." A Plutarchian hero was out of date in the age of the Puritans. Montrose aspired to emulate the deeds of Csesar and Alexander. Cromwell sought the Lord in the Psalms of David, and found a more present and speaking manifestation of God's will in the victories of the Iron- side saints even than in the history of the Hebrews. Add to this that, in comparison with Argyle and the best heads in the party, Montrose was deficient in judgment, in experience, in apprehension of the organic facts of the revolution. His lack of judgment is demonstrated by his entire misconception of the views of Argyle and Hamilton. He took up the notion that these men aimed at sovereignty. This, as the sequel proved, was an hallucination. AMien Charles I. was struck down and not yet beheaded, Hamil- ton did not attempt to set the Scottish crown on his own head, but lost his life in an effort to replace it and that of England on the head of Charles. When Charles I. was dead, Argyle did not seize the throne of Scotland, but staked all on an attempt to regain for Charles U. the throne of Charles I. The motives of Ai'gj-le's conduct, at the period when his path diverged from that of Montrose, are sufficiently clear. Well acquainted with tho character of the King, with the policy and projects of Laud and Strafford, with the wrongs of the English Puritans and their estimate of the danger threatening the hberties of the nation, he Imow that it would be puerile simplicity to accept the professions of Charles as an adequate guarantee of what Scotland required and demanded. Montrose, as His Political Views. 2G7 ardent in his devotion to his country as Argyle, had never conferred -with Hampden, never imbibed from the English Puritans their invincible distrust of Charles. There was much also in the character of Montrose to predispose him to that lofty but somewhat vague ideah- sation of authority, that enthusiasm for the representative of a long Hne of Mngs, that reverence for the established order of things, and that partly aristocratic, partly feminine, habit of shrinking from the coarser and cruder associations of democracy, which constitute the poetry of modern Tory- ism. Mr. Mark Napier has printed an essay by Montrose, brief, but of singular interest, in which his conception of kingly authority and popular freedom, and of the relation between the two, is set forth with as much lucidity as is common in writings of that generation, and with a certain stateliness and pomp of expression which, viewed in con- nection with the touches of poetry occurring in Montrose's verse, may be held to prove that, in altered circumstances, he might have been a remarkable vmter. The value or valuelessness of the piece in respect of political philosophy may be gauged by the fact that Montrose has not grasped the central idea of politics in modem times, to wit, repre- sentation. The truth that sovereignty resides in the people, and that kingship is a delegation from the people, which was then beginning to make itseK felt as a power in world-history, and was firmly apprehended by Hampden, Cromwell, Pym, and Vane, has no place in Montrose's essay. The notion of royal authority as something dis- tinct, or even Divine ; not derived from, but balanced against, national right or freedom ; — a notion which has bewildered political fanciers, down to the days of Lord Beaconsfield ; — this is what he fundamentally goes upon. " The king's pre- rogative," he says, " and the subject's privilege are so far from incompatibility, that the one can never stand unless supported by the other. For the sovereign being strong. 2C8 Montrose. and in full possession of his lawful power and prerogative, is able to protect his subjects from oppression, and maintain their liberties entire ; otherwise not. On the other side, a people, enjoying freely their just liberties and privileges, maintaineth the prince's honour and prerogative out of the great affection they carry towards him; which is the greatest strength against foreign invasion, or intestine insurrection, that a prince can possibly be possessed with." He speaks of " the oppression and tyranny of subjects, the most fierce, insatiable, and insupportable tyranny in the world." He is prepared to go lengths in submission to the "prince," which shows that he never kindled into sympathy vrith the high, proud, and free spirit of the English Puritans, never got beyond the figment of inde- feasible right in an anointed king. Subjects, he declares, "in wisdom and duty are obliged to tolerate the vices of the prince as they do storms and tempests, and other natural evils which are compensated with better times succeeding." Here were the germs of a Boyalism as enthusiastic as could be found among the young lords and swashbucklers who were now beginning to cluster round Charles at "Whitehall. With Montrose, in his political speculations or dreams, were associated Napier of Merchiston, Sir George Stirling of Keir, and Sir Archibald Stewart of Blacldiall. These had " occasion to meet often " in Merchiston Hall, the residence of Napier, near Edinburgh, a turreted keep or castle, with bartizan atop, on which, in the feudal times, the sentinel made his rounds, and which, in the less martial days that now were, afforded on summer evenings a pleasant lounge. There Montrose and lais friends, secure from intrusion, could talk politics, theoretical and practical, casting a glance at intervals over the loveliest landscape, the green-blue Pentlands on the loft, the soft undulating swell of Corstor- phine hill on the right, while the setting sun flooded with Interview with the King. '209 saffron glow the valley that lay between. At the foot of the tower, now fronted with a white dwelling-house, but which then stood bare and gaunt, were the meadows which loga- rithmic Napier, as fond of experimental farming as of algebra, had nursed into sap and luxuriance. Algebra and cow-feeding do not seem naturally promotive of theological speculation, but the inventor of logarithms gave play to his imagination in the study of prophecy, and was an iutrepid theorist on Antichrist and Armageddon. Lord Napier, Montrose's friend and brother-in-law, was the son of this many-sided genius, and seems to have inherited his vein of imaginative enthusiasm rather than his sagacious intelh- gence of algebraic figures and agricultural facts. In such society Montrose found himself steadily growing in that romantic loyalty which is rooted in the affections rather than in the intellect, and in opposition to the Covenanting chiefs. He was workiag himself out of the main current of his country's history, and getting into a track of his own. We can imagine the effect which a personal interview with Charles, at the period when he made his first im- portant concessions to his Scottish subjects, would have upon Montrose. They met at Berwick in July, 1639, when the King, finding it impracticable to reduce the Scots by force of arms, patched up an agreement with the Cove- nanters, and might well seem, to one predisposed to trust him, to have yielded all that his countrymen could reason- ably expect. Charles completely won the heart of Montrose, who did not come at once to a breach with the Cove- nanters, but vehemently exerted himseK to oppose by constitutional methods the party which suspected the King. He placed himself in frank antagonism to Argyle in the ParKament which met in Edinburgh early in 1640. His belief was that the King meant well, and that the objects of the Covenant had been secured. He was now 270 Montrose. in constant correspondence with Charles, but his letters contained nothing to imply that he had ceased to be a Covenanter. Nay, he made bold to give his Eoyal corre- spondent advice which is surprising for its courageous honesty. " Practise, sir, the temperate government ; it fitteth the humour and disposition of Scotland best ; it gladdeth the hearts of your subjects ; strongest is that power which is based on the happiness of the subject." The position of Montrose was rapidly becoming painful, rapidly becoming untenable. Eestlessness, agitation, petu- lant loquacity were the external signs of a conflict with which his mind was torn. Anxiously and ardently loyal, he could not enter with enthusiasm into the views of those who promoted the second Scottish levy against Charles, or take any delight in the advance into England in the summer of 1640. It was vmdeniable, however, that the Covenanters had many causes of ofifence, and as they pro- fessed, in the new appeal to arms, to fight not against the King bnt his evil counsellors, he did not come to an open rupture with the Scottish leaders. He commanded 2,500 men in Alexander Leslie's army, and dashed gallantly into the Tweed when the lot fell upon Tn'm to be the first to cross the river. But before marching for England, he had joined with nineteen other Scottish noblemen in an engage- ment to check the disloyal predominance of Argyle and Hamilton, and his correspondence with the King was not suspended on account of his being, to all appearance, in arms against him. We shall not, I think, do injustice to Montrose if we beheve that, though probably half- unconscious of the fact, he was at this time irritated by finding himseK restricted to a secondary part in Scottish affairs. At the Council Board he was ecMpsed by Argyle; in the field he was eclipsed by Leslie. He would have been ashamed to own to himself such a feeling ; but it was one element in his unrest ; for he was impatient, masterful, Gets into Trouble. 271 proud, and had more confidence in himself than he had yet communicated to other people. Mr. Mark Napier says that he told Colonel Cochrane at Newcastle that he thought of following the wars abroad, and complained of being " a man envied," whom " all means were used to cross." His capacity of obedience was not so great as it has generally been in great commanders. Splendidly generous to all who " were, or were willing to be, inferior to him," he was not. Clarendon hints, equally happy in his dealings with " superiors and equals." On the other hand, it were shallow to impute to him conscious treachery. He declared that he had a right to correspond with his sovereign, devoted allegiance to whom was professed by every Covenanter arrayed against him. Montrose had no reserve; wore his heart on his sleeve; talked to every one who would Hsten to him against Argyle. Even Mr. Napier, who is as mad as a March hare in admiration for his hero, admits that at this time he con- ducted himself like a "simpleton." His fury against Argyle hurried him at length into an extremity of indiscre- tion. Mr. John Stewart of LadywelL brought Tn'm a story about Argyle's having suggested a deposition of the King, and intending to seize the dictatorship. It is absurd to suppose that Argyle said an3rthing hke this; it is incon- ceivable that he should have said it to Mr. Stewart ; but Montrose gave ear to the tale and went about spreading it. Argyle denied on oath the charge made by Stewart, and the latter was condemned and executed for the crime of leasi-making, that is, of telHng lies calculated to pro- voke disagreement between the King and his subjects. At the same time when he was discreditably mixing himself up in the LadyweU business, Montrose was de- tected in a correspondence with Charles of a more sus- picious nature than had previously been made pubUc. Along with his friends Napier, Stirling of Keir, and 272 Montrose. Stewart of Blackhall, he was arrested, and thrown into Edinburgh Castle on a charge of plotting. This was in June, 1641. The short visit of the King to Edinburgh in the following August has extraordinary interest for one who studies the character of Charles I., and a considerable interest for one who studies the less puzzling character of Montrose. Charles could never give his heart whoUy either to supremely able men or to men of perfect moral upright- ness and temperate wisdom. Neither the commanding genius of Wentworth, nor the constitutional moderation of Falkland, was quite to his mind. He hked young, showy, extravagantly promising men, whose boyish ecstasies of loyalty were incense to his seK-worship. In Digby he found one such man, in Montrose another ; and it was to bring to maturity schemes based upon the support of the Digby party in England, and the Montrose party in Scot- land, that he proceeded to Edinburgh in 1641. He told Hyde that he would "undertake for "the Church," if nothing serious were effected against it before he went to Scotland. The English Eoot and Branch party, aiming as they did at the abohtion of Episcopacy, had thoroughly alarmed him. He was brought into a state of mind in which it was easy for him to throw into provisional abey- ance his projects for the ecclesiastical organisation of Scotland, and to make any sacrifices which might be neces- sary to secure the support of the Scots to his EngUsh policy. Montrose and he, therefore, had common ground. True to the Covenant, Montrose could require and obtain for Scotland the reUgious and civU privileges which the Covenanters demanded. If Charles, on the other hand, overthrew Argyle and Hamilton, and placed the administra- tion of Scotland in the hands of Montrose, he might return to London with the certainty not only that' his Enghsh poUcy would meet with no interruption from the North, but The King in Edinburgh. 273 that in case of emergency it would be supported by a body of troops from Scotland. Montrose's imprudence, landing him in Edinburgh Castle, increased the difficulty of carrying out this plan, but did not render it hopeless. Clarendon says that " by the introduction of Mr. WilHam Murray of the bed- chamber," Montrose " came privately to the King " and conferred with him on the plan. Mr. Brodie and Pro- fessor Masson hold that Montrose could not have conferred personally with Charles, because he was in prison. But Clarendon's statement impKes knowledge by the writer that Montrose was in prison. The interview was " private," and Mr. William Murray was the instrument who managed the probably not very difficult bribings and whisperings which were necessary to bring it about. If Montrose had been at large, he would have been in daily attendance upon the King, and Clarendon's evident intention, in making any mention of William Murray and of privacy, is to give pointedness to the statement that, in spite of his confine- ment, Montrose made his way to Charles. There is no likelihood, however, that Montrose advised the King to put Axgyle and Hamilton to death. If he did, the wickedness of the counsel would be somewhat palliated by the con- sideration that he might look upon Axgyle and Hamilton as the murderers of Stewart of Ladywell; but the arrest of these noblemen and the overturn of their administration were sufficient for Montrose's scheme ; and it is hardly con- ceivable that he would have advised a step which must have convulsed Scotland with horror and indignation. The scheme, whatever may have been its details, failed utterly. Charles and Montrose were not the men to concert and execute a plot against Axgyle. The King was as usual the victim of his own cunning. Hamilton and Argyle received information of what was on foot, and left Edinburgh de- claring their lives in danger. Charles was profuse in dis- 18 274 Montrose. avowals, and though the popular chiefs both in Scotland and England disbelieved him, the shrewd and cautious Argyle was willing to make matters easy for reconcilement. Montrose and his friends were released from prison. Argyle was created a marquis. Charles conceded all the demands of the Scots and returned to London. Montrose af&rmed in his latest hours that he had been true to the National Covenant of Scotland. Nothing which we have seen is inconsistent with this position. There is every reason to believe that he viewed with satisfaction the concessions made by the King to the Covenanters, although he was doubtless mortified to find that the administration of affairs must continue in the hands of his rivals. His loyalty had been deepening in fervour, and he would henceforth feel that impassioned devotion was the sentiment wherewith he and all Scotsmen ought to regard Charles. He was accordingly prepared to encounter with im- passioned resistance the proposal of Vane in 1643, that Scotland should take part with the EngUsh Parliament, and send an army to oppose the King. He had signed the National Covenant of Scotland: he never signed, he in- finitely detested, the Solemn League and Covenant. The descendant of Scotland's ancient Idngs had given the Scots aU they asked; he was now strugghng sword in hand with his EngUsh subjects ; and Montrose decLixed that, if his countrymen fought against Charles, he would fight against his countrymen. " The Covenant," he said in a solemn hour, " I took ; I own it, and adhere to it. Bishops, I care not for them ; I never intended to advance their interest; but when the liing had granted you all your desires, and you were every one sitting under his own vine, and under his fig-tree, that then you should have talcen a piu'ty in England by the hand, and entered into a League and Covenant with them against the King, was the thing I Montrose in England. 275 judged my duty to oppose to the uttermost." All the logic of Scottish Eoyalism is in these words ; and, for one who believed that Charles was honest, the argument was com- plete and invulnerable. There were reasons which made it impossible for Argyle and the other leaders to take the part of Charles ; but the Covenanters of Scotland never saw good day from the time they parted company with Montrose. When Alexander Leslie and his Scots entered England to assist the Parhament in January, 1644, Montrose was in the Eoyal camp at Oxford, eagerly offering his services. How different might have been the sequel if Charles had placed Montrose in a position whence he could have made his way to the chief command in England ! In the begin- ning of 1644, the spirit of the English cavahers was un- broken, the military resources of Charles were great. "What from first to last was wanting to the Eoyal cause was an adequately able military man ; and who shall say what the result might have been if the mihtary genius which was to bum itseK away in the Highlands of Scotland had found its work in marshalling, and bringing into the field, and directing in. battle, the immense fighting power available on the side of Charles in England? Montrose, however, was not yet known, and his immediate promotion to high command would have given offence to the Enghsh Cavahers. Some troops were placed at his disposal, and in March, 1644, he commenced operations in the North of England. He took Morpeth Castle, displaying in the exploit courage, promptitude, and energy, but effected nothing of import- ance. He does not appear to have mastered the conditions of the struggle in the south, or to have perceived where the vital part of the business was being transacted. Had he done so, he would surely have shown himself at Marston Moor, as Cromwell did ; and might, in the hour of battle, have supplemented with effect " Newcastle's heartless head, 18—2 276 Montrose. and Eupert's headless heel." He was not present on that memorable field, and evinced his ignorance of the pass to "which it had brought the King's affairs by asking Prince Eupert to give him a thousand horse, in order that he might cut his V7ay with them into Scotland. Eupert marked his sense of the inopportuneness of this request by calling to his own standard the men whom Montrose commanded, and leaving him to make his way to Scotland as he could. He had ample parchment powers from the King, but absolutely nothing else. Prince Maurice was nominally invested \yith the chief command in Scotland, and Montrose had been named his Lieutenant-General. It was necessary for him to enter Scotland disguised as a groom, in attend- ance on his two friends, Sir William EoHo and Colonel Sibbald. In their journey across the Scottish lowlands, a soldier who had fought under Montrose recognised him, but the honest fellow kept the secret. He passed through Perth and Angus, not daring to turn aside even into his own mansion, to look at his countess and children, and drew bridle finally at TuUibelton, a remote and secluded locality between Perth and Dunkeld. It was now the 22nd of August, 1644. He lurked for a Httle time in profound concealment, haunting the hiUs at night, and stealing into a small cottage at daybreak, and dispatched his two friends to ascertain what glimpse of hope there might be for the Eoyal cause in Scotland. They returned with gloomy looks and dismal words. The Covenanting Committee of Estates, dominated by Argyle, was everywhere trimnphant. Huntley had retired from the conflict, and had betaken himself to the remote fastnesses of Strathnaver, in Caithness. One night, when Montrose had taken up his quarters in Methven Wood, he observed a Highlander carrying the well-known rallying sign of the clans — a fiery cross. Venturing to accost the clansman, he learns that he is an emissary of Alexander Montrose in the Highlands. 277 MacDonald or Colkitto, a Scot by birth, who had served under the Earl of Antrim in Ireland, and had landed with some 1,200 or 1,600 men on the coast of Argyleshire. The messenger, besides carrying the fiery cross, had been in- structed by Colkitto to make his way to Montrose, who was beheved to be at CarHsle, and to deliver to him a letter. Montrose lost no time in sending the Highlander back with commands to Colkitto to meet him at the cas.tle of Blair, among the braes of Athol. Colkitto had established him- seK in the castle of Blair, when Montrose, who had walked twenty miles across the hills with a single attendant, was seen coming through the heather. Something in his look told the brave Irish and High- landers that this was the man they sought. Monicrose was now thirty-two, the vigour of perfect manhood blending in his face and person with the last and noblest beauty of youth. The Highland dress displayed to advantage -his exquisitely-formed Hmbs and hthe and sinewy frame. His chestnut hair, his proud forehead and piercing grey eye, his aquiline nose, his ruddy and white complexion, his expres- sion of perfect intrepidity and joyful hope, revealed to the quick Celtic apprehension the supreme chieftain and warrior. The lone hills of Athol rang v?ith the fierce acclamations of the clans. The Stewarts and Bobertsons, though well affected to the King, had hesitated about joining Colkitto, but they at once placed themselves under the orders of the Eoyal Lieutenant. They were in number 800, and 300 of Huntley's men, whose spirit was less easily broken than that of their chief, came in from Badenoch. Lord Kilpont, Sir John Drummond, and Montrose's own nephew, the Master of Maderty, joined with their retainers. Montrose saw himself at the head of a tight httle army of, say, 3,000 men, and with that solemn ostentation which characterised him, and by which he knew how to act upon the fervid fancy of the Highlanders, he unfurled the Eoyal 278 Montrose. standard. The Highlanders and Irish lacked almost every- thing but valour. The Irish had " rusty, battered match- locks," and one round of ammunition. There was no artillery, no cavalry. Many of the Highlanders had not even swords. Pikes, clubs, bows and arrows, figured in their miscellaneous armament, and a considerable number had no weapons at all. Montrose led them instantly to battle. The Scottish army, horse and foot, was at this time in England, and the force which could be collected on the spur of the moment to meet the impending attack consisted of farm servants, apprentices, burghers zealous for the Cove- nant but unaccustomed to arms, vnth a few gentlemen to form a troop or two of cavalry. These wanted only drill to become excellent soldiers, but drill was indispensable, and, with Montrose and CoUdtto at hand, impracticable. Lord Elcho, who was in command of the Covenanters, drew out on the heaths of Tippermuir and Cultmahndy, near Perth. His men were twice as numerous as those of Montrose. They had six or eight cannon in front. Soon after dawn on the 1st of September, 1644, the Eoyal army appeared. Montrose arranged his troops in one line three deep, the Irish in the centre. He called the attention of those who had no weapons to the large flints which lay about upon the moor, capable of being apphed with eminent effect by Highland arms to Covenanting heads. At about seven in the morning he gave the word to charge, and the little army sprang forward. The Irish, having fired their one voDey, clubbed muskets and fell on. The Highlanders, uttering yells of exultation and fury, dashed into the incoherent masses, which Imew barely enough of soldiership to stand in rank. An hour had scarce passed before cannon, colours, baggage had been taken, and the army of the Covenant was a wild mob hurrying towards Perth. In the brief clash of actual conflict only a score or two ht-.d fallen, but many Defects of a Highland Army. 279 hundreds were slain in the flight. The loss on the side of Montrose was insignificant, and the victorious army took possession of Perth. "With the indefinable power of one suited by nature for command, Montrose had inspired the clans with confidence the moment he had placed himself at their head. He had apprehended with nicest precision the character of the force at his disposal and that of the levies under Lord Elcho. He saw that the way to handle the Highlanders was to launch them like a bolt at the enemy, their power lying essentially ia the charge. In point of fact the Highland charge, well dehvered, has on all occasions carried every- thing before it ; again and again, even so late as 1745, it broke the bayonet line of disciplined troops ; and there can be no doubt that, had Montrose or Dundee been in command, it would have shattered Cumberland's army at Culloden. But while he appreciated the fighting capacities of the Highlanders, and used them in a masterly manner, Montrose did not show himself qualified to cope with the defects of a Highland army. A mihtary genius, calm and comprehensive, as well as prompt and intrepid, would have perceived these to be, if incurable, fatal to permanence of success. At the moment which in war is most precious of all, the moment when victory is to be improved, the clansmen habitually left the standard in order to reach their native glens and deposit their booty. If the season hap- pened to be that of harvest, they would go to gather in their patches of com. The commander saw his lines, steadfast in battle, melt away under the sun of victory. This habit of the Highlanders may have been invin- cible, and Montrose may have known it to be so; but the fact is not self-evident, and there is no proof that he displayed skill or determination in grappHng v^ith the mischief. It would have been the part of a military pedant to attempt to turn the Highlanders at once into 280 Montrose. regular soldiers, or to destroy the organisation of the clans ; but a far-sighted commander in Montrose's position would have felt the absolute necessity of imparting to them enough of the character of soldiers, as distinguished from brigands, to make them capable of being depended on in the crisis of a campaign. They were excitable, warm-hearted, imaginative, and Montrose knew how to stir their enthusiasm. Had he appealed to them, when victory first crowned his standard, as the only army in Scotland maintaining the Eoyal cause ; had he called upon them to rise from robbers into soldiers ; had he pledged his honour that, when the King got his own again, their services would be rewarded; it is not certain that his efforts would have been fruitless. Even if the necessity tj yield to some extent to Highland prepossessions was inexorable, a troop, chosen from the various clans and trusted by aU, might have been periodically deputed to carry home the plunder, and at the same time to recruit. Having gained command of Perth at the very commencement of his operations, Montrose might have formed a mihtary chest, which he had subsequent opportunities of replenishing, and he might thus have gradually taken the Highlanders into the King's pay, and strengthened his hold upon them. No such measures seem to have occurred to him. The poetry of war, the romance of the battle and the march, have been familiar to all since the time of Homer, but the prose of war, not so generally known, is essential to success iu the business. Criticism, however, is easy ; and it is after aU not quite certain that the most cool and practical of soldiers, a Coasar, a Frederick, a Napoleon, would have made more of the Highland army than Montrose. Twelve days after the battle of Tippermuir he was in the north-east of Scotland, marcliing down the left bank of the Deo to visit Aberdeen. On the 13th of September, he de- feated the forces mustered to defend the town. The fighting The Irish in Aberdeen. 281 was more severe than at Tippermuir, but the overthrow of the Covenanters was complete, and the infuriated Irishmen poured into Aberdeen. Montrose, who, vsdth Henderson and other clerical leaders, had at one time done his best to convince the Aberdonians that they ought to take the Cove- nant and fight the King, and at another had inflicted upon them harsh mihtary chastisement for slowness in following his advice, was bound to exert himself strenuously to pro- tect the town from piUage. Unfortunately, a drummer who had been his herald to the tov/nsmen was shot. An insult, unattended vdth bloodshed, had been done to his flag before the battle of Tippermuir. Proud of his commission from his sovereign, and knowing that it entitled him, on any show- ing, to aU belHgerent rights, he was incensed at these out- rages. It is also urged by his apologists that it was beyond his power to restrain the Irish, and that he did what he could to draw them from their prey by pitching his camp, the day after the battle, at Kintore, a village ten miles dis- tant from Aberdeen. It is unquestionable, however, that he made no personal attempt to check the Irish, and that they committed horrible atrocities in what was then one of the most loyal towns in Scotland. No one has imputed delibe- rate cruelty to Montrose, but he was culpably reckless of blood, and the butchery in the streets of Aberdeen has left a stain upon his name. Argyle had not been unaware of the landing of Colkitto from Ireland. Thinking it would be easy to crush the httle band of Irish, he had hastened to seize their boats, but had subsequently been languid in his operations against them, as if the business were too trivial for serious attention. The battles of Tippermuir and Deeside startled him into activity. He put himseK, along with Lord Lothian, at the head of such a body of horse and foot as could be relied upon to defeat Montrose if only he could be brought to an engage- ment. But though he detested Argyle, both personally and 282 Montrose. on account of his disaffection to Charles, and though he knew the importance of every blow that could be struck for the Eoyal cause, Montrose would not fight at a disadvantage. He retreated before Argyle, and struck westward from the neighbourhood of Aberdeen. Finding himself headed by a second body of Covenanters posted on the left bank of the Spey, he marched up the valley of that river, penetrated into Badenoch, and wheeling round by Athol marched again down Deeside. Argyle kept patiently on his track, and the Covenanters of Moray were ready to turn him when his columns showed their heads on the banks of Spey. Once, at the castle of 'Fjvie, he was almost caught napping ; but by his presence of mind and fertOity of resource, and by the dashing courage of the Irish, he was extricated from the peril. At Fyvie, as formerly on Deeside, he greatly in- creased the efficiency of his few horse by interspersing foot soldiers in their ranks, and astonishing the opposing cavalry by the discharge of musketry in their faces. Montrose was famUiarly acquainted with Ceesar's Commentaries, and is said to have carried the book with him in his campaigns. It is probable that the expedient of mixing cavalry with infantry was suggested both to Gustavus Adolphus and to Montrose by Csesar's tactics at Pharsalia. Its adoption by the Swede set Frederick of Prussia upon using it in his first battle ; but at Molwitz it was misapplied and disastrous. Three times did Montrose lead Argyle up Spey, round by Athol, and down Dee. Thinking at last that his enemy would be glad to rest and that the work of crushing him might be resumed in spring, Argyle drew off his troops, threw up the command, and retired to enjoy a few weeks of repose in his castle of Inverary. Between him and Mont- rose towered the loftiest hill ranges in Great Britain, and he flattered himself that no one except lais devoted retainers of the clan Campbell knew the passes which led through those mountains into his feudal domain. It was now December, Lays Waste Argyleshire. 283 and the austere Marquis might reflect with satisfaction that Montrose, who had not dared to meet him in fight, must winter in the hungry wilds of Athol. What could even a puissant Argyle make of an enemy, if he would not turn and fight him ? The mood of the great Maccallumore would be one of mild seK-adulation, spiced with pleasant contempt for his enemy. Suddenly, before December's moon had filled her horn, he was startled to learn that Montrose was upon him. "Wading through drifts of snow, scaling precipices, and traversing mountain-paths known to none save the sohtary shepherd or huntsman," the Highlanders made their way into Argyleshire and began laying it waste with fire and sword. Argyle stepped into a fishing-boat and escaped. Montrose, dividing his army into three bodies, ravaged the country. Every man capable of bearing arms against King Charles who fell into their hands was put to death; the cattle were driven off, the houses burned. Most of the men, it is probable, imitated their chief, and took to flight as soon as the fires on the horizon announced the arrival of Mont- rose. The work of devastation was continued into the first month of the new year, and towards its close the Eoyal army marched in the direction of Inverness, where Seaforth was gathering force in the interest of the Covenanters. Montrose encamped at Kilcummin at the head of Loch Ness. Meanwhile Argyle had been making preparations. He drew a body of troops from the Lowlands, mustered his clansmen, and took up his quarters in the castle of Inver- lochy. Once more he breathed freely, for the Lochaber range lay between him and his foe. With the glance of genius Montrose perceived his opportunity, and acted upon it with the audacity of a com- mander who had inspired his men with his own dauntless and . resolute spirit. Starting at sunrise, he entered the 281 Montrose. rugged ravine of the Tarf. " Through gorge and over mountain, now crossing the awrful ridges of Corry-arrick, now plunging into the valley of the rising Spey, now climbing the wild mountains of Glenroy to the Spean," wading through snow-drifts, fording rivers and hill bums up to their girdles, the Highlanders pressed on until, " having placed the Lochaber mountains behind them, they beheld from the skirts of Ben Nevis, reposing under the bright moon of a clear frosty night, the yet bloodless shore of Loch Eil, and the frowning towers of Inverlochy." At five o'clock in the vdnter evening the van of Montrose appeared ; at eight the rear had closed up. Next morning the Campbells stood gallantly to their arms, their chief having betaken himself to his barge in order to behold the battle from a place of safety. "In spite of the admitted valour of his clan, he was signally defeated. The spell which he had cast upon the imagination of the Highlanders was broken, and his power as the head of a formidable body of Highland warriors permanently injured. It was natural that Montrose should now experience a sense of almost intoxicating elation. He had rendered brilliant service to the master whom he ardently loved, and he had ecHpsed and discredited a rival with whom he had for long years been engaged in internecine conflict, and who had at one time been so much in the ascendant as to be able to exercise towards him a contemptuous leniency. The importance of his victories to the cause of Charles he over-rated. Mr. Napier prints a letter addressed by him to the King after the battle of Inverlochy, in wliich he urges His Majesty to come to no tenus with the Parliament, and speaks confidently of his own. ability to do great tilings, in the ensuing summer, for the Eoyol cause. He had mani- festly no accurate loiowlodge of the posture of affairs in England, and was unable to gauge the importance of those military changes in the Parliament's army which were Storms Dundee. 285 being introduced under the influence of Cromwell. He can hardly be blamed for supposing that Enghsh EoyaHsm could still do something considerable for the King. The dream of his ambition was to lead an army into England, form a junction with the Eoyal forces, and re-estabhsh the monarchy. Had he been at Charles's right hand, abso- lutely commanding his troops in England as well as in Scotland, the. current of oux history might have flowed in a different channel ; but between him and the Eoyal camp lay the Scottish army under Alexander Leshe, and he had no force adequate to encounter it. Among Charles's many weaknesses was that of facile hope, and the tone of exulta- tion and promise in which Montrose now wrote may have been one among the fatal influences which induced him to refuse an arrangement either with the Parhament, or with the Scots, or vpith both, and so lured him to his doom. Meanwhile Montrose, who could gain nothing by linger- ing in Argyleshire, struck away again for the north-east, attempting to raise the Gordons and the country generally for the King, and laying waste the Covenanting districts in his path. The town of Dundee was noted for its zeal for the Covenant, and he resolved to chastise it. . The Com- mittee of Estates, however, had not been idle. Summoning General Bailhe and Colonel Urry from the army in Eng- land, and putting under their command 3,000 weU-drUled foot and nearly 1,000 good horse, they had sent them in pursuit of the Eoyal army. Montrose had actually stormed Dundee, and the Irish and Highlanders had commenced the work of pillage. Many of them were already drunk. The alarm was suddenly raised that Bailhe and Urry were at hand. Montrose perceived that the sole chance of safety was in immediate retreat. Exerting himself with the utmost skiU and presence of mind, he succeeded in drawing off the plunderers. The intoxicated men were driven on in front. At the head of his few horse he cut in between the 286 Montrose. enemy and the rear ; a safe retreat was effected, and at midnight he halted his column near Arbroath. Baillie jogged steadily on hehiad, and Montrose learned that he had occupied the road to the Grampians. The Covenanting General, beheving that his enemy could not escape, allowed his men to snatch a few hours of repose. But Montrose was vividly awake. The Highlanders had now got the drink out of their heads, and -understood that " they must shake themselves^jUp and march for hfe. Silent, like a long black snake VTinding through the darkness, the column stole past the camp of BaiRie and made for the hiUs. The Covenanting General followed as soon as he learned that Montrose had given him the slip, and it was not until after a march (including the storm of Dundee) of three days and two nights that Montrose permitted his men to rest. "I have often," writes Dr. Wishart, Mont- rose's* chaplain and biographer, "heard those who were esteemed the most experienced of&cers, not in Britaia only, but in France and Germany, prefer this msirch to his most celebrated victories." Justice, however, requires the ad- mission, that, if Montrose could, by vehement personal exertion, draw off Jiis men from the sack of Dundee, he cannot be held free from responsibility for the atrocities they committed in Aberdeen. Since the day when he had raised the Royal standard, it had been one main object with Montrose to prevail upon the loyal gentlemen of the name of Gordon to join him. The Marquis of Huntley, their feudal chief, had abandoned hope, and would not order them to rise. Montrose now determined upon an effort to secure once for all the service of the clan. For this purpose he despatched Lord Gordon, a zealous and intrepid loyalist, to call the gentlemen of his family to arms. Tlicy obeyed the call with unwonted alacrity, and a considorablo body of horse came together. Hearing of this movement, Baillie detached Colonel Urry Battle of Auldearn. 287 with such force as might crush Lord Gordon hefore he effected a junction with Montrose. Urry increased his numbers by associating with his own detachment the Covenanters of Moray and those serving under the Earls of Seaforth and Sutherland. Penetrating the intention of the Covenanters, Montrose executed one of his meteor-hke marches, joined Lord Gordon, and, though still outnum- bered by Urry, prepared to give battle. The scene of the conflict was the village of Auldearn, a few miles from the town of Nairn. Montrose's plan of battle revealed the strategist. He posted Colkitto with a small body of Irishmen and High- landers on the right of the village. His object was to attract to this point a large proportion of Urry's army, and engage it in a vain attack, while he was winning the battle in another part of the field. He therefore displayed the Eoyal standard where Colkitto fought. His practice had been to rear the flag in the key of the position where he Commanded in person. It would be fatal to his plan if Colkitto were driven from the field and the force engaged against him released ; therefore he was posted in enclosures which Montrose well knew he could hold, but was strictly enjoined not to leave them. Montrose himseK took up his position on the left of the village. Between his post and that of Colkitto were the houses of the hamlet. He osten- tatiously placed his guns in front of the houses, and Urry naturally thought that a body of infantry lay behind. Montrose had in fact only a sham centre. His real fighting power, horse and foot, was concentrated on the left under his own eye. His design was to break Urry's right with an overpowering force, and then to charge his left, while Colkitto should at length sally from his enclosures and assist in the decisive struggle. Urry ordered his battle exactly as Montrose intended, B!is veteran troops he sent to charge on his left, where the 288 Montrose. Eoyal standard, floating over Montrose's right, marked, as he beHeved, the station of the general and the key of the position. Colkitto, safe in his enclosures, defied the attack. But the enemy galled him with their reproaches, and the headstrong chief led out his men to fight in the open. Here they soon had the worst ' of it. Montrose learned that the great strength massed by Urry on the Covenanting left had broken Colkitto, and that the Irish were recoiling in partial confusion. A less resolute commander, or one whose self- possession was less calm, would have sent help to Colkitto, and thus deprived himseK of that superiority of force in charging Urry's right, on which he had calculated for victory. Montrose was not disconcerted. He saw that the moment had come for putting his scheme into execution. He called out to Lord Gordon that Colkitto was conquering on the right, and that, unless they made haste, he would carry off the honours of the day. The Gordon gentlemen charged and broke the Covenanting horse. The infantry of Urry's right fought bravely, but the main force of Montrose wa* opposed to them, and they gave way. He then led his troops, flushed with victory, to support Colkitto. Mac- Donald, a man of colossal proportions and gigantic strength, had defended his followers as they made good their retreat into the enclosures, engaging the pikemen hand to hand, fixing their pike-heads, three or four at a time, in the tough bull-hide of his target, and cutting them short off at the iron by the whistUng sweep of his broadsword. The combined force of Montrose and Colldtto proved iiTesistible. Urry was defeated with great slaughter. The loss of the Eoyal army was almost incredibly small. No battle won by Hannibal was more expressly the result of the gouius of the commander. The idea of throwing the enemy a bone to worry in one part of the field, while the rest of his force is boiiig annihilated and victory made sm-e elsewhere, was applied by Marlborough at Blenheim, and was the ef&cient Battle of Kilsrjth. 289 cause of that splendid victory. There is little probabiHty that Marlborough had studied the battle of Auldearn, but the expedients of military genius of the highest order, to ■wit, the inventive order, are apt to coincide. This battle was fought in May, 1645. After much marching and counter-marching, Baillie ventured to engage Montrose at Alford, on the Eiver Don, in Aber- deenshire. He was defeated, and his army broken to pieces. There was now no force in the north of Scot- land that could look Montrose in the face. Argyle, how- ever, and the Edinburgh Convention of Estates, resolved upon a last great effort. They raised a larger army than any of those they had lost, and placed it under Baillie; but Argyle, Lanark, and Crawford-Lindsay were appointed to exercise over him a joint superintendence. They forced him tobring Montrose, who had now descended into the low countries and crossed the Forth, to action. The battle of Kilsyiih was fought on the morning of the 15th of August. Seldom or never had the disproportion of strength been greater against Montrose, but none of his victories had been easier, and Baillie's army was utterly destroyed. In the warm summer morning, Montrose ordered his men to strip to their shirts that the broadsword, might have unencumbered play, and that they might not fail in the expected pursuit. Accustomed to conquer, and. placing absolute confidence in their leader, the clans vied vnth each other in the headlong impetiiosity of their charge, and drove the Covenanters, horse and foot, before them, in tumultuous flight. BaiUie, though smart- ing under defeat, seems as a soldier to have been struck with the splendid courage and picturesque fierceness of the Highlanders. They came on at full speed, targets aloft, heads and shoulders bent low, in the hteral attitude of the tiger when he springs. Montrose lost scarce a dozen men ; the Covenanters, whom the swift-footed 19 290 Montrose. mountaineers pursued for ten miles, had four or five thou- Band slain. All Scotland, except the national fortresses, was now in the hands of Montrose. Neither Edinburgh nor Glasgow made any resistance, and having levied a contribution on Glasgow, he called a Parliament to meet in that town in the name of the King. But his dazzling success rendered only more conspicuous the fatal defects in the system of warfare he was pursuing. He had formed no body of spearmen on whom he could depend to stand the charge of effective horse, and victory was, as at first, the signal for the Highlanders to return to their hiUs. The victory of JOsyth had been fertile in plunder, and the season of harvest was near; both circumstances tended to thin the ranks of Montrose. While King Charles was hoping that his brilHant Lieutenant would lead an army across the Border to his deliverance, and sending Sir Robert Spottis- wood with a new commission and new orders, the Royal army dwindled away, and Montrose found himself at the head of no larger a body of troops than had at first gathered round him on the hiUs of Athol. It may, as was formerly said, have been impossible for him to change the habits of the Highlanders, but he ought to have been aUve to the extreme peril to which those habits exposed him in the Low Country. He knew that the Scottish army in England was well suppUed with cavalry. A perfectly-organised system of intelligence, keeping him informed as to the state of the country within twenty miles of his camp, especially in the direction of England, was to him an absolute condition of existence. He had a sufficient force of cavalry to enable him to organise such a system, and this essential part of the duty of a commander was well understood in that age. Oliver Cromwell, had he been in the place of Montrose, would have known within a few hours everything that took place in the Scottish camp in England. Montrose's first Philiphaugh. 291 thought, after the battle of Kilsyth, ought to have been, "Argyle and his friends are beaten in Scotland, and infuriated beyond all bounds ; their next thought wiU be to strike a blow from England." How often have great men fallen by oversights which small men would not have com- mitted! "0 neghgence, fit for a fool to fall by!" says Shakespeare's Wolsey ; and even Shakespeare may have known by experience the bitterness of Wolsey's pang. Montrose crept gradually southward vyith his diminished army, and in the second week of September was stationed at Selldxk, his cavalry being quartered with hitnseK in the town, while the infantry occupied an elevated plateau called Philiphaugh, on the north. Between Philiphaugh and Selkirk flows the Ettrick ; the infantry were on the left bank, the cavalry on the right. This disposition of the Eoyal forces has been pronounced faulty, but we must recollect that in the first half of September Scottish rivers are generally low, and that, if the Ettrick could be easily forded, a few minutes' trot would bring cavalry lying in Selkirk upon the plain of Philiphaugh. On the night between the 12th and 13th of September, 1645, General David Leshe, next to Montrose the most energetic and capable commander contributed by Scotland to the civil war, having, by a swift march from Newcastle along the East Coast and then southward from Edinburgh, reached the vicinity, placed his men, principally horse, and number- ing five or six thousand, in and about Melrose. The EoyaHsts were but four miles away, and we reahse the intense hatred with which they were regarded in the district when we learn that not a whisper of the presence of Leslie's army reached the Koyal camp. Mr. Napier teUs us that more than once in the night the scouts came in and reported all safe. Commanding only a few hundred cavalry, and a mere skeleton of his Highland host, Montrose, had he been apprized of Leshe's approach, would doubtless have 19—2 202 Montrose. attempted to escape by one of his extraordinary marclies. Had his army been as large as before the battle of Kilsyth, he might, in spite of his surprise, have defeated Leslie; for the Highlanders, nimble as leopards, were formidable to cavalry, and his own inventiveness and dexterity in battle might have wrought one of the miracles which are possible to genius. But with his diminished force he had no chance. Leslie's horsemen, emerging from the white mist of a Sep- tember morning, crashed in upon both his wings at once. Montrose was immediately in the field, and disputed the matter for some time, but his little army was cut to pieces. At the head of about thirty troopers, he made good his retreat to the Highlands. Before the battle of Kilsyth the Eoyal caiise in England had been hopelessly lost. Boyahsm, pure and simple, as professed by the EngHsh Cavaliers, perished on the field of Naseby. Had Montrose succeeded, after Kilsyth, in pene- trating into England, he would have found the fragments of Charles's army too shattered to reunite, and would have encountered a force of English and Scots in the Parha- mentary interest, numbering at least fifty thousand men. After uselessly protracting hostilities for some time in the Highlands, he was commanded by the King to lay down his arms. He retired in disguise to Norway, and thence pro- ceeded to join Prince Charles, who, from various stations, on the Continent, was watching the com-se of events in England. Until the death of the King, Atgyle and his party in. Scotland maintained their alliance with the EngUsh Pmitan leaders. Shortly- before that event, Cromwell, ha^-ing destroyed Hamilton's army, marched to Edinbm-gh, and was received with " many honours and civiUties." The death of the King at last overcame the profound reluctance' of Argyle to quarrel with the English Parliament. Nego- tiations commenced between the Estates of Scotland and S' Defeated by Strahan. 293 Charles II. Montrose, feeling that there could he no real reconciliation between him and Argyle, and conscious of an invincible repugnance to the project of a league between Charles II. and the Covenanters, advised the young King to attempt no arrangement with the latter. Charles gave Montrose a commission to land in Scotland in arms, but did not discontinue negotiations with Argyle. A few hundred German mercenaries, a body of unwarlike fish- ermen, whom he forced to join his standard in Orkney, and a considerable party of EoyaHst officers, among them his old opponent Colonel Urry, constituted the force with which Montrose made a descent upon Scotland in the spring of 1650. He was suddenly attacked, on the borders of Eoss-shire, by Colonel Strahan, a Covenanter of the straitest sect. The Germans surrendered ; the Orkney fish- ermen made Httle resistance ; the Scottish companions of Montrose were overpowered. Soon after the battle, he was taken and led in triumph to Edinburgh. The Estates of Scotland, avoiding c[uestion as to the legaUty of the expedition in which, under com- mission of that Charles II. whose title they were then un- dertaking to vindicate, he had been last engaged, treated him as already condemned to die under sentence of attainder passed against him while ravaging the territory of Argyle in 1644. His bearing in presence of the Parliament was as calmly dauntless as on the battlefield in the moment of victory. He exulted in his loyalty. It had, indeed, been with him a pure and lofty feeling, and by rare good fortune he never knew Charles I. v/ell enough to be disenchanted. " I never had passion on earth," he wrote to Charles II., " so great as that to do the King your father service." He asserted the faithfulness of his adherence to the National Covenant, and avowed that he had neither taken nor approved of the Solemn League and Covenant. He indignantly denied that 294 Montrose. he had countenanced acts of military violence. " He had never spilt the blood of a prisoner, even in retahation of the cold-blooded murder of his officers and friends — nay, he had spared the lives of thousands in the very shock of battle." Clarendon states that Lauderdale, though incensed against Montrose, could not cite against him one act of violence or cruelty except those done in the iield. His sentence was that he should be hanged on a gallows thirty feet high, his head fixed upon the tolbooth of Edin- burgh, his hmbs placed over the gates of four Scottish towns. On the night before his execution he vprote vyith a diamond upon the window of his prison, those well-known lines which, in their pathetic dignity, attest, if nothing else, a composure of feeling, a serenity of intellectual con- sciousness, a perfect self-possession, remarkable in the immediate nearness of a cruel death. " Let them bestow on every airt* a limb. Then open ajl my veins that I may swim To Thee, my Maker, in that crimson lake ; Then place my parboiled head upon a stake ; Scatter my ashes, strew them in the air : Lord ! since Thou knowest where all those atoms are, I'm hopeful Thou'lt recover once my dust. And confident Thou'lt raise me with the just." The majesty of his detoeanour, both while being drawn into Edinburgh on a cart, and as he walked in scarlet cloak, trimmed with gold lace, to the place of execution, so impressed the multitude that not a taunt was uttered, and many an eye was wet. All that is told of him when in prison tends to exalt our conception of his character. When the clergy remind him that he has been excommu- nicated, and urge hiin to repent, in order that the Church may remove her censures, he answers that the thought of his excommunication causes him pain, and that he would gladly have it removed by conl'ossing his sins as a man, but that he has nothing to repent of in his condact to liis King • Point of tho compass. Death. 295 and his country. He can more sharply check the officious- ness of the non-professional zealot. Johnston of War- riston, who hved to be one of Cromwell's Lords, finds him, the day before his death, combing out his beautiful locks, and snivels some suggestion that the hour is too solemn for such work. " I will arrange my head as I please to-tlay, while it is still my own," answers Montrose ; " to-morrow it will be yours, and you may deal with it as you Hst." He is not a Pagan, proud and seK-centred ; but neither is he quite a Puritan. He rises into a more genial atmosphere, he approaches a higher Christian type, than those of his age. He does not crouch before his Maker ; he stands erect ; not arrogantly, not in mean terror and abject self-depreciation, but in reverent affection and trust, as a man ought to stand. VIII. MILTON. CHAPTEE Vin. MILTON. THE Puritan poet miglit be expected to show us more of Puritanism than any other man ; for the poet is in deepest union "with the spirit of his generation. In so far, indeed, as he is a world-poet, he will be more than his age ; he will stand up from the crowd to receive light from past generations, and to " take the morning " of the future : but not the less will he be the child, the most characteristic child, of his time. No Puritan, not Cromwell himself, was more Puritan than Milton. Imagination singles out these two and places them apart, the Puritan poet and the Puritan king. In power of brain and fiery strength of will, in velocity and intrepidity of intellectual vision, they were about equal. Cromwell was superior in massive sense and infalHble certitude of practical glance ; Milton had the incommunicable gift of poetic genius, enabhng him to extract the finest essence of Puritan nobleness, and preserve it for posterity, " married to immortal verse" and equally immortal prose. Watch well the steps of these two, and you wUl not fail to catch some notes of the music to which marched the historical procession of Puritanism. John Milton, as we see him before the outbreak of the civil war, was the most comprehensively cultured young man in England, probably in Europe. The lan- guages of Greece and Eome were to him as mother 300 Milton. tongues. He read the Italian poets and the great poetical masters of his own country. He was able to enjoy and appraise all the Eenaissance could tell or teach him. Here and there the dead hand of resuscitated antiquity had struck with its stiffening touch into the poetry which he had already written. The glorious roll of music and imagery in the opening stanzas of his Hymn of the Nativity, leading us along a world veiled in maiden snow, beneath amazed stars, to the shepherds waiting the angels' song, had been broken by the alien and ignoble apparition of "the mighty Pan." The gracious quietude and vivid simplicity of the lines in Comus, " They left me then when the gray-hooded Even Like a sad votarist in Palmer's weed," had been smitten into tuneless artificiality by the intro- duction of " Phoebus' wain." But his own England, its " hedge-row ekns and hillocks green," its cottage windows caressed by " the sweet-briar or the vino. Or the twisted eglantine," had wooed him with a finer magic than that of pseudo- classicism, lending merriment to his eye and song to his lip in morning walks, " While the ploughman, near at hand. Whistles o'er the furrowed land. And the milkmaid singeth blithe. And the mower whets his scythe. And every shepherd tells his hile TJndor the hawthorn in the diJo." In 1623, when Milton was a boy of fifteen, John Heniinge and Henry Condell, "only to keep the memory of so ■worthy a friend and fellow alive as was our Shalcespeare," had given to the world the folio edition of Shakespeare's dramas, very anxious that the said foHo might commend itself to " the most noble and incomparable pair of brethren," "William Earl of this and Philip Earl of that, and exceed- Shakespeare and Milton. SOI ingly unconscious that, next to the production of the works themselves, they were doing the most important thing done, or likely to be done, in the hterary history of the world. Milton read Shakespeare, and in the lines which he wrote upon him in 1630, there is something like the due throb of transcendent admiration. A superb enthusiasm, an imaginative audacity bordering on the gigantesque, are embodied in Milton's idea of Shake- speare's readers being, "with wonder and astonishment," cast into a state of trance-like death, made into "marble with too much conceiving," and thus forming a grave worthy of the poet. " Thou, our fancy of itself bereaving. Dost make us marble witb too mncb. conceiving. And so sepulchred in such pomp dost lie. That Mugs for such a tomb would wish to die." But the lines in L' Allegro, " Sweetest Shakespeare, nature's cluld. Warbles his native wood-notes wild," though right in laying emphasis upon Shakespeare's sweet- ness, convey a suggestion of something like depreciation. Not thus would you speak if you intended to describe greatness colossal and unapproached. To apply the term "nature's child" to one who exhausted the possibilities of art is like praising a consummate general for understanding regimental drill, and a reference to the "wood-notes wild" of bim who wrote Hamlet and the Tempest, OtheUo, Macbeth, Lear, and Julius Caesar, is like saying that the Himalayan range carries grass-tufts and daisies. Beneath the radiant expanse of the Shakespearian mind, the entire phenomenon of Puritanism may be contemplated as an angry^ spot of storm, moving along the face of the sea, beneath soft unfathomable brilhance of summer air. All that was wrong in the social philosophy of Puritanism is checked and rectified by Sir Toby's answer to MalvoHo, himself " a land of Puritan." " Dost thou think, because 302 Milton. thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale ? " Puritanism, in its best mood of reverent submission, could say no more in vindication of the ways of God to men, than is said by Isabel : — " All the souls that were, were forfeit once; And He who might the vantage best have took Found out the remedy.'' And never did Puritanism more inly reahse, more delicately and intensely express, the soul of Christian morality, than had been done by Portia : — " The quality of mercy is not strained ; It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath : it is twice blessed ; It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes." Shakespeare may with some propriety be called the poet of the Eeformation : for he is pre-eminently the poet of free- dom, the poet of man ; and the Eeformation denotes and dates for us a magnificent awakening, energising, expanding of the human mind ; but he was not, and could not be, the poet of Puritanism. He was too great for that. He was incapable of being a partisan, or of giving up to the noblest of special developments what was meant for mankind. Nor would the England of the Puritan period have been so rich a field for the Shakespearian drama as the England of Elizabeth. When Englishmen were arraj^ed in hostile camps, when every family circle was rent with unutterable heai'tburnings, how, to mention nothing else, could the most marvellous faculty of humour that ever dwelt in man have found in England, to love and laugh at, and to pre- serve for the love and laughter of all times, the Dogberries, the Bottoms, the Petruchios, the Malvolios, the Sir Tobys, the Launces, the Lancelot Gobbos, the Falstaffs, the grave-diggers, the clowns, the Pucks, the Ariels, the Cali- bans, which are but minor figures in works so far beyond the common reach of litonu-y art that language has no epithet by which to characterise them? It was ia a still, Shakespeare and Milton. 303 great time, of energy healthful and therefore calm, of en- joyment, of proud strength and exuberant Ufe, tortured by no raging antagonisms, no rabid fanaticisms, that Shake- speare, with a genius capable of sjmapathetically embracing and bodying forth every type of man, every phase of per- manent human emotion — ^loving all, tolerating all, interested in evil as well as in good, clear that even the fool and the rogue have uses in a world so dull as ours, and where there is so much smoke to be consumed by the summer hghtning of laughter, — could do his unique . and inestimable work. We have arrived, therefore, at the first of those distinc- tions by which we must endeavour to edge round and mark off the individuality of Milton. He was not of that class of poets whose inspiration hes essentially in their boundless, aJl-penetrating, all-tolerating sympathy ; for whom concrete men and women in their whole range of character, from sage to simpleton, from saint to sot, from ape to archangel, are endlessly interesting ; who are not uncontrollably fired with reforming ardour; who do not expect the world to become much better than it is ; who, if the truth must out, have an inextinguishable tenderness for evil, and will keep a lurking place at the world's chimney- corner for the devil himseK. Nothing is more curiously characteristic of Shakespeare than the manifest enjoyment with which, by subtlest sympathy, he reads every secret in the diabolical breast of lago. Goethe throws all his clever- ness and all his heart into a version of Beineke Fuchs, and carefully explains to Eckermann that he does not intend Mephistopheles to be finally cast out. Burns, no more doubting the existence of Satan than of his own grandfather, feels to him exactly as Goethe felt to Mephistopheles : — " But fare ye weel, auld Mokie Ben, O wad ye tak' a thoclit an' men'. Ye aiblins mioht — I dinna ken — Yet hae a stake; I'm wae to think upo' yon den, EVn for your sake." 304 3TiUon. As Shakespeare is the supreme name in this order of poets, the men of mightiest imagination, of sympathy and of humour, Milton stands first in that other great order which is too didactic for humour, and of which Schiller is the best recent representative. He was called the lady of his College, not only for his beautiful face but because of the vestal purity and austerity of his virtue. The men of the former class are intuitive, passionate, impulsive ; not steadily conscious of their powers ; fitful, unsystematic. Their love is ecstasy ; their errors are the intoxication of joy ; their sorrows are as the pangs of death. Himmelhoch jauchzend, — zum Tode betriibt ; panting with rapture, to death brought low: happy only in this, that their whole soul is thrown into their every mood, and counting life past when the intellect ceases to wander and the heart to love. " When head and heart are whirling wild. What better can be found ? The man who neither loves nor errs Were better underground." • Milton, the poet of Puritanism, stands out in bold contrast to these imperfect characters but entrancing bards. From his infancy there was nothing unregulated in his life. His father, clearly a superior man, of keen Protestantism, successful in business, well skilled in music, soon perceived that one of the race of immortals had been bom in his house. He began, apparently vnth the conscious and de- lighted assent of his son, to give the young Apollo such an education as Plato might have prescribed. An eminently good education it proved to be ; only not so good, vriih. a view to the production of a ■\vorld-poet, as that which nature, jealous of the Platos and pedagogues, ixnd apt to • "Wonn