DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2018 with funding from Duke University Libraries https://archive.org/details/charactersepisod01clar (£#arac^te an& (Bpteobee Of •✓0e (Breaf (ReBeffion Selected fro7n The History and Autobiography of Edward , Earl of Clarendon AND Sfctfeb, u>t($ eBorf Qtoiets THE VERY REV. G. D. BOYLE, M.A. DEAN OF SALISBURY Oxford AT THE CLARENDON PRESS 1889 [ All rights reserved ] INTRODUCTION. ‘Talking of history,’ Johnson said, ‘ we may know his¬ torical facts to be true, as we may know facts in common life to be true. Motives are generally unknown. We cannot trust to the characters we find in history, unless when they are drawn by those who knew the persons; as those, for instance, by Sallust and by Lord Clarendon.’ The opinion expressed in these remarkable words is undoubtedly the opinion enter¬ tained by average Englishmen for many years regarding the characters drawn by Clarendon in his great work. Indeed, it may be said that until our own times, the supremacy of Clarendon, as an historian and portrait painter, was almost undisputed. H^-Ltrs'moulded the conceptions of several generations, and, as Ranke expresses it, ‘ he belongs to those who have essentially fixed the circle of ideas for the English natron.’ The- estimate which Ranke has formed as- to Clarendon’s historical position will probably be accepted generally as a thoroughly trustworthy account of this great writer. With true historical insight he has shown the real bias and intention of Clarendon’s writings. He has placed him-high among-tire leading-statesmen of the seventeenth century, who have given to the world their ow r n personal im¬ pressions, mider the.-form of memoirs and histories. The moderation of Clarendon and the conspicuous defects of his narrative are admirably delineated. The relation of the n A -i ft ft VI INTRODUCTION. history to the career of the great statesman is vigorously traced, and 1 the tone of honest conviction which commu¬ nicates itself to the reader’ — too often ignored by writers like the late John Forster—is happily noted as a leading characteristic of the historian. Whatever additions may be made to our intimate knowledge of the history of the times, the characters of Clarendon will always remain prominent and interesting, not altogether free from colour and partisan feeling, but giving clear and distinct evidence of the genuine hold which noble qualities of mind possessed over the soul and understanding of the historian. Clarendon was well read in French memoirs and the principal Latin writers. Traces of the influence of Tacitus and Livy abound in his pages. Lord Macaulay, who was not always just or fair to Clarendon, admitted once in conversation, that there were few things in English literature better worth a young man’s study than the characters in Clarendon. Indeed, the charm of the stately writing, and the feeling that one is in the hands of a strong and powerful spirit, never desert the reader throughout the length of the narrative. We are learning, from the admirable histories of Mr. Gardiner, the importance of approaching the whole period which Clarendon traverses in an impartial spirit; but it is not too much to say, that whatever else may be read and studied, as to the pro¬ gress and issue of the great quarrel, Clarendon must not be neglected. Clarendon, in that portion of his autobiography which relates the experience of his youth, dwells on the obli¬ gations he owed to many remarkable men. It is clear that he was greatly indebted to men like Falkland and John Hales, students of literature in a wide sense, and members INTRODUCTION. vii of a group of thinkers always interesting to Englishmen. His position as a moderate reformer in the Long Parliament, which met in 1640, is now better understood than it was in the days when Clarendon’s life was written by Mr. Lister. Many of the Whig writers in the earlier part of this century, although deeply interested in the great struggle of the seven¬ teenth century, entirely failed to appreciate the exact position assumed by Clarendon and his friends. The late Mr. John Forster, to whose labours we are all greatly indebted, took a far less generous view of Clarendon’s position than the German historian Ranke. An insinuation as to Claren¬ don’s motives on joining the King’s party, pronounced by Sanford, shows how strongly the prejudice against Claren¬ don had entered into the mind of a writer generally con¬ spicuous for ability and fairness. The history and the autobiography, although always requiring careful treatment, reflect, as few books do, the character and motives of their author. If it be true that the plots for the assassination of Cromwell were really secretly encouraged by Clarendon, some allowance must be made for the many provocations he had received. All, however, who desire to think well of him, must regret that a stain should rest on his great name. Some notes, in which my obligations to many writers are expressed, are added to the selections. An an¬ notated edition of the whole of Clarendon’s writings must be undertaken before long. It was one of the many projects which floated before the mind of Walter Scott, in the days when he edited Dryden and Swift. Mr. Thomas Thomson, one of Scott’s friends, who afterwards did good service in editing some of the reprints of the Bannatyne INTRODUCTION. viii Club, had indeed undertaken some part of the task. The failure of Constable put an end to this, as well as to many other projected undertakings. The character of Falkland, on which Clarendon bestowed much pains, is perhaps on the whole the most favourable specimen of his portraiture But there is great dignity and power in every one of the characters contained in the history. Falkland must always be a most interesting figure. He had a special attraction for Dr. Arnold as well as for his gifted son; and those who are not acquainted with the beautiful passage in the sixth ci Dr. Arnold’s Introductory Lectures on Modern History 1 , will 1 ‘ We must distinguish therefore very widely between the antipopula, party in 1640 before the Long Parliament met, and the same party < few years, or even a few months afterwards. Now, taking the bes, specimens of this party, in its best state, we can scarcely admire then, too highly. A man who leaves the popular cause when it is triumphar and joins the party opposed to it, without really changing his principle' and becoming a renegade, is one of the noblest characters in histor He may not have the clearest judgment or the firmest wisdom : he may have been mistaken, but as far as he is concerned personally, we cann v, but admire him. But such a man changes his party, not to conquer, bv. to die. He does not allow the caresses of his new friends to make him forget, that he is a sojourner with them and not a citizen : his old friends may have used him ill, they may be dealing unjustly and cruelh still their faults, though they may have driven him into exile, cannot banish from his mind the consciousness that with them is his true home that their cause is habitually just and habitually the weaker, although now bewildered and led astray by an unwonted gleam of success. He protests so strongly against their evil that he chooses to die by their hands rather than in their company ; but die he must, for there is no place left on earth where his sympathies can breathe freely; he is obliged to leave the country of his affections, and life elsewhere is intolerable. This man is no renegade, no apostate, but the purest ot martyrs : for what testimony to truth can be so pure as that which is given uncheered by any sympathy ; given not against enemies ami 1. applauding friends, but against friends, amidst unpitying or half-rejoic enemies. And such a martyr was Falkland.’ INTRODUCTION. IX id a touching and eloquent addition even to the expressive nods of Clarendon. Dr. Phillimore, the father of many : :stinguished sons, was in the habit of recommending all jung men who were taking interest in politics, to study the P'ose and especially the characters of Clarendon. These ^elections have been made in the humble hope of calling ittention to a great English classic, who is perhaps too much i eglected in days of haste and occupation. Deanery, Salisbury, April, 18S9. G. D. BOYLE. CONTENTS. BOOK I. PAGE Introductory ..i The Duke of Buckingham .4 — Sir Thomas Coventry. . . . . . . . -19 Sir Richard Weston . . . . . . . . .21 The Earl of Manchester . . 31 The Earl of Arundel ........ 32 William, Earl of Pembroke . . . . . .34^. Earl of Montgomery and Earl of Dorset . 37 The Earl of Holland . . 40 Sir John Cooke and Sir Dudley Carleton . . . . 42 Attorney-General Noy and Sir John Finch .... 44 Troubles in Scotland .. 46 Archbishop Laud . 49 ' BOOK II. Lord Cottington ......... 53 BOOK III. The Earl of Strafford. . . . . 34 . Lord Say . 55 Xll CONTENTS. PAGE Lord Mandevile and the Earl of Essex . 56 John Hambden. 60 Sir Harry Vane . 61 The Earl of Strafford’s Trial . . .... 63 The Bill of Attainder . 68 The Earl of Bedford and Bill of Attainder . . 71 The Earl of Strafford Beheaded .76 BOOK IV. Montrose and Argyle . . . . . 78 The Grand Remonstrance ........ 82 Lord Oigby . 85 The Arrest of the Five Members ...... 88 The City of London .. . . 94 The Marquis of Hertford ..96 BOOK V. Earls of Holland and Essex . 9S Sir John Hotham .100 The Lord Keeper Littleton . .. 107 BOOK VI. Pierrepoint, Earl of Kingston, and Leake, Lord Dencourt . 109 The Battle of Edge Hill . 113 The Earl of Lindsey . 120 The Lord St. John . 122 Foreigners in England and their Treatment . . -124 The Earl of Northampton . . . . . . . .127 The Duke of Richmond . 129 Mr. St. John . 130 The Earl of Southampton . . . . . . . -131 CONTENTS. xiii The Earls of Leicester, Bristol, Newcastle, and Berkshire, the Lords Dunsmore, Seymour, and Savile . . . . 133 The Earls of Essex, Salisbury, Warwick, Holland, and Man¬ chester . 138 The Lord Say .......... 144 Sir Henry Vane .......... 146 BOOK VII. Attack by Rupert . John Hampden .. Lord Falkland . Divisions ......... Divisions continued . Death of Pym . BOOK VIII. The King and the Battle at Cropredy-Bridge . The Marquis of Newcastle . The Relief of Basing-House . Sir R. Greenville . The Condemnation of the Archbishop of Canterbury BOOK IX. Prince Rupert and the Battle of Naseby . Cardinal Richelieu . BOOK X. Monsieur Montrevil .... Sir Harry Killigrew .... The King and his Children The King Escapes .... Cromwell . 148 155 - 168 r 70 1 74 r?S 181 184 1 go *94 198 201 203 205 208 211 216 A XIV CONTENTS. BOOK XI. PAGE Usage of the King .219 Character of the King .223 The Lord Capel .229 BOOK XII. A Bnll-Fight .232 Death of Montrose .236 BOOK XIII. The Lord Widdrington ..242 The Earl of Derby .243 Escape of Charles the Second .245 Escape continued .251 BOOK XIV. Praise-God Barebone’s Parliament ...... 258 The Rising at Salisbury .265 BOOK XV. Coronation of Oliver Cromwell .272 Death of Cromwell .275 BOOK XVI. Richard Cromwell .284 The King’s Return .286 SELECTIONS FROM THE LIFE. Mr. Hyde’s Father removes to Salisbury .290 Ben Jonson and John Selden .292 Sir Kenelm Digby, Thomas May, and Thomas Carew . 294 CONTENTS. XV PAGE Sidney Godolphin, Edmund Waller, Dr. Sheldon, Dr. Morley, Dr. Earles .. 297 John Hales........... 303 Mr. Chillingworth ......... 307 Mr. Hyde’s unpleasant Reception ...... 310 The Marquis of Ormond, Lord Colepepper, Secretary Nicholas 312 The Earl of Lautherdale . . . . . . . -314 Sir Harry Bennet and Mr. William Coventry . . . .316 Sir John Lawson . . -322 The Stuart Family . . . . .326 The Earl of Southampton ........ 328 The Fall of Clarendon ........ 335 Clarendon’s Tranquillity in his Banishment .... 342 NOTES . 347 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. BOOK I. Introductory. HAT posterity may not be deceived, by the prosperous wickedness of these times, into an opinion, that less than a general combination, and universal apostasy in the whole nation from their religion and allegiance, could, in so short a time, have produced such a total and prodigious alteration and confusion over the whole kingdom; and so the memory of those few, who, out of duty and conscience, have opposed and resisted that torrent, which hath overwhelmed them, may lose the recompense due to their virtue ; and, having under¬ gone the injuries and reproaches of this, may not find a vindication in a better age; it will not be unuseful (at least to the curiosity if not the conscience of men) to present to the world a full and clear narration of the grounds, circumstances, and artifices of this Rebellion: not only from the time since the flame hath been visible in a civil war, but, looking farther back, from those former passages, accidents, and actions, by which the seedplots were made and framed, from whence these mischiefs have successively grown to the height they are now at. And then, though the hand and judgment of God will be very visible, in the infatuating a people (as ripe and prepared for destruction) into all the perverse actions of folly and ✓ B SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. madness, making the weak to contribute to the designs of the wicked, and suffering even those by degrees, out of the conscience of their guilt, to grow more wicked than they intended to be; letting the wise to be imposed upon by men of no understanding, and possessing the innocent with laziness and sleep in the most risible article of danger; uniting the ill, though of the most different opinions, divided interests, and distant affections, in a firm and constant league of mischief ; and dividing those, whose opinions and interests are tire same, into faction and emulation, more pernicious to the public titan the treason of the others: whilst the poor people, under pretence of zeal to Religion, Law, Liberty, and Parliaments, (words of precious esteem in their just significa¬ tion,) are furiously hurried into actions introducing atheism, and dissolving all the elements of Christian Religion; cancel¬ ling all obligations, and destroying all foundations of Law and Liberty ; and rendering, not only the privileges, but very being, of Parliaments desperate and impossible: I say, though the immediate finger and wrath of God must be acknowledged in these perplexities and distractions, yet he who shall diligently observe tire distempers and conjunctures of time, the ambition, pride, and folly of persons, and the sudden growth of wickedness, from want of care and circumspection in the first impressions, will find all this bulk of misery to have proceeded, and to have been brought upon us, from the same natural causes and means, which have usually attended kingdoms, swoln with long plenty, pride, and excess, towards some signal mortifications, and castigation of Heaven. And it may be, upon the view of the impossibility of foreseeing many things that have happened, and of the necessity of overseeing many other things, we may not yet find the cure so desperate, but that, by God's mercy, the wounds may INTRODUCTOR Y. 3 be again bound up; though no question many must first bleed to death; and then this prospect may not make the future peace less pleasant and durable. And I have the more willingly induced myself to this unequal task, out of the hope of contributing somewhat to that end: and though a piece of this nature (wherein the infirmities of some, and the malice of others, both things and persons, must be boldly looked upon and mentioned) is not likely to be published (at least in the age in which it is writ), yet it may serve to inform myself, and some others, what we are to do, as well as to comfort us in what we have done; and then possibly it may not be very difficult to collect somewhat out of that store, more proper, and not unuseful for the public view. And as I may not be thought altogether an incompetent person for this communication, having been present as a member of Parliament in those councils before and till the breaking out of the Rebellion, and having since had the honour to be near two great kings in some trust, so I shall perform the same with all faithfulness and ingenuity; with an equal observation of the faults and infirmities of both sides, with their defects and oversights in pursuing their own ends; and shall no otherwise mention small and light oc¬ currences, than as they have been introductions to matters of the greatest moment; nor speak of persons otherwise, than as the mention of their virtues or vices is essential to the work in hand: in which as I shall have the fate to be suspected rather for malice to many, than of flattery to any, so I shall, in truth, preserve myself from the least sharpness, that may proceed from private provocation, or a more public indignation, in the whole observing the rules that a man should, who deserves to be believed. I shall not then lead any man farther back in this journey, B 2 4 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. for the discovery of the entrance into these dark ways, than the beginning of this King’s reign. For I am not so sharp- sighted as those, who have discerned this rebellion contriving from (if not before) the death of Queen Elizabeth, and fomented by several Princes and great ministers of state in Christendom, to the time that it brake out. Neither do I look so far back as believing the design to be so long since formed; (they who have observed the several accidents, not capable of being contrived, which have contributed to the several successes, and do know the persons who have been the grand instruments towards this change, of whom there have not been any four of familiarity and trust with each other, will easily absolve them from so much industry and foresight in their mischief); but that, by viewing the temper, disposition, and habit, of that time, of the court and of the country, we may discern the minds of men prepared, of some to do, and of others to suffer, all that hath since happened; the pride of this man, and the popularity of that; the levity of one, and the morosity of another ; the excess of the court in the greatest want, and the parsimony and retention of the country in the greatest plenty; the spirit of craft and subtlety in some, and the rude and unpolished integrity of others, too much despising craft or art; like so many atoms contributing joindy to this mass of confusion now before us. The Duke op Buckingham. T he duke was indeed a very extraordinary person; and never any man, in any age, nor, I believe, in any country or nation, rose, in so short a time, to so much greatness of honour, fame, and fortune, upon no other advantage or recommendation, than of the beauty and gracefulness and THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. 5 becomingness of his person. And I have not the least purpose of undervaluing his good parts and qualities, (of which there will be occasion shortly to give some testimony,) when I say, that his first introduction into favour was purely from the handsomeness of his person. He was the younger son of sir George Villiers, of Brookes- by, in the county of Leicester; a family of an ancient extraction, even from the time of the Conquest, and trans¬ ported then with the Conqueror out of Normandy, where the family hath still remained, and still continues with lustre. After sir George’s first marriage, in which he had two or three sons, and some daughters, who shared an ample inheritance from him ; by a second marriage, (with a young lady of the family of the Beaumonts,) he had this gentleman, and two other sons and a daughter, who all came afterwards to be raised to great titles and dignities. George, the eldest son of this second bed, was, after the death of his father, by the singular affection and care of his mother, who enjoyed a good jointure in the account of that age, well brought up ; and, for the improvement of his education, and giving an ornament to his hopeful person, he was by her sent into France; where he spent two or three years in attaining the language, and in learning the exercises of riding and dancing; in the last of which he excelled most men, and returned into England by the time he was twenty-one years old. King James reigned at that time; and though he was a prince of more learning and knowledge than any other of that age, and really delighted more in books, and in the conversation of learned men, yet, of all wise men living, he was the most delighted and taken with handsome persons, and with fine clothes. He began to be weary of his favourite, the earl of Somerset, who was the only favourite that kept 6 SELECr/OuVS FROM CLAKEXDOK. that post so long, without any public reproach from the people: and, by the instigation and wickedness of his wife, he became, at least, privy to a horrible murder, that exposed him to the utmost severity of the law (the poisoning of sir Thomas Overbury), upon which both he and his wife were condemned to die, after a trial by their peers; and mam- persons of quality were executed for the same. Whilst this was in agitation, and before the utmost dis¬ covery was made, Mr. Villiers appeared in Court, and drew the, king’s eyes upon him. There were enough in the Court enough angry and incensed against Somerset, for being what themselves desired to be. and especially for being a Scots¬ man, and ascending, in so short a time, from being a page, to the height he was then at. to contribute all they could to promote the one, that they might throw out the other. Which being easily brought to pass, by the proceeding of the law upon his crime aforesaid, the other found very little diffieulty in rendering himself gracious to the King, whose nature and disposition was very flowing in affection towards persons so adorned, insomuch that, in a few days after his first appear¬ ance in Court, he was made cupbearer to the King; by which he was naturally to be much in his presence, and so admitted to that conversation and discourse, with which that prince always abounded at his meals. And his inclination to his new cupbearer disposed him to administer frequent occasions of discoursing of the Court of France, and the transactions there, with which he had been so lately acquainted, that he could pertinently enlarge upon that subject, to the King's great delight, and to the reconciling the esteem and value of all the slanders by likewise to him: which was a thing the king was well pleased with. He acted very few weeks upon this stage, when he mounted higher. THE DUKE OE BUCKINGHAM. 7 and, being knighted, without any other qualification, he was at the same time made gentleman of the bedchamber, and knight of the order of the Garter; and in a short time (very short for such a prodigious ascent) he was made a baron, a viscount, an earl, a marquis, and became Lord High Admiral of England, lord Warden of the Cinque ports, Master of the horse, and entirely disposed of all the graces of the King, in conferring all the honours and all the offices of the three kingdoms, without a rival; in dispensing whereof, he was guided more by the rules of appetite than of judgment; and so exalted almost all of his own numerous family and depend¬ ants, who had no other virtue or merit than their alliance to him, which equally offended the ancient nobility, and the people of all conditions, who saw the flowers of the Crown every day fading and withered, whilst the demesnes and revenue thereof was sacrificed to the enriching a private family, (how well soever originally extracted,) not heard of before ever to the nation ; and the expenses of the Court so vast and unlimited by the old good rules of economy, that they had a sad prospect of that poverty and necessity, which afterwards befell the Crown, almost to the ruin of it. Many were of opinion, that King James, before his death, grew weary of his favourite; and that, if he had lived, he would have deprived him at least of his large and unlimited power. And this imagination prevailed with some men, as the Lord Keeper Lincoln, the earl of Middlesex, Lord High Treasurer of England, and other gentlemen of name, though not in so high stations, that they had the courage to withdraw from their absolute dependence upon the duke, and to make some other essays, which proved to the ruin of every one of them; there appearing no marks, or evidence, that the King did really lessen his affection to him, to the hour of his death. 8 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. On the contrary, as he created him duke of Buckingham in his absence, whilst he was with the Prince in Spain ; so, afte* his return, he executed the same authority in conferring all favours and graces, and revenging himself upon those, who had manifested any unkindness towards him. And yet, no' withstanding all this, if that King’s nature had equally disposed him to pull down, as to build and erect, and if his courage and severity in punishing and reforming had bee: as great as his generosity and inclination was to oblige, it is not to be doubted, but that he would have withdrawn his affection from the duke entirely, before his death ; which those persons, who were admitted to any privacy with [him, and were not in the confidence of the other (for before those he knew well how to dissemble), had reason enough to expect. After all this, and such a transcendent mixture of ill fortune, of which as ill conduct and great infirmities seem to be the foundation and source, this great man was a person of a noble nature, and generous disposition, and of such other endowments, as made him very capable of being a great favourite to a great King. He understood the arts and artifices of a court, and all the learning that is professed there, exactly well. By long practice in business, under a master that discoursed excellently, and surely knew all things wonderfully, and took much delight in indoctrinating his young unexperienced favourite, who, he knew, would be always looked upon as the workmanship of his own hands, he had obtained a quick conception, and apprehension of business, and had the habit of speaking very gracefully and pertinently. He was of a most flowing courtesy and affability to all men who made any address to him ; and so desirous to oblige them, that he did not enough consider the THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. 9 • alue of the obligation, or the merit of the person he chose o oblige; from which much of his misfortune resulted. He was of a courage not to be daunted, which was manifested in ill his actions, and his contests with particular persons of the reatest reputation; and especially in his whole demeanour at the Isle of Rh^, both at the landing and upon the retreat: n both which no man was more fearless, or more ready to expose himself to the brightest dangers. His kindness and affection to his friends was so vehement, that it was as o many marriages for better and worse, and so many leagues offensive and defensive; as if he thought himself obliged 10 love all his friends, and to make war upon all they were angry with, let the cause be what it would. And it annot be denied that he was an enemy in the same excess, md prosecuted those he looked upon as his enemies with the utmost rigour and animosity, and was not easily induced to a reconciliation. And yet there were some examples of his '•eceding in that particular. And in the highest passion, he was so far from stooping to any dissimulation, whereby his displeasure might be concealed and covered till he had attained his revenge, (the low method of courts,) that he never endeavoured to do any man an ill office, before he first told him what he was to expect from him, and reproached him with the injuries he had done, with so much generosity, that the person found it in his power to receive further satisfaction, in the way he would choose for himself. And in this manner he proceeded with the earl of Oxford, a man of great name in that time, and whom he had endeavoured by many civil offices to make his friend, and who seemed equally to incline to the friendship: when he discovered (or, as many thought, but suspected) that the earl was entered into some cabal in Parliament against him; he IO SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. could not be dissuaded by any of his friends, to whom he imparted his resolution; but meeting the earl die next day, he took him aside, and after many reproaches for such and such ill offices he had done, and for breaking his word towards him, he told him, ‘ he would rely no longer on his friendship, nor should he expect any further friendship from him, but, on the contrary, he would be for ever his enemy, and do him all the mischief he could.’ The earl, (who, as many thought, had not been faulty towards him, was as great-hearted as he, and thought the very suspecting him to be an injury unpardonable,) and without any reply to the particulars, declared, ‘ that he neidier cared for his friendship, nor feared his hatred; ’ and from thence avowedly entered into the conversation and confidence of those who were always awake to discover, and solicitous to pursue, any thing that might prove to his disadvantage; which was of evil con¬ sequence to the duke, the earl being of the most ancient of the nobility, and a man of great courage, and of a family which had in no time swerved from its fidelity to the Crown. Sir Francis Cottington, who was secretary to the Prince, and not grown courtier enough to dissemble well his opinion, had given the duke offence before the journey into Spain, as is before touched upon, and improved that prejudice, after his coming thither, by disposing the Prince all he could to the marriage of the Infanta; and by his behaviour after his return, in justifying to King James, who had a very good opinion of him, the sincerity of the Spaniard in the treaty of the marriage, that they did in truth desire it, and were fully resolved to gratify his majesty in the business of the Palatinate ; and only desired, in the manner of it, to gratify the Emperor and the Duke of Bavaria all they could, which would take up very little time. All which being so contrary THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. XX to the duke's positions and purposes, his displeasure to Cottington was sufficiently manifest, and King James was no sooner dead, and the new officers and orders made, but the profits and privileges which had used to be continued to him who had been secretary, till some other promotion, were all retrenched. And when he was one morning attend¬ ing in the privy lodgings, as he was accustomed to do, one of the Secretaries of State came to him, and told him, ‘ that it was the King’s pleasure that he should no more presume to come into those rooms; ’ (which was the first instance he had received of the king’s disfavour); and at the same instant the duke entered into that quarter. Upon which sir Francis Cottington addressed himself towards him, and desired ‘ he would give him leave to speak to him: ’ upon which the duke inclining his ear, moved to a window from the company, and the other told him, ‘ that he received every day fresh marks of his severity; ’ mentioned the message which had been then delivered to him, and desired only to know, ‘ whether it could not be in his power, by all dutiful appli¬ cation, and all possible service, to be restored to the good opinion his grace had once vouchsafed to have of him, and to be admitted to serve him ? ’ The duke heard him without the least commotion, and with a countenance serene enough, and then answered him, ‘ That he would deal very clearly with him; that it was utterly impossible to bring that to pass which he had proposed: that he was not only firmly resolved never to trust him, or to have to do with him; but that he was, and would be always, his declared enemy; and that he would do always whatever should be in his power to ruin and destroy him, and of this he might be most assured; ’ without mentioning any particular ground for his so heightened displeasure. 12 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. The other very calmly replied to him (as he was master of an incomparable temper), ‘ That since he was resolved never to do him good, that he hoped, from his justice and generosity, that he would not suffer himself to gain by his loss; that he had laid out by his command so much money for jewels and pictures, which he had received: and that, in hope of his future favour, he had once presented a suit of hangings to him, which cost him £800, which he hoped he would cause to be restored to him, and that he would not let him be so great a loser by him.’ The duke answered, ‘ he was in the right; that he should the next morning go to Oliver (who was his receiver), and give him a particular account of all the money due to him, and he should presently pay him ; ’ which was done the next morning accordingly, without the least abatement of any of his demands. And he was so far reconciled to him before his death, that being resolved to make a peace with Spain, to the end he might more vigorously pursue the war with France (to which his heart was most passionately fixed), he sent for Cottington to come to him, and after conference with him, told him, ‘ the King would send him ambassador thither, and that he should attend him at Portsmouth for his despatch.’ His single misfortune was (which indeed was productive of many greater), that he never made a noble and a worthy friendship with a man so near his equal, that he would frankly advise him for his honour and true interest, against the current, or rather the torrent, of his impetuous passion; which was partly the vice of the time, when the Court was not replenished with great choice of excellent men; and partly the vice of the persons who were most worthy to be applied to, and looked upon his youth, and his obscurity, as obligations THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. 13 upon him to gain their friendships by extraordinary applica¬ tion. Then his ascent was so quick, that it seemed rather a flight than a growth; and he was such a darling of fortune, that he was at the top before he was seen at the bottom, for the gradation of his titles was the effect, not cause, of his first promotion; and, as if he had been born a favourite, he was supreme the first month he came to Court; and it was want of confidence, not of credit, that he had not all at first which he obtained afterwards; never meeting with the least obstruction from his setting out, till he was as great as he could be : so that he wanted dependants before he thought he could want coadjutors. Nor was he very fortunate in the election of those dependants, very few of his servants having been ever qualified enough to assist or advise him, and were intent only upon growing rich under him, not upon their master’s growing good as well as great: insomuch as he was throughout his fortune a much wiser man than any servant or friend he had. Let the fault or misfortune be what or whence it will, it may very reasonably be believed, that, if he had been blessed with one faithful friend, who had been qualified with wisdom and integrity, that great person would have committed as few faults, and done as transcendent worthy actions, as any man who shined in such a sphere in that age in Europe. For he was of an excellent nature, and of a capacity very capable of advice and counsel. He was in his nature just and candid, liberal, generous, and bountiful; nor was it ever known, that the temptation of money swayed him to do an unjust or unkind thing. And though he left a very great inheritance to his heirs; considering the vast fortune he inherited by his wife, the sole daughter and heir of Francis earl of Rutland, he owed no part of it to his own industry or 14 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. solicitation, but to the impatient humour of two kings his masters, who would make his fortune equal to his titles, and the one [as much] above other men, as the other was. And he considered it no otherwise than as theirs, and left it at his death engaged for the Crown, almost to the value of it, as is touched upon before. If he had an immoderate ambition, with which he was charged, and is a weed (if it be a weed) apt to grow in the best soils; it doth not appear that it was in his nature, or that he brought it with him to the Court, but rather found it there, and was a garment necessary for that air. Nor was it more in his power to be without promotion, and titles, and wealth, than for a healthy man to sit in the sun in the brightest dog-days, and remain without any warmth. He needed no ambition, who was so seated in the hearts of two such masters. There are two particulars, which lie heaviest upon his memory, either of them aggravated by circumstances very important, and which administer frequent occasions by their effects to be remembered. The first, his engaging his old unwilling master and the kingdom in the war with Spain, (not to mention the bold journey thither, or the breach of that match,) in a time when the Crown was so poor, and the people more inclined to a bold inquiry, how it came to be so, than dutifully to provide for its supply: and this only upon personal animosities between him and the duke of Olivarez, the sole favourite in that Court, and those animosities from very trivial provo¬ cations, and flowed indeed from no other fountain, than that the nature and education of Spain restrained men from that gaiety of humour, and from that frolic humour, to which the Prince his Court was more inclined. And Olivarez had been THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. 15 heard to censure very severely the duke’s familiarity and want of respect towards the Prince, (a crime monstrous to the Spaniard,) and had said, that ‘ if the Infanta did not, as soon as she was married, suppress that license, she would herself quickly undergo the mischief of it: ’ which gave the first alarm to the duke to apprehend his own ruin in that union, and accordingly to use all his endeavours to break and prevent it: and from that time he took all occasions to quarrel with and reproach the Conde duke. One morning the King desired the prince to take the air, and to visit a little house of pleasure he had (the Prado) four miles from Madrid, standing in a forest, where he used some¬ times to hunt; and the duke not being ready, the King and the Prince and the Infante don Carlo went into the coach, the King likewise calling the earl of Bristol into that coach to assist them in their conversation, the prince then not speaking any Spanish; and left Olivarez to follow in the coach with the duke of Buckingham. When the duke came, they went into the coach, accompanied with others of both nations, and proceeded very cheerfully towards overtaking the King: but when upon the way he heard that the earl of Bristol was in the coach with the King, he broke out into great passion, reviled the Conde duke as the contriver of the affront, reproached the earl of Bristol for his presumption, in taking the place which in all respects belonged to him, who was joined with him as ambassador extraordinary, and came last from the presence of their master, and resolved to go out of the coach, and to return to Madrid. Olivarez easily dis¬ covered by the disorder, and the noise, and the tune, that the duke was very angry, without comprehending the cause of it; only found that the earl of Bristol was often named with such a tone, that he began to suspect what in truth might be 16 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. the cause. And thereupon he commanded a gentleman, who was on horseback, with all speed to overtake the King’s coach, and desire that it might stay; intimating, that the duke had taken some displeasure, the ground whereof was not enough understood. Upon which the King’s coach stayed; and when the other approached within distance, the Conde duke alighted, and acquainted the King with what he had observed, and what he conceived. The King himself alighted, made great compliments to the duke, the earl of Bristol excusing himself upon the King’s command, that he should serve as a truckman. In the end Don Carlo went into the coach with the favourite, and the duke and the earl of Bristol went with the King and the Prince; and so they prosecuted their journey, and after dinner returned in the same manner to Madrid. This, with all the circumstances of it, administered wonder¬ ful occasion of discourse in the court and country, there having never been such a comet seen in that hemisphere, and their submiss reverence to their princes being a vital part of their religion. There were very few days passed afterwards in which there was not some manifestation of the highest displeasure and hatred in the duke against the other. And when the Conde duke had some eclaircisscmetit with the duke, in which he made all the protestations of his sincere affection, and his desire to maintain a clear and faithful friendship with him, which he conceived might be, in some degree, useful to both their masters, the other received his protestations with all contempt, and declared, with a very unnecessary frankness, ‘ that he would have no friendship with him.’ And the next day after the King returned from accompany¬ ing the Prince towards the sea, where, at parting, there were THE DUKE OE BUCKINGHAM. l 7 ill possible demonstrations of mutual affection between them ; and the King caused a fair pillar to be erected in the place vhere they last embraced each other, with inscriptions of great honour to the Prince; there being then in that Court not the least suspicion, or imagination, that the marriage would not succeed, insomuch that afterwards, upon the news from :e less eager in the pursuit of his friendship. And every lay discovered some infirmities in him, which being before known to few, and not taken notice of, did now expose him both to public reproach, and to private animosities; and ven his vices admitted those contradictions in them, that he could hardly enjoy the pleasant fruit of any of them. That which first exposed him to the public jealousy, which is dways attended with public reproach, was the concurrent suspicion of his religion. His wife and all his daughters were declared of the Roman religion : and though himself, j.nd his sons, sometimes went to church, he was never thought to have zeal for it; and his domestic conversation and dependants, with whom only he used entire freedom, were all known Catholics, and were believed to be agents for the rest. And yet, with all this disadvantage to himself, he never had reputation and credit with that party, who were the only people of the kingdom who did not believe him to be of their profession. For the penal laws (those only ex¬ cepted which were sanguinary, and even those sometimes let loose) were never more rigidly executed, nor had the Crown ever so great a revenue from them, as in his time ; nor did hey ever pay so dear for the favours and indulgences of his office towards them. No man had greater ambition to make his family great, or stronger designs to leave a great fortune to it. Yet his expenses were so prodigiously great, especially in his house. 2 6 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. that all the ways he used for supply, which were all that occurred, could not serve his turn; insomuch that he con¬ tracted so great debts, (the anxiety whereof, he pretended, broke his mind, and restrained that intentness and industry, which was necessary for the due execution of his office,) that the King was pleased twice to pay his debts ; at least, towards it, to disburse forty thousand pounds in ready money out of his Exchequer. Besides, his majesty gave him a whole forest (Chute forest in Hampshire) and much other land belonging to the Crown ; which was the more taken notice of, and murmured against, because, being the chief minister of the revenue, he was particularly obliged, as much as in him lay, to prevent, and even oppose, such disinherison, and because, under that obligation, he had, avowedly and sourly, crossed the pretences of other men, and restrained the King’s bounty from being exercised almost to any. And he had that advantage, (if he had made the right use of it,) that his credit was ample enough (seconded by the King’s own experience, and observation, and inclination) to retrench very much of the late unlimited expenses, and especially those of bounties, which from the death of the duke ran in narrow channels, which never so much overflowed as towards himself, who stopped the current to other men. He was of an imperious nature, and nothing wary in dis¬ obliging and provoking other men, and had too much courage in offending and incensing them : but after having offended and incensed them, he was of so unhappy a feminine temper, that he was always in a terrible fright and apprehension of them. He had not that application, and submission, and rever¬ ence for the Queen, as might have been expected from his wisdom and breeding, and often crossed her pretences and SIR RICHARD WESTON. 27 desires, with more rudeness than was natural to him. Yet he was impertinently solicitous to know what her majesty said of him in private, and what resentments she had to¬ wards him. And when by some confidants, who had their ends upon him from those offices, he was informed of some bitter expressions fallen from her majesty, he w r as so exceed¬ ingly afflicted and tormented with the sense of it, that some¬ times by passionate complaints and representations to the King; sometimes by more dutiful addresses and expostula¬ tions with the Queen, in bewailing his misfortunes; he frequently exposed himself, and left his condition worse than it was before : and the eclaircissement commonly ended in the discovery of the persons from whom he had received his most secret intelligence. He quickly lost the character of a bold, stout, and mag¬ nanimous man, which he had been long reputed to be in worse times ; and, in his most prosperous season, fell under the reproach of being a man of big looks, and of a mean and abject spirit. There was a very ridiculous story at that time in the mouths of many, which, being a known truth, may not be unfitly mentioned in this place, as a kind of illustration of the humour and nature of the man. Sir Julius Caesar was then Master of the Rolls, and had, inherent in his office, the indubitable right and disposition of the Six Clerks’ places; all which he had, for many years, upon any vacancy, be¬ stowed to such persons as he thought fit. One of those places was become void, and designed by the old man to his son Robert Caesar, a lawyer of a good name, and ex¬ ceedingly beloved. The Treasurer (as he was vigilant in such cases) had notice of the clerk’s expiration so soon, that he procured the King to send a message to the Master of the 28 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. Rolls, expressly forbidding him to dispose of that Six-Clerk’s place, till his majesty’s pleasure should be further made known to him. It was the first command of that kind that had been heard of, and was felt by the old man very sensibly. He was indeed very old, and had outlived most of his friends, so that his age was an objection against him; many persons of quality being dead, who had. for recompense of services, procured the reversion of his office. The Treasurer found it no hard matter so far to terrify him, that (for the King’s service, as was pretended) he admitted for a Six-Clerk a person recommended by him, (Mr. Tern, a dependant upon him,) who paid six thousand pound ready money; which, poor man! he lived to repent in a gaol. This work being done at the charge of the poor old man, who had been a Privy-Councillor from the entrance of King James, had been Chancellor of the Exchequer, and served in other offices ; the depriving him of his right made a great noise: and the condition of his son, (his father being not like to live to have the disposal of another office in his power,) who, as was said before, was generally beloved and esteemed, was argument of great compassion, and was lively and success¬ fully represented to the King himself; who was graciously pleased to promise, that, if the old man chanced to die before any other of the Six-Clerks, that office, when it should fall, should be conferred on his son, whosoever should suc¬ ceed him as Master of the Rolls: which might well be pro¬ vided for ; and the lord Treasurer obliged himself (to expiate for the injury) to procure some declaration to that purpose, under his majesty’s sign manual ; which, however easy to be done, he long forgot, or neglected. One day the earl of Tullibardine, who was nearly allied to Mr. Caesar, and much his friend, being with the Treasurer, SIR RICHARD WESTON. 2 9 passionately asked him, ‘ Whether he had done that busi¬ ness ?’ To whom he answered with a seeming trouble, ‘That he had forgotten it, for which he was heartily sorry; and if he would give him a little in writing, for a memorial, he would put it amongst those which he would despatch with the King that afternoon.' The earl presently writ in a little paper, Remember Ccesar ; and gave it to him ; and he put it into that little pocket, where, he said, he kept all his memo¬ rials which were first to be transacted. Many days passed, and Caesar never thought of. At length, when he changed his clothes, and he who waited on him in his chamber, according to custom, brought him all the notes and papers which were left in those he had left off, which he then commonly perused, when he found this little billet, in which was only written, Remember Ccesar, and which he had never read before, he was exceedingly con¬ founded, and knew not what to make or think of it. He sent for his bosom friends, with whom he most confidently consulted, and shewed the paper to them, the contents whereof he could not conceive, but that it might probably have been put into his hand (because it was found in that enclosure, wherein he put all things of moment which were given him) when he was in motion, and in the privy lodgings in the Court. After a serious and melancholic deliberation, it was agreed, that it was the advertisement from some friend, who durst not own the discovery: that it could signify no¬ thing but that there was a conspiracy against his life, by his many and mighty enemies : and they all knew Csesar’s fate, by contemning or neglecting such animadversions. And therefore they concluded, that he should pretend to be indis¬ posed, that he might not stir abroad all that day, nor that any might be admitted to him, but persons of undoubted 3 ° SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. affections; that at night the gate should be shut early, and the porter enjoined to open it to nobody, nor to go himself to bed till the morning; and that some servants should watch with him, lest violence might be used at the gate; and that they themselves, and some other gentlemen, would sit up all the night, and attend the event. Such houses are always in the morning haunted by early suitors ; but it was very late before any could now get admittance into the house, the porter having quitted some of that arrear of sleep, which he owed to himself for his night’s watching; which he excused to his acquaintance, by whispering to them, ‘ That his lord should have been killed that night, which had kept all the house from going to bed.’ And shortly after, the earl of Tullibardine asking him, whether he had remembered Caesar; the Treasurer quickly recollected the ground of his perturbation, and could not forbear imparting it to his friends, who likewise affected the communication, and so the whole jest came to be discovered. To conclude, all the honours the king conferred upon him (as he made him a baron, then an earl, and knight of the Garter; and above this, gave J a young beautiful lady nearly allied to him, and to the crown of Scotland, in marriage to his eldest son) could not make him think himself great enough. Nor could all the King’s bounties, nor his own large accessions, raise a fortune to his heir; but after six or eight years spent in outward opulency, and inward murmur and trouble that it was no greater, after vast sums of money and great wealth gotten, and rather consumed than enjoyed, without any sense or delight in so great prosperity, with the agony that it was no greater, he died unlamented by any, bitterly mentioned by most who never pretended to love 1 [A daughter of the house of Lennox.] THE EARL OF MANCHESTER. 3 1 him, and severely censured and complained of by those who expected most from him, and deserved best of him ; and left a numerous family, which was in a short time worn out, and yet outlived the fortune he left behind him. The Earl op Manchester. He was a man of great industry and sagacity in business, which he delighted in exceedingly; and preserved so great a vigour of mind, even to his death, (when he was very near eighty years of age,) that some, who had known him in his younger years, did believe him to have much quicker parts in his age, than before. His honours had grown faster upon him than his fortunes, which made him too solicitous to advance the latter, by all the ways which offered themselves ; whereby he exposed himself to some inconvenience, and many reproaches, and became less capable of serving the public by his counsels and authority, which his known wisdom, long experience, and confessed gravity and ability, would have enabled him to have done; most men con¬ sidering more the person that speaks, than the things he says. And he was unhappily too much used as a check upon the lord Coventry; and when the other perplexed their counsels and designs with inconvenient objections in law, his authority, who had trod the same paths, was still called upon; and he did too frequently gratify their unjusti¬ fiable designs and pretences: a guilt and mischief, all men who are obnoxious, or who are thought to be so, are liable to, and can hardly preserve themselves from. But his virtues so far weighed down his infirmities, that he maintained a good general reputation and credit with the whole nation and people ; he being always looked upon as full of integrity 33 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. and zeal to the Protestant religion, as it was established by law, and of unquestionable loyalty, duty, and fidelity to the King; which two qualifications will ever gather popular breath enough to fill the sails, if the vessel be competentl}' provided with ballast. He died in a lucky time, in the begin¬ ning of the Rebellion, when neither religion, or loyalty, or law, or wisdom, could have provided for any man’s security. The Earl op Arundel. The earl of Arundel was next to the officers of state, who, in his own right and quality, preceded the rest of the Council. He was a man supercilious and proud, who lived always within himself, and to himself, conversing little with any who were in common conversation ; so that he seemed to live as it were in another nation, his house being a place to which all men resorted who resorted to no other place ; strangers, or such who affected to look like strangers, and dressed themselves accordingly. He resorted sometimes to the Court, because there only was a greater man than himself; and went thither the seldomer, because there was a greater man than himself. He lived towards all favourites and great officers, without any kind of condescension; and rather suffered himself to be ill treated by their power and authority (for he was always in disgrace, and once or twice prisoner in the Tower) than to descend in making any application to them. And upon these occasions he spent a great interval of his time in several journeys into foreign parts, and, with his wife and family, had lived some years in Italy, the humour and manners of which nation he seemed most to like and approve, and affected to imitate. He had a good fortune by THE EARL OF ARUNDEL. 33 descent, and a much greater from his wife, who was the sole daughter upon the matter (for neither of the two sisters left any issue) of the great house of Shrewsbury : but his expenses were without any measure, and always exceeded very much his revenue. He was willing to be thought a scholar, and to understand the most mysterious parts of antiquity, because he made a wonderful and costly purchase of excellent statues, whilst he was in Italy and in Rome, (some whereof he could never obtain permission to remove from Rome, though he had paid for them,) and had a rare collection of the most curious medals; whereas in truth he was only able to buy them, never to understand them; and as to all parts of learning he was most illiterate, and thought no other part of history considerable, but what related to his own family; in which, no doubt, there had been some very memorable persons. It cannot be denied that he had in his person, in his aspect, and countenance, the appearance of a great man, which he preserved in his gait and motion. He wore and affected a habit very different from that of the time, such as men had only beheld in the pictures of the most considerable men; all which drew the eyes of most, and the reverence of many, towards him, as the image and representative of the primitive nobility, and native gravity of the nobles, when they had been most venerable : but this was only his outside, his nature and true humour being so much disposed to vulgar delights, which indeed were very despicable and childish. He was never suspected to love anybody, nor to have the least propensity to justice, charity, or compassion, so that though he got all he could, and by all the ways he could, and spent much more than he got or had; he was never known to give any thing, nor in all his employments (for he had employments, of great profit as D 34 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. well as honour, being sent ambassador extraordinary into Germany, for the treaty of that general peace, for which he had great appointments, and in which he did nothing of the least importance, and which is more wonderful, he was afterwards made general of the army*raised for Scotland, and received full pay as such; and in his own office of Earl Marshal, more money was drawn from the people by his avidity and pretence of jurisdiction, than had ever been extorted by all the officers precedent,) yet, I say, in all his offices and employments, never man used or employed by him, ever got any fortune under him, nor did ever any man acknowledge any obligation to him. He was rather thought to be without religion, than to incline to this or that party of any. He would have been a proper instrument for any tyranny, if he could have [had] a man tyrant enough to have been advised by him, and had no other affection for the nation or the kingdom, than as he had a great share in it, in which, like the great leviathan, he might sport himself; from which he withdrew himself, as soon as he discerned the repose thereof was like to be disturbed, and died in Italy, under the same doubtful character of religion in which he lived. William, Earl op Pembroke. William earl of Pembroke was next, a man of another mould and making, and of another fame and reputation with all men, being the most universally loved and esteemed of any man of that age; and, having a great office in the Court, he made the Court itself better esteemed, and more reverenced in the country. And as he had a great number of friends of the best men, so no man had ever the wickedness to avow himself to be his enemy. He was a man very well WILLIAM, EARL OF PEMBROKE. 35 bred, and of excellent parts, and a graceful speaker upon any subject, having a good proportion of learning, and a ready wit to apply it, and enlarge upon it; of a pleasant and facetious humour, and a disposition affable, generous, and magnificent. He was master of a great fortune from his ancestors, and had a great addition by his wife, another daughter and heir of the earl of Shrewsbury, which he enjoyed during his life, she outliving him : but all served not his expense, which was only limited by his great mind, and occasions to use it nobly. He lived many years about the Court, before in it, and never by it; being rather regarded and esteemed by King James, than loved and favoured : and after the foul fall of the earl of Somerset, he was made Lord Chamberlain of the King’s house, more for the Court’s sake than his own; and the Court appeared with the more lustre, because he had the government of that province. As he spent and lived upon his own fortune, so he stood upon his own feet, without any other support than of his proper virtue and merit; and lived towards the favourites with that decency, as would not suffer them to censure or reproach his master’s judgment and election, but as with men of his own rank. He was ex¬ ceedingly beloved in the Court, because he never desired to get that for himself, which others laboured for, but was still ready to promote the pretences of worthy men. And he was equally celebrated in the country, for having received no obligations from the Court which might corrupt or sway his affections and judgment; so that all who were displeased and unsatisfied in the Court, or with the Court, were always inclined to put themselves under his banner, if he would have admitted them; and yet he did not so reject them, as to make them choose another shelter, but so far to depend D 2 36 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. on him, that he could restrain them from breaking out beyond private resentments and murmurs. He was a great lover of his country, and of the religion and justice, which he believed could only support it; and his friendships were only with men of those principles. And as his conversation was most with men of the most pregnant parts and understanding, so towards any, who needed support or encouragement, though unknown, if fairly recommended to him, he was very liberal. And sure never man was planted in a Court, that was fitter for that soil, or brought better qualities with him to purify that air. Yet his memory must not be so flattered, that his virtues and good inclinations may be believed without some allay of vice, and without being clouded with great infirmities, which he had in too exorbitant a proportion. He indulged to him¬ self the pleasures of all kinds, almost in all excesses. To women, whether out of his natural constitution, or for want of his domestic content and delight, (in which he was most unhappy, for he paid much too dear for his wife’s fortune, by taking her person into the bargain,) he was immoderately given up. But therein he likewise retained such a power and jurisdiction over his very appetite, that he was not so much transported with beauty and outward allurements, as with those advantages of the mind, as manifested an extraordinary wit, and spirit, and knowledge, and administered great pleasure in the conversation. To these he sacrificed himself, his precious time, and much of his fortune. And some, who were nearest his trust and friendship, were not without apprehension, that his natural vivacity and vigour of mind began to lessen and decline by those excessive indulgences. About the time of the death of King James, or presently after, he was made Lord Steward of his majesty’s house, that EARL OF MONTGOMER Y AND EARL OF DORSET. 37 the staff of Chamberlain might be put into the hands of his brother, the earl of Montgomery, upon a new contract of friendship with the duke of Buckingham ; after whose death, he had likewise such offices of his, as he most affected, of honour and command, none of profit, which he cared not for. And within two years after, he died himself of an apoplexy, after a full and cheerful supper. Eael of Montgomeey and Eabl of Doeset. The earl of Montgomery, who was then Lord Chamberlain of the household, and now earl of Pembroke, and the earl of Dorset, were likewise of the Privy-Council; men of very different talents and qualifications. The former being a young man, scarce of age at the entrance of King James, had the good fortune, by the comeliness of his person, his skill, and indefatigable industry in hunting, to be the first who drew the King’s eyes towards him with affection; which was quickly so far improved, that he had the reputation of a favourite. And before the end of the first or second year, he was made gentleman of the King’s bedchamber, and earl of Montgomery ; which did the King no harm : for besides that he received the King’s bounty with more moderation than other men, who succeeded him, he was generally known, and as generally esteemed ; being the son and younger brother to the earl of Pembroke, who liberally supplied his expense, beyond what his annuity from his father would bear. He pretended to no other qualifications, than to under¬ stand horses and dogs very well, which his master loved him the better for, (being, at his first coming into England, very jealous of those who had the reputation of great parts,) and to be believed honest and generous, which made him many 3 8 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. friends, and left him no enemy. He had not sat many years in that sunshine, when a new comet appeared in Court, Robert Carr, a Scotchman, quickly after declared favourite: upon whom the King no sooner fixed his eyes, but the earl, without the least murmur or indisposition, left all doors open for his entrance; (a rare temper ! and could proceed from nothing, but his great perfection in loving field-sports;) which the King received as so great an obligation, that he always after loved him in the second place, and commended him to his son at his death, as a man to be relied on in point of honesty and fidelity; though it appeared afterwards, that he was not strongly built, nor had sufficient ballast to endure a storm; of which more will be said hereafter. The other, the earl of Dorset, was, to all intents, principles, and purposes, another man ; his person beautiful, and grace¬ ful, and vigorous; his wit pleasant, sparkling, and sublime; and his other parts of learning, and language, of that lustre, that he could not miscarry in the world. The vices he had were of the age, which he was not stubborn enough to con¬ temn or resist. He was a younger brother, grandchild to the great Treasurer Buckhurst, created, at the king’s first entrance, earl of Dorset, who outlived his father, and took care and delight in the education of his grandchild, and left him a good support for a younger brother, besides a wife, who was heir to a fair fortune. As his person and parts were such as are before mentioned, so he gave them full scope, without restraint; and indulged to his appetite all the pleasures that season of his life (the fullest of jollity and riot of any that preceded or succeeded) could tempt or suggest to him. He entered into a fatal quarrel, upon a subject very un¬ warrantable, with a young nobleman of Scotland, the lord Bruce; upon which they both transported themselves into EARL OF MONTGOMER Y AND EARL OF DORSET. 39 Flanders, and attended only by two surgeons placed at a distance, and under an obligation not to stir but upon the fall of one of them, they fought under the walls of Antwerp, where the lord Bruce fell dead upon the place; and sir Edward Sackville (for so he was then called) being likewise hurt, retired into the next monastery, which was at hand. Nor did this miserable accident (which he did always exceed¬ ingly lament,) make that thorough impression upon him, but that he indulged still too much to those importunate and insatiate appetites, even of that individual person, that had so lately embarked him in that desperate enterprise ; being too much tinder not to be inflamed with those sparks. His elder brother did not enjoy his grandfather’s title many years, before it descended, for want of heirs male, to the younger brother. But in these few years, by an excess of expense in all the ways to which money can be applied, he so entirely consumed almost the whole great fortune that descended to him, that, when he was forced to leave the title to his younger brother, he left upon the matter nothing to him to support it ; which exposed him to many difficulties and inconveniences. Yet his known great parts, and the very good general reputation he had, notwithstanding his defects, acquired, (for as he was eminent in the House of Commons, whilst he sat there; so he shined in the House of Peers, when he came to move in that sphere,) inclined King James to call him to his Privy-Council before his death. And if he had not too much cherished his natural constitution and propensity, and been too much grieved and wrung by an uneasy and strait fortune, he would have been an excellent man of business; for he had a very sharp, discerning spirit, and was a man of an obliging nature, much honour, and great generosity, and of most entire fidelity to the Crown. 40 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. The Earl op Holland. The earl of Holland was a younger son of a noble house, and a very fruitful bed, which divided a numerous issue between two great fathers; the eldest, many sons and daugh¬ ters to the lord Rich; the younger, of both sexes, to Mount- joy earl of Devonshire, who had been more than once married to the mother 1 . The reputation of his family gave him no great advantage in the world, though his eldest brother was earl of Warwick, and owner of a great fortune; and his younger earl of Newport, of a very plentiful revenue likewise. He, after some time spent in France, betook himself to the war in Holland, which he intended to have made his profes¬ sion; where, after he had made two or three campaigns, according to the custom of the English volunteers, he came in the leisure of the winter to visit his friends in England, and the Court, that shined then in the plenty and bounty of King James; and about the time of the infancy of the duke of Buckingham’s favour, to whom he grew in a short time very acceptable. But his friendship was more entire to the earl of Carlisle, who was more of his nature and humour, and had a generosity more applicable at that time to his fortune and his ends. And it was thought by many who stood within view, that for some years he supported himself upon the familiarity and friendship of the other; which continued mutually betwee . them very many years, with little interruption, to their death. He was a very handsome man, of a lovely and winning presence, and gentle conversation; by which he got so easy an admission into the Court, and grace of King James, that he gave over the thought of further intending the life of a 1 [The allusion is to the engagement, marriage and divorce of Lady Rich, married by Laud, 1605, to Lord Mountjoy.] THE EARL OF HOLLAND. 41 soldier. He took all the ways he could to endear himself to he duke, and to his confidence, and wisely declined the eceiving any grace or favour, but as his donation ; above all, ■/oided the suspicion that the King had any kindness for him, upon any account but of the duke, whose creature he desired 0 be esteemed, though the earl of Carlisle’s friend. And he prospered so well in that pretence, that the King scarce made lore haste to advance the duke, than the duke did to pro¬ note the other. He first preferred him to a wife, the daughter and heir of Cope, by whom he had a good fortune; and, amongst other lings, the manor and seat of Kensington, of which he was shortly after made baron. And he had quickly so entire a confidence in him, that he prevailed with the King to put him bout his son the Prince of Wales, and to be a gentleman of is bedchamber, before the duke himself had reason to romise himself any proportion of his highness’s grace and protection. He was then made earl of Holland, captain of ne Guard, knight of the Order, and of the Privy-Council; sent 1 he first ambassador into France to treat the marriage with ne Queen, or rather privately to treat about the marriage efore he was ambassador. And when the duke went to the sle of Rhd, he trusted the earl of Holland with the command of that army with which he was to be recruited and assisted. And in this confidence, and in this posture, he was left by ae duke when he died; and having the advantage of the Queen’s good opinion and favour, (which the duke neither ad, nor cared for,) he made all possible approaches towards he obtaining his trust, and succeeding him in his power, or rather that the Queen might have solely that power, and he nly be subservient to her; and upon this account he made continual war upon the earl of Portland the Treasurer, and 42 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. all others who were not gracious to the Queen, or desired not the increase of her authority. And in this state, and under this protection, he received every day new obligations from the King, and great bounties, and continued to flourish above any man in the court, w'hilst the weather w r as fair: but the storm did no sooner arise, but he changed so much, and declined so fast from the honour he w 7 as thought to be master of, that he fell into that condition, w'hich there will be here¬ after too much cause to mention, and to enlarge upon. Sir John Cooke and Sir Dudley Carleton. The tw’O Secretaries of State (which were not in those days officers of that magnitude they have been since, being only to make despatches upon the conclusion of councils, not to govern, or preside in those councils) were sir John Cooke, wffio, upon the death of sir Albert Moreton, was, from being Master of Requests, preferred to be Secretary of State; and sir Dudley Carleton, who, from his employment in Holland, was put into the place of the lord Conway, who, for age and incapacity, was at last removed from the Secretary’s office, which he had exercised for many years with very notable insufficiency ; so that King James was wont pleasantly to say, ‘ That Stenny ’ (the duke of Buckingham) ‘ had given him two very proper servants; a secretary, who could neither write or read; and a groom of his bedchamber, who could not truss his points; ’ Mr. Clark having but one hand. Of these two Secretaries, the former w r as a man of a very narrow 7 education, and a narrower nature; having continued long in the university of Cambridge, w'here he had gotten Latin learning enough, and afterwards in the country in the condition of a private gentleman, till after he was fifty years of age; when, upon some reputation he had for industry and SIR JOHN COOKE AND SIR DUDLEY CARLETON. 43 diligence, he was called to some painful employment in the office of the Navy, which he discharged well; and afterwards to be Master of Requests, and then to be Secretary of State, which he enjoyed to a great age: and was a man rather unadorned with parts of vigour and quickness, and unendowed with any notable virtues, than notorious for any weakness or defect of understanding, than transported with any vicious inclinations, appetite to money only excepted. His cardinal perfection was industry, and his most eminent infirmity covetousness. His long experience had informed him well of the state and affairs of England; but of foreign transac¬ tions, or the common interest of Christian princes, he was entirely ignorant and undiscerning. Sir Dudley Carleton was of a quite contrary nature, con¬ stitution, and education, and understood all that related to foreign employment, and the condition of other princes and nations, very well: but was utterly unacquainted with the government, laws, and customs of his own country, and the nature of the people. He was a younger son in a good gentleman’s family, and bred in Christ Church, in the univer¬ sity of Oxford, where he was a student of the foundation, and a young man of parts and towardly expectation. He went from thence early into France, and was soon after secretary to sir Harry Nevil, the ambassador there. He had been sent ambassador to Venice, where he resided many years with good reputation ; and was no sooner returned from thence into England, than he went ambassador into Holland, to the States General, and resided there when that synod was assembled at Dort, which hath given the world so much occasion since for uncharitable disputations, which they were called together to prevent. Here the ambassador was not thought so equal a spectator, or assessor, as he ought to have 44 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. been ; but by the infusions he made into King James, and by his own activity, he did all he could to discountenance that party that was most learned, and to raise the credit and authority of the other; which has since proved as inconvenient and troublesome to their own country, as to their neighbours. He was once more ambassador extraordinary in Holland after the death of King James, and was the last who was admitted to be present, and to vote in the general assembly of the States, under that character, of which great privilege the Crown had been possessed from a great part of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and through the time of King James to that moment; which administered fresh matter of murmur for the giving up the towns of the Brill, and Flushing, which had been done some years before by King James; without which men thought those States would not have had the courage so soon to have degraded the Crown of England from a place in their councils, which had prospered so eminently under the shadow of that power and support. As soon as he returned from Holland, he was called to the Privy-Council; and the making him Secretary of State, and a peer of the realm, when his estate was scarce visible, was the last piece of workmanship the duke of Buckingham lived to finish, who seldom satisfied himself with conferring a single obligation. Attorney-General Not and Sir John Finch. The first, upon the great fame of his ability and learning, (and very able and learned he was,) was, by great industry and importunity from Court, persuaded to accept that place, for which all other men laboured, (being the best, for profit, that profession is capable of,) and so he suffered himself to be made the King’s Attorney general. The Court made no attorney-general NOY AND SIR JOHN FINCH. 45 impression upon his manners ; upon his mind it did : and though he wore about him an affected morosity, which made him unapt to flatter other men, yet even that morosity and pride rendered him the most liable to be grossly flattered himself, that can be imagined. And by this means the great persons, who steered the public affairs, by admiring his parts, and extolling his judgment as well to his face as behind his back, wrought upon him by degrees, for the eminency of the service, to be an instrument in all their designs ; thinking that he could not give a clearer testimony, that his knowledge in the law was greater than all other men’s, than by making that law which all other men believed not to be so. So he moulded, framed, and pursued the odious and crying project of soap ; and with his own hand drew and prepared the writ for ship-money, both which will be the lasting monuments of his fame. In a word, he was an unanswerable instance, how necessary a good education and knowledge of men is to make a wise man, at least a man fit for business. Sir John Finch had much that the other wanted, but no¬ thing that the other had. Having led a licentious life in a restrained fortune, and having set up upon the stock of a good wit, and natural parts, without the superstructure of much knowledge in the profession by which he was to grow; [he] was willing to use those weapons in which he had most skill, and so (being not unseen in the affections of the court, but not having reputation enough to guide or reform them) he took up ship-money where Mr. Noy left it; and, being a judge, carried it up to that pinnacle, from whence he almost broke his own neck, having, in his journey thither, been too much a solicitor to induce his brethren to concur in a judg¬ ment they had all cause to repent. To which, his declaration, 46 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. after he was Keeper of the Great Seal of England, must be added, upon a demurrer put in to a bill before him, which had no other equity in it, than an order of the lords of the Council; ‘ that whilst he was Keeper, no man should be so saucy to dispute those orders, but that the wisdom of that beard should be always ground enough for him to make a decree in chancery;’ which was so great an aggravation of the excess of that Table, that it received more prejudice from that act of unreasonable countenance and respect, than from all the contempt could possibly have been offered to it. But of this no more. Now after all this (and I hope I cannot be accused of much flattery in this inquisition) I must be so just as to say, that, during the whole time that these pressures were exercised, and those new and extraordinary ways were run, that is, from the dissolution of the Parliament in the fourth year, to the beginning of this Parliament, which was above twelve years, this kingdom, and all his majesty’s dominions, (of the interruption in Scotland somewhat shall be said in its due time and place,) enjoyed the greatest calm, and the fullest measure of felicity, that any people in any age, for so long time together, have been blessed with; to the wonder and envy of all the parts of Christendom. Troubles in Scotland. The King was always the most punctual observer of all decency in his devotion, and the strictest promoter of the ceremonies of the Church, as believing in his soul the Church of England to be instituted the nearest to the practice of the apostles, and the best for the propagation and advancement of Christian religion, of any church in the world: and on TROUBLES IN SCOTLAND. 47 the other side, though no man was more averse from the Romish Church than he was, nor better understood the motives of their separation from us, and animosity against us, he had the highest dislike and prejudice to that part of his own subjects, who were against the government estab¬ lished, and did always look upon them as a very dangerous and seditious people, who would, under pretence of con¬ science, which kept them from submitting to the spiritual jurisdiction, take the first opportunity they could find, or make, to disturb and withdraw themselves from their tem¬ poral subjection; and therefore he had, with the utmost vigilance, caused that temper and disposition to be watched and provided against in England ; and if it were then in truth there, it lurked with wonderful secrecy. In Scotland indeed it covered the whole nation, so that though there were bishops in name, the whole jurisdiction, and they them¬ selves were, upon the matter, subject to an assembly, which was purely Presbyterian ; no form of religion in practice, no liturgy, nor the least appearance of any beauty of holiness : the clergy, for the most part, corrupted in their principles ; at least, (for it cannot be denied but that their universities, especially Aberdeen, flourished under many excellent scholars and very learned men,) none countenanced by the great men, or favoured by the people, but such. Yet, though all the cathedral churches were totally neglected with reference to those administrations over the whole kingdom, yet the King’s own chapel at Holyrood-house had still been main¬ tained with the decency and splendour of the cathedral service, and all other formalities incident to the royal chapel; and the whole nation seemed, in the time of King James, well inclined to receive the liturgy of the Church of England, which the king exceedingly desired, and was so confident of, 4 8 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. that they -who were privy to the counsels of that King in that time did believe, that the bringing that work to pass was the principal end of his progress thither some years before his death, though he was not so well satisfied at his being there, two or three of the principal persons trusted by him in the government of that kingdom, dying in or about that very time : but [though] he returned without making any visible attempt in that affair, yet he retained still the purpose and resolution to his death to bring it to pass. However, his two or three last years were less pleasant to him, by the Prince’s voyage into Spain, the jealousies which, about that time, began in England, and the imperious proceedings in parlia¬ ment there, so that he thought it necessary to suspend any prosecution of that design, until a more favourable conjunc¬ ture, and he lived not to see that Conjuncture. The King his son, who, with his kingdoms and other virtues, inherited that zeal for religion, proposed nothing more to himself, than to unite his three kingdoms in one form of God’s worship, and in a uniformity in public devo¬ tions ; and there being now so great a serenity in all his dominions as is mentioned before, there is great reason to believe, that in this journey into Scotland to be crowned, he carried the resolution with him to finish that important business in the Church at the same time. And to that end, the then bishop of London, Dr. Laud, attended on his majesty throughout that whole journey, which, as he was dean of the chapel, he was not obliged to do, and no doubt would have been excused from, if that design had not been in view; to accomplish which he was not less solicitous than the King himself, nor the King the less solicitous for his advice. He preached in the royal chapel, (which scarce any Englishman had ever done before in the King’s presence,) ARCHBISHOP LAUD. 49 and principally upon the benefit of conformity, and the reverent ceremonies of the Church, with all the marks of approbation and applause imaginable; the great civility of that people being so notorious and universal, that they would not appear unconformable to his majesty’s wish in any particular. And many wise men were then and still are of opinion, that if the King had then proposed the liturgy of the Church of England to have been received and practised by that nation, it would have been submitted to against all opposition: but, upon mature consideration, the King con¬ cluded that it was not a good season to promote that busi¬ ness. Ahchbishop Laxjd. It was within one week after the King’s return from Scotland, that Abbot died at his house at Lambeth. And the King took very little time to consider who should be his successor, but the very next time the bishop of London (who was longer upon his way home than the king had been) came to him, his majesty entertained him very cheerfully with this compellation, ‘My lord’s grace of Canterbury, you are very welcome;' and gave order the same day for the dispatch of all the necessary forms for the translation : so that within a month or thereabouts after the death of the other archbishop, he was completely invested in that high dignity, and settled in his palace at Lambeth. This great prelate had been before in great favour with the duke of Buckingham, whose great confidant he was, and by him recommended to the king, as fittest to be trusted in the conferring all ecclesiastical prefer¬ ments, when he was but bishop of St. David’s, or newly preferred to Bath and Wells; and from that time he entirely governed that province without a rival: so that his promotion E 5 ° SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. to Canterbury was long foreseen and expected ; nor was it attended with any increase of envy or dislike. He was a man of great parts, and very exemplary virtues, allayed and discredited by some unpopular natural infirmities; the greatest of which was, (besides a hasty, sharp way of expressing himself,) that he believed innocence of heart, and integrity of manners, was a guard strong enough to secure any man in his voyage through this world, in what company soever he travelled, and through what ways soever he was to pass : and sure never any man was better supplied with that provision. He was born of honest parents, who were well able to provide for his education in the schools of learning, from whence they sent him to St. John's college in Oxford, the worst endowed at that time of any in that famous uni¬ versity. From a scholar he became a fellow, and then the president of that college, after he had received all the graces and degrees (the proctorship and the doctorship) could be obtained there. He was always maligned and persecuted by those who were of the Calvinian faction, which was then very powerful, and who, according to their useful maxim and practice, call every man they do not love, Papist; and under this senseless appellation they created him many troubles and vexations, and so far suppressed him, that though he was the King’s chaplain, and taken notice of for an excellent preacher, and a scholar of the most sublime parts, he had not any preferment to invite him to leave his poor college, which only gave him bread, till the vigour of his age was past: and when he was promoted by King James, it was but to a poor bishopric in Wales, which was not so good a sup¬ port for a bishop, as his college was for a private scholar, though a doctor. Parliaments in that time were frequent, and grew very busy; ARCHBISHOP LAUD. 51 and the party under which he had suffered a continual per¬ secution, appeared very powerful, and full of design, and they who had the courage to oppose them, began to be taken notice of with approbation and countenance: and under this style he came to be first cherished by the duke of Buckingham, after he had made some experiments of the temper and spirit of the other people, nothing to his satis¬ faction. From this time he prospered at the rate of his own wishes, and being transplanted out of his cold barren diocese of St. David's, into a warmer climate, he was left, as was said before, by that omnipotent favourite in that great trust with the King, who was sufficiently indisposed towards the persons or the principles of Mr. Calvin’s disciples. When he came into great authority, it may be, he retained too keen a memory of those who had so unjustly and un¬ charitably persecuted him before, and, I doubt, was so far transported with the same passions he had reason to com¬ plain of in his adversaries, that, as they accused him of Popery, because he had some doctrinal opinions which they liked not, though they were nothing allied to Popery; so he enter¬ tained too much prejudice to some persons, as if they were enemies to the discipline of the church, because they con¬ curred with Calvin in some doctrinal points, when they abhorred his discipline, and reverenced the government of the Church, and prayed for the peace of it with as much zeal and fervency as any in the kingdom ; as they made manifest in their lives, and in their sufferings with it, and for it. He had, from his first entrance into the world, without any disguise or dissimulation, declared his own opinion of that classis of men; and, as soon as it was in his power, he did all he could to hinder the growth and increase of that faction, and to restrain those who were inclined to it, from E 2 52 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. doing the mischief they desired to do. But his power at Court could not enough qualify him to go through with that difficult reformation, whilst he had a superior in the Church, who, having the reins in his hand, could slacken them according to his own humour and indiscretion, and was thought to be the more remiss, to irritate his choleric dis¬ position. But when he had now the primacy in his own hand, the King being inspired with the same zeal, he thought he should be to blame, and have much to answer, if he did not make haste to apply remedies to those diseases, which he saw would grow apace. In the end of September of the year 1633, he was invested in the title, power, and jurisdiction of archbishop of Canter¬ bury, and entirely in possession of the revenue thereof, without a rival in Church or State ; that is, no man professed to oppose his greatness; and he had never interposed or appeared in matter of State to this time. His first care was, that the place he was removed from might be supplied with a man who would be vigilant to pull up those weeds, which the London soil was too apt to nourish, and so drew his old friend and companion Dr. Juxon as near to him as he could. They had been fellows together in one college in Oxford, and, when he was first made bishop of St. David’s, he made him president of that college: when he could no longer keep the deanery of the chapel royal, he made him his successor in that near attendance upon the King: and now he was raised to be archbishop, he easily prevailed with the King to make the other, bishop of London, before, or very soon after, he had been consecrated bishop of Hereford, if he were more than elect of that church. LORD COTTINGTOA 53 BOOK II. Lord Cottington. The lord Cottington, though he was a very wise man, yet having spent the greatest part of his life in Spain, and so having been always subject to the unpopular imputation of being of the Spanish faction, indeed was better skilled to make his master great abroad, than gracious at home ; and being Chancellor of the Exchequer from the time of the disso¬ lution of the Parliament in the fourth year, had his hand in many hard shifts for money; and had the disadvantage of being suspected at least a favourer of the Papists, (though that religion thought itself nothing beholding to him,) by which he was in great umbrage with the people : and then though he were much less hated than either of the other two, and the less, because there was nothing of kindness between the archbishop and him ; and indeed very few particulars of moment could be proved against him: yet there were two objections against him, which rendered him as odious as any to the great reformers; the one, that he was not to be re¬ conciled to, or made use of in, any of their designs; the other, that he had two good offices, without the having of which their reformation could not be perfect. For besides being Chancellor of the Exchequer, he was likewise Master of the Wards, and had raised the revenue of that court to the King to be much greater than it had ever been before his administration ; and by which husbandry, all the rich families of England, of noblemen and gentlemen, were exceedingly incensed, and even indevoted to the crown, looking upon what the law had intended for their protection and preser¬ vation, to be now applied to their destruction; and therefore 54 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. resolved to take the first opportunity to ravish that jewel out of the royal diadem, though it were fastened there by the known law, upon as unquestionable a right, as the subject enjoyed any thing that was most his own. BOOK III. The Earl of Strafford. It was about three of the clock in the afternoon, when the earl of Strafford, (being infirm, and not well disposed in his health, and so not having stirred out of his house that morning,) hearing that both Houses still sat, thought fit to go thither. It was believed by some (upon what ground was never clear enough) that he made that haste then to accuse the lord Say, and some others, of having induced the Scots to invade the kingdom: but he was scarce entered into the House of Peers, when the message from the House of Com¬ mons was called in, and when Mr. Pym at the bar, and in the name of all the Commons of England, impeached Thomas earl of Strafford (with the addition of all his other titles) of high treason, and several other heinous crimes and misde¬ meanours, of which he said the commons would in due time make proof in form ; and in the mean time desired in their name, that he might be sequestered from all councils, and be put into safe custody; and so withdrawing, the earl was, with more clamour than was suitable to the gravity of that supreme court, called upon to withdraw, hardly obtaining leave to be first heard in his place, which could not be denied him. And he then lamented * his great misfortune to lie under so heavy a charge ; professed his innocence and integrity, which he made no doubt he should make appear to them; LORD SAY. 55 desired that he might have his liberty, until some guilt should be made appear ; and desired them to consider, what mischief they should bring upon themselves, if upon such a general charge, without the mention of any one crime, a peer of the realm should be committed to prison, and so deprived of his place in that house, where he was summoned by the King’s writ to assist in the council; and of what consequence such a precedent might be to their own privilege and birthright: and then withdrew. And with very little debate the Peers resolved that he should be committed to the custody of the gentleman usher of the Black-Rod, there to remain until the House of Commons should bring in a par¬ ticular charge against him: which determination of the house was pronounced to him at the bar upon his knees, by the lord keeper of the Great Seal, upon the woolsack: and so being taken away by Maxwell, gentleman usher, Mr. Pym was called in, and informed what the house had done; after which (it being then about four of the clock) both houses adjourned till the next day. Lord Say. The lord viscount Say, a man of a close and reserved nature, of a mean and a narrow fortune, of great parts, and of the highest ambition, but whose ambition would not be satisfied with offices and preferment, without some con descensions and alterations in ecclesiastical matters. He had for many years been the oracle of those who were called Puritans in the worst sense, and steered all their counsels and designs. He was a notorious enemy to the Church, and to most of the eminent churchmen, with some of whom he had particular contests. He had always opposed and contradicted all acts of state, and all taxes and impositions, which were 56 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. not exactly legal, and so had as eminently and as obstinate!} refused the payment of ship-money as Mr. Hambden had done; though the latter, by the choice of the King’s Council, had brought his cause to be first heard and argued, wi h which judgment that was intended to conclude the whole right in that matter, and to overrule all other cases, the lord Say would not acquiesce, but pressed to have his ov case argued, and was so solicitous in person with all t e judges, both privately at their chambers, and publicly in th court at Westminster, that he was very grievous to them. His commitment at York the year before, because he refused to take an oath, or rather subscribe a protestation, against holding intelligence with the Scots, when the King first marched against them, had given him much credit. In a word, he had very great authority with all the discontented party throughout the kingdom, and a good reputation with many who were not, who believed him to be a wise man and of a very useful temper, in an age of license, and one who would still adhere to the law. Lord Mandevile and the Earl of Essex The lord Mandevile, eldest son to the lord Privy-Seal, was a person of great civility, and very well bred, and ha 3 been early in the court under the favour of the duke of Buckingham, a lady of whose family he had married: he ha< attended upon the Prince when he was in Spain, and had been called to the house of peers in the lifetime of his fatht [by the name of the lord Kimbolton,] which was a very extra - ordinary favour. Upon the death of the duke of Buck¬ ingham, his wife being likewise dead, he married the daughter of the earl of Warwick; a man in no grace at court, and LORD MANDEVILE AND THE EARL OF ESSEX. 57 looked upon as the greatest patron of the Puritans, because of much the greatest estate of all who favoured them, and so was esteemed by them with great application and veneration: though he was of a life very licentious, and unconformable to their professed rigour, which they rather dispensed with, than to withdraw from a house where they received so eminent a protection, and such notable bounty. From this latter marriage the lord Mandevile totally estranged himself from the Court, and upon all occasions appeared enough to dislike what was done there, and engaged himself wholly in the conversation of those who were most notoriously of that party, whereof there was a kind of fraternity of many persons of good condition, who chose to live together in one family, at a gentleman’s house of a fair fortune, near the place where the lord Mandevile lived; whither others of that classis like¬ wise resorted, and maintained a joint and mutual cor¬ respondence and conversation together with much familiarity and friendship : that lord, to support and the better to im¬ prove that popularity, living at a much higher rate than the narrow exhibition allowed to him by his wary father could justify, making up the rest by contracting a great debt, which long lay heavy upon him ; by which generous way of living, and by his natural civility, good manners, and good nature, which flowed towards all men, he was uni¬ versally acceptable and beloved; and no man more in the confidence of the discontented and factious party than he, and [none] to whom the whole mass of their designs, as well what remained in chaos as what was formed, was more entirely communicated, and more consulted with. And therefore these three lords are nominated as the principal igents in the House of Peers, (though there were many there af quality and interest much superior to either of them,) 58 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. because they were principally and absolutely trusted by those who were to manage all in the House of Commons, and to raise that spirit which was upon all occasions to inflame the lords. [It] being enough known and understood, that, how indisposed and angry soever many of them at present appeared to be, there would be still a major part there, who would, if they were not overreached, adhere to the King and the established government. And therefore these three persons were trusted without reserve, and relied upon so to steer, as might increase their party by all the arts imaginable; and they had dexterity enough to appear to depend upon those lords, who were looked upon as greater, and as popular men; and to be subservient to their purposes, whom in truth they governed and disposed of. And by these artifices, and applications to his vanity, and magnifying the general reputation and credit he had with the people, and sharpening the sense he had of his late ill treat¬ ment at Court, they fully prevailed [upon], and possessed themselves of, the earl of Essex ; who, though he was no good speaker in public, yet, having sat long in Parliament, and so well acquainted with the order of it in very active times, was a better speaker there than any where else, and being always heard with attention and respect, had much authority in the debates. Nor did he need any incitement (which made all approaches to him the more easy) to do any thing against the persons of the lord archbishop of Canter¬ bury and the lord lieutenant of Ireland, towards whom he professed a full dislike; who were the only persons against whom there was any declared design, and the Scots having in their manifesto demanded justice against those two great men, as the cause of the war between the nations. And in this prosecution there was too great a concurrence: Warwick, LORD MANDEVILE AND THE EARL OF ESSEX. 59 Brook, Wharton, Paget, Howard, and some others, implicitly followed and observed the dictates of the lords mentioned before, and started or seconded what they were directed. In the House of Commons were many persons of wisdom and gravity, who being possessed of great and plentiful fortunes, though they were undevoted enough to the Court, had all imaginable duty for the King, and affection to the government established by law or ancient custom; and without doubt, the major part of that body consisted of men who had no mind to break the peace of the kingdom, or to make any considerable alteration in the government of Church or State : and therefore all inventions were set on foot from the beginning to work on them, and corrupt them, by suggestions ‘ of the dangers which threatened all that was precious to the subject in their liberty and their property, by overthrowing or overmastering the law, and subjecting it to an arbitrary power, and by countenancing Popery to the subversion of the Protestant religion; ’ and then, by infusing terrible apprehensions into some, and so working upon their fears ‘ of being called in question for somewhat they had done,’ by which they would stand in need of their protection; and raising the hopes of others, ‘that, by con¬ curring with them, they should be sure to obtain offices, and honours, and any kind of preferment.’ Though there were too many corrupted and misled by these several temptations, and others who needed no other temptations than from the fierceness and barbarity of their own natures, and the malice they had contracted against the Church and against the Court; yet the number was not great of those in whom the govern¬ ment of the rest was vested, nor were there many who had the absolute authority to lead, though there were a multitude that was disposed to follow. 6o SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. John Hambden. Mr. Hambden was a man of much greater cunning, and it may be of the most discerning spirit, and of the greatest address and insinuation to bring anything to pass which he desired, of any man of that time, and who laid the design deepest. He was a gentleman of a good extraction, and a fair fortune, who, from a life of great pleasure and license, had on a sudden retired to extraordinary sobriety and strict¬ ness, and yet retained his usual cheerfulness and affability; which, together with the opinion of his wisdom and justice, and the courage he had shewed in opposing the ship-money, raised his reputation to a very great height, not only in Buckinghamshire, where he lived, but generally throughout the kingdom. He was not a man of many words, and rarely begun the discourse, or made the first entrance upon any business that was assumed; but a very weighty speaker, and after he had heard a full debate, and observed how the house was like to be inclined, took up the argument, and shortly, and clearly, and craftily, so stated it, that he commonly con¬ ducted it to the conclusion he desired; and if he found he could not do that, he never was without the dexterity to divert the debate to another time, and to prevent the de¬ termining any thing in the negative, which might prove inconvenient in the future. He made so great a show of civility, and modesty, and humility, and always of mistrusting his own judgment, and of esteeming his with whom he con¬ ferred for the present, that he seemed to have no opinions or resolutions, but such as he contracted from the information and instruction he received upon the discourses of others, whom he had a wonderful art of governing, and leading into his principles and inclinations, whilst they believed that he SIR HARRY VANE. 61 wholly depended upon their counsel and advice. No man had ever a greater power over himself, or was less the man that he seemed to be, which shortly after appeared to every body, when he cared less to keep on the mask. Sib Haeey Vane. The other, sir Harry Vane, was a man of great natural parts, and of very profound dissimulation, of a quick con¬ ception, and very ready, sharp, and weighty expression. He had an unusual aspect, which, though it might naturally pro¬ ceed both from his father and mother, neither of which were beautiful persons, yet made men think there was somewhat in him of extraordinary ; and his whole life made good that imagination. Within a very short time after he returned from his studies in Magdalen college in Oxford, where, though he was under the care of a very worthy tutor, he lived not with great exactness, he spent some little time in France, and more in Geneva ; and, after his return into England, con¬ tracted a full prejudice and bitterness against the Church, both against the form of the government, and the liturgy, which was generally in great reverence, even with many of those who were not friends to the other. In this giddiness, which then much displeased, or seemed to displease, his father, who still appeared highly conformable, and exceedingly sharp against those who were not, he transported himself into New England, a colony within few years before planted by a mixture of all religions, which disposed the professors to dislike the govern¬ ment of the Church; who were qualified by the king’s charter to choose their own government and governors, under the obligation, ‘ that every man should take the oaths of allegiance and supremacy; ’ which all the first planters 62 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. did, when they received their charter, before they transported themselves from hence, nor was there in many years after the least scruple amongst them of complying with those obli¬ gations ; so far men were, in the infancy of their schism, from refusing to take lawful oaths. He was no sooner landed there, but his parts made him quickly taken notice of, and very probably his quality, being the eldest son of a Privy- Councillor, might give him some advantage; insomuch that, when the next season came for the election of their magis¬ trates, he was chosen their governor: in which place he had so ill fortune (his working and unquiet fancy raising and in¬ fusing a thousand scruples of conscience, which they had not brought over with them, nor heard of before) that he un¬ satisfied with them, and they with him, he transported himself into England ; having sowed such seed of dissension there, as grew up too prosperously, and miserably divided the poor colony into several factions, and divisions, and persecutions of each other, which still continue to the great prejudice of that plantation: insomuch as some of them, upon the ground of their first expedition, liberty of conscience, have withdrawn themselves from their jurisdiction, and obtained other charters from the King, by which, in other forms of government, they have enlarged their plantation, within new limits adjacent to the other. He was no sooner returned into England, than he seemed to be much reformed in those extravagancies, and, with his father’s approbation and direction, married a lady of a good family, and by his father’s credit with the earl of Northumberland, who was High Admiral of England, was joined presently and jointly with sir William Russel in the office of Treasurer of the Navy, (a place of great trust and profit,) which he equally shared with the other, and seemed a man well satisfied and composed to the government. When THE EARL OF STRAFFORD'S TRIAL. 63 his father received the disobligation from the lord Strafford, by his being created baron of Raby, the house and land of Vane, (and which title he had promised himself,) which was unluckily cast upon him, purely out of contempt, they sucked in all the thoughts of revenge imaginable; and from thence he betook himself to the friendship of Mr. Pym, and all other discontented or seditious persons, and contributed all that intelligence (which will be hereafter mentioned, as he himself will often be) that designed the ruin of the earl, and which grafted him in the entire confidence of those who promoted the same; so that nothing was concealed from him, though it is believed that he communicated his own thoughts to very few. The Earl op Strafford’s Trial. All things being thus prepared, and settled, on Monday, the twenty-second of March, the earl of Strafford was brought to the bar in Westminster-Hall; the Lords sitting in the middle of the hall in their robes; and the Commoners, and some strangers of quality, with the Scottish commissioners, and the committee of Ireland, on either side : there being a close box made at one end, at a very convenient distance for hearing, in which the King and Queen sat untaken notice of, his majesty, out of kindness and curiosity, desiring to hear all that could be alleged: of which, I believe, he afterwards repented himself, when his having been present at the trial was alleged and urged to him, as an argument for the pass¬ ing the bill of attainder. After his charge was read, and an introduction made by Mr. Pym, in which he called him the wicked earl-, some member of the Plouse of Commons, according to their parts 6 4 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. assigned, being a lawyer, applied and pressed the evidence, with great license and sharpness of language; and, when the earl had made his defence, replied with the same liberty upon whatsoever he said; taking all occasions of bitterly inveighing against his person: which reproachful way of carriage was looked upon with so much approbation, that one of the managers (Mr. Palmer) lost all his credit and interest with them, and never recovered it, for using a decency and modesty in his carriage and language towards him; though the weight of his arguments pressed more upon the earl, than all the noise of the rest. The trial lasted eighteen days; in which, ‘ all the hasty or proud expressions, or words, he had uttered at any time since he was first made a Privy-Councillor; all the acts of passion or power that he had exercised in Yorkshire, from the time that he was first president there ; his engaging himself in projects in Ireland, as the sole making of flax, and selling tobacco in that kingdom; his billeting of soldiers, and exercising of martial law in that kingdom; his extra¬ ordinary proceeding against the lord Mountnorris, and the lord Chancellor [Loftus] ; his assuming a power of judicature at the Council-table to determine private interest, and matter of inheritance; some rigorous and extrajudicial determin¬ ations in cases of plantations; some high discourses at the Council-table in Ireland; and some casual and light dis¬ courses at his own table, and at public meetings ; and lastly, some words spoken in secret Council in this kingdom after the dissolution of the last parliament,’ were urged and pressed against him, to make good the general charge, of ‘ an endeavour to overthrow the fundamental government of the kingdom, and to introduce an arbitrary power.’ The earl behaved himself with great show of humility and THE EARL OF STRAFFORD'S TRIAL. 65 ubmission; but yet, with such a kind of courage, as would ase no advantage; and, in truth, made his defence with all maginable dexterity; answering this, and evading that, with 11 possible skill and eloquence; and though he knew not, till e came to the bar, upon what parts of his charge they would I roceed against him, or what evidence they would produce, e took very little time to recollect himself, and left nothing nsaid that might make for his own justification. For the business of Ireland ; he complained much, ‘ that, y an order from the committee which prepared his charge gainst him, all his papers in that kingdom, by which he hould make his defence, were seized and taken from him; nd, by virtue of the same order, all his goods, household tuff, plate, and tobacco (amounting, as he said, to eighty rousand pounds) were likewise seized; so that he had not noney to subsist in prison: that all those ministers of state 1 Ireland, who were most privy to the acts for which he was uestioned, and so could give the best evidence and testi¬ mony on his behalf, were imprisoned under the charge of •eason. Yet he averred, that he had behaved himself in that ingdom, according to the power and authority granted by is commission and instructions, and according to the rules nd customs observed by former Deputies and Lieutenants. That the monopolies of flax and tobacco had been under- t iken by him for the good of that kingdom, and benefit of 1 is majesty: the former establishing a most beneficial trade nd good husbandry, not before practised there; and the itter bringing a revenue of above forty thousand pounds to le crown, and advancing trade, and bringing no damage to the subject. That billeting of soldiers,’ (which was alleged - a be treason, by a statute made in Ireland in the time of •dng Henry the Sixth,) ‘ and the exercising of martial law, F 66 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. had been always practised by the Lieutenants, and Deputies of that kingdom; ’ which he proved by the testimony and con¬ fession of the earl of Cork and the lord Wilmot; neither of which desired to say more for his behoof, than inevitably they must. He said, ‘ the act of parliament mentioned, of Henry the Sixth, concerned not him; it comprehending only the inferior subjects, and making it penal to them to billet soldiers, not the Deputy, or supreme commander; if it did, that it was repealed by Poyning’s act, in the eleventh year of Henry the Seventh: however, if it were not, and that it were treason still, it was treason only in Ireland, and not in England; and therefore, that he could not be tried here for it, but must be transmitted thither.’ He said, ‘ the Council- table in Ireland had a large, natural, legal jurisdiction, by the institution and fundamental customs of that kingdom; and had, in all times, determined matters of the same nature, which it had done in his time: and that the proceedings there upon plantations had been with the advice of the judges, upon a clear title of the Crown, and upon great reason of state : and that the nature and disposition of that people required a severe hand and strict reins to be held upon them, which being loosed, the Crown would quickly feel the mischief.’ For the several discourses, and words, wherewith he w r as ■charged; he denied many, and explained and put a gloss upon others, by the reasons and circumstances of the debate. One particular, which they much insisted on, though it was spoken twelve years before, ‘ that he should say in the public hall in York, that the little finger of the prerogative should lie heavier upon them than the loins of the law',’ he directly inverted; and proved, by two or three persons of credit, * that he said ’ (and the occasion made it probable, being THE EARL OF STRAFFORD'S TRIAL. 67 upon the business of knighthood, which was understood to be a legal tax) ‘ the little finger of the law was heavier than the loins of the prerogative ; ’ that imposition for knighthood amounting to a much higher rate, than any act of the prero¬ gative which had been exercised. ‘ However,’ he said, ‘ he hoped no indiscretion, or unskilfulness, or passion, or pride of words, would amount to treason; and for misdemeanours, he was ready to submit to their justice.’ He made the least, that is, the worst excuse, for those two acts against the lord Mountnorris, and the lord Chancellor; which indeed were powerful acts, and manifested a nature excessively imperious if not inclined to tyranny; and, no doubt, drew a greater dislike and terror, from sober and dis- passioned persons, than all that was alleged against him. A servant of the earl’s, one Annesley, (kinsman to Mountnorris,) attending on his lord during some fit of the gout, (of which he often laboured,) had by accident, or negligence, suffered a stool to fall upon the earl’s foot; enraged with the pain whereof, his lordship with a small cane struck Annesley: this being merrily spoken of at dinner, at a table where the lord Mountnorris was, (I think, the lord Chancellor’s,) he said, ‘ the gentleman had a brother that would not have taken such a blow.’ This coming some months after to the Deputy’s hearing, he caused a council of war to be called; the lord Mountnorris being an officer of the army; where, upon an article ‘ of moving sedition, and stirring up the soldiers against the general,’ he was charged with those words formerly spoken at the lord Chancellor’s table. What defence he made, I know not; for he was so surprised, that he knew not what the matter was, when he was summoned to that council: but the words being proved, he was deprived of his office(being then Vice-Treasurer) and his foot-company; F 2 68 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. committed to prison; and sentenced ‘ to lose his head.’ The office and company were immediately disposed of, and he imprisoned, till the king sent him over a pardon, by which he was discharged with his life; all other parts of the sentence being fully executed. This seemed to all men a most prodigious course of proceeding; that, in a time of full peace, a peer of the king¬ dom and a Privy Councillor, for an unadvised, passionate, mysterious word, (for the expression was capable of many interpretations,) should be called before a council of war, which could not reasonably be understood to have then a jurisdiction over such persons, and in such cases; and, with¬ out any process, or formality of defence, in two hours should be deprived of his life and fortune: the injustice whereof seemed the more formidable, for that the lord Mountnorris was known, for some time before, to stand in great jealousy and disfavour with the earl: which made it looked on as a pure act of revenge; and gave all men warning, how they trusted themselves in the territories where he commanded. The Bill op Attainder. The bill of attainder in few days passed the house of com¬ mons ; though some lawyers, of great and known learning, declared, ‘that there was no ground or colour in law, to judge him guilty of high treason:’ and the lord Digby (who had been, from the beginning, of that committee for the prosecution, and had much more prejudice than kindness to the earl) in a very pathetical speech declared, ‘ that he could not give his consent to the bill; not only, for that he was unsatisfied in the matter of law, but, for that he was more unsatisfied in the matter of fact; those words, upon THE BILL OF ATTAINDER. 69 which the impeachment was principally grounded, being so far from being proved by two witnesses, that he could not acknowledge it to be by one; since he could not admit sir Harry Vane to be a competent witness, who being first ex¬ amined, denied that the earl spake those words; and upon his second examination, remembered some; and at his third the rest of the words : 1 and thereupon related many circum¬ stances, and made many sharp observations upon what had passed; which none but one of the committee could have done; for which he was presently after questioned in the House; but made his defence so well, and so much to the disadvantage of those who were concerned, that from that time they prosecuted him with an implacable rage and un¬ charitableness upon all occasions. The bill passed with only fifty-nine dissenting voices, there being near two hundred in the house; and was immediately sent up to the lords, with this addition, ‘that the commons would be ready the next day in Westminster-hall, to give their lordships satisfaction in the matter of law, upon what had passed at the trial.’ The earl was then again brought to the bar; the lords sitting as before, in their robes ; and the commons as they had done ; amongst them, Mr. Saint-John, (whom his majesty had made his Solicitor general since the beginning of parlia¬ ment,) from his place, argued for the space of near an hour the matter of law. Of the argument itself I shall say little, it being in print, and in many hands ; I shall only remember two notable propositions, which are sufficient characters of the person and the time. Lest what had been said on the earl's behalf, in point of law, and upon the want of proof, should have made any impression in their lordships, he averred, ‘That, in that way of bill, private satisfaction to each man’s conscience was sufficient, although no evidence had 7 ° SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. been given in at alland as to the pressing the law, he said, ‘ It was true, we give law to hares and deer, because they be beasts of chase; but it was never accounted either cruelty, or foul play, to knock foxes and wolves on the head as they can be found, because they be beasts of prey.’ In a word, the law and the humanity were alike ; the one being more fallacious, and the other more barbarous, than in any age had been vented in such an auditory. The same day, as a better argument to the lords speedily to pass the bill, the nine and fifty members of the House of Commons, who (as is said before) had dissented from that act, had their names written in pieces of parchment or paper, under this superscription, Straffordians, or enemies to their country ; and those papers fixed upon posts, and other the most visible places about the city; which was as great and destructive a violation of the privileges and freedom of par¬ liament, as can be imagined: yet, being complained of in the House, not the least countenance was given to the complaint, or the least care taken for the discovery. The persons, who had still the conduct of the designs, began to find, that their friends abroad (of whose help they had still great need, for the getting petitions to be brought to the house; and for all tumultuous appearances in the city; and negociations with the common council) were not at all satisfied with them, for their want of zeal in the matter of religion; and, though they had branded as many of the bishops, and others of the prelatical party, as had come in their way : and received all petitions against the Church with encouragement: yet, that there was nothing done, or visibly in projection to be done, towards lessening their jurisdiction; or indulging any of that liberty to their weak brethren, which they had from the beginning expected from them. And THE EARL OF BEDFORD. 71 then, the discourse of their ambition, and hopes of prefer¬ ment at Court, was grown public, and raised much jealousy of them. The Earl op Bedford and Bill op Attainder. The earl of Bedford secretly undertook to his majesty, that the earl of Strafford’s life should be preserved; and to procure his revenue to be settled, as amply as any of his progenitors, the which he intended so really, that, to my knowledge, he had it in design to endeavour the setting up the excise in England, as the only natural means to advance the king’s profit. He fell sick within a week after the bill of attainder was sent up to the lord’s house; and died shortly after, much afflicted with the passion and fury which he per¬ ceived his party inclined to : insomuch as he declared, to some of near trust with him, ‘ that he feared the rage and madness of this Parliament would bring more prejudice and mischief to the kingdom, than it had ever sustained by the long intermission of parliaments.’ He was a wise man. and would have proposed and advised moderate courses; but was not incapable, for want of resolution, of being carried into violent ones, if his advice would not have been submitted to: and therefore many, who knew him well, thought his death not unseasonable, as well to his fame, as his fortune; and that it rescued him as well from some possible guilt, as from those visible misfortunes, which men of all conditions have since undergone. As soon as the earl of Bedford was dead, the lord Say (hoping to receive the reward of the treasurership) succeeded him in his undertaking, and faithfully promised the King, ‘ that he should not be pressed in the matter of the earl of 72 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. Strafford’s life: ’ and under that promise got credit enough to persuade his majesty to whatsoever he told was necessary to that business. And thereupon, when the bill was depend¬ ing with the lords, and when there was little suspicion that it would pass, though the House of Commons every day by messages endeavoured to quicken them, he persuaded the King ‘ to go to the House of Peers, and, according to custom to send for the House of Commons, and then to declare him¬ self, that he could not, with the safety of a good conscience, ever give his consent to the bill that was there depending before them concerning the earl of Strafford, if it should be brought to him, because he was not satisfied in the point of treason : but he was so fully satisfied that the earl was unfit ever to serve him more, in any condition of employment, that he would join with them in any Act, to make him utterly incapable of ever bearing office, or having any other employ¬ ment in any of his majesty’s dominions: which he hoped would satisfy them.’ This advice, upon the confidence of the giver, the King resolved to follow: but when his resolution was imparted to the earl, he immediately sent his brother to him, beseeching his majesty ‘ by no means to take that way, for that he was most assured it would prove very pernicious to him; and therefore desired, he might depend upon the honour and conscience of the Peers, without his majesty’s interposition.’ The King told his brother, ‘ that he had taken that resolution by the advice of his best friends; but since he liked [it] not, he would decline it.’ The next morning the lord Say came again to him, and finding his majesty altered in his intention, told him, * if he took that course he had advised him, he was sure it would prevail; but if he declined 'it, he could not promise his majesty what would be the issue, and should THE BILL OF ATTAINDER. 73 idd himself absolutely disengaged from any undertaking.’ ' he King observing his positiveness, and conceiving his in- ntions to be very sincere, suffered himself to be guided by m; and immediately went to the house, and said as the ■ her had advised. Whether that lord did in truth believe e discovery of his majesty’s conscience in that manner ould produce the effect he,foretold: or whether he advised treacherously, to bring on those inconveniences which fterwards happened; I know not: but many, who believed i s will to be much worse than his understanding, had the icharitableness to believe, that he intended to betray his aster, and to put the ruin of the earl out of question. The event proved very fatal; for the King no sooner re- urned from the House, than the House of Commons, in great passion and fury, declared this last act of his majesty’s to be the most unparalleled breach of privilege, that had ever hap- [ :ned; that if his majesty might take notice what bills were issing in either House, and declare his own opinion, it was to prejudge their counsels, and they should not be able to . i pply the commonwealth with wholesome laws, suitable to te diseases it laboured under; that this was the greatest istruction of justice, that could be imagined; that they, and hosoever had taken the late protestation, were bound to maintain the privileges of Parliament, which were now so giossly invaded and violated:’ with many other sharp dis- urses to that purpose. The next day great multitudes of people came down to V estminster, and crowded about the House of Peers, ex- I liming with great outcries, ‘that they would have justice;’ i id publicly reading the names of those who had dissented >m that bill in the house of commons, as enemies to their c< untry ; and as any lord passed by, called Justice, justice ! 74 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. and with great rudeness and insolence, pressing upon, and thrusting, those lords whom they suspected not to favour that bill; professing aloud, ‘that they would be governed and disposed by the honourable House of Commons, and would defend their privileges according to their late protestation.’ This unheard of act of insolence and sedition continued so many days, till many lords grew so really apprehensive of having their brains beaten out, that they absented themselves from the House; and others, finding what seconds the House of Commons was like to have to compass whatever they desired, changed their minds; and so in an afternoon, when of the fourscore who had been present at the trial, there were only six and forty lords in the house, (the good people still crying at the doors for justice,) they put the bill to the ques¬ tion, and eleven lords only dissenting, it passed that house, and was ready for the King’s assent. The King continued as resolved never to give his con¬ sent. The same oratory then attended him at Whitehall, which had prevailed at Westminster; and a rabble of many thousand people besieged that place, crying out, Justice, justice; that they would have justice-, not without great and insolent threats and expressions, what they would do, if it were not speedily granted. The Privy-Council was called together, to advise what course was to be taken to suppress these traitorous riots. Instead of considering how to rescue their master's honour and his conscience from this infamous violence and constraint, they press the King to pass the bill of attainder, saying, ‘ there was no other way to preserve himself and his posterity, than by so doing; and therefore that he ought to be more tender of the safety of the king¬ dom, than of any one person how innocent soever :’ not one counsellor interposing his opinion, to support his master’s THE BILL OF ATTAINDER. 75 magnanimity and innocence: they who were of that mind, either suppressing their thoughts through fear, upon the new doctrine established then by the new councillors, ‘ that no man ought to presume to advise any thing in that place con¬ trary to the sense of both Houses; ’ others sadly believing, the force and violence offered to the King would be, before God and man, a just excuse for whatsoever he should do. His majesty told them, ‘ that what was proposed to him to do, was in a diameter contrary to his conscience, and that being so, he was sure they would not persuade him to it, though themselves were never so well satisfied.’ To that point, they desired him ‘to confer with his bishops, who, they made no question, would better inform his conscience.’ The archbishop of York was at hand; who, to his argument of conscience, told him, ‘that there was'a private and a public conscience; that his public conscience as a king might not only dispense with, but oblige him to do that which was against his private conscience as a man: and that the ques¬ tion was not, whether he should save the earl of Strafford, but, whether he should perish with him : that the conscience of a king to preserve his kingdom, the conscience of a husband to preserve his wife, the conscience of a father to preserve his children, (all which were now in danger,) weighed down abundantly all the considerations the conscience of a master or a friend could suggest to him, for the preservation of a friend, or servant.’ And by such unprelatical, ignominious arguments, in plain terms advised him, ‘ even for conscience sake, to pass that act.’ Though the bishop acted his part with more prodigious boldness and impiety, the other of the same function (of whose learning and sincerity the King and the world had greater reverence) did not what might have been expected 7 6 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. from their calling or their trust; but at least forbore to fortify and confirm a conscience, upon the courage and piety of which, themselves and their order did absolutely depend. The Earl op Strafford Beheaded. All things being thus transacted, to conclude the fate of this great person, he was on the twelfth day of May brought from the Tower of London (where he had been a prisoner near six months) to the scaffold on Tower-hill; where, with a composed, undaunted courage, he told the people, ‘ he was come thither to satisfy them with his head; but that he much feared, the reformation which was begun in blood would not prove so fortunate to the kingdom, as they expected, and he wished: ’ and after great expressions ‘ of his devotion to the Church of England, and the Protestant religion established by law', and professed in that Church ; of his loyalty to the King, and affection to the peace and welfare of the kingdom ; ’ with marvellous tranquillity of mind, he delivered his head to the block, where it was severed from his body at a blow : many of the standers by, who had not been over charitable to him in his life, being much affected with the courage and Christianity of his death. Thus fell the greatest subject in power, and little inferior to any in fortune, that was at that time in any of the three kingdoms; who could well remember the time, when he led those people, who then pursued him to his grave. He was a man of great parts, and extraordinary endowments of nature; not unadorned with some addition of art and learning, though that again was more improved and illustrated by the other ; for he had a readiness of conception, and sharpness of ex¬ pression, which made his learning thought more than in truth it was. His first inclinations and addresses to the Court were THE EARL OF STRAFFORD BEHEADED. 77 only to establish his greatness in the country; where he apprehended some acts of power from the old lord Savile, who had been his rival always there, and of late had strength¬ ened himself by being made a Privy Councillor, and officer at Court: but his first attempts were so prosperous, that he contented not himself with being secure from his power in the country, but rested not, till he had bereaved him of all power and place in court; and so sent him down, a most abject, disconsolate old man, to his country, where he was to have the superintendency over him too, by getting himself at that time made lord President of the North. These successes, applied to a nature too elate and arrogant of itself, and a quicker progress into the greatest employments and trust, made him more transported with disdain of other men, and more contemning the forms of business, than happily he would have been, if he had met with some interruptions in the beginning, and had passed in a more leisurely gradation to the office of a statesman. He was, no doubt, of great observation, and a piercing judgment, both into things and persons; but his too good skill in persons made him judge the worse of things: for it was his misfortune to be of a time wherein very few wise men were equally employed with him; and scarce any (but the lord Coventry, whose trust was more confined) whose faculties and abilities were equal to his : so that upon the matter he wholly relied upon himself; and discerning many defects in most men, he too much neglected what they said or did. Of all his passions, his pride was most predominant: which a moderate exercise of ill fortune might have corrected and reformed; and which was by the hand of Heaven strangely punished, by bringing his destruction upon him by two things that he most despised, the people and sir Harry 78 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. Vane. In a word, the epitaph, which Plutarch records that Sylla wrote for himself, may not be unfitly applied to him ; ‘ that no man did ever pass him, either in doing good to his friends, or in doing mischief to his enemies; ’ for his acts of both kinds were most exemplary and notorious. BOOK IV. Montrose and Argyle. There had been, even from the time the Scottish army entered into England, many factions and jealousies amongst the principal persons of that nation, but none so much taken notice of, as that between the two earls, of Montrose, and Argyle. The former took himself to have deserved as much as any man, in contributing more, and appearing sooner, in their first approach towards rebellion; as indeed he was a man of the best quality, who did so soon discover himself, and, it may be, he did it the sooner, in opposition to Argyle; who being then of the King’s Council, he doubted not, would be of his party. The people looked upon them both, as young men of unlimited ambition, and used to say, ‘ that they were like Caesar and Pompey, the one would endure no superior, and the other would have no equal.’ True it is, that from the time that Argyle declared himself against the King (which was immediately after the first paci¬ fication) Montrose appeared with less vigour for the Covenant; and had, by underhand and secret insinuations, made proffer of his service to the King. But now, after his majesty’s arrival in Scotland, by the introduction of Mr. William Murray of the bedchamber, he came privately to the King; and informed him of many particulars, from the beginning of MONTROSE AND ARGYLE. 79 the rebellion ; and, ‘ that the marquis of Hamilton was no less faulty, and false towards his majesty, than Argyle; ’ and offered ‘ to make proof of all in the Parliament; ’ but rather desired ‘ to kill them both ; ’ which he frankly undertook to do; but the king, abhorring that expedient, for his own security, advised, ‘ that the proofs might be prepared for the Parliament.’ When suddenly, on a Sunday morning, the city of Edinburgh was in arms; and Hamilton and Argyle both gone out of the town to their own houses ; where they stood upon their guard; declaring publicly, ‘ that they had withdrawn themselves, because they knew that there was a design to assassinate them; and chose rather to absent themselves, than by standing upon their defence in Edin¬ burgh, which they could well have done, to hazard the public peace and the security of the Parliament; which thundered on their behalf.’ The committee at Edinburgh despatched away an express to London, with a dark and perplexed account, in the morn¬ ing that the two lords had left the city ; with many doubtful expressions, ‘ what the end of it would be; ’ not without some dark insinuations, as if the design might look farther than Scotland. And these letters were brought to London, the day before the Houses were to come together, after the recess; all that party taking pains to persuade others, * that it could not but be a design to assassinate more men than those lords at Edinburgh.’ And the morning the Houses were to meet, Mr. Hyde being walking in Westminster-hall, with the earl of Holland and the earl of Essex, both the earls seemed wonderfully concerned at it; and to believe, ‘ that other men were in danger of the like assaults: ’ the other not thinking the apprehension worthy of them, told them merrily, ‘ that he 8o SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. knew well what opinions they both had of those two lords, a year or two before, and he wondered how they became so altered: ’ to which they answered smiling, ‘ that the times and the Court was much altered since.’ And the Houses were no sooner sat, but the report being made in the House c Commons, and the committee’s letter from Scotland being read, a motion was made, ‘ to send to the house of peers, that the earl of Essex, who was left by the king general on this side Trent, might be desired to appoint such a guard, a- he thought competent for the security of the Parliament, constantly to attend while the Houses sat; ’ which was don accordingly; and continued, till they thought fit to haw other guards. All which was done to amuse the people, a? if the parliament was in danger: when in Scotland all things were quickly pacified; and ended in creating the marquis ol Hamilton a duke, and Argyle a marquis. There was another accident happened a little before, of which the indisposition in Scotland was the effect, the death t f the earl of Rothes, a man mentioned before, of the highest authority in the contriving and carrying on the rebellion i Scotland, and now the principal commissioner in Englanu and exceedingly courted by all the party which governed Whether he found that he had raised a spirit that would not be so easily conjured down again, and yet would not be a- entirely governed by him as it had been; or whether 1 e desired from the beginning only to mend his own fortum or was converted in his judgment that the action he wa engaged in was not warrantable, certain it is, that he had not been long in England, before he liked both the kingdom an the court so well, that he was not willing to part with either. He was of a pleasant and jovial humour, without any of those constraints which the formality of that time made that pari MONTROSE AND ARGYLE. 8l subject themselves to; and he played his game so dexterously, that he was well assured upon a fair composition that the Scots’ army should return home well paid, and that they should be contented with the mischief they had already done, without fomenting the distempers in England. He was to marry a noble lady of a great and ample fortune and wealth, and should likewise be made a gentleman of the King’s bed¬ chamber, and a Privy Councillor; and upon these advantages made his condition in this kingdom as pleasant as he could; and in order thereunto, he resolved to preserve the King’s power as high as he could in all his dominions. When any extraordinary accidents attend those private contracts, men naturally are very free in their censures, and so his sudden falling into a sickness, and from a great vigour of body, in the flower of his age, (for he was little more than thirty,) into a weakness, which was not usual, nor could the physi¬ cians discover the ground of it, administered much occasions of discourse; and that his countrymen too soon discovered his conversion. He was not able to attend upon his majesty to Scotland; where he was to have acted a great part; but he hoped to have been able to have followed him thither. His weakness increased so fast, that by the time the King was entered that kingdom, the earl died at Richmond, whither he retired for the benefit of the air; and his death put an end to all hopes of good quarter with that nation; and made him submit to all the uneasy and intolerable conditions there, they could impose upon him. Yet he returned from thence with some confidence that he should receive no more trouble from thence, the principal persons there having made him great acknowledgment, and greater professions; (for which he had given them all they could desire, and indeed all and more than he had to give:) and Lesley the general, whom he made G 82 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. earl of Leven, with precedence of all earls for his life, had told him voluntarily, and with an oath, that he would not only never serve against him, but would do him any service he should command, right or wrong. The Grand Remonstrance. About the time the news came of the King’s being, to begin his journey from Scotland upon a day appointed, and that he had settled all things in that kingdom to the general satisfaction, the committee for preparing the Remonstrance offered their report to the House; which caused the draught they offered to be read. It contained a very bitter represen¬ tation of all the illegal things which had been done, from the first hour of the King’s coming to the crown, to that minute ; with all those sharp reflections which could be made, upon the King himself, the Queen, and Council; and published all the unreasonable jealousies of the present government, of the introducing Popery; and all other particulars, which might disturb the minds of the people; which were enough discomposed. The House seemed generally to dislike it; many saying, ‘ that it was very unnecessary, and unseasonable: unneces¬ sary, all those grievances being already fully redressed; and the liberty and property of the subject being as well secured for the future, as could possibly be done: and then that it was very unseasonable, after the King had gratified them, with granting every thing which they had desired of him ; and after so long absence, in the settling the disorders in another kingdom, w'hich he had happily composed; to be now welcomed home with such a volume of reproaches, for what others had done amiss, and which he himself had THE GRAND REMONSTRANCE. 83 reformed.’ Notwithstanding all which, all the other party appeared passionately concerned that it might not be re¬ jected ; and enlarged themselves with as high expressions against the government, as at first; with many insinuations, ‘ that we were in danger of being deprived of all the good Acts which we had gained, if great care and vigilance was not used, to disappoint some counsels which were still enter¬ tained;’ making doubtful glances and reflections upon the rebellion in Ireland, (with which they perceived many good men were easily amused,) and in the end prevailed, ‘ that a day should be appointed, when the House should be resolved into a grand committee, and the Remonstrance to be then retaken into consideration:’ and in the mean time they employed all their credit and interest with particular men, to persuade them, ‘ that the passing that Remonstrance was most necessary, for the preservation and maintenance of all those good laws which they had already made;’ giving several reasons to several persons, according to their natures and inclinations ; assuring many, ‘ that they intended it only for the mortification of the Court, and manifestation that that malignant party, which appeared to be growing up in the House, could not prevailand then ‘ that it should remain still in the clerk’s hands, and never be published.’ And by these, and the like arts, they promised themselves, that they should easily carry it: so that the day it was to be resumed, they entertained the house all the morning with other debates, and towards noon called for the Remonstrance; and it being urged by some, ‘ that it was too late to enter upon it, with much difficulty they consented, that it should be entered upon the next morning at nine of the clock; and every clause should be debated, the Speaker in the chair;’ for they would not have the House resolved into a committee, c 2 8 4 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. which they believed would spend too much time. Oliver Cromwell (who, at that time, was little taken notice of) asked the lord Falkland, ‘ Why he would have it put off, for that day would quickly have determined it ? ’ He answered, ‘ There would not have been time enough, for sure it would take some debate.’ The other replied, ‘A very sorry one:’ they supposing, by the computation they had made, that very few would oppose it. But he quickly found he was mistaken : for the next morning, the debate being entered upon about nine of the clock in the morning, it continued all that day; and candles being called for when it grew dark, (neither side being very desirous to adjourn it till the next day; though it was evi¬ dent, very many withdrew themselves out of pure faintness and disability to attend the conclusion,) the debate con¬ tinued, till after it was twelve of the clock, with much pas¬ sion ; and the House being then divided, upon the passing or not passing it, it was carried for the affirmative, by nine voices, and no more : and as soon as it was declared, Mr. Hambden moved, ‘ that there might be an order entered for the present printing it;’ which produced a sharper debate than the former. It appeared then, that they did not intend to send it up to the House of Peers for their con¬ currence ; but that it was upon the matter an appeal to the people, and to infuse jealousies into their minds. It had never been the custom to publish any debates, or deter¬ minations of the House, which were not regularly first trans¬ mitted to the House of Peers; nor was it thought, in truth, that the Plouse had authority to give warrant for the printing of any thing ; all which was offered by Mr. Hyde, with some warmth, as soon as the motion was made for the printing it; and he said, ‘ he did believe the printing it in that LORD DIGBY. 85 manner was not lawful ; and he feared it would produce mischievous effects; and therefore desired the leave of the House, that if the question should be put, and carried in the affirmative, that he might have liberty to enter his protesta¬ tion ; ’ which he no sooner said, than Geffery Palmer (a man of great reputation, and much esteemed in the House) stood up, and made the same motion for himself, ‘ that he might likewise protest.’ When immediately together many after¬ wards, without distinction, and in some disorder, cried out, ‘They did protest:’ so that there was after scarce any quiet and regular debate. But the House by degrees being quieted, they all consented, about two of the clock in the morning, to adjourn till two of the clock the next afternoon. And as they went out of the House, the lord Falkland asked Oliver Cromwell, ‘ whether there had been a debate ? ’ to which he answered, ‘ that he would take his word another time;’ and whispered him in the ear, with some asseveration, ‘ that if the Remonstrance had been rejected, he would have sold all he had the next morning, and never have seen England more ; and he knew there were many other honest men of the same resolution.’ So near was the poor kingdom at that time to its deliverance. Lord Digby. By what hath been said before, it appears, that the lord Digby was much trusted by the King, and he was of great familiarity and friendship with the other three', at least with two of them; for he was not a man of that exactness, as to be in the entire confidence of the lord Falkland, who looked upon his infirmities with more severity than the other two did ; and he lived with more frankness towards those two, 1 [Falkland, Sir John Colepeper, and Hyde.] 86 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. than he did towards the other : yet between those two there was a free conversation and kindness to each other. He was a man of very extraordinary parts by nature and art, and had surely as good and excellent an education as any man of that age in any country : a graceful and beautiful person; of great eloquence and becomingness in his dis¬ course, (save that sometimes he seemed a little affected,) and of so universal a knowledge, that he never wanted subject for a discourse: he was equal to a very good part in the greatest affair, but the unfittest man alive to conduct it, having an ambition and vanity superior to all his other parts, and a confidence peculiar to himself, which sometimes in¬ toxicated, and transported, and exposed him. He had from his youth, by the disobligations his family had undergone from the duke of Buckingham, and the great men who succeeded him, and some sharp reprehension himself had met with, which obliged him to a country life, contracted a prejudice and ill-will to the Court; and so had in the beginning of the Parliament engaged himself with that party which discovered most aversion from it, with a passion and animosity equal to their own, and therefore very acceptable to them. But when he was weary of their violent counsels, and withdrew himself from them with some circumstances which enough provoked them, and made a reconciliation, and mutual confidence in each other for the future, mani¬ festly impossible; he made private and secret offers of his service to the King, to whom, in so general a defection of his servants, it could not but be very agreeable: and so his majesty being satisfied, both in the discoveries he made of what had passed, and in his professions for the future, removed him from the House of Commons, where he had rendered himself marvellously ungracious, and called him by LORD DIGBY. «7 writ to the House of Peers, where he did visibly advance the King’s service, and quickly rendered himself grateful to all those who had not thought too well of him before, when he deserved less; and men were not only pleased with the assistance he gave upon all debates, by his judgment and vivacity, but looked upon him as one, who could derive the King’s pleasure to them, and make a lively representation of their good demeanour to the King, which he was very luxuriant in promising to do, and officious enough in doing as much as was just. Hyd& sfai'Sj -Hie*!- DiGt He had been instrumental in promoting the three persons above mentioned to the King’s favour; and had himself, in truth, so great an esteem of them, that he did very frequently, upon conference together, depart from his own inclinations and opinions, and concurred in theirs; and very few men of so great parts are, upon all occasions, more counsellable than he; so that he would seldom be in danger of running into great errors, if he would communicate and expose all his own thoughts and inclinations to such a disquisition ; nor is he uninclinable in his nature to such an entire com¬ munication in all things which he conceived to be difficult. But his fatal infirmity is, that he too often thinks difficult things very easy; and doth not consider possible conse¬ quences, when the proposition administers somewhat that is delightful to his fancy, and by pursuing whereof he imagines he shall reap some glory to himself, of which he is-immoderately ambitious; so that, if the consultation be upon any action to be done, no man more implicitly enters into that debate, or more cheerfully resigns his own con¬ ceptions to a joint determination: but when it is once affirmatively resolved, (besides that he may possibly reserve some impertinent circumstance, as he thinks, the imparting 88 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. whereof would change the nature of the thing,) if his fancy suggests to him any particular, which himself might perform in that action, upon the imagination that every body would approve it, if it were proposed to them, he chooses rather to do it, than to communicate, that he may have some signal part to himself in the transaction, in which no other person can claim a share. And by this unhappy temper he did often involve himself in very unprosperous attempts. The-King himself was the unfittest person alive to be served by such a counsellor, being too easily inclined to sudden enterprises, and as easily amazed when they were entered upon. And from this unhappy composition in the one, and the other, a very unhappy counsel was entered upon, and resolution taken, without the least communication with either of the three, [who] had been so lately admitted to an entire trust. be 5 The Arrest op the Five Members. e l The House of Peers was somewhat appalled at this alarum 1 but took time to consider of it, till the next day, that they might see how their masters the Commons would behave themselves; the lord Kimbolton being present in the House, and making great professions of his innocence ; and no lord being so hardy [as] to press for his commitment on the behalf of the King. At the same time, a sergeant at arms demanded to be heard at the House of Commons from the King ; and being sent for to the bar, demanded the persons of the five mem • bers to be delivered to him in his majesty’s name, his majesty having accused them of high treason. But the 1 [The articles of impeachment were sent to the House of Peers, Jai 23, 1642.] THE ATTEST OF THE FIVE MEMBETS. 89 Commons were not much surprised with the accident; for besides that they quickly knew what had passed with the Lords, some servants of the King’s, by especial warrant, had visited the lodgings of some of the accused members, and sealed up their studies and trunks; upon information whereof, before the sergeant came to the House, or public notice was taken of the accusation, an order was made by he Commons ; ‘ That if any person whatsoever should come 0 the lodgings of any member of that House, and there offer to seal the doors, trunks, or papers of such members, or to seize upon their persons; that then such members should require the aid of the next constable, to keep such persons in safe custody, till the House should give further order : that if any person whatsoever should offer to arrest >r detain any member of that House, without first acquaint- ng that House therewith, and receiving further order from i'hence; that it should be lawful for such member to stand :ipon his guard, and make resistance, and [for] any person io assist him, according to the protestation taken to defend the privileges of Parliament.’ And so, when the sergeant ad delivered his message, he was no more called in ; but a message sent to the King, ‘ that the members should be t arthcoming as soon as a legal charge should be preferred gainst them ;’ and so the House adjourned till the next ay, every one of the accused persons taking a copy of that rder, which was made for their security. The next day in the afternoon, the King, attended only by is own guard, and some few gentlemen, who put them- alves into their company in the way, came to the House of Commons; and commanding all his attendants to wait at the door, and to give offence to no man ; himself, with his ephew, the Prince Elector, went into the House, to the great 9 o SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. amazement of all: and the Speaker leaving the chair, the King went into it; and told the House, ‘ he was sorry for that occasion of coming to them; that yesterday he had sent his sergeant at arms to apprehend some, that, by his command, were accused of high treason; whereunto he expected obedience, but instead thereof he had received a message. He declared to them, that no King of England had been ever, or should be, more careful to maintain their privileges, than he would be; but that in cases of treason no man had privilege; and therefore he came to see if any of those persons, whom he had accused, were there; for he was resolved to have them, wheresoever he should find them: and looking then about, and asking the Speaker whether they w-ere in the House, and he making no answer, he said, he perceived the birds were all flown , but expected they should be sent to him, as soon as they returned thither; and assured them in the word of a King, that he never intended any force, but would proceed against them in a fair and legal w'ay;’ and so returned to Whitehall. The accused persons, upon information and intelligence w r hat his majesty intended to do, how secretly soever it was carried at court, having withdrawn from the House about half an hour before the King came thither; the House, in great disorder, as soon as the King was gone, adjourned till the next day in the afternoon ; the Lords being in so great apprehension upon notice of the King’s being at the House of Commons, that the earl of Essex expressed a tender sense he had of the inconveniences which were like to ensue those divisions; and moved, ‘that the House of Peers, as a work very proper for them, would interpose between the King and his people ; and mediate to his majesty on the behalf of the persons accused; ’ for which he was reprehended by his THE ARREST OF THE FIVE MEMBERS. 91 friends, and afterwards laughed at himself, when he found how much a stronger defence they had, than the best media¬ tion could prove on their behalf. How secretly soever this affair was carried, it was evident that the King’s [resolution of] coming to the House was dis¬ covered, by the members withdrawing themselves, and by a composedness, which appeared in the countenances of many, who used to be disturbed at less surprising occurrences; and though the purpose of accusing the members was only consulted between the King and the lord Digby; yet it was generally believed, that the King’s purpose of going to the house was communicated to William Murray of the bed¬ chamber, with whom the lord Digby had great friendship; and that it was betrayed by him. And that lord, who had promised the King to move the House for the commitment of the lord Kimbolton, as soon as the Attorney General should have accused him, (which if he had done would probably have raised a very hot dispute in the House, where many would have joined with him,) never spake the least word ; but, on the contrary, seemed the most surprised and per¬ plexed with the Attorney’s impeachment; and sitting at that time next to the lord Kimbolton, with whom he pretended to live with much friendship, he whispered him in the ear with some commotion, (as he had a rare talent in dissimula¬ tion,) ‘ that the King was very mischievously advised : and that it should go very hard, but he would know whence that counsel proceeded ; in order to which, and to prevent further mischief, he would go immediately to his majesty;’ and so went out of the House; whereas he was the only person who gave the counsel, named the persons, and particularly named the lord Kimbolton, (against whom less could be said than against many others, and who was more generally 92 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. beloved,) and undertook to prove that he bade the rabble, when they were about the Parliament House, that they should go to Whitehall. And when he found the ill success of the impeach¬ ment in both Houses, and how unsatisfied all were with the proceeding, he advised the King the next morning to go to the Guildhall, and to inform the mayor and aldermen of the grounds of his proceeding; which will be mentioned anon. And that people might not believe, that there was any dejection of mind, or sorrow, for what was done; the same night, the same council caused a proclamation to be prepared for the stopping the ports; that the accused persons might not escape out of the kingdom ; and to forbid all persons to receive and harbour them : when it was well known, that they were all together in a house in the city, without any fear of their security. And all this was done without the least com¬ munication with any body, but the lord Digby, who advised it; and, it is very true, was so willing to take the utmost hazard upon himself, that he did offer the King, when he knew in what house they were together, with a select com¬ pany of gentlemen, who would accompany him, whereof sir Thomas Lunsford was one, to seize upon them, and bring them away alive, or leave them dead in the place : but the King liked not such enterprises. That night the persons accused removed themselves into their strong hold, the city: not that they durst not venture themselves at their old lodgings, for no man would have presumed to trouble them, but that the city might see, that they relied upon that place for a sanctuary of their privileges against violence and oppression; and so might put on an early concernment for them. And they were not disap¬ pointed ; for, in spite of all the lord mayor could do to compose their distempers, (who, like a very wise and THE ATTEST OF THE FIVE MEMBETS. 93 stout magistrate, bestirred himself,) the city was that whole night in arms; some people, designed to that purpose, running from one gate to another, and crying out, ‘ that the Cavaliers were coming to fire the city;’ and some saying, ‘ that the King himself was in the head of them.’ The next morning, the King, being informed of much that had passed that night, according to the advice he had received, sent to the lord mayor to call a Common Council immediately; and about ten of the clock, himself, attended only by three or four lords, went to the Guildhall; and in the room, where the people were assembled, told them, ‘ he was very sorry to hear of the apprehensions they had entertained of danger; that he was come to them, to shew how much he relied upon their affections for his security and guard, having brought no other with him; that he had accused certain men of high treason, against whom he would proceed in a legal way; and therefore he presumed they would not shelter them in the city.’ And using many other very gracious expressions of his value of them, and telling one of the sheriffs, (who was of the two thought less inclined to his service,) ‘ that he would dine with him,’ he departed without that applause and cheerfulness, which he might have ex¬ pected from the extraordinary grace he vouchsafed to them ; and in his passage through the city, the rude people flocking together, and crying out, ‘ Privilege of parliament, privilege of parliament;’ some of them pressing very near his own coach, and amongst the rest one calling out with a very loud voice, ‘ To your tents, O Israel.’ However the King, though much mortified, continued his resolution, taking little notice of the distempers; and, having dined at the sheriff’s, returned in the afternoon to Whitehall; and published, the next day, a proclamation for the apprehension of all those, whom he 94 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. accused of high treason, forbidding any person to harbour them ; the articles of their charge being likewise printed and dispersed. The City op London. The city of London, as the metropolis of England, by the situation the most capable of trade, and by the most usual residence of the Court, and the fixed station of the courts of justice for the public administration of justice throughout the kingdom, the chief seat of trade, was by the successive countenance and favour of princes, strengthened with great charters and immunities, and was a corporation governed within itself; the mayor, recorder, aldermen, sheriffs, chosen by themselves ; several companies incorpo¬ rated within the great corporation; which, besides notable privileges, enjoyed lands and perquisites to a very great revenue. By the incredible increase of trade, which the distractions of other countries, and the peace of this, brought, and by the great license of resort thither, it was, since the access of the crown to this King, in riches, in people, in buildings, marvellously increased, insomuch as the suburbs were almost equal to the city; a reformation of which has been often in contemplation, never pursued, wise men fore¬ seeing that such a fulness could not be there, without an emptiness in other places; and whilst so many persons of honour and estates were so delighted with the city, the government of the country must be neglected, besides the excess, and ill husbandry, that would be introduced thereby. But such foresight was interpreted a morosity, and too great an oppression upon the common liberty; and so, little was applied to prevent so growing a disease. As it had these and many other advantages and helps to THE CITY OF LONDON. 95 be rich, so it was looked upon too much of late time as a common stock not easy to be exhausted, and as a body not to be grieved by ordinary acts of injustice; and therefore, it was not only a resort, in all cases of necessity, for the sudden borrowing great sums of money, in which they were com¬ monly too good merchants for the Crown, but it was thought reasonable upon any specious pretences, to void the security, that was at any time given for money so borrowed. So after many questionings of their charter, which were ever removed by considerable sums of money, a grant made by the King in the beginning of his reign, (in consideration of great sums of money,) of good quantities of land in Ireland, and the city of Londonderry there, was avoided by a suit in the Star-Chamber, all the lands, after a vast expense in building and planting, resumed into the King’s hands, and a fine of fifty thousand pounds imposed upon the city. Which sentence being pronounced after a long and public hearing, during which time they were often invited to a composition, both in respect of the substance, and the circumstances of proceeding, made a general impression in the minds of the citizens of all conditions, much to the disadvantage of the Court; and though the King afterwards remitted to them the benefit of that sentence, they imputed that to the power of the Parliament, and rather remembered how it had been taken from them, than by whom it was restored: so that, at the beginning of the Parliament, the city was as ill affected to the Court as the country was: and therefore chose such burgesses to sit there, as had either eminently opposed it, or accidentally been oppressed by it. The chief government and superintendency of the city is in the mayor and aldermen ; which, in that little kingdom, 9 6 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. resembles the House of Peers ; and as subordinate the Com¬ mon Council is the representative body thereof, like the House of Commons, to order and agree to all taxes, rates, and such particulars belonging to the civil policy. The Common Council are chosen every year, so many for every parish, of the wisest and most substantial citizens, by the vestry and common convention of the people of that parish; and as the wealthiest and best reputed men were always chosen, so, though the election was once a year, it was scarce ever known, that any man once chosen was afterwards rejected or left out, except upon discovery of an enormous crime, or decaying in fortune to a bankrupt; otherwise, till he was called to be alderman, or died, he continued, and was every year returned of the Common Council. The Marquis of Hertford. The marquis of Hertford was a man of great honour, great interest in fortune and estate, and of an universal esteem over the kingdom; and though he had received many and continued disobligations from the Court, from the time of this King’s coming to the crown, as well as during the reign of King James, in both which seasons, more than ordinary care had been taken to discountenance and lessen his interest; yet he had carried himself with notable steadi¬ ness from the beginning of the parliament, in the support and defence of the King’s power and dignity, notwithstanding all his allies, and those with whom he had the greatest familiarity and friendship, were of the opposite party; and never concurred with them against the earl of Strafford, (whom he was known not to love,) nor in any other ex¬ travagancy. THE MARQUIS OF HERTFORD. 97 And then, he was not to be shaken in his affection to the government of the Church ; though it was enough known that he was in no degree biassed by any great inclination to the person of any churchman. And with all this, that party carried themselves towards him with profound respect, not presuming to venture their own credit in endeavouring to lessen his. It is very true, in many respects he wanted some of those qualities, which might have been wished to be in a person to be trusted in the education of a great and a hopeful Prince, and in the forming of his mind and manners in so tender an age. He was of an age not fit for much activity and fatigue, and loved, and was even wedded so much to his ease, that he loved his book above all exercises; and had even contracted such a laziness of mind, that he had no delight in an open and liberal conversation; and cared not to discourse, and argue on those points, which he under¬ stood very well, only for the trouble of contending; and could never impose upon himself the pain that was necessary to be undergone in such a perpetual attendance. But then those lesser duties might be otherwise provided for, and he could well support the dignity of a governor, and exact that diligence from others, which he could not exercise himself; and his honour was so unblemished, that none durst murmur against the designation : and therefore his majesty thought him very worthy of the high trust, against which there was no other exception, but that he was not ambitious of it, nor in truth willing >to receive and undergo the charge, so con¬ trary to his natural constitution. But [in] his pure zeal and affection for the Crown, and the conscience, that in this conjuncture his submission might advance the King’s service, and that the refusing it might prove disadvantageous to his H gH SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. majesty, he very cheerfully undertook the province, to the general satisfaction and public joy of the whole kingdom ; and to the no little honour and credit of the Court, that so important and beloved a person would attach himself to it under such a relation, when so many, who had scarce ever eaten any bread but the King’s, detached themselves from their dependence, that they might without him, and against him, preserve and improve those fortunes, which they had procured and gotten under him, and by his bounty. BOOK V. Eabls of Holland and Essex. When the King came to York, he found himself at ease; the country had received him with great expressions of joy and duty, and all persons of quality of that great county, and of the counties adjacent, resorted to him, and many persons of condition from London, and those parts, who had not the courage to attend upon him at Whitehall; so that the Court appeared with some lustre. And now he began to think of executing some of those resolutions, which he had made with the Queen before her departure; one of which was, and to be first done, the removing the earls of Essex and Holland from their offices in the Court, the one of chamberlain, the other of groom of the stole, which hath the reputation and benefit of being first gentleman of the bedchamber. Indeed no man could speak in the justification of either of them, yet no man thought them both equally culpable. The earl of Holland was a person merely of the King’s creation; raised from the condition of a private gentleman, a younger brother EARLS OF HOLLAND AND ESSEX. 99 of an extraction that lay under a great blemish, and without any fortune, to a great height by the King’s mere favour and bounty. And he had not only adorned him with titles, honours, and offices, but enabled him to support those in the highest lustre, and with the largest expense: and had drawn many inconveniences, and great disadvantages, upon himself and his service, by his preferring him to some trusts, which others did not only think themselves, but really were, worthier of; but especially by indulging him so far in the rigorous execution of his office of Chief Justice in Eyre, in which he brought more prejudice upon the Court, and more discontent upon the king, from the most considerable part of the nobility and gentry in England, than any one action, that had its rise from the King’s will and pleasure, though it w r as not without some warrant from law; which having not been practised for some hundreds of years, was looked upon as a terrible innovation and exaction upon persons, who knew not that they were in any fault ; nor was any imputed to them, but the original sin of their forefathers, even for which they were obliged to pay great penalties and ransoms. That such a servant should suffer his zeal to lessen and decay towards such a master, and that he should keep a title to lodge in his bedchamber, from whose Court he had upon the matter withdrawn himself, and adhered to and assisted those who affronted and contemned his majesty so notori¬ ously, would admit of no manner of interposition and excuse. Less was to be objected against the earl of Essex, who, as he had been, all his life, without obligations from the Court, and believed he had undergone oppression there, so he was, in all respects, the same man he had always professed him¬ self to be, when the King put him into that office; and in H 2 [OO SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. receiving of which, many men believed, that he rather gratified the King, than that his majesty had obliged him in conferring it; and it had been, no doubt, the chief reason of putting the staff in his hand, because in that conjuncture no other man, who would in any degree have appeared worthy of it, had the courage to receive it. However having taken the charge upon him, he ought, no doubt, to have taken all his master’s concernments more to heart, than he had done; and he can never be excused for staying in Whitehall, when the King was with that outrage driven from thence, and for choosing to behold the triumph of the members’ return to Westminster, rather than to attend his majesty’s person in so great perplexity to Hampton-court, which had been his duty to have done, and for failing wherein no other excuse can be made, but that, after he had taken so full a resolution to have waited upon his majesty thither, that he had dressed himself in his travelling habit, he was diverted from it by the earl of Holland, who ought to have accompanied him in the service, and by his averment, ‘ that if he went, he should be assassinated;' which was never thought of. Sir John Hotham. As soon as it was known that his majesty meant to reside in York, it was easily suspected, that he had an eye upon the magazine; and therefore they made an order in both Houses, ‘ That the magazine should be removed from Hull to the Tower;’ and ships were making ready for the trans¬ portation; so that his majesty could no longer defer the execut'on of what he designed. And, being persuaded, by SIR JOHN HOTHAM. IOI some who believed themselves, that, if he went thither, it would neither be in sir John Hotham’s will, or his power, to keep him out of that town; and that, being possessed of so considerable a port, and of the magazine there, he should find a better temper towards a modest and dutiful treaty ; his majesty took the opportunity of a petition presented to him by the gentlemen of Yorkshire, who in truth were much troubled at the order for removing the magazine from Hull; and were ready to appear in any thing for his service, by which ‘ they desired him to cast his eyes and thoughts upon the safety of his own person, and his princely issue, and that whole county; a great means whereof, they said, did consist in the arms and ammunition at Hull, placed there by his princely care and charge; and since, upon general apprehensions of dangers from foreign parts, thought fit to be continued: and they did very earnestly beseech him, that he would take such course, that it might still remain there, for the better securing those, and the rest of the northern parts.’ Hereupon he resolved to go thither himself; and, the night before, he sent his son the duke of York, who was lately arrived from Richmond, accompanied with the prince Elector, thither, with some other persons of honour; who knew no more, than that it was a journey given to the pleasure and curiosity of the duke. Sir John Hotham received them with that duty and civility that became him. The next morning early, the king took horse from York; and, attended with two or three hundred of his servants, and gentlemen of the country, rode thither; and, when he came within a mile of the town, sent a gentleman to sir John Hotham, ‘ to let him know that the king would that day dine with him ; ’ with which he was strangely surprised, or seemed to be so. 102 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. It was then reported, and was afterwards averred by himself to some friends, that he had received the night before advertisement, from a person very near to, and very much trusted by his majesty, of the King’s purpose of coming thither, and that there was a resolution of hanging him, or cutting his throat as soon as he was in the town. The man was of a fearful nature, and perplexed under¬ standing, and could better resolve upon deliberation than on a sudden; and many were of opinion, that if he had been prepared dexterously beforehand, and in confidence, he would have conformed to the King’s pleasure ; for he was master of a noble fortune in land, and rich in money, of a very ancient family, and well allied, his affections to the govern¬ ment very good, and no man less desired to see the nation involved in a civil war, than he: and, when he accepted this employment from the Parliament, he never imagined it would engage him in rebellion; but believed, that the King would find it necessary to comply with the advice of his two Houses; and that the preserving that magazine from being possessed by him, would likewise prevent any possible rupture into arms. He was now in great confusion; and calling some of the chief magistrates, and other officers, together to consult, they persuaded him, not to suffer the king to enter into the town. And his majesty coming within an hour after his messenger, found the gates shut, and the bridges drawn, and the walls manned; all things being in a readiness for the reception of an enemy. Sir John Holham himself from the walls, with several professions of duty, and many ex¬ pressions of fear, telling his majesty, ‘ that he durst not open the gates, being trusted by the Parliament; ’ the King told him, ‘ that he believed he had no order from the Parliament SIR JOHN HOTHAM. IO3 to shut the gates against him, or to keep him out of the town.’ He replied, ‘that his train was so great, that if it were admitted, he should not be able to give a good account of the town.’ Whereupon the King offered ‘ to enter with twenty horse only, and that the rest should stay without.’ The which the other refusing, the King desired him ‘ to come to him, that he might confer with him, upon his princely word of safety, and liberty to return.’ And when he excused himself likewise from that, his majesty told him, ‘ that as the act of his was unparalleled, so it would produce some notable effect; that it was not possible for him to sit down by such an indignity, but that he would immediately proclaim him traitor, and proceed against him as such; that this dis¬ obedience of his would probably bring many miseries upon the kingdom, and much loss of blood; all which might be prevented, if he performed the duty of a subject; and therefore advised him to think sadly of it, and to prevent the necessary growth of so many calamities, which must lie all upon his conscience.’ The gentleman, with much dis¬ traction in his looks, talked confusedly of ‘ the trust he had from the Parliament;’ then fell on his knees, and wished, ‘that God would bring confusion upon him, and his, if he were not a loyal and faithful subject to his majesty;’ but, in conclusion, plainly denied to suffer his majesty to come into the town. Whereupon, the King caused him im¬ mediately to be proclaimed a traitor; which the other received with some expressions of undutifulness and con¬ tempt. And so the King, after the duke of York, and prince Elector, with their retinue, were come out of the town, where they were kept some hours, was forced to retire that night to Beverly, four miles from that place ; and so the next day returned to York, full of trouble and indignation for the 104 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. affront he had received; which he foresaw would produce a world of mischief. It was a wonderful influence, that this noble person’s stars (which used to lead him into and out of the greatest perplexi¬ ties and dangers, throughout the whole course of his life) had upon this whole affair. Hotham was, by his nature and education, a rough and a rude man; of great covetousness, of great pride, and great ambition ; without any bowels of good nature, or the least sense or touch of generosity; his parts were not quick and sharp, but composed, and he judged well; he was a man of craft, and more like to deceive, than to be cozened : yet, after all this, this young nobleman, known and abhorred by him, for his admirable faculty of dissimulation, had so far prevailed, and imposed upon his spirit, that he resolved to practise that virtue, which the other had imputed to him ; and which he was absolutely without ; and not to suffer him to fall into the hands of his enemies He sent for him, the next day, and at an hour when he was more vacant from attendants and observers ; and, at first, told him his resolution; 1 that, since he had so frankly put himself into his hands, he would not deceive his trust; ’ an ' wished him ‘ to consider, in what way, and by what colour, he should so set him at liberty, that he might, without anv other danger, arrive at the place where he would be. For he said, ‘ he would not trust any person living with the secret and least of all his son; ’ whom he mentioned with all the bitterness imaginable, ‘ as a man of an ill nature, and furiously addicted to the worst designs the Parliament had, or could have; and one that was more depended upon by them thar himself, and sent thither only as a spy upon him.’ And 1 [Lord Digby, who came to Sir John Hotham in disguise.) SIR JOHN NOTH AM. 105 ;'rom hence he entered upon the discourse ‘ of the times, and mischief that was like to befall the whole kingdom, from this difference between the King and the Parliament.’ Then amented his own fate, : that, being a man of very different principles from those who drove things to this extremity, and of entire affection and duty to the King, he should now be looked upon as the chief ground and cause of the civil war which was to ensue, by his not opening the ports, when the King would have entered into the town : ’ of which business, and of all the circumstances attending it, he spake at large; ind avowed, ‘ that the information sent him of the King’s pur¬ pose presently to hang him, was the true cause of his having proceeded in that manner.’ The lord Digby, who knew well enough how to cultivate •very period of such a discourse, and how to work upon those passions which were most predominant in him, joined with him in the sense of the calamities, which were like to befall . he nation ; which he bewailed pathetically ; and, ‘ that it hould be in the power of a handful of ill men, corrupted in 1 heir affections to the king, and against monarchy itself, [to be] able to involve him, and many others of his clear inten- 1 ons, in their dark counsels, and to engage them to prosecute nds which they abhorred, and which must determine in the . ain of all the undertakers. For, he told him, that the King, n a short time, would reduce all his enemies : that the hearts f the people were already, in all places, aliened from them ; md that the fleet was so much at the King’s disposal, that, as oon as they should receive his orders, they would appear in , ny place he appointed: that all the princes in Christendom v ere concerned in the quarrel, and would engage in it, as soon as they should be invited to it: and that the prince of Orange was resolved to come over in the head of his army, ic6 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. and would take Hull in three days.’ All which ought, reasonably, to have been true in the practick, though it had very little ground in the speculation. And when he had, by degrees, amused and terrified him with this discourse, he enlarged upon ! the honour and glory that man would have, who could be so blessed, as to prevent this terrible mass of confusion, that was in view : that King and people would join in rewarding him with honours and preferments of all kind; and that his name would be derived to posterity, as the pre¬ server of his country.’ He told him, ‘ He was that man, that could do all this; that, by delivering up Hull to the King, he might extinguish the war; and that immediately a peace would be established throughout the kingdom : that the world believed, that he had some credit both with the King and Queen ; that he would employ it all in his service ; and if he would give him this rise to begin upon, he should find, that he would be much more solicitous for his greatness, and a full recompence for his merit, than he was now for his own safety.’ All these advertisements and reflections were the subject of more than one discourse; for sir John Hotham could not bear the variety and burden of all those thoughts together; but within two days all things were adjusted between them. Hotham said, ‘ it w'ould not become him, after such a refusal, to put the town into the King’s hands; nor could he undertake (if he resolved) to effect it; the town itself being in no degree affected to his service; and the trained bands, of which the garrison wholly consisted, were under officers, upon whom he could not depend. But,’ he said, ‘ if the King would come before the town, though with but one regiment, and plant his cannon against it, and make but one shot, he should think he had discharged his trust to the Parliament, as far as he ought to do; and that he would THE LORD KEEPER LITTLETON. 1 07 immediately then deliver up the town ; which he made no doubt but that he should be able to do.’ And, on this errand, he was contented the lord Digby should go to the King, and be conducted out of the town beyond the limits of danger; the governor having told those officers he trusted most, that ‘he would send the Frenchman to York; who, he was well assured, would return to him again.’ And he gave him a note to a widow, who lived in the city, at whose house he might lodge, and by whose hands he might transmit any letter to him. The Lord Keeper Littleton. He was a man of great reputation in the profession of the law, for learning, and all other advantages, which attend the most eminent men; he was of a very good extraction in Shropshire, and inherited a fair fortune, and inheritance from his father ; he was a handsome and a proper man, of a very graceful presence, and notorious for courage, which, in his youth, he had manifested with his sword ; he had taken great pains in the hardest and most knotty parts of the law, as well as that which was more customary; and was not only very ready and expert in the books, but exceedingly versed in records, in studying and examining whereof, he had kept Mr. Selden company, with whom he had great friend¬ ship, and who had much assisted him; so that he was looked upon as the best antiquary of the profession, who gave him¬ self up to practice; and, upon the mere strength of his own abilities, he had raised himself into the first rank of the practisers in the common law courts, and was chosen Re¬ corder of London before he was called to the Bench, and grew presently into the highest practice in all the other io8 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON courts, as well as those of the law. When the King looked more narrowly into his business, and found that he should have much to do in Westminster-hall, he removed an old, useless, illiterate person, who had been put into that office by the favour of the duke of Buckingham, and made Littleton his Solicitor General, much to his honour, but not to his profit; the obligation of attendance upon that office depriving him of much benefit he used to acquire by his practice, before he had that relation. Upon the death of the lord Coventry, and Finch being made Keeper, he was made Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, then the best office of the law, and that which he was wont to say, in his highest ambition, in his own private wishes, he had most desired ; and it was indeed the sphere in which he moved most gracefully, and with most advantage, being a master of all that learning and knowledge, which that place required, and an excellent judge, of great gravity, and above all suspicion of corruption. Whilst he held this place, he was by the favour of the archbishop of Canterbury, and the earl of Strafford, who had a great esteem of him, recommended to the King to be called to the Council table, where he kept up his good name; and, upon the lord Finch’s leaving the kingdom, in the be¬ ginning of the parliament, he was thought, in many respects, to be the fittest to be intrusted in that office; and, upon the desire of the earl of Strafford, after he was in the Tower, was created a baron, out of expectation that, by his authority and knowledge of the law, he would have been of great use in restraining those extraordinary and unwarrantable pro¬ ceedings : but, from the time he had the Great Seal, he seemed to be out of his element, and in some perplexity and irreso¬ lution in the Chancery itself, though he had great experience in the practice and proceedings of that court; and made not EARL OF KINGSTON AND LORD DENCOURT. 1 09 that despatch, that was expected, at the Council table ; and in the Parliament he did not preserve any dignity; and appeared so totally dispirited, that few men shewed any respect to him, but they who most opposed the king, who indeed did exceedingly apply themselves to him, and were with equal kindness received by him. This wonderful alteration in him, his friends believed to have proceeded from a great sickness, which had seized upon him very soon after he was created a baron, insomuch as every man believed he would die ; and by this means, he did not attend the house in some months ; and so performed none of those offices toward the earl of Strafford, the expectation whereof had been the sole motive of that promotion : from that time he never did appear the same man ; but sure there were other causes for it, and he was possessed with some melan¬ cholic apprehensions, which he could not master, and had no friend to whom he durst entirely communicate. BOOK VI. Pierrepoint, Earl op Kingston, and Leake, Lord Dencourt. There was a pleasant story, then much spoken of in the court, which administered some mirth. There were two great men who lived near Nottingham, both men of great fortunes and of great parsimony, and known to have much money lying by them, Pierrepoint, earl of Kingston, and Leake, lord Dencourt. To the former the lord Capel was sent; to the latter, John Ashburnham of the bedchamber, and of entire confidence with his master; each of them with no SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. a letter, all written with the king’s hand, to borrow of each ten or five thousand pounds. Capel was very civilly received by the earl, and entertained as well as the ill accommodations in his house, and his manner of living, would admit. He expressed, with wonderful civil expressions of duty, ‘the great trouble he sustained, in not being able to comply with his majesty’s commands.’ He said, ‘ all men knew that he neither had, nor could have money, because he had every year, of ten or a dozen which were past, purchased a thousand pounds land a year; and therefore he could not be imagined to have any money lying by him, which he never loved to have. But, he said, he had a neighbour, who lived within few miles of him, the lord Dencourt, who was good for nothing, and lived like a hog, not allowing himself necessaries, and who could not have so little as twenty thousand pounds in the scurvy house in which he lived; ’ and advised, ‘ that he might be sent to, who could not deny the having of money; ’ and concluded with great duty to the King, and detestation of the Parliament, and as if he meant to consider farther of the thing, and to endeavour to get some money for him; which though he did not remember to send, his affections were good, and he was afterwards killed in the King's service. Ashburnham got no more money, nor half so many good words. The lord Dencourt had so little correspondence with the Court, that he had never heard his name; and when he had read the King’s letter, he asked from whom it was; and when he told him, ‘that he saw it was from the King,’ he replied, ‘ that he was not such a fool as to believe it. That he had received letters both from this King and his father;’ and hastily ran out of the room, and returned with half a dozen letters in his hand; saying, ‘ that those were all EARL OF KINGSTON AND LORD DENCOURT. 11 1 the King’s letters, and that they always begun with Right trusty and well-beloved , and the king’s name was ever at the top; but this letter begun with Dencourt, and ended with your loving friend C. R., which, he said, he was sure could not be the King’s hand.’ His other treatment was according to this, and, after an ill supper, he was shewed an indifferent bed; the lord telling him, ‘ that he would confer more of the matter in the morning; ’ he having sent his servant with a letter to the lord Falkland, who was his wife’s nephew, and who had scarce ever seen his uncle. The man came to Nottingham about midnight, and found my lord Falkland in his bed. The letter was to tell him, ‘ that one Ashburnham was with him, who brought him a letter, which he said was from the King; but he knew that could not be ; and therefore he desired to know, who this man was, whom he kept in his house till the messenger should return.’ In spite of the laughter, which could not be forborne, the lord Falkland made haste to inform him of the condition and quality of the person, and that the letter was writ with the king’s own hand, which he seldom vouchsafed to do. And the messenger returning early the next morning, his lordship treated Mr. Ashburnham with so different a respect, that he, who knew nothing of the cause, believed that he should return with all the money that was desired. But it was not long before he was undeceived. The lord, with as cheerful a countenance as his could be, for he had a very unusual and unpleasant face, told him, ‘ that though he had no money himself, but was in extreme want of it, he would tell him where he might have money enough; that he had a neighbour, who lived within four or five miles, the earl of Kingston, that never did good to any body, and loved nobody but himself, who had a world of money, and could furnish the king with as much 112 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. as he had need of; and if he should deny that he had money when the King sent to him, he knew where he had one trunk full, and would discover it; and that he was so ill beloved, and had so few friends, that nobody would care how the King used him.’ And this good counsel was all Mr. Ash- burnham could make of him : and yet this wretched man was so far from wishing well to the Parliament, that when they had prevailed, and were possessed of the whole kingdom, as well as of Nottinghamshire, he would not give them one penny; nor compound for his delinquency, as they made the having lived in the King’s quarters to be; but suffered his whole estate to be sequestered, and lived in a very miserable fashion, only by what he could ravish from his tenants; who, though they paid their rents to the Parliament, were forced by his rage and threats to part with so much as kept him, till he died, in that condition he chose to live in: his conscience being powerful enough to deny himself, though it could not dispose him to grant to the King. And thus the two messengers returned to the king, so near the same time, that he who came first had not given his account to the king, before the other entered into his presence. The same day, Mr. Sacheverel, who was a gentleman, and known to be very rich, being pressed to lend the King five hundred pounds, sent him a present of one hundred pieces in gold; ‘which,’ he said, ‘he had procured with great difficulty;’ and protested, with many execrable impre¬ cations, that ‘ he had never in his life seen five hundred pounds of his own together; ’ when, within one month after the King’s departure, the Parliament troops, which borrowed in another style, took five thousand pounds from him, which was lodged with him, in the chamber in which he lay. Which is therefore mentioned in this place, that upon this occasion THE BATTLE OF EDGE HILL. 113 it may be seen, that the unthrifty retention of their money, which possessed the spirits of those, who did really wish the King all the success he wished for himself, was the unhappy promotion of all his misfortunes: and if they had, in the be¬ ginning, but lent the King the fifth part of what, after infinite losses, they found necessary to sacrifice to his enemies, in the conclusion, to preserve themselves from total ruin, his majesty had been able, with God’s blessing, to have preserved them, and to have destroyed all his enemies. The Battle of Edge Hill. It was near three of the clock in the afternoon, before the battle began; which, at that time of the year, was so late, that some were of opinion, ‘ that the business should be deferred till the next day.’ But against that there were many objections ; ‘ the King’s numbers could not increase, the enemy’s might; ’ for they had not only their garrisons, Warwick, Coventry, and Banbury, within distance, but all that country so devoted to them, that they had all provisions brought to them without the least trouble ; whereas, on the other side, the people were so disaffected to the King’s party, that they had carried away, or hid, all their provisions, insomuch as there was neither meat for man or horse; and the very smiths hid themselves, that they might not be compelled to shoe horses, of which in those stony ways there was great need. This proceeded not from any radical malice, or disaffection to the King’s cause, or his person ; though it is true, that circuit in which this battle was fought, being very much between the dominions of the lord Say and the lord Brooke, was the most eminently corrupted of any county in England ; but by the reports, and infusions which the other very diligent party had wrought into the 1 ”4 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. people’s belief; ‘ that the cavaliers were of a fierce, bloody, and licentious disposition, and that they committed all manner of cruelty upon the inhabitants of those places where they came, of which robbery was the least; ’ so that the poor people thought there was no other way to preserve their goods, than by hiding them out of the way ; which was confessed by them, when they found how much that infor¬ mation had wronged them, by making them so injurious to their friends. And therefore where the army rested a day they found much better entertainment at parting, than when they came; for it will not be denied, that there was no person of honour or quality, who paid not punctually and exactly for what they had; and there was not the least violence or disorder among the common soldiers in their march, which scaped exemplary punishment; so that at 1 Bromicham, a town so generally wicked, that it had risen upon small parties of the King’s, and killed or taken them prisoners, and sent them to Coventry, declaring a more peremptory malice to his majesty than any other place, two soldiers were executed, for having taken some small trifle of no value out of a house, whose owner was at that time in the rebels’ army. So strict was the discipline in this army ; when the other, without control, practised all the dissoluteness imaginable. But the march was so fast, that the leaving a good reputation behind them, was no harbinger to provide for their better reception in the next quarters. So that their wants were so great, at the time when they came to Edge- hill, that there were very many companies of the common soldiers, who had scarce eaten bread in eight and forty hours before. The only way to cure this was a victory; and therefore the King gave the word, though it was late, the [Birmingham.] THE BATTLE OF EDGE HILL. 115 enemy keeping their ground to receive him without advancing at all. In this hurry, there was an omission of somewhat, which the King intended to have executed before the beginning of the battle. He had caused many proclamations to be printed of pardon to all those soldiers who would lay down their arms, which he resolved, as is said before, to have sent by a herald to the earl of Essex, and to have found ways to have scattered and dispersed them in that army, as soon as he understood they were within any distance of him. But all men were now so much otherwise busied, that it was not soon enough remembered ; and when it was, the procla¬ mations were not at hand; which, by that which follows, might probably have produced a good effect. For as the right wing of the King’s horse advanced to charge the left wing, which was the gross of the enemy’s horse, sir Faithful Fortescue, (whose fortune and interest being in Ireland, he had come out of that kingdom to hasten supplies thither, and had a troop of horse raised for him for that service; but as many other of those forces were, so his troop was likewise disposed into that army, and he was now major to sir William Waller; he) with his whole troop advanced from the gross of their horse, and discharging all their pistols on the ground, within little more than carabine shot of his own body, pre¬ sented himself and his troop to prince Rupert; and immedi¬ ately, with his highness, charged the enemy. Whether this sudden accident, as it might very well, and the not knowing how many more were of the same mind, each man looking upon his companion with the same apprehension as upon the enemy, or whether the terror of prince Rupert, and the King’s horse, or all together, with their own evil consciences, wrought upon them, I know not, but that whole wing, having 116 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. unskilfully discharged their carabines and pistols into the air, wheeled about, our horse charging in the flank and rear, and having thus absolutely routed them, pursued them flying; and had the execution of them above two miles. The left wing, commanded by Mr. Wilmot, had as good success, though they were to charge in worse ground, among hedges, and through gaps and ditches, which were lined with musketeers. But sir Arthur Aston, with great courage and dexterity, beat off those musketeers with his dragoons; and then the right wing of their horse was as easily routed and dispersed as their left, and those followed the chase as furiously as the other. The reserve seeing none of the enemy’s horse left, thought there was nothing more to be done, but to pursue those that fled, and could not be con¬ tained by their commanders; but with spurs, and loose reins, followed the chase, which their left wing had led them. And by this means, whilst most men thought the victory unquestionable, the King was in danger of the same fate which his predecessor Henry the Third felt at the battle of Lewes against his barons ; when his son the prince, having routed their horse, followed the chase so far, that, before his return to the field, his father was taken prisoner; and so his victory served only to make the misfortunes of that day the more intolerable. For all the King’s horse having thus left the field, many of them only following the execution, others intending the spoil in the town of Keinton, where all the baggage was, and the earl of Essex’s own coach, which was taken, and brought away; their reserve, commanded by sir William Balfour, moved up and down the field in good order, and marching towards the King’s foot pretended to be friends, till observing no horse to be in readiness to charge them, [they] brake in upon the foot, and did great execution. THE BATTLE OF EDGE HILL. II7 Then was the general the earl of Lindsey, in the head of his regiment, being on foot, shot in the thigh, with which he fell, and was presently encompassed by the enemy, and his son, the lord Willoughby, piously endeavouring the rescue of his father, taken prisoner with him. Then was the standard taken, (sir Edmund Verney, who bore it, being killed,) but rescued again by captain John Smith, an officer of the lord Grandison’s regiment of horse, and by him brought off. And if those horse had bestirred themselves, they might with little difficulty [have] destroyed, or taken prisoner, the King himself, and his two sons, the prince [of Wales] and the duke of York, being with fewer than one hundred horse, and those without officer or command, within half musket shot of that body, before he suspected them to be enemies. When prince Rupert returned from the chase, he found this great alteration in the field, and his majesty himself with few noblemen, and a small retinue about him, and the hope of so glorious a day quite vanished. For though most of the officers of horse were returned, and that part of the field covered again with the loose troops, yet they could not be persuaded, or drawn to charge either the enemy’s reserve of horse, which alone kept the field, or the body of their foot, which only kept their ground, the officers pretending, ‘ that their soldiers were so dispersed, that there were not ten of any troop together; ’ and the soldiers, ‘ that their horses were so tired, that they could not charge.’ But the truth is, where many soldiers of one troop or regiment were rallied together, there the officers were wanting; and where the officers were ready, there the soldiers were not together; and neither officers or soldiers desired to move without those who properly belonged to them. Things had now so ill an I i8 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. aspect, that many were of opinion, that the King should leave the field, though it was not easy to advise whither he should have gone; which if he had done, he had left an absolute victory to those, who even at this time thought themselves overcome. But the King was positive against that advice, well knowing, that as that army was raised by his person and presence only, so it could by no other means be kept together; and he thought it unprincely, to forsake them who had forsaken all they had to serve him: besides, he observed the other side looked not as if they thought themselves conquerors; for that reserve, which did so much mischief before, since the return of his horse, betook them¬ selves to a fixed station between their foot, which at best could but be thought to stand their ground, which two brigades of the King’s did with equal courage, and gave equal volleys; and therefore he tried all possible ways to get the horse to charge again ; easily discerning by some little attempts which were made, what a notable impression a brisk one would have made upon the enemy. And when he saw it was not to be done, he was content with their only standing still. Without doubt, if either party had known the constitution of the other, they had not parted so fairly; and, very probably, which soever had made a bold offer, had compassed his end upon his enemy. This made many believe, though the horse vaunted themselves aloud to have done their part, that the good fortune of the first part of the day, which well managed would have secured the rest, was to be imputed rather to their enemy’s want of courage, than to their own virtue, (which, after so great a victory, could not so soon have forsaken them,) and to the sudden and unexpected revolt of sir Faithful Fortescue with a whole troop, no doubt much to the consternation of those he left; THE BATTLE OF EDGE HILL. 119 which had not so good fortune as they deserved; for by the negligence of not throwing away their orange-tawny scarfs, which they all wore as the earl of Essex’s colours, and being immediately engaged in the charge, many of them, not fewer than seventeen or eighteen, w r ere suddenly killed by those to whom they joined themselves. In this doubt of all sides, the night, the common friend to wearied and dismayed armies, parted them; and then the King caused his cannon, which were nearest the enemy, to be drawn off; and with his whole forces himself spent the night in the field, by such a fire as could be made of the little wood, and bushes which grew thereabouts, unresolved what to do the next morning; many reporting, ‘ that the enemy was gone : ’ but when the day appeared, the contrary was discovered; for then they were seen standing in the same posture and place in which they fought, from whence the earl of Essex, wisely, never suffered them to stir all that night; presuming reasonably, that if they were drawn off never so little from that place, their numbers would lessen, and that many would run away; and therefore he caused all manner of provisions, [with] which the country supplied him plentifully, to be brought thither to them for their repast, and reposed himself with them in the place. Besides, that night he received a great addition of strength, not only by rallying those horse and foot, which had run out of the field in the battle, but by the arrival of colonel Hambden, and colonel Grantham, with two thousand fresh foot, (which were reckoned among the best of the army,) and five hundred horse, which marched a day behind the army for the guard of their ammunition, and a great part of their train, not supposing there would have been any action that would have required their presence. All the advantage this seasonable 120 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. recruit brought them, was to give their old men so much courage as to keep the field, which it was otherwise believed, they would hardly have been persuaded to have done. After a very cold night spent in the field, without any refreshment of victual, or provision for the soldiers, (for the country was so disaffected, that it not only not sent in provisions, but many soldiers, who straggled into the villages for relief, were knocked in the head by the common people,) the King found his troops very thin; for though, by conference with the officers, he might reasonably conclude, that there were not many slain in the battle, yet a third part of his foot were not upon the place, and of the horse many missing; and they that were in the field were so tired with duty, and weakened with want of meat, and shrunk up with the cruel cold of the night, (for it was a terrible frost, and there was no shelter of either tree or hedge,) that though they had reason to believe, by the standing still of the enemy, whilst a small party of the King's horse, in the morning, took away four pieces of their cannon very near them, that any offer towards a charge, or but marching towards them, would have made a very notable impression in them, yet there was so visible an averseness from it in most officers, as well as soldiers, that the King thought not fit to make the attempt; but contented himself to keep his men in order, the body of horse facing the enemy upon the field where they had fought. The Eael op Lindsey. The earl of Lindsey was a man of very noble extrac¬ tion, and inherited a great fortune from his ancestors; which though he did not manage with so great care, as if he desire< much to improve, yet he left it in a very fair condition to THE EARL OF LINDSEY. 121 : is family, which more intended the increase of it. He was a man of great honour, and spent his youth and vigour of his age in military actions and commands abroad ; and albeit he indulged to himself great liberties of life, yet he still preserved a very good reputation with all men, and a very great interest in his country, as appeared by the supplies he nd his son brought to the King’s army; the several com- panies of his own regiment of foot being commanded by the principal knights and gentlemen of Lincolnshire, who -igaged themselves in the service principally out of their personal affection to him. He was of a very generous nature, and punctual in what he undertook, and in exacting what was due to him; which made him bear that restriction so heavily, which was put upon him by the commission granted to prince Rupert, and by the King’s preferring the P' ince’s opinion, in all matters relating to the war, before his. or did he conceal his resentment: the day before the battle, he said to some friends, with whom he had used freedom, ‘ i hat he did not look upon himself as general; and therefore he was resolved, when the day of battle should come, that he would be in the head of his regiment as a private colonel, where he would die.’ He was carried out of the field to the next village; and if he could then have procured surgeons, it as thought his wound would not have proved mortal. A nd it was imputed to the earl of Essex’s too well remember¬ ing former grudges, that he never sent any surgeon to him, nor performed any other offices of respect towards him; but it is most certain that the disorder the earl of Essex himself as in at that time, by the running away of the horse, and 1 le confusion he saw the army in, and the plundering the carriages in the town where the surgeons were to attend, was the cause of all the omissions of that kind. And as soon as 122 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. they were composed by the coming on of the night, about midnight, he sent sir William Balfour, and some other officers, to see him, and to offer him all offices, and meant himself to have visited him. They found him upon a little straw in a poor house, where they had laid him in his blood, which had run from him in great abundance, no surgeon having been yet with him ; only he had great vivacity in his looks ; and told them, ‘ he was sorry to see so many gentlemen, some whereof were his old friends, engaged in so foul a rebellion : ’ and principally directed his discourse to sir William Balfour, whom he put in mind of ‘ the great obligations he had to the King; how much his majesty had disobliged the whole English nation by putting him into the command of the Tower; and that it was the most odious ingratitude in him to make him that return.’ He wished them to tell my lord Essex, ‘ that he ought to cast himself at the King’s feet to beg his pardon; which if he did not speedily do, his memory would be odious to the nation; ’ and continued this kind of discourse with so much vehemence, that the officers by degrees withdrew themselves; and prevented the visit the earl of Essex intended him, who only sent the best surgeons to him; who in the very opening of his wounds died before the morning, only upon the loss of blood. He had very many friends, and very few enemies; and died generally lamented. The Loud St. John. The lord St. John was eldest son to the earl of Bulling- broke, and got himself so well beloved by the reputation of courtesy and civility, which he expressed towards all men, that though his parts of understanding were very ordinary at best, and his course of life licentious and very much depraved, THE LORD ST. JOHN. 123 he got credit enough, by engaging the principal gentlemen of Bedfordshire and Hertfordshire to be bound for him, to con¬ tract a debt of fifty or threescore thousand pounds; for the payment whereof the fortune of the family was not engaged, nor in his power to engage. So that the clamour of his debts growing importunate, some years before the rebellion, he left the kingdom, and fled into France; leaving his vast debt to be paid by his sureties, to the utter ruin of many families, and the notable impairing of others. In the begin¬ ning of the Parliament, the King was prevailed with to call him to the House of Peers, his father being then alive, upon an assurance, ‘ that by his presence and liberty, which could by no other way be secured, means would be found out to pay his debts, and free so many worthy persons from their engagements: besides that the times being like to be trouble¬ some, the King might be sure of a faithful servant, who would always advance his service in that blouse.’ But the King had very ill fortune in conferring those graces, nor was his service more passionately and insolently opposed by any men in that house than by those, who upon those professions were redeemed by him from the condition of commoners. And this gentleman, from the first hour of his sitting in that house by the King’s so extraordinary grace, was never known to concur in any one vote for the King’s service, that received any opposition : and, as soon as it was in his power, he received a commission with the first to command a troop of horse against him, in which he behaved himself so ill, that he received some wounds in running away; and being taken prisoner, died before the next morning, without any other signs of repentance, than the canting words, 1 that he did not intend to be against the King, but wished him all happiness: ’ so great an influence the first seeds of his birth and mutinous 124 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. family had upon his nature, that how long soever they were concealed, and seemed even buried in a very different breed¬ ing and conversation, they sprung up, and bore the same fruit upon the first occasion. And it was an observation of that time, that the men of most licentious lives, who appeared to be without any sense of religion, or reverence to virtue, and the most unrestrained by any obligations of conscience, betook themselves to that party, and pretended an impulsion of religion out of fear of Popery; and, on the other side, very many persons of quality, both of the clergy and laity, who had suffered under the imputation of Puritanism, and did very much dislike the proceedings of the Court, and opposed them upon all occasions, were yet so much scandalized at the very approaches to rebellion, that they renounced all their old friends, and applied themselves with great resolu¬ tion, courage, and constancy to the King’s service, and continued in it to the end, with all the disadvantages it was liable to. Foreigners in England and their Treatment. When the reformation of religion first began in England, in the time of King Edward the Sixth, very many, out of Germany and France, left their countries, where the Refor¬ mation was severely persecuted, and transplanted themselves, their families, and estates, into England, where they were received very hospitably; and that King, with great piety and policy, by several acts of state, granted them many indemnities, and the free use of churches in London for the exercise of their religion: whereby the number of them increased; and the benefit to the kingdom, by such an access of trade, and improvement of manufactures, was very TREATMENT OF FOREIGNERS IN ENGLAND. 125 considerable. The which Queen Elizabeth finding, and well knowing that other notable uses of them might be made, enlarged their privileges by new concessions ; drawing, by all means, greater numbers over, and suffering them to erect churches, and to enjoy the exercise of their religion after their own manner, and according to their own ceremonies, in all places, where, for the conveniency of their trade, they chose to reside. And so they had churches in Norwich, Canterbury, and other places of the kingdom, as well as in London; whereby the wealth of those places marvellously increased. And, besides the benefit from thence, the Queen made use of them in her great transactions of stale in France, and the Low Countries, and, by the mediation and interposition of those people, kept an useful interest in that party, in all the foreign dominions where they were tolerated. The same charters of liberty were continued and granted to them, during the peaceable reign of King James, and in the beginning of this King’s reign, although, it may be, the politic considerations in those concessions, and connivances, were neither made use of, nor understood. Some few years before these troubles, when the power of churchmen grew more transcendent, and indeed the faculties and understandings of the lay-councillors more dull, lazy, and unactive, (for, without the last, the first could have done no hurt,) the bishops grew jealous that the countenancing another discipline of the church here, by order of the State, (for those foreign congregations were governed by a pres¬ bytery, according to the custom and constitution of those parts of which they had been natives : for the French, Dutch, and Walloons had the free use of several churches according to their own discipline,) would at least diminish the reputation and dignity of the episcopal government, and give some hope 126 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. and countenance to the factious and schismatical party in England to hope for such a toleration. Then there wanted not some fiery, turbulent, and con¬ tentious persons of the same congregations, who, upon private differences and contests, were ready to inform against their brethren, and to discover what, they thought, might prove of most prejudice to them. So that, upon pretence that they far exceeded the liberties which were granted to them, and that, under the notion of foreigners, many English separated themselves from the church, and joined themselves to those congregations, (which possibly was in part true,) the Council-board connived, or interposed not, [whilst] the bishops did some acts of restraint, with which that tribe grew generally discontented, and thought the liberty of their consciences to be taken from them; and so in London there was much complaining of this kind, but much more in the diocese of Norwich; where Dr. Wren, the bishop there, passionately and furiously proceeded against them : so that many left the kingdom, to the lessening the wealthy manufacture there of kerseys, and narrow cloths, and, which was worse, trans¬ porting that mystery into foreign parts. And, that this might be sure to look like more than what was necessary to the civil policy of the kingdom, whereas, in all former times, the ambassadors, and all foreign ministers of state, employed from England into any parts where the reformed religion was exercised, frequented their churches, gave all possible countenance to their profession, and held correspondence with the most active and powerful persons of that relation, and particularly the ambassadors lieger at Paris from the time of the Reformation had diligently and constantly frequented the church at Charenton, and held a fair intercourse with those of that religion throughout the THE EARL OF NORTHAMPTON. 127 kingdom, by which they had still received advantage, that people being industrious and active to get into the secrets of the State, and so deriving all necessary intelligence to those whom they desired to gratify: the contrary whereof was now with great industry practised, and some advertise¬ ments, if not instructions, given to the ambassadors there, ‘to forbear any extraordinary commerce with that tribe.’ And the lord Scudamore, who was the last ordinary ambas¬ sador there, before the beginning of this Parliament, whether by the inclination of his own nature, or by advice from others, not only declined going to Charenton, but furnished his own chapel, in his house, with such ornaments, (as candles upon the communion-table, and the like,) as gave great offence and umbrage to those of the Reformation, who had not seen the like: besides that he was careful to publish, upon all occasions, by himself, and those who had the nearest relation to him, * that the Church of England looked not on the Huguenots as a part of the communion; ’ which was likewise too much and too industriously discoursed at home. The Earl op Northampton. In this 1 fight, which was sharp and short, there were killed, and taken prisoners, of the Parliament party, above two hundred, and more than that number wounded, for, the horse charging among their foot, more were hurt than killed. Eight pieces of their cannon, and most of their ammunition was likewise taken. Of the earl’s party were slain but five and twenty, whereof there were two captains, some inferior officers, and the rest common men ; but there were as many hurt, and those of the chief officers. They who had all the ensigns of victory, but their general, thought themselves 1 [The battle of Hopton Heath.] 128 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. undone; whilst the other side, who had escaped in the night, and made a hard shift to carry his dead body with them, hardly believed they were losers : Et, velut cequali bellatum sorte fuisset, Co7)iponit cum classe virum - The truth is, a greater victory had been an unequal recompense for a less loss. He was a person of great courage, honour, and fidelity, and not well known till his evening, having, in the ease, and plenty, and luxury of that too happy time, indulged to himself, with that license which was then thought necessary to great fortunes: but from the beginning of these distractions, as if he had been awakened out of a lethargy, he never proceeded with a lukewarm temper. But before the standard was set up, he appeared in Warwickshire against the lord Brook, and as much upon his own reputation as the justice of the cause (which was not so well then understood) discountenanced, and drove him out of that county. Afterwards he took the ordnance from Banbury castle, and brought them to the King. As soon as an army was to be raised, he levied, with the first, upon his own charge, a troop of horse, and a regiment of foot, and (not like some other men, who warily distributed their family to both sides, one son to serve the King, whilst his father, or another son, engaged as far for the Parliament) entirely dedicated all his children to the quarrel; having four sons officers under him, whereof three charged that day in the field : and, from the time he submitted himself to the profes¬ sion of a soldier, no man more punctual upon command, no man more diligent and vigilant in duty. All distresses he bore like a common man, and all wants and hardnesses, as if he had never known plenty or ease; most prodigal of his person to danger; and would often say, ‘that if he outlived I HE DUKE OF RICHMOND. 129 these wars, he was certain never to have so noble a death.’ So that it is not to be wondered, if, upon such a stroke, the body that felt it, thought it had lost more than a limb. The Duke op Richmond. The duke of Richmond, as he was of the noblest extrac¬ tion, being nearest allied to the King’s person of any man who was not descended from King James; so he was very worthy of all the grace and favour the King had shewed him; who had taken great care of his education, and sent him into France, Italy, and Spain, where he was created a grandee of that kingdom ; and as soon as he returned, though he was scarce one and twenty years of age, made him a Privy- Councillor ; and shortly after, out of his abundant kindness to both families, married him to the sole daughter of his dead favourite, the duke of Buckingham; with whom he received twenty thousand pounds in portion ; and his majesty’s bounty was likewise very great to him; so that, as he was very eminent in his title, so he was at great ease in his fortune. He was a man of very good parts, and an excellent under¬ standing ; yet, (which is no common infirmity,) so diffident of himself, that he was sometimes led by men who judged much worse. He was of a great and haughty spirit, and so punc¬ tual in point of honour, that he never swerved a tittle. He had so entire a resignation of himself to the King, that he abhorred all artifices to shelter himself from the prejudice of those, who, how powerful soever, failed in their duty to his majesty; and therefore he was pursued with all imaginable malice by them, as one that would have no quarter, upon so infamous terms, as but looking on whilst his master was ill used. As he had received great bounties from the King, so K 130 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. he sacrificed all he had to his service, as soon as his occasions stood in need of it; and lent his majesty, at one time, twenty thousand pounds together; and, as soon as the war begun, engaged his three brothers, all gallant gentlemen, in the service; in which they all lost their lives. Himself lived, with unspotted fidelity, some years after the murder of his master, and was suffered to put him into his grave; and died, without the comfort of seeing the resurrection of the Crown. Mb. St. John. Mr. St. John, who was in a firm and entire conjunction with the other two, was a lawyer of Lincoln’s Inn, known to be of parts and industry, but not taken notice of for practice in Westminster-hall, till he argued at the exchequer-chamber the case of ship-money on the behalf of Mr. Hambden; which gave him much reputation, and called him into all courts, and to all causes, where the King’s prerogative was most contested. He was a man reserved, and of a dark and clouded countenance, very proud, and conversing with very few, and those, men of his own humour and inclinations. He had been questioned, committed, and brought into the Star-chamber, many years before, with other persons of great name and reputation, (which first brought his name upon the stage,) for communicating some paper among themselves, which some men had a mind at that time to have extended to a design of sedition : but it being quickly evident that the prosecution would not be attended with success, they were all shortly after discharged; but he never forgave the Court the first assault, and contracted an im¬ placable displeasure against the Church purely from the THE EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON. 131 company he kept. He was of an intimate trust with the earl of Bedford, to whom he was allied, (being a natural son of the house of Bullingbrook,) and by him brought into all matters where himself was to be concerned. It was gener¬ ally believed, that these three persons, with the other three lords mentioned before, were of the most intimate and entire trust with each other, and made the engine which moved all the rest; yet it was visible, that Nathaniel Fiennes, the second son of the lord Say, and sir Harry Vane, eldest son to the secretary, and treasurer of the house, were received by them with full confidence and without reserve. The Earl op Southampton. The earl of Southampton was indeed a great man in all respects, and brought very much reputation to the King’s cause. He was of a nature much inclined to melancholy, and being born a younger brother, and his father and his elder brother dying upon the point together, whilst he was but a boy, he was much troubled to be called my lord, and with the noise of attendance; so much he then delighted to be alone. Yet he had a great spirit, and exacted the respect that was due to his quality ; he had never had any conversa¬ tion in the Court, nor obligation to it. On the contrary, he had undergone some hardship from it; which made it believed, that he would have been ready to have taken all occasions to have been severe towards it. And therefore, in the beginning of the Parliament, no man was more courted by the managers of those designs. He had great dislike of the high courses, which had been taken in the government, and a particular prejudice to the earl of Strafford, for some k 2 I 3 2 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. exorbitant proceedings. But, as soon as he saw the ways of reverence and duty towards the King declined, and the prose¬ cution of the earl of Strafford to exceed the limits of justice, he opposed them vigorously in all their proceedings. He was a man of a great sharpness of judgment, a very quick apprehension, and that readiness of expression upon any sudden debate, that no man delivered himself more advan¬ tageously and weightily, and more efficaciously with the hearers; so that no man gave them more trouble in his opposition, or drew so many to a concurrence with him in opinion. He had no relation to, or dependence upon, the Court, or purpose to have any; but wholly pursued the public interest. It was long before he could be prevailed with to be a Councillor, and longer before he would be admitted to be of the bedchamber; and received both honours the rather, because, after he had refused to take a Protestation, which both houses had ordered to be taken by all their members, they had likewise voted, 1 that no man should be capable of any preferment in Church or State, who refused to take the same; ’ and he would shew how much he contemned those votes. He went with the King to York; was most solicitous, as hath been said, for the offer of peace at Nottingham ; and was then with him at Edgehill; and came and stayed with him at Oxford to the end of the war, taking all opportunities to advance all motions towards peace; and, as no man was more punctual in performing his own duty, so no man had more melancholy apprehensions of the issue of the war; which is all shall be said of him in this place, there being frequent occasions to mention him, in the continuance of this discourse. THE EARLS OF LEICESTER AND BRISTOL. 133 The Eakls of Leicester, Bristol, Newcastle, and Berkshire, the Lords Dotsmore, Sey¬ mour, and Savile. The earl of Leicester was a man of great parts, very con¬ versant in books, and much addicted to the mathematics; and though he had been a soldier, and commanded a regi¬ ment, in the service of the States of the United Provinces, and was afterwards employed in several embassies, as in Denmark and in France, was in truth rather a speculative than a practical man; and expected a greater certitude in the consultation of business, than the business of this world is capable of: which temper proved very inconvenient to him through the course of his life. He was, after the death of the earl of Strafford, by the concurrent kindness and esteem both of King and Queen, called from his embassy in France, to be lieutenant of the kingdom of Ireland; and, in a very short time after, unhappily lost that kindness and esteem : and being, about the time of the King’s coming to Oxford, ready to embark at Chester, for the execution of his charge, he was required to attend his majesty, for farther instructions, at Oxford; where he remained; and though he was of the Council, and sometimes present, he desired not to have any part in the business ; and lay under many reproaches and jealousies, which he deserved not: for he was a man of honour, and fidelity to the King, and his greatest misfortunes proceeded from the staggering and irresolution in his nature. The earl of Bristol was a man of a grave aspect, of a presence that drew respect, and of long experience in affairs of great importance. He had been, by the extraordinary favour of King James to his person (for he was a very hand¬ some man) and his parts, which were naturally great, and i 34 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. had been improved by a good education at home and abroad, sent ambassador into Spain, before he was thirty years of age; and afterwards in several other embassies ; and at last, again into Spain, where he treated and concluded the marriage between the Prince of Wales and that Infanta, which was afterwards dissolved. He was by King James made of the Privy Council, vice-chamberlain of the household, an earl, and a gentleman of the bedchamber to the Prince, and was then crushed by the power of the duke of Bucking¬ ham, and the prejudice the Prince himself had contracted against him, during his highness’s being in Spain ; upon which he was imprisoned upon his return; and after the duke’s death, the King retained so strict a memory of all his friendships and displeasures, that the earl of Bristol could never recover any admission to the Court; but lived in the country, in ease, and plenty in his fortune, and in great repu¬ tation with all who had not an implicit reverence for the Court; and before, and in the beginning of the Parliament, appeared in the head of all the discontented party; but quickly left them, when they entered upon their unwarrant¬ able violences, and grew so much into their disfavour, that after the King was gone to York, upon some expressions he used in the House of Peers in debate, they committed him to the Tower; from whence being released, in two or three days, he made haste to York to the King ; who had before restored him to his place in the Council and the bedchamber. He was with him at Edge-hill, and came with him from thence to Oxford; and, at the end of the war, went into France; where he died; that party having so great an animosity against him, that they would not suffer him to live in England, nor to compound for his estate, as they suffered others to do, who had done them more hurt. Though he was a man of great EARLS OF NEWCASTLE AND BERKSHLRE. 135 parts, and a wise man, yet he had been for the most part single, and by himself, in business; which he managed with good sufficiency; and had lived little in consort, so that in Council he was passionate, and supercilious, and did not bear contradiction without much passion, and was too voluminous in discourse ; so that he was not considered there with much respect; to the lessening whereof no man contributed more than his son, the lord Digby; who shortly after came to sit there as Secretary of State, and had not that reverence for his father’s wisdom, which his great experience deserved, though he failed not in his piety towards him. The earl of Newcastle was a person well bred, and of a full and plentiful fortune; and had been chosen by the King to be governor to the Prince of Wales, and made of the Council, and resigned that office of governor to the marquis of Hertford, for the reasons which have been mentioned. He was not at Oxford, but remained at Newcastle, with the King’s commission to be general of those parts; being a man of great courage, and signal fidelity to the Crown, of whom there will be more occasion hereafter to enlarge. The earl of Berkshire was of the Council, but not yet at Oxford; having been, about or before the setting up of the standard, taken prisoner in Oxfordshire, and committed to the Tower, upon an imagination that he had some purpose to have executed the commission of array in that county; but they afterwards set him at liberty, as a man that could do them no harm any where ; and then he came to Oxford, with the title and pretences of a man, who had been im¬ prisoned for the King, and thereby merited more than his majesty had to give. His affection for the Crown was good; his interest and reputation less than any thing but his under¬ standing. 136 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. The lord Dunsmore had been made a Privy Councillor, after so many, who had deserved worse, had been called thither, to make an atonement, which failing, he could no: be refused, who was ready to do whatever he was directed: he was a man of a rough and tempestuous nature, violent in pursuing what he wished, without judgment, or temper to know the way of bringing it to pass; however, he had some kind of power with froward and discontented men ; at least he had credit to make them more indisposed. But his greatest reputation was, that the earl of Southampton married his daughter, who was a beautiful and a worthy lady. The lord Seymour, being brother to the marquis of Hert¬ ford, was a man of interest and reputation ; he had been always very popular in the country; where he had always lived out of the grace of the Court; and his parts and judg¬ ment were best in those things which concerned the good husbandry, and the common administration of justice to the people. In the beginning of the parliament, he served a? knight of the shire for Wiltshire, where he lived; and behav¬ ing himself with less violence in the House of Commons, than many of his old friends did, and having a great friendship for the earl of Strafford, he was, by his interposition, called to the House of Peers; where he carried himself very well in all things relating to the Crown; and when the King went to York, he left the Parliament, and followed his majesty, and remained firm in his fidelity. The lord Savile was likewise of the Council, being firs controller, and then treasurer of the household, in recompense of his discovery of all the treasons and conspiracies, after they had taken effect, and could not be punished. He was a man of an ambitious and restless nature; of parts and wit enough; but, in his disposition, and inclination, so false, that LORD SAVILE. *37 he could never be believed, or depended upon. His particu¬ lar malice to the earl of Strafford, which he had sucked in with his milk, (there having always been an immortal feud between the families; and the earl had shrewdly overborne his father,) had engaged him with all persons who were willing, and like to be able, to do him mischief. And so, having opportunity, when the King was at the Berkes, and made the first unhappy Pacification, to enter into conversation, and acquaintance, with those who were then employed as commissioners from the Scots, there was a secret intelligence ntered into between them from that time; and he was a principal instrument to engage that nation to march into England with an army, which they did the next year after. To which purpose, he sent them a letter, signed with the names of several of the English nobility, inviting them to nter the kingdom, and making great promises of assistance ; which names were forged by himself, without the privity of those who were named. And when all this mischief was brought to pass, and he found his credit in the Parliament lot so great as other men’s, he insinuated himself into credit with somebody, who brought him to the King or Queen, to whom he confessed all he had done to bring in the Scots, md who had conspired with him, and all the secrets he knew, nth a thousand protestations ‘ to repair all by future loyalty nd service; ’ for which he was promised a white staff, which le King had then resolved to take from sir Henry Vane, who eld it with the Secretary’s office; which he had accordingly ; though all his discovery was of no other use, than that the ling knew many had been false, whom he could not punish; nd some, whom he could not suspect. When the King came to York, where this lord’s fortune and interest lay, his repu- ition was so low, that the gentlemen of interest, who wished i 3 8 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. well to the King’s service, would not communicate with him ; and, after the king’s remove from thence, the earl of New¬ castle found cause to have such a jealousy of him, that he thought it necessary to imprison him, and afterwards sent him to Oxford, where he so well purged himself, that he was again restored to his office. But in the end he behaved him¬ self so ill, that the King put him again out of his place, and committed him to prison, and never after admitted him to his presence; nor would any man of quality ever after keep any correspondence with him. The Earls of Essex, Salisbury, Warwick, Holland, and Manchester. The earl of Essex hath been enough mentioned before; his nature and his understanding have been described; his former disobligations from the Court, and then his introduc¬ tion into it, and afterwards his being displaced from the office he held in it, have been set forth; and there will be occasion, hereafter, to renew the discourse of him; and therefore it shall suffice, in this place, to say, that a weak judgment, and a little vanity, and as much of pride, will hurry a man into as unwarrantable and as violent attempts, as the greatest, and most unlimited, and insatiable ambition will do. He had no ambition of title, or office, or prefer¬ ment, but only to be kindly looked upon, and kindly spoken to, and quietly to enjoy his own fortune: and, without doubt, no man in his nature more abhorred rebellion than he did, nor could he have been led into it by any open or transparent temptation, but by a thousand disguises and cozenages. His pride supplied his want of ambition, and he was angry to see any other man more respected than himself, because he EARLS OF ESSEX AND SALISBURY. l 39 thought he deserved it more, and did better requite it. For he was, in his friendships, just and constant; and would not have practised foully against those he took to be enemies. No man had credit enough with him to corrupt him in point of loyalty to the King, whilst he thought himself wise enough to know what treason was. But the new doctrine, and dis¬ tinction of allegiance, and of the King’s power in and out of Parliament, and the new notions of ordinances, were too hard for him, and did really intoxicate his understanding, and made him quit his own, to follow theirs, who, he thought, wished as well, and judged better than himself. His vanity disposed him to be His Excellency; and his weakness, to believe that he should be the general in the Houses, as well as in the field; and be able to govern their counsels, and restrain their passions, as well as to fight their battles; and that, by this means, he should become the preserver, and not the destroyer, of the King and kingdom. And with this ill- grounded confidence, he launched out into that sea, where he met with nothing but rocks and shelves, and from whence he could never discover any safe port to harbour in. The earl of Salisbury had been born and bred in Court, and had the advantage of a descent from a father, and a grandfather, who had been very wise men, and great ministers of state in the eyes of Christendom ; whose wisdom and vir¬ tues died with them, and their children only inherited their titles. He had been admitted of the Council to King James ; from which time he continued so obsequious to the Court, that he never failed in overacting all that he was required to do. No act of power was ever proposed, which he did not advance, and execute his part with the utmost rigour. No man so great a tyrant in his country, or was less swayed by any motives of justice or honour. He was a man of no 140 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. words, except in hunting and hawking, in which he only knew how to behave himself. In matters of state and counsel, he always concurred in what was proposed for the King, and cancelled and repaired all those transgressions, by concurring in all that was proposed against him, as soon as any such propositions were made. Yet when the King went to York, he likewise attended upon his majesty; and, at that distance, seemed to have recovered some courage, and concurred in all counsels which were taken to undeceive the people, and to make the proceedings of the Parliament odious to all the world. But, on a sudden, he caused his horses to attend him out of the town, and having placed fresh ones at a distance, he fled back to London, with the expedition such men use, when they are most afraid; and never after denied to do any thing that was required of him ; and when the war was ended, and Cromwell had put down the House of Peers, he got himself to be chosen a member of the House of Com¬ mons ; and sat with them, as of their own body; and was esteemed accordingly. In a word, he became so despicable to all men, that he will hardly ever enjoy the ease which Seneca bequeathed him; Hie egregiis majoribus orlus est, qualiscunque est, sub umbra suorum lateal. Ui loca sordida repercussa sole illustrantur, ita inertes viajoruvi suorum luce resplendeant. The earl of Warwick was of the King’s Council too, but was not wondered at for leaving the King, whom he had never served; nor did he look upon himself as obliged by that honour, which, he knew, was conferred upon him in the crowd of those whom his majesty had no esteem of, or ever purposed to trust; so his business was to join with those to whom he owed his promotion. He was a man of a pleasant and companionable wit and conversation; of an universal EARLS OF WARWICK AND HOLLAND. J41 jollity; and such a license in his words, and in his actions, that a man of less virtue could not be found out: so that a man might reasonably have believed, that a man so qualified would not have been able to have contributed much to the overthrow of a nation and kingdom. But, with all these faults, he had great authority and credit with that people, who, in the beginning of the troubles, did all the mischief; and by opening his doors, and making his house the rendez¬ vous of all the silenced ministers, in the time when there was authority to silence them, and spending a good part of his estate, of which he was very prodigal, upon them, and by being present with them at their devotions, and making him¬ self merry with them, and at them, which they dispensed with, he became the head of that party; and got the style of a godly man. When the King revoked the earl of Northum¬ berland’s commission of admiral, he presently accepted the office from the Parliament; and never quitted their service; and when Cromwell disbanded that Parliament, he betook himself to the protection of the Protector; married his heir to his daughter; and lived in so entire a confidence and friendship with him, that, when he died, he had the honour to be ex¬ ceedingly lamented by him; and left his estate, which before was subject to a vast debt, more improved and repaired, than any man who trafficked in that desperate commodity of re¬ bellion. The earl of Holland had grown up under the shadow of the Court, and had been too long a Councillor before, and contributed too much to the counsels which had most pre¬ judiced the Crown, to have declined waiting upon it, when it needed attendance. But he chose to stay with the Parlia¬ ment; and there hath been enough said of him before, and more must be said hereafter. And therefore it shall suffice 142 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. now, to say, that there was a very froward fate attended all, or most of the posterity of that bed, from whence he and his brother of Warwick had their original; though he, and some others among them, had many very good parts and excellent endowments. The earl of Manchester, of the whole cabal, was, in a thousand respects, most unfit for the company he kept. He was of a gentle and a generous nature; civilly bred; had reverence and affection for the person of the King, upon whom he had attended in Spain; loved his country with too unskilful a tenderness; and was of so excellent a temper and disposition, that the barbarous times, and the rough parts he was forced to act in them, did not wipe out, or much deface, those marks: insomuch as he was never guilty of any rude¬ ness towards those he was obliged to oppress, but performed always as good offices towards his old friends, and all other persons, as the iniquity of the time, and the nature of the employment he was in, would permit him to do; which kind of humanity could be imputed to very few. And he was at last dismissed, and removed from any trust, for no other reason, but because he was not wicked enough. He married first into the family of the duke of Buckingham, and, by his favour and interest, was called to the House of Peers in the life of his father; and made baron of Kimbolton, though he was commonly treated and known by the name of the lord Mandevile; and was as much addicted to the service of the court as he ought to be. But the death of his lady, and the murder of that great favourite, his second marriage with the daughter of the earl of Warwick, and the very narrow and restrained maintenance, which he received from his father, and which would in no degree defray the expenses of the court, forced him too soon to retire to a THE EARL OF MANCHESTER. 143 country life, and totally to abandon both the Court and London; whither he came very seldom in many years. And in this retirement, the discountenance which his father under¬ went at Court, the conversation of that family into which he was married, the bewitching popularity, which flowed upon him with a wonderful torrent, with the want of those guards which a good education should have supplied him with, by the clear notion of the foundation of the ecclesiastical, as well as the civil government, made a great impression upon his understanding, (for his nature was never corrupted, but re¬ mained still in its integrity,) and made him believe that the Court was inclined to hurt, and even to destroy the country; and from particular instances to make general and dangerous conclusions. They who had been always enemies to the Church prevailed with him to lessen his reverence for it, and having not been well instructed to defend it, he yielded too easily to those who confidently assaulted it; and thought it had great errors, which were necessary to be reformed ; and that all means are lawful to compass that which is necessary. Whereas the true logic is, that the thing desired is not neces¬ sary, if the ways are unlawful, which are proposed to bring it to pass. No man was courted with more application, by persons of all conditions and qualities; and his person was not less acceptable to those of steady and uncorrupted prin¬ ciples, than to those of depraved inclinations. And in the end, even his piety administered some excuse to him; for his father’s infirmities and transgressions had so far exposed him to the inquisition of justice, that he found it necessary to procure the assistance and protection of those w r ho were strong enough to violate justice itself; and so he adhered to those who were best able to defend his father’s honour, and thereby to secure his own fortune; and concurred with them 144 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. in their most violent designs, and gave reputation to them. And the Court as unskilfully took an occasion too soon to make him desperate, by accusing him of high treason, when (though he might be guilty enough) he was, without doubt, in his intentions, at least, as innocent as any of the leading men. And it is some evidence, that God Almighty saw his heart was not so malicious as the rest, that he preserved him to the end of the confusion ; when he appeared as glad of the King’s restoration, and had heartily wished it long before, and very few, who had a hand in the contrivance of the Rebellion, gave so manifest tokens of repentance as he did; and having, for many years, undergone the jealousy and hatred of Crom¬ well, as one who abominated the murder of the King, and all the barbarous proceedings against the lives of men in cold blood ; the King upon his return received him into grace and favour, which he never forfeited by any undutiful behaviour. The Lord Say. The last of those Councillors which were made after the faction prevailed in Parliament, who were all made to advance an accommodation, and who adhered to the Parliament, was the lord Say; a man, who had the deepest hand in the original contrivance of all the calamities which befell this unhappy kingdom, though he had not the least thought of dissolving the monarchy, and less of levelling the ranks and distinctions of men. For no man valued himself more upon his title, or had more ambition to make it greater, and to raise his fortune, which was but moderate for his title. He was of a proud, morose, and sullen nature; conversed much with books, having been bred a scholar, and (though nobly THE LORD SAY. 145 born) a fellow of New College in Oxford; to which he claimed a right, by the alliance he pretended to have from William of Wickham, the founder; which he made good by such an unreasonable pedigree, through so many hundred years, half the time whereof extinguishes all relation of kindred. However upon that pretence, that college hath been seldom without one of that lord’s family. His parts were not quick, but so much above those of his own rank, that he had always great credit and authority in Parliament; and the more, for taking all opportunities to oppose the Court; and he had, with his milk, sucked in an implacable malice against the government of the Church. When the duke of Buckingham proposed to himself, after his return with the prince from Spain, to make himself popular, by breaking that match, and to be gracious with the Parliament, as for a short time he was, he resolved to embrace the friend¬ ship of the lord Say; who was as solicitous to climb by that ladder. But the duke quickly found him of too imperious and pedantical a spirit, and to affect too dangerous muta¬ tions; and so cast him off; and from that time he gave over any pursuit in Court, and lived narrowly and sordidly in the country; having conversation with very few, but such who had great malignity against the Church and State, and fomented their inclinations, and gave them instructions how to behave themselves with caution, and to do their business with most security ; and was in truth the pilot, that steered all those vessels which were freighted with sedition to destroy the government. He found always some way to make professions of duty to the king, and made several undertakings to do great services, which he could not, or would not, make good; and made haste to possess himself of any preferment he could compass, L 146 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. whilst his friends were content to attend a more proper con¬ juncture. So he got the mastership of the wards shortly after the beginning of the Parliament, and was as solicitous to be Treasurer after the death of the earl of Bedford; and, if he could have satisfied his rancour in any degree against the Church, he would have been ready to have carried the prero¬ gative as high as ever it was. When he thought there was mischief enough done, he would have stopped the current, and have diverted farther fury; but he then found he had only authority and credit to do hurt; none to heal the wounds he had given; and fell into as much contempt with those whom he had led, as he was with those whom he had undone. Sib Henry Vane. T he last of the Councillors who stayed with the Parliament was sir Henry Vane ; who had so much excuse for it, that, being thrown out of the Court, he had no whither else to go; and promised himself to be much made of by them, for whose sakes only he had brought that infamy upon himself. He was of very ordinary parts by nature, and had not cultivated them at all by art; for he was illiterate. But being of a stirring and boisterous disposition, very industrious, and very bold, he still wrought himself into some employment. He had been acquainted with the vicissitudes of Court, and had undergone some severe mortification, by the disfavour of the duke of Buckingham, in the beginning of the King’s reign. But the duke was no sooner dead, (which made it believed that he had made his peace in his lifetime, for the King was not, in a long time after, reconciled to any man who was eminently in the duke’s disfavour,) but he was again brought into the Court, and made a Councillor, and Controller of the SIR HENRY VANE. 147 Household; which place he became well, and was fit for; and if he had never taken other preferment, he might probably have continued a good subject. For he had no inclination to change, and in the judgment he had, liked the government both of Church and State; and only desired to raise his for¬ tune,. which was not great, and which he found many ways to improve. And he was wont to say, ‘ that he never had desired other preferment; and believed, that marquis Hamil¬ ton,’ (with whom he had never kept fair quarter,) ‘ when he first proposed to him to be Secretary of State, did it to affront him; well knowing his want of ability for the discharge of that office.’ But, without doubt, as the fatal preferring him to that place was of unspeakable prejudice to the king, so his receiving it was to his own destruction. His malice to the earl of Strafford (who had unwisely provoked him, wantonly, and out of contempt) transported him to all imaginable thoughts of revenge; which is a guest, that naturally disquiets and tortures those who entertain it, with all the perplexities they contrive for others; and that disposed him to sacrifice his honour and faith, and his master’s interest, that he might ruin the earl, and was buried himself in the same ruin; for which being justly chastised by the King, and turned out of his service, he was left to his own despair; and, though he concurred in all the malicious designs against the King, and against the Church, he grew into the hatred and contempt of those who had made most use of him; and died in universal reproach, and not contemned more by any of his enemies, than by his own son ; who had been his principal conductor to destruction. l 2 148 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. BOOK VII. Attack by Rupert. But the alarm had been brought to the earl of Essex from all the quarters, who quickly gathered those troops together, which were nearest; and directed those to follow the prince, and to entertain him in skirmishes, till himself should come up with the foot, and some other troops, which he made all possible haste to do. So that when the prince had almost passed a fair plain, or field, called Chalgrove field, from whence he was to enter a lane, which continued to the bridge, the enemy’s horse were discovered marching after them with speed; and as they might easily overtake them in the lane, so they must as easily have put them into great disorder. Therefore the prince resolved to expect, and stand them upon the open field, though his horse were all tired, and the sun was grown very hot, it being about eight of the clock in the morning in [June]. And so he directed, ‘ that the guard of the prisoners should make what haste they could to the bridge, but that all the rest should return ; ’ for some were entered the lane : and so he placed himself and his troops, as he thought fit, in that field to receive the enemy; which made more haste, and with less order than they should have done; and being more in number than the prince, and consisting of many of the principal officers, who, having been present with the earl of Essex when the alarm came, stayed not for their own troops, but joined with those who were ready in the pursuit, as they thought, of a flying enemy, or such as would easily be arrested in their hasty retreat, and. having now overtaken them, meant to take revenge them- ATTACK BY RUPERT. 149 selves for the damage they had received that night, and morning, before the general could come up to have a share in the victory, though his troops were even in view. But the prince entertained them so roughly, that though their fronts charged very bravely and obstinately, consisting of many of their best officers, of which many of the chiefest falling, the rest shewed less vigour, and in a short time they broke, and fled, and were pursued till they came near the earl of Essex’s body; which being at near a mile’s distance, and making a stand to receive their flying troops, and to be informed of their disaster, the prince with his troops hastened his retreat, and passed the lane, and came safe to the bridge before any of the earl’s forces came up; who found it then to no purpose to go farther, there being a good guard of foot, which had likewise lined both sides of the hedges a good way in the lane. And so the prince, about noon, or shortly after, entered Oxford, with near two hundred prisoners, seven cornets of horse, and four ensigns of foot, with most of the men he carried from thence, some few excepted, who had been killed in the action, whereof some were of name. And the prince presented colonel Urry to the King with a great testimony of the courage he had shewed in the action, as well as of his counsel and conduct in the whole; which was indeed very dexterous, and could have been performed by no man, who had not been very conversant with the nature and humour of those he destroyed. Upon which, the King honoured him with knighthood, and a regiment of horse as soon as it could be raised; and every body magnified and extolled him, as they usually do a man who hath good luck, and the more, because he was a Scotchman, and professed a repentance for having been in rebellion against the King. X50 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. And he deserves this testimony, and vindication to be given him, against the calumnies which were raised against him, ‘ as if he had broken his trust, and deserted the service of the Parliament, and betrayed them to the King,’ which is not true. He had owned and published his discontents long before, and demanded redress and justice in some particulars from the parliament, in which the earl of Essex thought he had reason ; and wished he might receive satisfaction. But the man was in his nature proud and imperious ; and had raised many enemies, and was besides of license, and com¬ mitted many disorders of that kind; and had little other virtue than being a good officer in the field, regular and vigilant in marching, and in his quarters, which the Parlia¬ ment thought other men would attain to, who had fewer vices; and therefore granted nothing that he had desired; upon which he declared, ‘ he would serve them no longer; ’ and delivered up his commission to the earl of Essex; and being then pressed to promise, that he would not serve the King, he positively refused to give any such engagement; and after he had staved in London about a month, and had received encouragement from some friends in Oxford, he came thither in the manner set down before. The prince’s success in this last march was very seasonable, and raised the spirits at Oxford very much, and for some time allayed the jealousies and animosities, which too often broke out in several factions to the disquiet of the King. It was visibly great in the number of the prisoners; whereof many were of condition, and the names of many officers were known, who were left dead upon the field, as colonel Gunter, who was looked upon as the best officer of horse they had, and a man of known malice to the government of the Church; which had drawn some severe censure upon JOHN HAMPDEN. 151 him before the troubles, and for which he had still meditated revenge. And one of the prisoners who had been taken in the action said, ‘that he was confident Mr. Hambden was hurt, for he saw him ride off the field before the action was done, which he never used to do, and with his head hanging down, and resting his hands upon the neck of his horse;’ by which he concluded he was hurt. But the news the next day made the victory much more important than it was thought to have been. There was full information brought of the great loss the enemy had sustained in their quarters, by which three or four regiments were utterly broken and lost : the names of many officers, of the best account, were known, who were either killed upon the place, or so hurt as there remained little hope of their recovery. John Hampden. Many men observed (as upon signal turns of great affairs, as this was, such observations are frequently made) that the field in which the late skirmish was, and upon which Mr. Hambden received his death’s wound, Chalgrove field, was the same place in which he had first executed the ordinance of the militia, and engaged that county, in which his reputa¬ tion was very great, in this rebellion: and it was confessed by the prisoners that were taken that day, and acknowledged by all, that upon the alarm that morning, after their quarters were beaten up, he was exceedingly solicitous to draw forces together to pursue the enemy; and, being himself a colonel of foot, put himself among those horse as a volunteer, who were first ready; and that when the prince made a stand, all the officers were of opinion to stay till their body came up, and he alone (being second to none but the general himself 1 52 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. in the observance and application of all men) persuaded, and prevailed with them to advance ; so violently did his fate carry him, to pay the mulct in the place where he had com¬ mitted the transgression, about a year before. He was a gentleman of a good family in Buckinghamshire, and born to a fair fortune, and of a most civil and affable deportment. In his entrance into the world, he indulged to himself all the license in sports and exercises, and company, which was used by men of the most jolly conversation. Afterwards, he retired to a more reserved and melancholy society, yet preserving his own natural cheerfulness and vivacity, and above all, a flowing courtesy to all men ; though they who conversed nearly with him, found him growing into a dislike of the ecclesiastical government of the Church, yet most believed it rather a dislike of some churchmen, and of some introducements of theirs, which he apprehended might disquiet the public peace. He was rather of reputation in his own country, than of public discourse, or fame in the kingdom, before the business of ship-money: but then he grew the argument of all tongues, every man inquiring who and what he was, that durst, at his own charge, support the liberty and property of the kingdom, and rescue his country, as he thought, from being made a prey to the Court. His carriage, throughout this agitation, was with that rare temper and modesty, that they who watched him narrowly to find some advantage against his person, to make him less resolute in his cause, were compelled to give him a just testimony. And the judgment that was given against him infinitely more advanced him, than the service for which it was given. When this parliament begun, (being returned knight of the shire for the county where he lived,) the eyes of all men were fixed on him, as their Patrice, pater , and the pilot that must JOHN HAMPDEN. 153 eer the vessel through the tempests and rocks which threat- led it. And I am persuaded, his power and interest, at hat time, was greater to do good or hurt, than any man's in t le kingdom, or than any man of his rank hath had in any Tie : for his reputation of honesty was universal, and his affections seemed so publicly guided, that no corrupt or private ends could bias them. He was of that rare affability and temper in debate, and of that seeming humility and submission of judgment, as if he brought no opinion with him, but a desire of information id instruction; yet he had so subtle a way of interrogating, nd, under the notion of doubts, insinuating his objections, at he left his opinions with those from whom he pretended to learn and receive them. And even with them who were 1 ile to preserve themselves from his infusions, and discerned diose opinions to be fixed in him, with which they could not - omply, he always left the character of an ingenious and nscientious person. He was indeed a very wise man, and 1 great parts, and possessed with the most absolute spirit of P' ipularity, that is, the most absolute faculties to govern the ople, of any man I ever knew. For the first year of the 1 ’ irliament, he seemed rather to moderate and soften the \;olent and distempered humours, than to inflame them. Hut wise and dispassioned men plainly discerned, that that moderation proceeded from prudence, and observation that he season was not ripe, rather than that he approved of the i ^deration, and that he begat many opinions and motions, he education whereof he committed to other men, so far guising his own designs, that he seemed seldom to wish nore than was concluded ; and in many gross conclusions, v. tich would hereafter contribute to designs not yet set on foot, when he found them sufficiently backed by majority of 154 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. voices, he would withdraw himself before the question, that he might seem not to consent to so much visible unreason¬ ableness ; which produced as great a doubt in some, as it did approbation in others, of his integrity. What combina¬ tion soever had been originally with the Scots for the in¬ vasion of England, and what farther was entered into after¬ wards in favour of them, and to advance any alteration [of the government] in Parliament, no man doubts was at least with the privity of this gentleman. After he was among those members accused by the King of high treason, he was much altered, his nature and carriage seeming much fiercer than it did before. And without question, when he first drew his sword, he threw away the scabbard; for he passionately opposed the overture made by the King for a treaty from Nottingham, and as eminently, any expedients that might have produced any accommodations in this that was at Oxford; and was principally relied on, to prevent any infusions which might be made into the earl of Essex towards peace, or to render them ineffectual, if they were made; and was indeed much more relied on by that party, than the general himself. In the first entrance into the troubles, he undertook the com¬ mand of a regiment of foot, and performed the duty of a colonel, on all occasions, most punctually. He was very temperate in diet, and a supreme governor over all his passions and affections, and had thereby a great power over other men’s. He was of an industry and vigilance not to be tired out, or wearied by the most laborious; and of parts not to be imposed upon by the most subtle or sharp; and of a personal courage equal to his best parts; so that he was an enemy not to be wished wherever he might have been made a friend, and as much to be apprehended where he was so, LORD FALKLAND. x 55 as any man could deserve to be. And therefore his death was no less congratulated on the one party, than it was condoled in the other. In a word, what was said of Cinna might well be applied to him; ‘ he had a head to contrive, and a tongue to persuade, and a hand to execute, any mis¬ chief.’ His death therefore seemed to be a great deliverance to the nation. Lord Falkland. / If the celebrating the memory of eminent and extra¬ ordinary persons, and transmitting their great virtues, for the imitation of posterity, be one of the principal ends and duties of history, it will not be thought impertinent, in this place, to remember a loss which no time will suffer to be forgotten, and no success or good fortune could repair. In this un- happy 1 battle was slain the lord viscount Falkland; a person of such prodigious parts of learning and knowledge, of that inimitable sweetness and delight in conversation, of so flow¬ ing and obliging a humanity and goodness to mankind, and of that primitive simplicity and integrity of life, that if there were no other brand upon this odious and accursed civil war, than that single loss, it must be most infamous, and execrable to all posterity. Turpe viori , post te, solo non posse dolore. Before this Parliament, his condition of life was so happy that it was hardly capable of improvement. Before he came to twenty years of age, he was master of a noble fortune, which descended to him by the gift of a grandfather, without passing through his father or mother, who were then both alive, and not well enough contented to find themselves passed by in the descent. His education for some years had 1 [The first battle of Newbury.] 156 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. been in Ireland, where his father was Lord Deputy; so that, when he returned into England, to the possession of his fortune, he was unentangled with any acquaintance or friends, which usually grow up by the custom of conversation; and therefore was to make a pure election of his company; which he chose by other rules than were prescribed to the young nobility of that time. And it cannot be denied, though he admitted some few to his friendship for the agreeableness of their natures, and their undoubted affection to him, that his familiarity and friendship, for the most part, was with men of the most eminent and sublime parts, and of untouched reputation in point of integrity; and such men had a title to his bosom. He was a great cherisher of wit, and fancy, and good parts in any man; and, if he found them clouded w r ith poverty or want, a most liberal and bountiful patron towards them, even above his fortune; of which, in those administrations, he was such a dispenser, as, if he had been trusted with it to such uses, and if there had been the least of vice in his expense, he might have been thought too prodigal. He was constant and pertinacious in whatsoever he resolved to do, and not to be wearied by any pains that were necessary to that end. And therefore having once resolved not to see London, which he loved above all places, till he had perfectly learned the Greek tongue, he went to his own house in the country, and pursued it with that indefatigable industry, that it will not be believed in how short a time he was master of it, and accurately read all the Greek historians. In this time, his house being within ten miles of Oxford, he contracted familiarity and friendship with the most polite and accurate men of that university; who found such an immenseness of wit, and such a solidity of judgment in LORD FALKLAND. 157 him, so infinite a fancy, bound in by a most logical ratioci¬ nation, such a vast knowledge, that he was not ignorant in any thing, yet such an excessive humility, as if he had known nothing, that they frequently resorted, and dwelt with him as in a college situated in a purer air; so that his house was a university in a less volume, whither they came not so much for repose as study, and to examine and refine those grosser propositions, which laziness and consent made current in vulgar conversation. Many attempts were made upon him by the instigation of his mother (who was a lady of another persuasion in religion, and of a most masculine understanding, allayed with the passion and infirmities of her own sex) to pervert him in his piety to the Church of England, and to reconcile him to that of Rome ; which they prosecuted with the more confidence, because he declined no opportunity or occasion of conference with those of that religion, whether priests or laics, having diligently studied the controversies, and exactly read all, or the choicest of the Greek and Latin fathers, and having a memory so stupendous, that he remembered, on all occasions, whatsoever he read. And he was so great an enemy to that passion und uncharitableness, which he saw produced, by difference of opinion, in matters of religion, that in all those disputations with priests, and others of the Roman Church, he affected to manifest all possible civility to their persons, and estimation of their parts; which made them retain still some hope of his reduction, even when they had given over offering farther reasons to him to that purpose. But this charity towards them was much lessened, and any corres¬ pondence with them quite declined, when, by sinister arts, they had corrupted his two younger brothers, being both children, and stolen them from his house, and transported 158 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. them beyond seas, and perverted his sisters : upon which occasion he writ two large discourses against the principal positions of that religion, with that sharpness of style, and full weight of reason, that the church is deprived of great jewels in the concealment of them, and that they are not published to the world. He was superior to all those passions and affections which attend vulgar minds, and was guilty of no other ambition than of knowledge, and to be reputed a lover of all good men; and that made him too much a contemner of those arts, which must be indulged in the transactions of human affairs. In the last short Parliament, he was a burgess in the House of Commons; and, from the debates which were then managed with all imaginable gravity and sobriety, he con¬ tracted such a reverence to parliaments, that he thought it really impossible they could ever produce mischief or incon¬ venience to the kingdom; or that the kingdom could be tolerably happy in the intermission of them. And from the unhappy and unseasonable dissolution of that convention, he harboured, it may be, some jealousy and prejudice to the Court, towards which he was not before immoderately in¬ clined ; his father having wasted a full fortune there, in those offices and employments by which other men use to obtain a greater. He was chosen again this Parliament to serve in the same place, and, in the beginning of it, declared himself very sharply and severely against those exorbitancies, which had been most grievous to the State; for he was so rigid an observer of established laws and rules, that he could not endure the least breach or deviation from them ; and thought no mischief so intolerable as the presumption of ministers of state to break positive rules, for reasons of state; or judges to transgress known laws, upon the title of conveniency or LORD FALKLAND. 159 necessity; which made him so severe against the earl of Strafford and the lord Finch, contrary to his natural gentle¬ ness and temper: insomuch as they who did not know his composition to be as free from revenge, as it was from pride, thought that the sharpness to the former might proceed from the memory of some unkindnesses, not without a mixture of injustice, from him towards his father. But without doubt he was free from those temptations, and was only misled by the authority of those, who, he believed, understood the laws perfectly ; of which himself was utterly ignorant; and if the assumption, which was scarce controverted, had been true, ‘ that an endeavour to overthrow the fundamental laws of the kingdom had been treason,’ a strict understanding might make reasonable conclusions to satisfy his own judgment, from the exorbitant parts of their several charges. The great opinion he had of the uprightness and integrity of those persons who appeared most active, especially of Mr. Hambden, kept him longer from suspecting any design against the peace of the kingdom; and though he differed from them commonly in conclusions, he believed long their purposes were honest. When he grew better informed what was law, and discerned in them a desire to control that law by a vote of one or both houses, no man more opposed those attempts, and gave the adverse party more trouble by reason and argumentation; insomuch as he was, by degrees, looked upon as an advocate for the Court, to which he contributed so little, that he declined those addresses, and even those invitations which he was obliged almost by civility to enter¬ tain. And he was so jealous of the least imagination that he should incline to preferment, that he affected even a morosity to the Court, and to the courtiers; and left nothing undone which might prevent and divert the King’s or Queen’s favour 160 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. towards him, but the deserving it. For when the King sent for him once or twice to speak with him, and to give him thanks for his excellent comportment in those councils, which his majesty graciously termed ‘ doing him service,’ his answers were more negligent, and less satisfactory, than might be expected; as if he cared only that his actions should be just, not that they should be acceptable, and that his majesty should think that they proceeded only from the impulsion of conscience, without any sympathy in his affec¬ tions; which, from a stoical and sullen nature, might not have been misinterpreted; yet, from a person of so perfect a habit of generous and obsequious compliance with all good men, might very well have been interpreted by the King as more than an ordinary averseness to his service : so that he took more pains, and more forced his nature to actions unagreeable, and unpleasant to it, that he might not be thought to incline to the Court, than most men have done to procure an office there. And if any thing but not doing his duty could have kept him from receiving a testimony of the King’s grace and trust at fhat time, he had not been called to his Council; not that he was in truth averse to the Court or from receiving public employment; for he had a great devotion to the King’s person, and had before used some small endeavour to be recommended to him for a foreign negociation, and had once a desire to be sent ambassador into France; but he abhorred an imagination or doubt should sink into the thoughts of any man, that, in the discharge of his trust and duty in Parliament, he had any bias to the court, or that the King himself should apprehend that he looked for a reward for being honest. For this reason, when he heard it first whispered, ‘ that the King had a purpose to make him a Councillor,’ for which LORD FALKLAND. 161 here was, in the beginning, no other ground, but because he was known sufficient, (hand semper errat fama, aliquando et legit ,) he resolved to decline it; and at last suffered himself nly to be overruled, by the advice and persuasions of his riends, to submit to it. Afterwards, when he found that the Cing intended to make him Secretary of State, he was positive d refuse it ; declaring to his friends, ‘ that he was most unfit i or it, and that he must either do that which would be great isquiet to his own nature, or leave that undone which was lost necessary to be done by one that was honoured with lat place; for that the most just and honest men did, every day, that which he could not give himself leave to do.’ And ideed he was so exact and strict an observer of justice and -uth, ad amussim, that he believed those necessary conde- censions and applications to the weakness of other men, nd those arts and insinuations which are necessary for iscoveries, and prevention of ill, would be in him a de- lension from the rule which he acknowledged fit, and bsolutely necessary to be practised in those employments; and was, in truth, so precise in the practick principles he prescribed to himself, (to all others he was as indulgent,) s if he had lived in republiea Platonis, non in face Romuli. Two reasons prevailed with him to receive the seals, and ut for those he had resolutely avoided them. The first, the onsideration that it [his refusal] might bring some blemish pon the King’s affairs, and that men would have believed, lat he had refused so great an honour and trust, because he lust have been with it obliged to do somewhat else not istifiable. And this he made matter of conscience, since he new the King made choice of him, before other men, especi- lly because he thought him more honest than other men. 'he other was, lest he might be thought to avoid it out of M i 62 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. fear to do an ungracious thing to the House of Commons, who were sorely troubled at the displacing sir Harry Vane, whom they looked upon as removed for having done them those offices they stood in need of; and the disdain of so popular an incumbrance wrought upon him next to the other. For as he had a full appetite of fame by just and generous actions, so he had an equal contempt of it by any servile expedients: and he so much the more consented to and approved the justice upon sir Harry Vane, in his own private judgment, by how much he surpassed most men in the religious observation of a trust, the violation whereof he would not admit of any excuse for. For these reasons, he submitted to the King’s command, and became his Secretary, with as humble and devout an acknowledgment of the greatness of the obligation, as could be expressed, and as true a sense of it in his heart. Yet two things he could never bring himself to, whilst he continued in that office, that was to his death; for which he was contented to be reproached, as for omissions in a most necessary part of his place. The one, employing of spies, or giving any countenance or entertain¬ ment to them; I do not mean such emissaries, as with danger would venture to view the enemy’s camp, and bring intelligence of their number, or quartering, or such generals as such an observation can comprehend, but those, who by communication of guilt, or dissimulation of manners, wound themselves into such trusts and secrets, as enabled them to make discoveries for the benefit of the State. The other, the liberty of opening letters, upon a suspicion that they might contain matter of dangerous consequence. For the first, he would say, ‘ such instruments must be void of all ingenuity, and common honesty, before they could be of use; and LORD FALKLAND. 163 afterwards they could never be fit to be credited, and that no single preservation could be worth so general a wound, and corruption of human society, as the cherishing such persons would carry with it.’ The last, he thought ‘such a violation of the law of nature, that no qualification by office could justify a single person in the trespass ; ’ and though he was convinced by the necessity, and iniquity of the time, that those advantages of information were not to be declined, and were necessarily to be practised, he found means to shift it from himself; when he confessed he needed excuse and pardon for the omission : so unwilling he was to resign any thing in his nature to an obligation in his office. In all other particulars he filled his place plentifully, being sufficiently versed in languages, to understand any that are used in business, and to make himself again understood. To speak of his integrity, and his high disdain of any bait that might seem to look towards corruption, in tanto viro, injuria viriuium fucrit. Some sharp expressions he used against the archbishop of Canterbury, and his concurring in the first bill to take away the votes of bishops in the House of Peers, gave occasion to some to believe, and opportunity to others to conclude, and publish, ‘that he was no friend to the Church, and the established government of it; ’ and troubled his very friends much, who were more confident of the contrary, than prepared to answer the allegations. The truth is, he had unhappily contracted some prejudice to the archbishop; and having only known him enough to observe his passion, when, it may be, multiplicity of business, or other indisposition, had possessed him, did wish him less entangled and engaged in the business of the Court, or State: though, I speak it knowingly, he had a singular estimation and reverence of his great learning, and confessed integrity; m 2 164 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. and really thought his letting himself to those expressions, which implied a disesteem of him, or at least an acknow¬ ledgment of his infirmities, would enable him to shelter him from part of the storm he saw raised for his destruction; which he abominated with his soul. The giving his consent to the first bill for the displacing of the bishops, did proceed from two grounds : the first, his not understanding the original of their right and suffrage there: the other, an opinion, that the combination against the whole government of the Church by bishops, was so violent and furious, that a less composition than the dispensing with their intermeddling in secular affairs, would not preserve the order. And he was persuaded to this by the profession of many persons of honour, who declared, ‘ they did desire the one, and would not then press the other; ’ which, in that particular, misled many men. But when his observation and experience made him discern more of their intentions, than he before suspected, with great frankness he opposed the second bill that was preferred for that purpose ; and had, without scruple, the order itself in perfect reverence; and thought too great encouragement could not possibly be given to learning, nor too great rewards to learned men; and was never in the least degree swayed or moved by the objections which were made against that government, (holding them most ridiculous,) or affected to the other, which those men fancied to themselves. He had a courage of the most clear and keen temper, and so far from fear, that he was not without appetite of danger; and therefore, upon any occasion of action, he always engaged his person in those troops, which he thought, by the forwardness of the commanders, to be most like to be farthest engaged; and in all such encounters he had about LORD FALKLAND. 165 him a strange cheerfulness and companiableness, without at all affecting the execution that was then principally to be attended, in which he took no delight, but took pains to prevent it, where it was not, by resistance, necessary: inso¬ much that at Edge-hill, when the enemy was routed, he was like to have incurred great peril, by interposing to save those who had thrown away their arms, and against whom, it may be, others were more fierce for their having thrown them away: insomuch as a man might think, he came into the field only out of curiosity to see the face of danger, and charity to prevent the shedding of blood. Yet in his natural inclination he acknowledged he was addicted to the pro¬ fession of a soldier ; and shortly after he came to his fortune, and before he came to age, he went into the Low Countries, with a resolution of procuring command, and to give himself up to it, from which he was converted by the complete inactivity of that summer: and so he returned into England, and shortly after entered upon that vehement course of study we mentioned before, till the first alarum from the north ; and then again he made ready for the field, and though he received some repulse in the command of a troop of horse, of which he had a promise, he went a volunteer with the earl of Essex. From the entrance into this unnatural war, his natural cheerfulness and vivacity grew clouded, and a kind of sad¬ ness and dejection of spirit stole upon him, which he had never been used to; yet being one of those who believed that one battle would end all differences, and that there would be so great a victory on one side, that the other would be compelled to submit to any conditions from the victor, (which supposition and conclusion generally sunk into the minds of most men, and prevented the looking after many 1 66 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. advantages, that might then have been laid hold of,) he resisted those indispositions, el in luctu helium inter remedia erat. But after the King’s return from Brentford, and the furious resolution of the two Houses not to admit any treaty of peace, those indispositions, which had before touched him, grew into a perfect habit of uncheerfulness; and he, who had been so exactly unreserved and affable to all men, that his face and countenance was always present, and vacant to his company, and held any cloudiness, and less pleasantness of the visage, a kind of rudeness or incivility, became, on a sudden, less communicable, and thence, very sad, pale, and exceedingly affected with the spleen. In his clothes and habit, which he had intended before always with more neat¬ ness, and industry, and expense, than is usual to so great a mind, he was not now only incurious, but too negligent; and in his reception of suitors, and the necessary or casual addresses to his place, so quick, and sharp, and severe, that there wanted not some men, (who were strangers to his nature and disposition,) who believed him proud and im¬ perious, from which no mortal man was ever more free. The truth is, that as he was of a most incomparable gentle¬ ness, application, and even demissiveness and submission to good, and worthy, and entire men, so he was naturally (which could not but be more evident in his place, which objected him to another conversation and inter¬ mixture, than his own election had done) adversus malos injucundus ; and was so ill a dissembler of his dislike and disinclination to ill men, that it was not possible for such not to discern it. There was once, in the House of Commons, such a declared acceptation of the good service an eminent member had done to them, and, as they said, to the whole kingdom, that it was moved, he being present, ‘ that the LORD FALKLAND. 167 Speaker might, in the name of the whole House, give him thanks ; and then, that every member might, as a testimony of his particular acknowledgment, stir or move his hat towards him ; ’ the which (though not ordered) when very many did, the lord Falkland, (who believed the service itself not to be of that moment, and that an honourable and generous person could not have stooped to it for any recom¬ pense,) instead of moving his hat, stretched both his arms out, and clasped his hands together upon the crown of his hat, and held it close down to his head; that all men might see, how odious that flattery was to him, and the very appro¬ bation of the person, though at that time most popular. When there was an overture or hope of peace, he would be more erect and vigorous, and exceedingly solicitous to press any thing which he thought might promote it ; and sitting among his friends, often, after a deep silence and frequent sighs, would, with a shrill and sad accent, ingemin¬ ate the word Peace , Peace; and would passionately profess, ‘ that the very agony of the war, and the view of the calamities and desolation the kingdom did and must endure, took his sleep from him, and would shortly break his heart.’ This made some think, or pretend to think, ‘ that he was so much enamoured on peace, that he would have been glad the King should have bought it at any price; ’ which was a most unreasonable calumny. As if a man, that was himself the most punctual and precise in every circumstance that might reflect upon conscience or honour, could have wished the king to have committed a trespass against either. And yet this senseless scandal made some impression upon him, or at least he used it for an excuse of the daringness of his spirit; for at the leaguer before Gloucester, when his friends passionately reprehended him for exposing his person un- i68 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. necessarily to danger, (as he delighted to visit the trenches and nearest approaches, and to discover what the enemy did,) as being so much beside the duty of his place, that it might be understood against it, he would say merrily, ‘ that his office could not take away the privileges of his age; and that a Secretary in war might be present at the greatest secret of danger ; ’ but withal alleged seriously, ‘ that it con¬ cerned him to be more active in enterprises of hazard, than other men, that all might see, that his impatiency for peace proceeded not from pusillanimity, or fear to adventure his own person.’ In the morning before the battle, as always upon action, he was very cheerful, and put himself into the first rank of the lord Byron’s regiment, who was then advancing upon the enemy, who had lined the hedges on both sides with musketeers; from whence he was shot with a musket in the lower part of the belly, and in the instant falling from his horse, his body was not found till the next morning; till when, there was some hope he might have been a prisoner ; though his nearest friends, who knew his temper, received small comfort from that imagination. Thus fell that incom¬ parable young man, in the four and thirtieth year of his age, having so much despatched the business of life, that the oldest rarely attain to that immense knowledge, and the youngest enter not into the world with more innocence; whosoever leads such a life, needs not care upon how short warning it be taken from him. DIVISIONS. The general and prince Rupert were both strangers to the government and custom of the kingdom, and utterly unacquainted with the nobility, and the public ministers, or DIVISIONS. 169 ith their rights: and the prince’s heart was so wholly set upon actions of war, that he not only neglected, but too luch contemned, the peaceable and civil arts, which were lost necessary even to the carrying on of the other. And t ertainly, somewhat like that which Plutarch says of sooth- rying, ‘ that Octavius lost his life by trusting to it, and that [arius prospered the better, because he did not altogether ,espise it,’ may be said of popularity: though he that too immoderately and importunately affects it (which was the ise of the earl of Essex) will hardly continue innocent; yet he who too affectedly despises or neglects what is said of im, or what is generally thought of persons or things, and 10 stoically contemns the affections of men, even of the ulgar, (be his other abilities and virtues what can be inagined,) will, in some conjuncture of time, find himself \ ery unfortunate. And it may be, a better reason cannot be ssigned for the misfortunes that hopeful young prince (who ad great parts of mind, as well as vigour of body, and an comparable personal courage) underwent, and the kingdom ereby, than that roughness and unpolishedness of his nature; which rendered him less patient to hear, and conse- aently less skilful to judge of those things, which should ive guided him in the discharge of his important trust: and ence making an unskilful judgment of the usefulness of be Councils, by his observation of the infirmities and weak- ess of some particular Councillors, he grew to a full sesteem of the acts of that board ; which must be accounted venerable, as long as the regal power is exercised in England. And I cannot but, on this occasion, continue this digression us much farther, to observe, that they who avoid public debates in Council, or think them of less moment, upon undervaluing the persons of some Councillors, and from the 170 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. particular infirmities of the men, the heaviness of this man, the levity of that, the weakness and simplicity of a third, conclude, that their advice and opinions are not requisite to any great design, are exceedingly deceived, and will per¬ niciously deceive others who are misled by those conclusions. For it is in wisdom, as it is in beauty. A face that, being taken in pieces, affords scarce one exact feature, an eye, or a nose, or a tooth, or a brow, or a mouth, against which a visible just exception cannot be taken, yet altogether, by a gracefulness and vivacity in the whole, may constitute an excellent beauty, and be more catching than another, whose symmetry is more faultless. So there are many men, who in this particular argument may be unskilful, in that affected, who may seem to have levity, or vanity, or formality, in ordinary and cursory conversation, (a very crooked rule to measure any man’s abilities, as giving a better measure of the humour, than of the understanding,) and yet in formed counsels, deliberations, and transactions, are men of great in¬ sight, and wisdom, and from whom excellent assistance is contributed. Divisions Continued. Amongst those who were nearest the King’s trust, and to whom he communicated the greatest secrets in his affairs, there were some, who from private, though very good, con¬ ditions of life, without such an application to Court as usually ushered in those promotions, were ascended to that prefer¬ ment ; and were believed to have an equal interest with any, in their master’s estimation. And these were sure to find no more charity from the Court, than from the army; and having had lately so many equals, it was thought no pre¬ sumption, freely to censure all they did, or spake; what effect DIVISIONS CONTINUED. 171 soever such freedom had upon the public policy and trans¬ actions. It were to be wished, that persons of the greatest birth, honour, and fortune, would take that care of themselves by education, industry, literature, and a love of virtue, to surpass all other men in knowledge, and all other qualifications, necessary for great actions, as far as they do in quality and titles, that princes, out of them, might always choose men fit for all employments, and high trusts; which would exceed¬ ingly advance their service; when the reputation and respect of the person carries somewhat with it that facilitates the business. And it cannot easily be expressed, nor compre¬ hended by any who have not felt the weight and burden of the envy, which naturally attends upon those promotions, which seem to be per saltum, how great straits and difficulties such ministers are forced to wrestle with, and by which the charges, with which they are intrusted, must proportionably suffer, let the integrity and wisdom of the men be what it can be supposed to be. Neither is the patience, temper and dexterity, to carry a man through those straits, easily attained; it being very hard, in the morning of preferment, to keep an even temper of mind, between the care to preserve the dignity of the place committed to him, (without which he shall expose himself to a thousand unchaste attempts, and dishonour the judgment that promoted him, by appearing too vile for such a trust,) and the caution, that his nature be not really exalted to an overweening pride and folly, upon the privilege of his place; which will expose him to much more contempt than the former; and therefore [is], with a more exact guard upon a man's self, to be avoided: the errors of gentleness and civility being much more easily reformed, as well as endured, than the other of arrogance and ostentation. The best provision that such men can make for their 172 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. voyage, besides a stock of innocency that cannot be impaired, and a firm confidence in God Almighty, that he will never suffer that innocency to be utterly oppressed, or notoriously defamed, is, an expectation of those gusts and storms of rumour, detraction, and envy; and a resolution not to be over sensible of all calumnies, unkindness, or injustice; but to believe, that, by being preferred before other men, they have an obligation upon them, to suffer more than other men would do; and that the best way to convince scandals, and misreports, is, by neglecting them, to appear not to have deserved them. And there is not a more troublesome passion, or that often draws more inconveniences with it, than that which proceeds from the indignation of being unjustly calumniated, and from the pride of an upright conscience, when men cannot endure to be spoken ill of, if they have not deserved it: in which distemper, though they free themselves from the errors, or infirmities, with which they were traduced, they commonly discover others, of which they had never been suspected. In a word, let no man think, that is once entered into the list, he can by any skill, or comportment, prevent these conflicts and assaults; or by any stubborn or impetuous humour, suppress and prevail over them: but let him look upon it as purgatory he is unavoidably to pass through, and depend upon Providence, and time, for a vindication; and by performing all the duties of his place to the end with justice, integrity, and uprightness, give all men cause to believe, he was worthy of it the first hour, which is a triumph very lawful to be affected. As these distempers, indispositions, and infirmities of particular men had a great influence upon the public affairs, and disturbed and weakened the whole frame and fabric of the King’s designs; so no particular man was more dis- DIVISIONS CONTINUED. 173 quieted by them, than the King himself ; who, in his person, as well as in his business, suffered all the vexation of the rude, petulant, and discontented humours of Court and army. His majesty now paid interest for all the benefit and advan¬ tage he had received in the beginning of the war, by his gentleness, and princely affability to all men, and by descending somewhat from the forms of majesty, which he had, in his former life, observed with all punctuality. He vouchsafed then himself to receive any addresses, and over¬ tures for his service, and to hold discourse with all men who brought devotion to him; and he must be now troubled with the complaints, and murmurs, and humours of all; and how frivolous and unreasonable soever the cause was, his majesty was put both to inform and temper their understand¬ ings. No man would receive an answer but from himself, and expected a better from him, than he must have been contented to have received from any body else. Every man magnified the service he had done, and his ability and interest to do greater, and proposed honour and reward equal to both in his own sense. And if he received not an answer to his mind, he grew sullen, complained, ‘ he was neglected,’ and resolved, or pretended so, ‘ to quit the service, and to travel into some foreign kingdom.’ He is deceived that believes the ordinary carriage and state of a King to be matters of indifferency, and of no relation to his greatness. They are the outworks, which preserve majesty itself from approaches and surprisal. We find that the queen of Sheba was amazed at the meat of Solomon’s table, and the sitting of his servants, and the attendance of his ministers, and their apparel, and his cup¬ bearers, etc. as so great instances of Solomon’s wisdom, that there was no more spirit in her. And no doubt, whosoever inconsiderately departs from those forms, and trappings, and 174 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. ornaments of his dignity and pre-eminence, will hardly, at some time, be able to preserve the body itself of majesty, from intrusion, invasion, and violation. Death op Pym. About this time the councils at Westminster lost a principal supporter, by the death of John Pimm : who died with great torment and agony of a disease unusual, and therefore the more spoken of, morbus pedicu/osus, as was reported; which rendered him an object very loathsome to those who had been most delighted with him. No man had more to answer for the miseries of the kingdom, or had his hand, or head, deeper in their contrivance. And yet, I believe, they grew much higher even in his life, than he designed. He was a man of a private quality and condition of life ; his education in the office of the Exchequer, where he had been a clerk; and his parts rather acquired by industry, than supplied by nature, or adorned by art. He had been well known in former Parliaments; and was one of those few, who had sat in many; the long intermission of Parliaments having worn out most of those who had been acquainted with the rules and orders observed in those conventions. And this gave him some reputation and reverence amongst those who were but now introduced. He had been most taken notice of, for being concerned and passionate in the jealousies of religion, and much troubled with the countenance which had been given to those opinions that had been imputed to Arminius; and this gave him great authority and interest with those who were not pleased with the government of the Church, or the growing power of the clergy: yet himself industriously took care to be DEATH OF PYM. 175 believed, and he professed to be very entire to the doctrine and discipline of the Church of England. In the short Par¬ liament before this, he spoke much, and appeared to be the most leading man ; for besides the exact knowledge of the forms, and orders of that council, which few men had, he had a very comely and grave way of expressing himself, with great volubility of words, natural and proper; and under¬ stood the temper and affections of the kingdom as well as any man; and had observed the errors and mistakes in govern¬ ment ; and knew well how to make them appear greater than they were. After the unhappy dissolution of that Parliament, he continued for the most part about London, in conversation and great repute amongst those lords who were most strangers to the Court, and were believed most averse to it ; in whom he improved all imaginable jealousies and discon¬ tents towards the State ; and as soon as this Parliament was resolved to be summoned, he was as diligent to procure such persons to be elected as he knew to be most inclined to the way he meant to take. At the first opening of this Parliament, he appeared passionate and prepared against the earl of Strafford; and though in private designing he was much governed by Mr. Hambden, and Mr. Saint-John, yet he seemed to all men to have the greatest influence upon the House of Commons of any man; and, in truth, I think he was at that time, and for some months after, the most popular man, and the most able to do hurt, that hath lived in any time. Upon the first design of softening and obliging the powerful persons in both houses, when it was resolved to make the earl of Bedford lord High Treasurer of England, the king likewise intended to make Mr. Pimm Chancellor of the Exchequer; for which he received his majesty’s promise, and made a return of a suit- 176 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. able profession of his service and devotion; and thereupon the other being no secret, somewhat declined from that sharp¬ ness in the house, which was more popular than any man’s, and made some overtures to provide for the glory and splendour of the Crown ; in which he had so ill success, that his interest and reputation there visibly abated ; and he found that he was much better able to do hurt than good ; which wrought very much upon him to melancholy, and complaint of the violence and discomposure of the people’s affections and inclinations. In the end, whether upon the death of the earl of Bedford he despaired of that preferment, or whether he was guilty of any thing, which, upon his conversion to the Court, he thought might be discovered to his damage, or for pure want of courage, he suffered himself to be carried by those who would not follow him, and so continued in the head of those who made the most desperate propositions. In the prosecution of the earl of Strafford, his carriage and language was such that expressed much personal animosity: and he was accused of having practised some arts in it not worthy a good man; as an Irishman of very mean and low condition afterwards acknowledged, that being brought to him, as an evidence of one part of the charge against the Lore Lieutenant, in a particular of which a person of so vile quality would not be reasonably thought a competent informer ; Mr. Pimm gave him money to buy him a satin suit and cloak; in which equipage he appeared at the trial, and gave his evidence ; which, if true, may make many other things, which were confidently*reported afterwards of him, to be believed As that he received a great sum of money from the Frencl ambassador, [which hath been before mentioned,] to hinde' the transportation of those regiments of Ireland into Flanders, upon the disbanding that army there; which had been pre DEATH OF PYM. 177 ed by the earl of Strafford for the business of Scotland ; ir which if his majesty’s directions and commands had not been diverted and contradicted by the houses, many do believe the rebellion in Ireland had not happened. Certain it is, that his power of doing shrewd turns was extraordinary, and no less in doing good offices for particular persons ; and that he did preserve many from censure, who re under the severe displeasure of the houses, and looked uj on as eminent delinquents; and the quality of many of nem made it believed, that he had sold that protection for 1 uable considerations. From the time of his being accused 01 high treason by the King, with the lord Kimbolton, and 1 : other members, he never entertained thoughts of modera¬ tion, but always opposed all overtures of peace and accom¬ modation, and when the earl of Essex was disposed, the last summer, by those lords to an inclination towards a treaty, as is before remembered, Mr. Pimm’s power and dexterity wholly .anged him, and wrought him to that temper, which he fterwards swerved not from. He was wonderfully solicitous lor the Scots coming in to their assistance, though his indis¬ position of body was so great, that it might well have made t’ other impression upon his mind. During his sickness, he was a very sad spectacle ; but none being admitted to him who had not concurred with him, it is not known what his ' it thoughts and considerations were. He died towards the end of December, before the Scots entered ; and was buried with wonderful pomp and magnificence, in that place where the bones of our English kings and princes are committed to their rest. N i 7 8 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. BOOK VIII. The King and the Battle at Cbofbedy- Bbidge. It was now about three of the clock in the afternoon, the weather very fair, and very warm, (it being the 29th day of June,) and the King’s army being now together, his majesty resolved to prosecute his good fortune, and to go to the enemy, since they would not come to him : and, to that purpose, sent two good parties, to make way for him to pass both at Cropredy-bridge, and the other pass a mile below; over which the enemy had so newly passed: both which places were strongly guarded by them. To Cropredy they sent such strong bodies of foot, to relieve each other as they should be pressed, that those sent by the King thither could make no impression upon them, but were repulsed, till the night came, and severed them ; all parties being tired with the duty of the day. But they who were sent to the other pass, a mile below, after a short resistance, gained it, and a hill adjoining; where after they had killed some, they took the rest prisoners; and from thence, did not only defend themselves that and the next day, but did the enemy much hurt; expecting still that their fellows should master the other pass, that so they might advance together. Here the King was prevailed with to make trial of another expedient. Some men, from the conference they had with the prisoners, others from other intelligence, made no doubt, but that if a message were now sent of grace and pardon to all the officers and soldiers of that army, they would forthwith lay down their arms: and it was very notorious, that multi¬ tudes ran every day from thence. How this message should be sent, so that it might be effectually delivered, was the only THE KING AT BA TTLE OF CR OPR ED Y-BRID GE. 179 question that remained: and it was agreed, ‘ that sir Edward Walker' (who was both Garter King at arms, and secretary to the council of war) ‘ should be sent to publish that his majesty’s grace.’ But he wisely desired, ‘ that a trumpet might be first sent for a pass; ’ the barbarity of that people being notorious, that they regarded not the laws of arms, or of nations. Whereupon a trumpet was sent to sir William Waller, to desire ‘ a safe conduct for a gentleman, who should deliver a gracious message from his majesty.’ After two hours’ consideration, he returned answer, ‘ that he had no power to receive any message of grace or favour from his majesty, without the consent of the two Houses of Parliament at Westminster, to whom his majesty, if he pleased, might make his addresses.’ And as soon as the trumpet was gone, as an evidence of his resolution, he caused above twenty shot of his greatest cannon to be made at the King's army, and as near the place as they could, where his majesty used to be. When both armies had stood upon the same ground, and in the same posture, for the space of two days, they both drew off to a greater distance from each other; and, from that time, never saw each other. It then quickly appeared, by Waller’s still keeping more aloof from the King, and his marching up and down from Buckingham, sometimes towards Northampton, and sometimes towards Warwick, that he was without other design, than of recruiting his army; and that the defeat of that day at Cropredy was much greater, than it then appeared to be, and that it even broke the heart of his army. And it is very probable, that if the King, after he had rested and refreshed his men three or four days, which was very necessary in regard they were exceedingly tired with continual duty, besides that the provisions would not hold longer in the same quarters, had followed Waller, when it was N 2 i8o SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. evident he would not follow the King, he might have destroyed that army without fighting : for it appeared afterwards, with¬ out its being pursued, that within fourteen days after that action at Cropredy, Waller’s army, that before consisted of eight thousand, was so much wasted, that there remained not with him half that number. But the truth is, from the time that the King discovered that mutinous spirit in the officers, governed by Wilmot, at Buckingham, he was unsatisfied with the temper of his own army, and did not desire a thorough engagement, till he had a little time to reform some, whom he resolved never more heartily to trust; and to undeceive others, who, he knew, were misled without any malice, or evil intention. But when he now found himself so much at liberty from two great armies, which had so straitly encompassed him, within little more than a month; and that he had, upon the matter, defeated one of them, and reduced it to a state, in which it could, for the present, do him little harm; his heart was at no ease, with apprehension of the terrible fright the Queen would be in, (who was newly delivered of a daughter, that was afterwards married to the duke of Orleans 1 ,) when she saw the earl of Essex before the walls of Exeter, and should be at the same time informed, that Waller was with another army in pursuit of himself. His majesty resolved therefore, with all possible expedition, to follow the earl of Essex, in hopes that he should be able to fight a battle with him, before Waller should be in a condition to follow him : and his own strength would be much improved, by a conjunction with prince Maurice, who, though he retired before Essex, would be well able, by the north of Devonshire, to meet the king, when he should know that he marched that way. 1 [March 31, 1661.] THE MARQUIS OF NEWCASTLE. r 81 The Marquis of Newcastle. All that can be said for the marquis is, that he was so utterly tired with a condition and employment so contrary to his humour, nature, and education, that he did not at all consider the means, or the way, that would let him out of it, and free him for ever from having more to do with it. And it was a greater wonder, that he sustained the vexation and fatigue of it so long, than that he broke from it with so little circumspection. He was a very fine gentleman, active, and full of courage, and most accomplished in those qualities of horsemanship, dancing, and fencing, which accompany a good breeding; in which his delight was. Besides that he was amorous in poetry and music, to which he indulged the greatest part of his time; and nothing could have tempted him out of those paths of pleasure, which he enjoyed in a full and ample fortune, but honour and ambition to serve the King when he saw him in distress, and abandoned by most of those who were in the highest degree obliged to him, and by him. He loved monarchy, as it was the foundation and support of his own greatness; and the Church, as it was well constituted for the splendour and security of the Crown ; and religion, as it cherished and maintained that order and obedience that was necessary to both; without any other passion for the particular opinions which were grown up in it, and distinguished it into parties, than as he detested what¬ soever was like to disturb the public peace. He had a particular reverence for the person of the King, and the more extraordinary devotion for that of the Prince, as he had had the honour to be trusted with his education as his governor ; for which office, as he excelled in some, so he i 82 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. wanted other qualifications. Though he had retired from his great trust, and from the Court, to decline the insupport¬ able envy which the powerful faction had contracted against him, yet the King was no sooner necessitated to possess him¬ self of some place of strength, and to raise some force for his defence, but the earl of Newcastle (he was made marquis afterwards) obeyed his first call, and, with great expedition and dexterity, seized upon that town ; when till then there was not one port town in England that avowed their obedience to the King: and he then presently raised such regiments of horse and foot, as were necessary for the present state of affairs; all which was done purely by his own interest, and the concurrence of his numerous allies in those northern parts; who with all alacrity obeyed his commands, without any charge to the King, which he was not able to supply. And after the battle of Edge-hill, when the rebels grew so strong in Yorkshire, by the influence their garrison of Hull had upon both the East and West Riding there, that it behoved the King presently to make a general, who might unite all those northern counties in his service, he could not choose any man so fit for it, as the earl of Newcastle, who was not only possessed of a present force, and of that im¬ portant town, but had a greater reputation and interest in Yorkshire itself, than, at that present, any other man had: the earl of Cumberland being at that time, though of entire affection to the King, much decayed in the vigour of his body and his mind, and unfit for that activity which the season required. And it cannot be denied, that the earl of Newcastle, by his quick march with his troops, as soon as he had received his commission to be general, and in the depth of winter, redeemed, or rescued the city of York from the rebels, when they looked upon it as their own, and had it even THE MARQUIS OF NEWCASTLE. 183 within their grasp : and as soon as he was master of it, he raised men apace, and drew an army together, with which he fought many battles, in which he had always (this last only excepted) success and victory. He liked the pomp and absolute authority of a general well, and preserved the dignity of it to the full; and for the discharge of the outward state, and circumstances of it, in acts of courtesy, affability, bounty, and generosity, he abounded; which, in the infancy of a w'ar, became him, and made him, for some time, very acceptable to men of all conditions. But the substantial part, and fatigue of a general, he did not in any degree understand, (being utterly unacquainted with war,) nor could submit to; but referred all matters of that nature to the discretion of his lieutenant general King; who, no doubt, was an officer of great experience and ability, yet, being a Scotchman, was in that conjuncture upon more disadvantage than he would have been, if the general himself had been more intent upon his command. In all actions of the field he was still present, and never absent in any battle; in all which he gave instances of an invincible courage and fearlessness in danger; in which the exposing himself notoriously did sometimes change the fortune of the day, when his troops begun to give ground. Such articles of action were no sooner over, than he retired to his delightful company, music, or his softer pleasures, to all which he was so indulgent, and to his ease, that he would not be interrupted upon what occasion soever; insomuch as he sometimes denied admission to the chiefest officers of the army, even to general King himself, for two days together; from whence many inconveniences fell out. 184 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. The Relief of Basing-House. The garrison of Basing House, the seat of the marquis of Winchester, in which himself was and commanded, had been now straitly besieged, for the space of above three months, by a conjunction of the parliament troops of Hampshire and Sussex, under the command of Norton, Onslow, Jarvis, Whitehead, and Morley, all colonels of regiments, and now united in this service under the command of Norton ; a man of spirit, and of the greatest fortune of all the rest. It was so closely begirt before the King’s march into the west, and was looked upon as a place of such importance, that when the King sent notice to Oxford of his resolution to march into the west, the Council humbly desired his majesty, * that he would make Basing his way, and thereby relieve it,’ which his majesty found would have retarded his march too much, and might have invited Waller the sooner to follow him ; and therefore declined it. From that time, the marquis, by frequent expresses, importuned the lords of the council ‘ to provide, in some manner, for his relief; and not to suffer his person, and a place from whence the rebels received so much prejudice, to fall into their hands.’ The lady marchioness his wife, was then in Oxford; and solicited very diligently the timely preservation of her husband; which made every body desire to gratify her, being a lady of great honour and alliance, as sister to the earl of Essex, and to the lad) marchioness of Hertford ; who was likewise in the town, anc engaged her husband to take this business to heart: and al 1 the Roman Catholics, who were numerous in the town, lookect upon themselves as concerned to contribute all they could to the good work, and so offered to list themselves and thei servants in the service. THE RELIEF OF BA SING-HOUSE. 185 The Council, both upon public and private motives, was ry heartily disposed to effect it; and had several conferences i aether, and with the officers; in all which the governor too isonably opposed the design, ‘ as full of more difficulties, a id liable to greater damages, than any soldier, who under- < >od command, would expose himself and the King’s service ; ’ and protested, ‘ that he would not suffer any of the tall garrison that was under his charge to be hazarded in he attempt.’ It was very true, Basing was near forty miles from Oxford, and, in the way between them, the enemy had strong garrison of horse and foot at Abingdon, and as r rong at Reading, whose horse every day visited all the highways near, besides a body of horse and dragoons quar- red at Newbury; so that it appeared to most men hardly issible to send a party to Basing, and impossible for that party to return to Oxford, if they should be able to get to using : yet new importunities from the marquis, with a ositive declaration, ‘ that he could not defend it above ten ays, and must then submit to the worst conditions the rebels ere like to grant to his person, and to his religion; ’ and ew instances from his lady prevailed with the lords to enter □on a new consultation; in which the governor persisted in is old resolution, as seeing no cause to change it. In this debate colonel Gage declared, ‘ that though he ought the service full of hazard, especially for the return; et if the lords would, by listing their own servants, persuade le gentlemen in the town to do the like, and engage their wn persons, whereby a good troop or two of horse might be used, (upon which the principal dependence must be,) he ould willingly, if there were nobody else thought fitter for , undertake the conduct of them himself; and hoped he lould give a good account of it: ’ which being offered with i86 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. great cheerfulness by a person, of whose prudence, as well as courage, they had a full confidence, they all resolved to do the utmost that was in their power to make it effectual. There was about this time, by the surrender of Greenland- House, (which could not possibly be longer defended, the whole structure being beaten down by the cannon,) the regi¬ ment of colonel Hawkins marched into Oxford, amounting to near three hundred; to which as many others joined as made it up four hundred men. The lords mounted their servants upon their own horses ; and they, with the volunteers, who frankly listed themselves, amounted to a body of two hundred and fifty very good horse, all put under the command of colonel William Web, an excellent officer, bred up in Flanders in some emulation with colonel Gage; and who, upon the Catholic interest, was at this time contented to serve under him. With this small party for so great an action, Gage inarched out of Oxford in the beginning of the night; and, by the morning, reached the place where he intended to refresh himself and his troops; which was a wood near Wallingford; from whence he despatched an express to sir William Ogle, governor of Winchester; who had made a promise to the lords of the Council, ‘ that, whensoever they would endeavour the raising of the siege before Basing, he would send one hundred horse and three hundred foot out of his garrison, for their assistance ; ’ and a presumption upon this aid was the principal motive for the undertaking: and so he was directed, at what hour in the morning his party should fall into Basing park, in the rear of the rebels’ quar¬ ters; whilst Gage himself would fall on the other side; the marquis being desired at the same time to make frequent sallies from the house. After some hours of refreshment in the morning, and send- THE RELIEF OF BA SING-HOUSE. 187 ing this express to Winchester, the troops marched through by-lanes to Aldermaston, a village out of any great road>‘ where they intended to take more rest that night. They had marched, from the time they left Oxford, with orange-tawny scarfs and ribbons, that they might be taken for the Parlia¬ ment soldiers ; and hoped, by that artifice, to have passed undiscovered to the approach upon the besiegers. But the party of horse which was sent before to Aldermaston, found there some of the Parliament horse, and, forgetting their orange-tawny scarfs, fell upon them ; and killed some, and took six or seven prisoners; w’hereby the secret was discovered, and notice quickly sent to Basing of the approaching danger; which accident made their stay shorter at that village than was intended, and than the weariness of the soldiers required. About eleven of the clock, they begun their march again; which they continued all that night; the horsemen often alighting, that the foot might ride, and others taking many of them behind them; however they could not but be ex¬ tremely weary and surbated. Between four and five of the clock on Wednesday morning, it having been Monday night that they left Oxford, they arrived within a mile of Basing; where an officer, sent from sir William Ogle, came to them to let them know, ‘ that he durst not send his troops so far, in regard many of the enemy’s horse lay between Winchester and Basing.’ This broke all the colonel’s measures; and, since there was no receding, made him change the whole method of his pro¬ ceedings ; and, instead of dividing his forces, and falling on in several places, as he meant to have done if the Winchester forces had complied with their obligation, or if his march had been undiscovered, he resolved now to fall on jointly with all his body in one place ; in order to which, he commanded the i88 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. men to be ranged in battalions; and rid to every squadron, giving them such words as were proper to the occasion; which no man could more pertinently deliver, or with a better grace: he commanded every man to tie a white tape ribbon, or handkerchief, above the elbow of their right arm; and gave them the word St. George ; which was the sign and the word that he had sent before to the marquis, lest in his sallies their men, for want of distinction, might fall foul of each other. Thus they marched towards the house, colonel Web lead¬ ing the right wing, and lieutenant colonel Bunkly the left of the horse; and Gage himself the foot. They had not marched far, when at the upper end of a large campaign field, upon a little rising of an hill, they discerned a body of five cornets of horse very full, standing in very good order to receive them. But before any impression could be made upon them, the colonel must pass between two hedges lined very thick with musketeers ; from whom the horse very courageously bore a smart volley, and then charged the enemy’s horse so gallantly, that, after a shorter resistance than was expected from the known courage of Norton, though many of his men fell, they gave ground ; and at last plainly run to a safe place, beyond which they could not be pursued. The foot disputed the business much better, and being beaten from hedge to hedge, retired into their quarters and works; which they did not abandon in less than two hours; and then a free entrance into the house was gained on that side, where the colonel only stayed to salute the marquis, and to put in the ammunition he had brought with him; which was only twelve barrels of powder, and twelve hundred weight of match; and imme¬ diately marched with his horse and foot to Basingstoke, a good market-town two miles from the house; leaving one THE RELIEF OF BASING-HOUSE. 189 hundred foot to be led, by some officers of the garrison, to the town of Basing, a village but a mile distant. In Basing¬ stoke they found store of wheat, malt, oats, salt, bacon, cheese, and butter ; as much of which was all that day sent to the house, as they could find carts or horses to transport, together with fourteen barrels of powder, and some muskets, and forty or fifty head of cattle, with above one hundred sheep : whilst the other party, that went to Basing town, beat the enemy that was quartered there, after having killed forty or fifty of them; some fled into the church, where they were quickly taken prisoners; and, among them, two captains, Jarvise and Jephson, the two eldest sons of two of the greatest rebels of that country, and both heirs to good fortunes, who were carried prisoners to Basing House; the rest, who besieged that side, being fled into a strong fort which they had raised in the park. The colonel spent that and the next day in sending all manner of provisions into the house; and then, reasonably computing that the garrison was well pro¬ vided for two months, he thought of his retreat to Oxford : which it was time to do : for besides that Norton had drawn all his men together, who had been dismayed, with all the troops which lay quartered within any distance, and appeared within sight of the house more numerous and gay than before, as if he meant to be revenged before they parted; he was likewise well informed by the persons he had employed, that the enemy from Abingdon had lodged themselves at Alder- maston, and those from Reading and Newbury, in two other villages upon the river Rennet, over which he was to pass. Hereupon, that he might take away the apprehension that he meant suddenly to depart, he sent out orders, which he was sure would come into the enemy’s hands, to two or three villages next the house, ‘that they should, by the next day 190 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. noon, send such proportions of corn into Basing House, as were mentioned in the warrants; upon pain, if they failed by the time, to have a thousand horse and dragoons sent to fire the towns.’ This being done, and all his men drawn together about eleven of the clock at night, Thursday the second night after he came thither, the marquis giving him two or three guides who knew the country exactly, he marched from Basing without sound of drum or trumpet, and passed the Kennet, undiscovered, by a ford near a bridge which the enemy had broke down; and thereby thought they had secured that passage; the horse taking the foot en croupe ; and then, marching by-ways, in the morning they likewise passed over the Thames, at a ford little more than a mile from Reading; and so escaped the enemy, and got before night to Wallingford ; where he securely rested, and refreshed his men that night; and the next day arrived safe at Oxford; having lost only two captains, and two or three other gentle¬ men, and common men; in all to the number of eleven ; and forty or fifty wounded, but not dangerously. What number the enemy lost could not be known; but it was believed they lost many, besides above one hundred prisoners that were taken; and it was confessed, by enemies as well as friends, that it was as soldierly an action as had been performed in the war on either side; and redounded very much to the reputation of the commander. Sib. It. Gbeenville. Since there will be often occasion to mention this gentleman, sir Richard Greenville, in the ensuing discourse, and because many men believed, that he was hardly dealt with in the next year, where all the proceedings will be set down at large, it SIR R. GREENVILLE. I 9 I will not be unfit, in this place, to say somewhat of him, and of the manner and merit of his entering into the king’s ser¬ vice some months before the time we are now upon. He was of a very ancient and worthy family in Cornwall, which had, in several ages, produced men of great courage, and very signal in their fidelity to, and service of, the Crown ; and was himself younger brother (though in his nature, or humour, not of kin to him) to the brave sir Bevil Greenville, who so courageously lost his life in the battle of Lansdowne. Being a younger brother, and a very young man, he went into the Low Countries to learn the profession of a soldier; to which he had dedicated himself under the greatest general of that age, prince Maurice, and in the regiment of my lord Vere, who was general of all the English. In that service he was looked upon as a man of courage, and a diligent officer, in the quality of a captain, to which he attained after few years’ service. About this time, in the end of the reign of King James, the war broke out between England and Spain; and in the expedition to Cales, this gentleman served as a major to a regiment of foot, and continued in the same command, in the war that soon after followed against France; and, at the Isle of Rhd, insinuated himself into the very good grace of the duke of Buckingham, who was the general in that invasion; and after the unfortunate retreat from thence, was made colonel of a regiment with general approbation, and as an officer that well deserved it. His credit every day increased with the duke; who, out of the generosity of his nature, as a most generous person he was, resolved to raise his fortune; towards the beginning whereof, by his countenance and solicitation, he prevailed with a rich widow to marry him, who had been a lady of extraordinary beauty, which she had not yet outlived ; and 192 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. though she had no great dower by her husband, a younger brother of the earl of Suffolk ; yet she inherited a fair fortune of her own, near Plymouth; and was besides very rich in a personal estate, and was looked upon as the richest marriage of the west. This lady, by the duke’s credit, sir Richard Greenville (for he was now made a knight and baronet) obtained; and was thereby possessed of a plentiful estate upon the borders of his own country; and where his own family had great credit and authority. The war being shortly at an end, and he deprived of his great patron, had nothing now to depend upon but the fortune of his wife; which, though ample enough to have supported the expense a person of his quality ought to have made, was not large enough to satisfy his vanity and ambition; nor so great, as he, upon common reports, had promised-, himself by her. By not being enough pleased with her fortune, he grew less pleased with his wife; who, being a woman of a haughty and impe¬ rious nature, and of a wit superior to his, quickly resented the disrespect she received from him; and in no degree studied to make herself easy to him. After some years spent together in these domestic unsociable contestations, in which he possessed himself of all her estate, as the sole master of it, without allowing her, out of her own, any competency for herself, and indulged to himself all those licenses in her own house, which to women are most grievous, she found means to withdraw herself from him ; and was with all kindness received into that family, in which she had before been mar¬ ried, and was always very much respected. Her absence was not ingrateful to him, till the tenants refused to pay him any more rent, and he found himself on a sudden deprived of her whole estate, which was all he had to live upon. For it appeared now, that she had, before her SIR R. GREENVILLE. l 93 marriage with him, settled her entire fortune so absolutely upon the earl of Suffolk, that the present right was in him, and he required the rents to be paid to him. This begat a suit in the chancery between sir Richard Greenville and the then earl of Suffolk, before the lord Coventry, who found the conveyances in law to be so firm, that he could not only not relieve sir Richard Greenville in equity, but that in justice he must decree the land to the earl; which he did. This very sensible mortification transported him so much, that, being a man who used to speak very bitterly of those he did not love, after all endeavours to have engaged the earl in a personal conflict, he revenged himself upon him in such opprobrious language, as the government and justice of that time would not permit to pass unpunished; and the earl appealed for reparation to the court of Star Chamber; where sir Richard was decreed to pay three thousand pounds for damages to him; and was likewise fined the sum of three thousand pounds to the King; who gave the fine likewise to the earl ; so that sir Richard was committed to the prison of the Fleet in execution for the whole six thousand pounds; which at that time was thought by all men to be a very severe and rigorous decree, and drew a general compassion towards the unhappy gentleman. After he had endured many years of strict imprisonment, a little before the beginning of the late troubles, he made his escape out of the prison ; and transporting himself beyond the seas, remained there till the Parliament was called that produced so many miseries to the kingdom; and when he heard that many decrees which had been made, in that time, by the court of Star Chamber, were repealed, and the persons grieved, absolved from those penalties, he likewise returned, and petitioned to have his cause o 194 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. heard; for which a committee was appointed ; but before it could be brought to any conclusion, the rebellion broke out in Ireland. Among the first troops that were raised, and transported for the suppression thereof, by the Parliament, (to whom the King had unhappily committed the prosecution thereof,) sir Richard Greenville, upon the fame of being a good officer, was sent over with a very good troop of horse ; and was major of the earl of Leicester’s own regiment of horse, and was very much esteemed by him, and the more by the Parliament, for the signal acts of cruelty he did every day commit upon the Irish; which were of so many kinds upon both sexes, young and old, hanging old men who were bedrid, because they would not discover where their money was, that he believed they had ; and old women, some of quality, after he had plundered them, and found less than he expected; that they can hardly be believed, though notoriously known to be true. The Condemnation op the Archbishop op Canterbury. It was, as is said before, a very sad omen to the treaty, that, after they had received the King’s message by those noble lords, and before they returned any answer to it, they pro¬ ceeded in the trial of the archbishop of Canterbury; who had lain prisoner in the Tower, from the beginning of the par¬ liament, full four years, without any prosecution till this time, when they brought him to the bars of both Houses; charging him with several articles of high treason; which, if all that was alleged against him had been true, could not have made him guilty of treason. They accused him ‘ of a design to bring in Popery, and of having correspondence with the Pope,’ and such like particulars, as the consciences of his greatest THE ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY. 195 enemies absolved him from. No man was a greater or abler enemy to Popery; no man a more resolute and devout son of the Church of England. He was prosecuted by lawyers, assigned to that purpose, out of those, who from their own antipathy to the Church and bishops, or from some disobligations received from him, were sure to bring passion, animosity, and malice enough of their own; what evidence soever they had from others. And they did treat him with all the rudeness, reproach, and barbarity imaginable; with which his judges were not displeased. He defended himself with great and undaunted courage, and less passion than was expected from his constitution ; answered all their objections with clearness and irresistible reason; and convinced all men of his integrity, and his detestation of all treasonable intentions. So that though few excellent men have ever had fewer friends to their per¬ sons, yet all reasonable men absolved him from any foul crime that the law could take notice of, and punish. How¬ ever when they had said all they could against him, and he all for himself that need to be said, and no such crime appearing, as the Lords, as the supreme court of judicatory, would take upon them to judge him to be worthy of death, they resorted to their legislative power, and by ordinance of Parliament, as they called it, that is, by a determination of those members who sat in the houses, (whereof in the House of Peers there were not above twelve,) they appointed him to be put to death, as guilty of high treason. The first time that two Plouses of Parliament had ever assumed that jurisdiction, or that ever ordinance had been made to such a purpose, nor could any rebellion be more against the law, than that murderous act. When the first mention was made of their monstrous pur- 196 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. pose, of bringing the archbishop to a trial for his life, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, who had always a great rever¬ ence and affection for him, had spoken to the King of it, and proposed to him, ‘ that in all events, there might be a pardon prepared, and sent to him. under the Great Seal of England; to the end, if they proceeded against him in any form of law, he might plead the King’s pardon ; which must be allowed by all who pretended to be governed by the law ; but if they proceeded in a martial, or any other extraordinary way, with¬ out any form of law, his majesty should declare his justice and affection to an old faithful servant, whom he much esteemed, in having done all towards his preservation that was in his power to do.’ The King was wonderfully pleased with the proposition ; and took from thence occasion to commend the piety and virtue of the archbishop, with extra¬ ordinary affection ; and commanded the chancellor of the exchequer to cause the pardon to be drawn, and his majesty would sign and seal it with all possible secrecy; which at that time was necessary. Whereupon the Chancellor sent for sir Thomas Gardiner the King’s solicitor, and told him the King’s pleasure ; upon which he presently prepared the pardon, and it was signed and sealed with the Great Seal of England, and carefully sent, and delivered into the arch¬ bishop’s own hand, before he was brought to his trial; who received it with great joy, as it was a testimony of the King’s gracious affection to him, and care of him, without any opinion that they who endeavoured to take away the King’s life, would preserve his by his majesty’s authority. When the archbishop’s council had perused the pardon, and considered that all possible exceptions would be taken to it, though they should not reject it, they found, that the im¬ peachment was not so distinctly set down in the pardon as it THE ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY. 197 ought to be ; which could not be helped at Oxford, because they had no copy of it ; and therefore had supplied it with all those general expressions, as, in any court of law, would make the pardon valid against any exceptions the King’s own counsel could make against it. Hereupon, the archbishop had, by the same messenger, returned the pardon again to the chancellor, with such directions and copies as were necessary; upon which it was perfected accordingly, and delivered safely again to him, and was in his hands during the whole time of his trial. So when his trial was over, and the ordinance passed for the cutting off his head, and he called and asked, according to custom in criminal proceedings, ‘ what he could say more, why he should not suffer death ? ’ he told them, ‘ that he had the King’s gracious pardon, which he pleaded, and tendered to them, and desired that it might be allowed.’ Whereupon he was sent to the Tower, and the pardon read in both Houses ; where, without any long debate, it was declared ‘ to be of no effect, and that the King could not pardon a judgment of Parliament.’ And so, without troubling themselves farther, they gave order for his execu¬ tion ; which he underwent with all Christian courage and magnanimity, to the admiration of the beholders, and confu¬ sion of his enemies. Much hath been said of the person of this great prelate before, of his great endowments, and natural infirmities; to which shall be added no more in this place, (his memory deserving a particular celebration,) than that his learning, piety, and virtue, have been attained, by very few, and the greatest of his infirmities are common to all, even to the best men. 198 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. BOOK IX. Prince Rupert and the Battle of Naseby. It was about ten of the clock when the battle began: the first charge was given by prince Rupert; who, with his own, and his brother prince Maurice’s troop, performed it with his usual vigour; and was so well seconded, that he bore down all before him, and was master of six pieces of the rebels’ best cannon. The lord Astley, with his foot, though against the hill, advanced upon their foot; who discharged their cannon at them, but overshot them, and so did their musketeers too. For the foot on either side hardly saw each other till they were within carabine-shot, and so only gave one volley; the King’s foot, according to their usual custom, falling in with their swords, and the butt-ends of their muskets; with which they did very notable execution, and put the enemy into great disorder and confusion. The right wing of horse and foot being thus fortunately engaged and advanced, the left wing, under sir Marmaduke Langdale, in five bodies, advanced with equal resolution : and was encountered by Cromwell, who commanded the right wing of the enemy’s horse, with seven bodies greater and more numerous than either of the other; and had, besides the odds in number, the advantage of the ground; for the King’s horse were obliged to march up the hill, before they could charge them: yet they did their duty, as well as the place, and great in¬ equality of numbers, would enable them to do. But being flanked on both sides by the enemy’s horse, and pressed hard, before they could get to the top of the hill, they gave back, and fled farther and faster than became them. Four PRINCE RUPERT AND THE BATTLE OF NASEBY. 199 of the enemy’s bodies, close, and in good order, followed them, that they might not rally again ; which they never thought of doing; and the rest charged the King’s foot, who had till then so much the advantage over theirs; whilst prince Rupert, with the right wing, pursued those horse which he had broken and defeated. The King’s reserve of horse, which was his own guards, with himself in the head of them, were even ready to charge those horse who followed his left wing, when, on a sudden, such a panic fear seized upon them, that they all run near a quarter of a mile without stopping; which happened upon an extraordinary accident, that hath seldom fallen out, and might well disturb and disorder very resolute troops, as those were the best horse in the army. The King, as was said before, was even upon the point of charging the enemy, in the head of his guards, when the earl of Carnewarth, who rode next to him, (a man never suspected for infidelity, nor one from whom the King would have received counsel in such a case,) on a sudden, laid his hand on the bridle of the king’s horse, and swearing two or three full mouthed Scottish oaths, (for of that nation he was,) said, ‘ Will you go upon your death in an instant?’ and, before his majesty understood what he would have, turned his horse round; upon which a word run through the troops, ‘ that they should march to the right hand; ’ which was both from charging the enemy, or assisting their own men. And upon this they all turned their horses, and rode upon the spur, as if they were every man to shift for himself. It is very true, that, upon the more soldierly word Stand, which was sent to run after them, many of them returned to the King; though the former unlucky word carried more from him. And by this time, prince Rupert was returned 200 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. with a good body of those horse, which had attended him in his prosperous charge on the right wing; but they having, as they thought, acted their parts, could never be brought to rally themselves again in order, or to charge the enemy And that difference was observed shortly from the beginning of the war, in the discipline of the King’s troops, and of those which marched under the command of Cromwell, (for it was only under him, and had never been notorious under Essex, or Waller,) that, though the King’s troops prevailed in the charge, and routed those they charged, they never rallied themselves again in order, nor could be brought to make a second charge again the same day: which was the reason, that they had not an entire victory at Edge-hill: whereas Cromwell’s troops, if they prevailed, or though they were beaten, and routed, presently rallied again, and stood in good order, till they received new orders. All that the King and prince could do, could not rally their broken troops, which stood in sufficient numbers upon the field, though they often endeavoured it, with the manifest hazard of their own per¬ sons. So that, in the end, the King was compelled to quit the field, and to leave Fairfax master of all his foot, cannon, and baggage; amongst which was his own cabinet, where his most secret papers w r ere, and letters between the Queen and him; of which they shortly after made that barbarous use as was agreeable to their natures, and published them in print; that is, so much of them, as they thought would asperse either of their majesties, and improve the prejudice they had raised against them; and concealed other parts, which would have vindicated them from many particulars with which they had aspersed them. CARDINAL RICHELIEU. 201 Cardinal Richelieu. Cardinal Richelieu, out of the natural haughtiness of his wn nature, and immoderate appetite to do mischief, under .ie disguise of being jealous of the honour of his master, had iiscovered an implacable hatred against the English, from hat unhappy provocation by the invasion of the Isle of Rhd, nd the declared protection of Rochelle ; and took the first opportunity, from the indisposition and murmurs of Scotland, i o warm that people into rebellion, and saw the poison there- f prosper, and spread to his own wish; which he fomented by the French ambassador in the Parliament, with all the enom of his heart; as hath been mentioned before. As he bad not unwisely driven the Queen mother out of France, or ither kept her from returning, when she had unadvisedly ithdrawn herself from thence, so he was as vigilant to keep her daughter, the Queen of England, from coming thither; hich she resolved to have done, when she carried the rincess royal into Holland, in hope to work upon the King er brother, to make such a seasonable declaration against ie rebels of England and Scotland, as might terrify them om the farther prosecution of their wicked purposes. But was made known to her, ‘ that her presence would not be cceptable in France; ’ and so, for the present, that enter¬ prise was declined. But that great cardinal being now dead, and the King him- df within a short time after, the administration of the affairs that kingdom, in the infancy of the king, and under his other, the queen regent, was committed to cardinal Mazarine, n Italian by birth, and subject to the king of Spain, and ised by Richelieu to the degree of a cardinal, for his great ixterity in putting Casal into the hands of France, when the 202 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. Spaniard had given it up to him, as the nuncio of the pope, and in trust that it should remain in the possession of his holiness, till the title of the duke of Mantua should be deter¬ mined. This cardinal was a man rather of different than contrary parts from his predecessor; and fitter to build upon the foundations which he had laid, than to have laid those foundations; and to cultivate, by artifice, dexterity, and dis¬ simulation, (in which his nature and parts excelled,) what the other had begun with great resolution and vigour, and even gone through with invincible constancy and courage. So that, the one having broken the heart of all opposition and contradiction to the crown, by the cutting off the head of the duke of Montmorency, and reducing monsieur, the brother of the King, to the most tame submission, and in¬ capacity of fomenting another rebellion, it was very easy for the other, to find a compliance from all men, who were suffi¬ ciently terrified from any contradiction. So that how great things soever this last minister performed for the service of that crown, during the minority of the King, they may all, in justice, be imputed to the prudence and providence of car¬ dinal Richelieu; who had reduced and disposed the whole nation to an entire subjection and submission to what should be imposed upon them. Cardinal Mazarine, when he came first to that great ministry, was without any personal animosity against the person of the King, or the English nation ; and was no other¬ wise delighted with the distraction and confusion they were both involved in, than as it disabled the whole people from making such a conjunction with the Spaniard, as might make the prosecution of that war (upon which his whole heart was set) the more difficult to him ; which he had the more reason to apprehend by the residence of don Alonso de Cardenas, MONSIEUR MONTREVIL. 203 ambassador from the king of Spain, still at London, making all addresses to the Parliament. When the Queen had been compelled in the last year, upon the advance of the earl of Essex into the west, to transport herself out of Cornwall into France, she had found there as good a reception as she could expect; and received as many expressions of kindness from the Queen regent, and as ample promises from the cardinal, as she could wish. So that she promised herself a very good effect from her journey; and did procure from him such a present supply of arms and ammunition, as, though of no great value in itself, she was willing to interpret, as a good evidence of the reality of his intentions. But the cardinal did not yet think the King’s condition low enough; and rather desired, by administering little and ordinary sup¬ plies, to enable him to continue the struggle, than to see him victorious over his enemies, when he might more remember, how slender aid he had received, than that he had been assisted; and might make himself arbiter of the peace between the two Crowns. And therefore he was more solicitous to keep a good correspondence with the Parliament, and to pro¬ fess a neutrality between the King and them, than inclined to give them any jealousy, by appearing much concerned for the King. BOOK X. Monsieur Montrevil. Monsieur Montrevil was a person utterly unknown to me, nor had I ever intercourse or correspondence with him; so that what I shall say of him cannot proceed from the effects of affection or prejudice, and if I shall say any thing for his 204 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. vindication from those reproaches which he did, and yet lies under, both with the English and Scottish nation, countenanced enough by the discountenance he received from the cardinal after his return, when he was, after the first account he had given of his negociation, restrained from coming to the Court, and forbid to remain in Paris, and lay under a formed, de¬ clared dislike till his death; which with grief of mind shortly ensued. But as it is no unusual hardheartedness in such chief ministers, to sacrifice such instruments, how innocent soever, to their own dark purposes, so it is probable, that temporary cloud would soon have vanished, and that it was only cast over him, that he might be thereby secluded from the conversation of the English Court; which must have been reasonably very inquisitive, and might thereby have discovered somewhat which the other court was carefully to conceal: I say, if what I here set down of that transaction, shall appear some vindication of that gentleman from those imputations under which his memory remains blasted, it can be imputed only to the love of truth, which ought, in common honesty, to be preserved in history as the soul of it, towards all per¬ sons who come to be mentioned in it; and since I have in my hands all the original letters which passed from him to the King, and the King’s answers and directions thereupon, or such authentic copies thereof, as have been by myself ex¬ amined with the originals, I take it to be a duty incumbent on me to absolve him from any guilt with which his memory lies unjustly charged, and to make a candid interpretation of those actions, which appear to have resulted from ingenuity, and upright intentions, how unsuccessful soever. He was then a young gentleman of parts very equal to the trust the cardinal reposed in him, and to the employment he gave him ; and of a nature not inclined to be made use of in SIR HARRY KILLIGREW. 20 5 ordinary dissimulation and cozenage. Whilst he took his measures only from the Scottish commissioners at London, and from those Presbyterians whom he had opportunity to converse with there, he did not give the King the least en¬ couragement to expect a conjunction, or any compliance from the one or the other, upon any cheaper price or condition than the whole alteration of the government of the church by bishops, and an entire conformity to the Covenant; and he used all the arguments which occurred to him, to persuade his majesty that all other hopes of agreement with him were desperate; and when he saw his majesty unmoveable in that particular, and resolute to undergo the utmost event of war, before he would wound his peace of mind, and conscience, with such an odious concession, he undertook that journey we mentioned in the end of the last year, to discover whether the same rude and rigid spirit, which governed those com¬ missioners at Westminster, possessed also the chief officers of the Scottish army, and that committee of state that always remained with the army. Sir Harry Killigrew. There remained with him in that service many gentlemen of the country of great loyalty, amongst whom sir Harry Killigrew was one; who, being an intimate friend of the Chancellor of the Exchequer, resolved to go to Jersey; and, as soon as the castle was surrendered, took the first opportunity of a vessel then in the harbour of Falmouth, to transport himself with some officers and soldiers to St. Maloes in Brittany; from whence he writ to the Chancellor in Jersey, that he would procure a bark of that island to go to St. Maloes to fetch him thither; which, by the kindness of sir 206 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. George Carteret, was presently sent, with a longing desire to receive him into that island; the two lords, Capel and Hop- ton, and the governor, having an extraordinary affection for him, as well as the Chancellor. Within two days after, upon view of the vessel at sea, (which they well knew,) they all made haste to the harbour to receive their friend; but, when they came thither, to their infinite regret, they found his body there in a coffin, he having died at St. Maloes within a day after he had written his letter. After the treaty was signed for delivering the castle, he had walked out to discharge some arms which were in his chamber; among which, a carabine that had been long charged, in the shooting off, broke : and a splinter of it struck him in the forehead; which, though it drew much blood, was not apprehended by him to be of any danger; so that his friends could not persuade him to stay there till the wound was cured; but, the blood being stopped, and the chirurgeon having bound it up, he prosecuted his intended voyage; and at his landing at St. Maloes, he writ that letter; believing his wound would give him little trouble. But his letter was no sooner gone than he sent for a chirurgeon; who, opening the wound, found it was very deep and dangerous; and the next day he died, having desired that his dead body might be sent to Jersey, where he was decently buried. He was a very gallant gentleman, of a noble extraction, and a fair revenue in land; of excellent parts and great courage: he had one only son, who was killed before him in a party that fell upon the enemy’s quarters near Bridgewater; where he behaved himself with remarkable courage; and was generally lamented. Sir Harry was of the House of Commons; and though he had no other relation to the Court than the having many S/R HARRY KILLIGREW. 207 friends there, as wherever he was known he was exceedingly beloved, he was most zealous and passionate in exposing all the extravagant proceedings of the Parliament. And when the earl of Essex was chosen general, and the several mem¬ bers of the House stood up, and declared, what horse they would raise and maintain, and that they would live and die with the earl their general, one saying he would raise ten horses, and another twenty, he stood up, and said, ‘ He would provide a good horse, and a good buff coat, and a good pair of pistols, and then he doubted not but he should find a good cause; ’ and so went out of the house, and rode post into Cornwall, where his estate and interest lay; and there joined with those gallant gentlemen his friends, who first received the lord Hopton, and raised those forces which did so many famous actions in the west. He would never take any command in the army; but they who had, consulted with no man more. He was in all actions, and in those places where was most danger, having great courage and a pleasantness of humour in danger that was very exemplary; and they who did not do their duty, took care not to be within his view; for he was a very sharp speaker, and cared not for angering those who deserved to be reprehended. The Arundels, Slannings, Trevanions, and all the signal men of that county, infinitely loved his spirit and sincerity; and his credit and interest had a great in¬ fluence upon all but those who did not love the King; and towards those he was very terrible ; and exceedingly hated by them; and not loved by men of moderate tempers ; for he thought all such prepared to rebel, when a little success should encourage them ; and was many times too much offended with men who wished well, and whose constitutions and complexions would not permit them to express the same 208 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. frankness, which his nature and keenness of spirit could not suppress. His loss was much lamented by all good men. The King and his Children. 1 In this conversation, as if his majesty had foreseen all that befell him afterwards, and which at that time sure he did not suspect, he took great care to instruct his children how to behave themselves, if the worst should befall him that the worst of his enemies did contrive or wish; and ‘ that they should preserve unshaken their affection and duty to the Prince their brother.’ The duke of York was then about fif¬ teen years of age; and so, capable of any information or instruction the King thought fit to give him. His majesty told him, ‘ that he looked upon himself as in the hands and disposal of the army, and that the Parliament had no more power to do him good or harm, than as the army should direct or permit; and that he knew not, in all this time he had been with them, what he might promise himself from those officers of the army at whose devotion it was: that he hoped well, yet with much doubt and fear ; and therefore he gave him this general direction and command, that if there appeared any such alteration in the affection of the army, that they restrained him from the liberty he then enjoyed of seeing his children, or suffered not his friends to resort to him with that freedom that they enjoyed at present, he might conclude they would shortly use him worse, and that he should not be long out of a prison; and therefore that from the time he discovered such an alteration, he should bethink himself how he might make an escape out of their power, and transport himself beyond the seas.’ The place he recommended to him was Holland; where he presumed his sister would 1 [At Hampton Court, 1647.] THE KING AND HIS CHILDREN. 209 receive him very kindly, and that the prince of Orange her husband would be well pleased with it, though, possibly, the States might restrain him from making those expressions of his affection his own inclination prompted him to. He wished him to think always of this, as a thing possible to fall out, and so spake frequently to him of it, and of the circum¬ stances and cautions which were necessary to attend it. The princess Elizabeth was not above a year or two younger than the duke, a lady of excellent parts, great obser¬ vation, and an early understanding; which the King discerned, by the account she gave him both of things and persons, upon the experience she had had of both. His majesty enjoined her, ‘ upon the worst that could befall him, never to be disposed of in marriage without the consent and approba¬ tion of the Queen her mother, and the Prince her brother ; and always to perform all duty and obedience to both those; and to obey the Queen in all things, except in matter of reli¬ gion ; to which he commanded her, upon his blessing, never to hearken or consent; but to continue firm in the religion she had been instructed and educated in, what discountenance and ruin soever might befall the poor Church, at that time under so severe prosecution.’ The duke of Gloucester was very young, being at that time not above seven years old, and so might well be thought incapable of retaining that advice, and injunction, which in truth ever after made so deep impression in him. After he had given him all the advice he thought convenient in the matter of religion, and commanded him positively, ‘ never to be persuaded or threatened out of the religion of the Church, in which he hoped he would be well instructed, and for the purity and integrity whereof he bid him remember that he had his father’s testimony and authority; ’ his majesty told p 210 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. him, ‘ that his infancy, and the tenderness of his years, might persuade some men to hope and believe, that he might be made an instrument, and property, to advance their wicked designs; and if they should take away his life, they might, possibly, the better to attain their own ends, make him King ; that under him, whilst his age would not permit him to judge, and act for himself, they might remove many obstructions which lay in their way; and form and unite their councils; and then they would destroy him too. But he commanded him, upon his blessing, never to forget what he said to him upon this occasion, nor to accept, or suffer himself to be made King, whilst either of his elder brothers lived, in what part of the world soever they should be: that he should remember that the Prince his brother was to succeed him by the laws of God and man; and, if he should miscarry, that the duke of York was to succeed in the same right; and therefore that he should be sure never to be made use of to interrupt or disturb either of their rights; which would in the end turn to his own destruction.’ And this discourse the King reiterated to him, as often as he had liberty to see him, with all the earnestness and passion he could express ; which was so fixed in his memory that he never forgot it; and many years after, when he was sent out of England, he made the full relation of all the particulars to me, with that commotion of spirit, that it appeared to be deeply rooted in him; and made use of one part of it very seasonably afterwards, when there was more than an ordinary attempt made to have per¬ verted him in his religion, and to persuade him to become Catholic for the advancement of his fortune. In this manner, and with these kind of reflections, the King made use of the liberty he enjoyed ; and considered as well, what remedies to apply to the worst that could fall out, as to THE KING ESCAPES. 21 1 caress the officers of the army in order to the improvement of his condition, of which he was not yet in any despair; the chief officers, and all the heads of that party, looking upon it as their wisest policy to cherish the King’s hopes by the liberty they gave him, and by a very flowing courtesy towards all who had been of his party ; whose expectation, and good word, and testimony, they found did them much good both in the city and the country. The King Escapes. The King found himself in great perplexity, from what he discerned, and observed himself, as well as what he heard from others; but what use to make of the one or the other, was very hard to resolve : he did really believe that their malice was at the height, and that they did design his murder, but knew not which was a probable way to prevent it. The making an escape, if it were not contrived with wonderful sagacity, would expose him to be assassinated, by pretended ignorance, and would be charged upon himself; and if he could avoid their guards, and get beyond them undiscovered, whither should he go ? and what place would receive and defend him ? The hope of the city seemed not to him to have a foundation of reason ; they had been too late subdued to recover courage for such an adventure; and the army now was much more master of it than when they desponded. There is reason to believe that he did resolve to transport himself beyond the seas, which had been no hard matter to have brought to pass ; but with whom he consulted for the way of doing it, is not to this day discovered ; they who were instrumental in his remove, pretending to know nothing of the resolution, or counsel. But, one morning, [being the p 2 2 X 2 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. eleventh of September,] the King having, the night before, pretended some indisposition, and that he would go to his rest, they who went into his chamber, found that he was not there, nor had been in his bed that night. There were two or three letters found upon his table, writ all with his own hand, one to the Parliament, another to the general; in which he declared ‘ the reason of his remove to be, an apprehension that some desperate persons had a design to assassinate him ; and therefore he had withdrawn himself with a purpose of remaining concealed, until the Parliament had agreed upon such propositions as should be fit for him to consent to; and he w'ould then appear, and willingly consent to any thing that should be for the peace and happiness of the kingdom.’ There w'ere discovered the treading of horses at a back door of the garden into w hich his majesty had a passage out of his chamber: and it is true that way he w'ent, having appointed his horse to be there ready at an hour, and sir John Berkley, Ashburnham, and Legg, to wait upon him, the two last being of his bedchamber. Ashburnham alone seemed to know what they were to do, the other two having received only orders to attend. When they were free from the apprehen¬ sion of the guards, and the horse quarters, they rode towards the [south-]west, and towards that part of Hampshire which led to the New Forest. The King asked Ashburnham, where the ship lay ? which made the other two conclude that the King resolved to transport himself. After they had made some stay in that part next the sea, and Ashburnham had been some time absent, he returned without any new's of the ship; w r ith which the King seemed troubled. Upon this disappointment, the King thought it best, for avoiding all highways, to go to Titchfield, a noble seat of the earl of Southampton’s, (who was not there,) but inhabited by the old THE KING ESCAPES. 213 lady his mother with a small family, which made the retreat the more convenient: there his majesty alighted, and would speak with the lady; to whom he made no scruple of com¬ municating himself, well knowing her to be a lady of that honour and spirit, that she was superior to all kind of temp¬ tation. There he refreshed himself, and consulted with his three servants, what he should next do, since there was neither ship ready, nor could they presume that they could remain long there undiscovered. In this debate, the Isle of Wight came to be mentioned, (as they say) by Ashburnham, as a place where his majesty might securely repose himself, until he thought fit to inform the Parliament where he was. Colonel Hammond was governor there, an officer of the army, and of nearest trust with Cromwell, having by his advice been married to a daughter of John Hambden, whose memory he always adored; yet, by some fatal mistake, this man was thought a person of honour and generosity enough to trust the King’s person to, and Ashburnham and Berkley were sent to him with orders, 1 first to be sure that the man would faithfully promise not to deliver his majesty up, though the Parliament or army should require him; but to give him his liberty to shift for himself, if he were not able to defend him: and except he would make that promise, they should not let him know where his majesty was, but should return presently to him.’ With this commission they two crossed the water to the Isle of Wight, the King in the mean time reposing himself at Titchfield. The next day they found colonel Hammond, who was known to them both, who had conversation with him in the army, when the King was well treated there, (and their persons had been very civilly treated by most of the officers, who thought themselves qualified sufficiently for Court preferments.) They 214 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. told him, ‘ that the King was withdrawal from the army; ’ of which he seemed to have had no notice, and to be very much surprised with it. They then said, ‘ that the King had so good an opinion of him, knowing him to be a gentleman, and for his relation to Dr. Hammond, (whose nephew he was,) that he would trust his person with him, and would from thence write to the Parliament, if he would promise that if his message had not that effect which he hoped it would have, he would leave him to himself to go whither he thought fit, and would not deliver him to the Parliament, or army, if they should require it.’ His answer was, ‘ that he would pay all the duty and service to his majesty that was in his power; and, if he pleased to come thither, he would receive and entertain him as well as he could; but that he was an inferior officer, and must obey his superiors in whatsoever they thought fit to command him : ’ with which when he saw they were not satisfied, he asked, ‘ where the King was ? ’ to which they made no other answer, ‘ but that they would acquaint his majesty with his answer, and, if he were satisfied with it, they would return to him again.’ He demanded ‘ that Mr. Ash- burnham would stay with him, and that the other might go to the King; ’ which Mr. Ashburnham refused to do. After some time spent in debate, in which he made many expressions of his desire to do any service to his majesty, they were contented that he should go with them; and Ash¬ burnham said, ‘ he would conduct him to the place where the King was; ’ and so, he commanding three or four servants or soldiers to wait on him, they went together to Titchfield ; and, the other staying below, Ashburnham went up to the King’s chamber. When he had acquainted him with all that had passed, and that Hammond was in the house, his majesty broke out in a passionate exclamation, and said, ‘ O Jack, THE KING ESCAPES. 215 thou hast undone me!’ with which the other falling into a great passion of weeping, offered to go down, and to kill Hammond: to which his majesty would not consent; and, after some pausing and deliberation, sent for him up, and endeavoured to persuade him to make the same promise, which had before been proposed: to which he made the same answer he had done, but with many professions of doing all the offices he could for his majesty ; and seemed to believe that the army would do well for him. The King believed that there was now no possible way to get from him, he having the command of the country, and could call in what help he would ; and so went with him into the Isle of Wight, and was lodged at Carisbrook-castle, with all demon¬ stration of respect and duty. It never appeared afterwards that the King was maliciously betrayed to this unhappy peregrination, by the treachery and practice of those he trusted; and his majesty himself never entertained the least jealousy, or suspicion of it: yet the whole design appeared to be so weakly contrived, the not being sure of a ship, if the resolution were fixed for embark¬ ing, which was never manifest, the making choice of the Isle of Wight, and of Hammond to be trusted, since nothing fell out which was not to be reasonably foreseen and expected, and the bringing him to Titchfield, without the permission of the King, if not directly contrary to it, seemed to be all so far from a rational design and conduct, that most men did believe there was treason in the contrivance, or that his majesty intrusted those who were grossly imposed upon and deceived by his greatest enemies. Legg had had so general a reputation of integrity, and fidelity to his master, that he never fell under the least imputation or reproach with any man : he was a very punctual and steady observer of the 21 6 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. orders he received, but no contriver of them; and though he had in truth a better judgment and understanding than either of the other two, his modesty and diffidence of himself never suffered him to contrive bold counsels. Berkley was less known among those persons of honour and quality who had followed the King, being in a very private station before the war, and his post in it being in the farthest corner of the kingdom, and not much spoken of till the end of it, when he was not beholden to reports; his ambition and vanity were well known to be predominant in him, and that he had great confidence in himself, and did not delight to converse with those who had not; but he never fell under any blemish of disloyalty, and he took care to publish that this enterprise of the King’s was so totally without his privity, that he was required to attend on horseback at such an hour, and had not the least intimation of his majesty’s purpose what he intended to do. Another particular, which was acknowledged by Ham¬ mond, did him much credit, that when Hammond demanded that Ashburnham should remain with him whilst the other went to the King, which Ashburnham refused to do, Berkley did offer himself to remain with him whilst Ashburnham should attend his majesty; so that the whole weight of the prejudice and reproach was cast upon Ashburnham; who was known to have so great an interest in the affections of his master, and so great an influence upon his counsels and resolutions, that he could not be ignorant of any thing that moved him. Cromwell. Cromwell, though the greatest dissembler living, always made his hypocrisy of singular use and benefit to him; and never did any thing, how ungracious or imprudent soever it CROMWELL. 217 seemed to be, but what was necessary to the design ; even 1 is roughness and unpolishedness, which, in the beginning of tl e Parliament, he affected contrary to the smoothness and ' ■ implacency, which his cousin, and bosom friend, Mr. ambden, practised to all men, was necessary; and his first j iblic declaration, in the beginning of the war, to his troop . nen it was first mustered, ‘ that he would not deceive or zen them by the perplexed and involved expressions in his 1 ommission, to fight for King and Parliament; ’ and therefore told them, ‘ that if the King chanced to be in the body of the ( nemy that he was to charge, he would as soon discharge his pistol upon him, as any other private person; and if their conscience would not permit them to do the like, he advised ,em not to list themselves in his troop, or under his com¬ mand;’ which was generally looked upon as imprudent and : alicious, and might, by the professions the Parliament then ade, have proved dangerous to him; yet served his turn, d severed from others, and united among themselves, all ie furious and incensed men against the government, 'aether ecclesiastical or civil, to look upon him as a man for eir turn, upon whom they might depend, as one who would > through his work that he undertook. And his strict and isociable humour in not keeping company w r ith the other .Fleers of the army in their jollities and excesses, to which ost of the superior officers under the earl of Essex were dined, and by which he often made himself ridiculous or 1 ontemptible, drew all those of the like sour or reserved natures to his society and conversation, and gave him oppor- nity to form their understandings, inclinations, and resolu- 10ns, to his own model. By this he grew to have a wonderful terest in the common soldiers, out of which, as his authority ;creased,he made all his officers, well instructed how to live in 2l8 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. the same manner with their soldiers, that they might be able to apply them to their own purposes: whilst he looked upon the Presbyterian humour as the best incentive to rebellion, no man more a Presbyterian; he sang all psalms with them to their tunes, and loved the longest sermons as much as they ; but when he discovered that they would prescribe some limits and bounds to their rebellion, that it was not well breathed, and would expire as soon as some few particulars were granted to them in religion, which he cared not for; and then that the government must run still in the same channel; it concerned him to make it believed ‘ that the State had been more delinquent than the Church, and that the people suffered more by the civil than by the ecclesiastical power; and therefore that the change of one would give them little ease, if there were not as great an alteration in the other, and if the whole government in both were not reformed and altered ; ’ which though it made him generally odious [at first], and irreconciled many of his old friends to him ; yet it made those who remained more cordial and firm: he could better compute his own strength, and upon whom he might depend. This discovery made him contrive the [new] model of the army ; which was the most unpopular act, and disobliged all those who first contrived the Rebellion, and who were the very soul of it; and yet, if he had not brought that to pass, and changed a general, who, though not very sharpsighted, would never be governed, nor applied to any thing he did not like, for another who had no eyes, and so would be willing to be led, all his designs must have come to nothing, and he remained a private colonel of horse, not considerable enough to be in any figure upon an advantageous composition. USAGE OF THE KING. 219 BOOK XI. Usage op the King. When he was first brought to Westminster-hall, which was upon the the twentieth of January, before their High Court of justice, he looked upon them, and sat down, without any manifestation of trouble, never stirring his hat; all the impudent judges sitting covered, and fixing their eyes upon him, without the least show of respect. The odious libel, which they called a charge and impeachment, was then read by the clerk; which contained, ‘ that he had been admitted King of England, and trusted with a limited power to govern according to law ; and, by his oath and office, was obliged to use the power committed to him for the good and benefit of the people: but that he had, out of a wicked design to erect to himself an illimited and tyrannical power, and to overthrow the rights and liberties of the people, traitorously levied war against the present Parliament, and the people therein repre¬ sented.’ And then it mentioned his first appearance at York with a guard, then his being at Beverly, then his setting up his standard at Nottingham, the day of the month and the year at which the battle had been at Edge-hill, and all the other several battles which had been fought in his presence; ‘ in which,’ it said, ‘ he had caused and procured many thousands of the freeborn people of the nation to be slain : that after all his forces had been defeated, and himself become a prisoner, he had, in that very year, caused many insurrections to be made in England, and given a commission to the Prince his son to raise a new war against the Parliament; whereby many who were in their service, and trusted by them, had 220 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. revolted, broken their trust, and betook themselves to the service of the Prince against the Parliament and the people: that he had been the author and contriver of the unnatural, cruel, and bloody wars; and was therein guilty of all the treasons, murders, rapines, burnings, and spoils, desolations, damage, and mischief to the nation, which had been com¬ mitted in the said war, or been occasioned thereby; and that he was therefore impeached for the said treasons and crimes, on the behalf of the people of England, as a tyrant, traitor, and murderer, and a public implacable enemy to the common¬ wealth of England; ’ and ‘ prayed, that he might be put to answer to all the particulars, to the end that such an exami¬ nation, trial, and judgment, might be had thereupon, as should be agreeable to justice.’ Which being read, their president Bradshaw, after he had insolently reprehended the King ‘ for not having stirred his hat, or shewed more respect to that high tribunal,’ told him, ‘ that the Parliament of England had appointed that court to try him for the several treasons, and misdemeanours, which he had committed against the kingdom during the evil adminis¬ tration of his government; and that, upon the examination thereof, justice might be done.’ And, after a great sauciness and impudence of talk, he asked the King, ‘ what answer he had to make to that impeachment.’ The King, without any alteration in his countenance by all that insolent provocation, told them, ‘ he would first know of them, by what authority they presumed by force to bring him before them, and who gave them power to judge of his actions, for which he was accountable to none but God; though they had been always such as he need not be ashamed to own them before all the world.’ He told them, ‘ that he was their King, they his subjects; who owed him duty USAGE OF THE KING. 221 and obedience: that no Parliament had authority to call him before them; but that they were not the Parliament, nor had any authority from the Parliament to sit in that manner: that of all the persons who sat there, and took upon them to judge him, except those persons who being officers of the army he could not but know whilst he was forced to be amongst them, there were only two faces which he had ever seen before, or whose names were known to him.’ And, after urging £ their duty, that was due to him, and his superiority over them,’ by such lively reasons, and arguments, as were not capable of any answer, he concluded, ‘ that he would not so much betray himself, and his royal dignity, as to answer any thing they objected against him, which were to acknowledge their authority ; though he believed that every one of themselves, as well as the spectators, did, in their own consciences, absolve him from all the material things which were objected against him.’ Bradshaw advised him, in a very arrogant manner, ‘ not to deceive himself with an opinion that any thing he had said would do him any good: that the Parliament knew their own authority, and would not suffer it to be called in question or debated: ’ therefore wished him, ‘ to think better of it, against he should be next brought thither, and that he would answer directly to his charge; otherwise, he could not be so ignorant, as not to know what judgment the law pronounced against those who stood mute, and obstinately refused to plead.’ So the guard carried his majesty back to St. James’s; where they treated him as before. There was an accident happened that first day, which may be fit to be remembered. When all those who were com¬ missioners had taken their places, and the King was brought in, the first ceremony was, to read their commission; which 222 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. was the ordinance of Parliament for the trial; and then the judges were all called, every man answering to his name as he was called, and the president being first called and making answer, the next who was called being the general, lord Fair¬ fax, and no answer being made, the officer called him the second time, when there was a voice heard that said, ‘ he had more wit than to be there; ’ which put the court into some disorder, and somebody asking, who it was, there was no other answer but a little murmuring. But, presently, when the impeachment was read, and that expression used, of ‘ all the good people of England,’ the same voice in a louder tone answered, ‘ No, nor the hundredth part of them: ’ upon which, one of the officers bid the soldiers give fire into that box whence those presumptuous words were uttered. But it was quickly discerned that it was the general’s wife, the lady Fairfax, who had uttered both these sharp sayings; who was presently persuaded or forced to leave the place, to prevent any new disorder. She was of a very noble extraction, one of the daughters and heirs of Horace lord Vere of Tilbury; who, having been bred in Holland, had not that reverence for the Church of England, as she ought to have had, and so had unhappily concurred in her husband’s entering into rebellion, never imagining what misery it would bring upon the kingdom; and now abhorred the work in hand as much as any body could do, and did all she could to hinder her husband from acting any part in it. Nor did he ever sit in that bloody court, though out of the stupidity of his soul he was throughout overwitted by Cromwell, and made a property to bring that to pass which could very hardly have been otherwise effected. As there was in many persons present at that woful spectacle a real duty and compassion for the King, so there CHARACTER OF THE KING. 22 was in others so barbarous and brutal a behaviour towards him, that they called him Tyrant and Murderer; and one spit in his face; which his majesty, without expressing any trouble, wiped off with his handkerchief. Character of the King. The several unheard of instances which this excellent prince was forced to submit to, at the other times he was brought before that odious judicatory, his majestic behaviour under so much insolence, and resolute insisting upon his own dignity, and defending it by manifest authorities in the law, as well as by the clearest deductions from reason, the pronouncing that horrible sentence upon the most innocent person in the world, the execution of that sentence by the most execrable murder that was ever committed since that of our blessed Saviour, and the circumstances thereof; the application and interposition that was used by some noble persons to prevent that woful murder, and the hypocrisy with which that interposition was eluded, the saintlike behaviour of that blessed martyr, and his Christian courage and patience at his death, are all particulars so well known, and have been so much enlarged upon in a treatise peculiarly writ to that purpose 1 , that the farther mentioning it in this place would but afflict and grieve the reader, and make the relation itself odious as well as needless; and therefore no more shall be said here of that lamentable tragedy, so much to the dishonour of the nation, and the religion professed by it. But it will not be unnecessary to add a short character of his person, that posterity may know the inestimable loss which the nation then underwent, in being deprived of a prince, whose example would have had a greater influence [' Probably “ England’s Black Tribunal.”] 224 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. upon the manners and piety of the nation, than the most strict laws can have. To speak first of his private quali¬ fications as a man, before the mention of his princely and royal virtues; he was, if ever any, the most worthy of the title of an honest man; so great a lover of justice, that no temptation could dispose him to a wrongful action, except it was so disguised to him that he believed it to be just. He had a tenderness and compassion of nature, which restrained him from ever doing a hardhearted thing: and therefore he was so apt to grant pardon to malefactors, that the judges of the land represented to him the damage and insecurity to the public, that flowed from such his indulgence; and then he restrained himself from pardoning either murders or highway robberies, and quickly discerned the fruits of his severity by a wonderful reformation of those enormities. He was very punctual and regular in his devotions; he was never known to enter upon his recreations or sports, though never so early in the morning, before he had been at public prayers; so that on hunting days his chaplains were bound to a very early attendance. He was likewise very strict in observing the hours of his private cabinet devotions; and was so severe an exactor of gravity and reverence in all mention of religion, that he could never endure any light or profane word, with what sharpness of wit soever it was covered: and though he was well pleased and delighted with reading verses made upon any occasion, no man durst bring before him any thing that was profane or unclean. That kind of wit had never any countenance then. He was so great an example of conjugal affection, that they who did not imitate him in that particular did not brag of their liberty: and he did not only permit, but direct his bishops to prosecute those scandalous vices, in the CHARACTER OF THE KING. 22$ ecclesiastical courts, against persons of eminence, and near relation to his service. His kingly virtues had some mixture and allay, that hindered them from shining in full lustre, and from producing those fruits they should have been attended with. He was >t in his nature very bountiful, though he gave very much. This appeared more after the duke of Buckingham’s death, i! ter which those showers fell very rarely; and he paused too ng in giving, which made those, to whom he gave, less nsible of the benefit. He kept state to the full, which made his Court very orderly; no man presuming to be seen in a place where he had no pretence to be. He saw nd observed men long, before he received them about his ; erson; and did not love strangers; nor very confident men. lie was a patient hearer of causes; which he frequently customed himself to at the Council board ; and judged very well, and was dexterous in the mediating part: so that he ■ ften put an end to causes by persuasion, which the stubborn- ess of men’s humours made dilatory in courts of justice. He was very fearless in his person, but not very enter- . using. He had an excellent understanding, but was not nfident enough of it; which made him oftentimes change s own opinion for a worse, and follow the advice of men that did not judge so well as himself. This made him more . esolutc than the conjuncture of his affairs would admit: if h had been of a rougher and more imperious nature he •ould have found more respect and duty. And his not l plying some severe cures to approaching evils proceeded >m the lenity of his nature, and the tenderness of his nscience, which, in all cases of blood, made him choose i softer way, and not hearken to severe counsels, how reasonably soever urged. This only restrained him from Q 226 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. pursuing his advantage in the first Scottish expedition, when humanly speaking, he might have reduced that nation to the most slavish obedience that could have been wished. But no man can say he had then many who advised him to it, but the contrary, by a wonderful indisposition all his Council had to fighting, or any other fatigue. He was always an im¬ moderate lover of the Scottish nation, having not only been born there, but educated by that people, and besieged by them always, having few English about him till he was king; and the major number of his servants being still of that nation, who he thought could never fail him. And among these, no man had such an ascendant over him, by the humblest insinuations, as duke Hamilton had. As he excelled in all other virtues, so in temperance he was so strict, that he abhorred all debauchery to that degree, that, at a great festival solemnity, where he once was, when very many of the nobility of the English and Scots were entertained, being told by one who withdrew from thence, what vast draughts of wine they drank, and ‘ that there was one earl, who had drank most of the rest down, and was not himself moved or altered,’ the King said, ‘that he deserved to be hanged; ’ and that earl coming shortly after into the room where his majesty was, in some gayety, to shew how unhurt he was from that battle, the King sent one to bid him withdraw from his majesty’s presence; nor did he in some days after appear before him. There were so many miraculous circumstances contributed to his ruin, that men might well think that heaven and earth and the stars designed it. Though he was, from the first de¬ clension of his power, so much betrayed by his own servants, that there were very few who remained faithful to him, yet that treachery proceeded not from any treasonable purpose to do CHARACTER OF THE KING. 327 him any harm, but from particular and personal animosities against other men. And, afterwards, the terror all men were under of the Parliament, and the guilt they were con¬ scious of themselves, made them watch all opportunities to make themselves gracious to those who could do them good; and so they became spies upon their master, and from one piece of knavery were hardened and confirmed to under¬ take another; till at last they had no hope of preservation but by the destruction of their master. And after all this, when a man might reasonably believe that less than a universal defection of three nations could not have reduced a great King to so ugly a fate, it is most certain, that, in that very hour when he was thus wickedly murdered in the sight of the sun, he had as great a share in the hearts and affections of his subjects in general, was as much beloved, esteemed, and longed for by the people in general of the three nations, as any of his predecessors had ever been. To conclude, he was the worthiest gentleman, the best master, the best friend, the best husband, the best father, and the best Christian, that the age in which he lived produced. And if he were not the best King, if he were without some parts and qualities which have made some kings great and happy, no other prince was ever unhappy who was possessed of half his virtues and endow¬ ments, and so much without any kind of vice. This unparalleled murder and parricide was committed upon the thirtieth of January, in the year, according to the account used in England, 1648, in the forty and ninth year of his age, and when he had such excellent health, and so great vigour of body, that when his murderers caused him to be opened, (which they did, and were some of them present at it with great curiosity,) they confessed and declared, ‘ that no man had ever all his vital parts so perfect and unhurt: and Q 2 228 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. that he seemed to be of so admirable a composition and con¬ stitution, that he would probably have lived as long as nature could subsist/ His body was immediately carried into a room at Whitehall; where he was exposed for many days to the public view, that all men might know that he was not alive. And he was then embalmed, and put into a coffin, and so carried to St. James’s; where he likewise remained several days. They who were qualified to look after that province declared, ‘ that he should be buried at Windsor in a decent manner, provided that the whole expense should not exceed five hundred pounds'.’ The duke of Richmond, the marquis of Hertford, the earls of Southampton and Lindsey, who had been of his bedchamber, and always very faithful to him, desired those who governed, ‘that they might have leave to perform the last duty to their dead master, and to wait upon him to his grave; ’ which, after some pauses, they were permitted to do, with this, ‘ that they should not attend the corpse out of the town; since they resolved it should be privately carried to Windsor without pomp or noise, and then they should have timely notice, that, if they pleased, they might be at his interment.’ And accordingly it was committed to four of those servants, who had been by them appointed to wait upon him during his imprisonment, that they should convey the body to Windsor; which they did. And it was, that night, placed in that chamber which had usually been his bedchamber: the next morning, it was carried into the great hall; where it remained till the lords came; who arrived there in the afternoon, and immediately went to colonel Whitchcot, the governor of the castle, and shewed the order they had from the Parliament to be present at the burial; which he admitted : but when they desired that his majesty might be buried according to the form of the Common THE LORD CAPEL. 229 Prayer Book, the bishop of London being present with them to officiate, he expressly, positively and roughly refused to consent to it; and said, 1 it was not lawful: that the Common Prayer Book was put down, and he would not suffer it to be used in that garrison where he commanded; ’ nor could all the reasons, persuasions, and entreaties, prevail with him to suffer it. Then they went into the church, to make choice of a place for burial. But when they entered into it, which they had been so well acquainted with, they found it so altered and transformed, all tombs, inscriptions, and those landmarks pulled down, by which all men knew every particular place in that church, and such a dismal mutation over the whole, that they knew not where they were: nor was there one old officer that had belonged to it, or knew where our princes had used to be interred. At last there was a fellow of the town who undertook to tell them the place, where, he said, ‘ there was a vault, in which king Harry the Eighth and queen Jane Seymour were interred.’ As near that place as could conveniently be, they caused the grave to be made. There the King’s body was laid without any words, or other ceremonies than the tears and sighs of the few beholders. Upon the coffin was a plate of silver fixed with these words only, King Charles 1648. When the coffin was put in, the black velvet pall that had covered it was thrown over it, and then the earth thrown in; which the governor stayed to see perfectly done, and then took the keys of the church, which was seldom put to any use. The Lord Capel. The lord Capel was then called; who walked through Westminster-hall, saluting such of his friends and acquaint- 230 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. ance as he saw there, with a very serene countenance, accom¬ panied with his friend Dr. Morley; who had been with him from the time of his sentence ; but, at the foot of the scaf¬ fold, his lordship took leave of him ; and, embracing him, thanked him; and said, he should go no farther, having some apprehension that he might receive some affront by the sol¬ diers after his death; the chaplains who attended the two other lords being men of the time, and the doctor being well known to be most contrary. As soon as his lordship had ascended the scaffold, he looked very vigorously about, and asked, ‘ whether the other lords had spoken to the people with their hats on ? ’ and being told, that ‘ they were bare; ’ he gave his hat to his servant, and then with a clear and strong voice he said, ‘ that he was brought thither to die for doing that which he could not repent of: that he had been born and bred under the govern¬ ment of a King, whom he was bound in conscience to obey; under laws, to which he had always been obedient; and in the bosom of a Church, which he thought the best in the world : that he had never violated his faith to either of those, and was now condemned to die against all the laws of the land; to which sentence he did submit.’ He enlarged himself in commending ‘ the great virtue and piety of the King, whom they had put to death; who was so just and so merciful a prince; ’ and prayed to God, ‘ to for¬ give the nation that innocent blood.’ Then he recommended to them the present King; ‘ who,’ he told them, ‘ was their true and lawful sovereign ; and was worthy to be so : that he had the honour to have been some years near his person, and therefore he could not but know him well; ’ and assured them, ‘that he was a prince of great understanding, of an excellent nature, of great courage, an entire lover of justice, THE LORD CAPEL. 231 and of exemplary piety; that he was not to be shaken in his religion; and had all those princely virtues, which could make a nation happy: ’ and therefore advised them ‘ to submit to his government, as the only means to preserve themselves, their posterity, and the Protestant religion.’ And having, with great vehemence, recommended it to them, after some prayers devoutly pronounced upon his knees, he submitted himself, with an unparalleled Christian courage, to the fatal stroke, which deprived the nation of the noblest champion it had. He was a man in whom the malice of his enemies could discover very few faults, and whom his friends could not wish better accomplished; whom Cromwell’s own character well described; and who indeed would never have been con¬ tented to have lived under that government. His memory all men loved and reverenced, though few followed his ex¬ ample. He had always lived in a state of great plenty and general estimation, having a very noble fortune of his own by descent, and a fair addition to it by his marriage with an excellent wife, a lady of very worthy extraction, of great virtue and beauty, by whom he had a numerous issue of both sexes, in which he took great joy and comfort: so that no man was more happy in all his domestic affairs; and he was so much the more happy, in that he thought himself most blessed in them. And yet the King’s honour was no sooner violated, and his just power invaded, than he threw all those blessings behind him; and having no other obligations to the Crown, than those which his own honour and conscience suggested to him, he frankly engaged his person and his fortune from the beginning of the troubles, as many others did, in all actions and enterprises of the greatest hazard and danger; and con- 232 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. tinued to the end, without ever making one false step, as fev others did, though he had once, by the iniquity of a faction, that then prevailed, an indignity put upon him that might have excused him for some remission of his former warmth. But it made no other impression upon him, than to be quiet and contented, whilst they would let him alone, and, with th same cheerfulness, to obey the first summons when he wa- called out; which was quickly after. In a word, he was a man, that whoever shall, after him, deserve best of the Eng¬ lish nation, he can never think himself undervalued, when he shall hear, that his courage, virtue, and fidelity, is laid in the balance wfith and compared to, that of the lord Capel. BOOK XII. A Bttll-Fight. 1 Here the place was very noble, being the market-place, a very large square, built with handsome brick houses, which had all balconies, which were adorned w'ith tapestry and ver beautiful ladies. Scaffolds were built round to the first stop the lower rooms being shops, and for ordinary use; and in the division of those scaffolds, all the magistrates and officep of the town knew their places. The pavement of the plac was all covered with gravel, (which in summer time was upo these occasions watered by carts charged with hogsheads ( ■ water.) As soon as the King comes, some officers clear th • whole ground from the common people, so that there is n : man seen upon the plain but two or three alguazils, magis¬ trates with their small w r hite wands. Then one of the fot gates which leads into the streets is opened, at which th 1 [Madrid.] A BULL-FIGHT. *33 orreadors enter, all persons of quality richly clad, and upon le best horses of Spain, every one attended by eight or ten r more lackeys, all clinquant with gold and silver lace, who arry the spears, which their masters are to use against the ulls; and with this entry many of the common people break n, for which sometimes they pay very dear. The persons n horseback have all cloaks folded upon their left shoulder, le least disorder of which, much more the letting it fall, is a ery great disgrace; and in that grave order they march to le place where the King sits, and after they have made their everences, they place themselves at a good distance from one nother, and expect the bull. The bulls are brought in the night before from the mountains by the people used to that /ork, who drive them into the town when nobody is in the treets, into a pen made for them, which hath a door, which ■pens into that large space; the key whereof is sent to the Cing, which the King, when he sees every thing ready, throws 0 an alguazil, who carries it to the officer that keeps the loor, and he causes it to be opened, when a single bull is ready o come out. When the bull enters, the common people, vho sit over the door or near it, strike him, or throw short larts with sharp points of steel, to provoke him to rage, de commonly runs with all his fury against the first man he >ees on horseback, who watches him so carefully, and avoids lim so dexterously, that when the spectators believe him to >e even between the horns of the bull, he avoids by the quick urn of his horse, and with his lance strikes the bull upon a vein that runs through his pole, with which in a moment le falls down dead. But this fatal stroke can never be itruck, but when the bull comes so near upon the turn of he horse, that his horn even touches the rider’s leg, and so is it such a distance that he can shorten his lance, and use the 234 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. full strength of his arm in the blow. And they who are the most skilful in the exercise do frequently kill the beast with such an exact stroke, insomuch as in a day two or three fall in that manner: but if they miss the vein, it only gives a wound that the more enrages him. Sometimes the bull runs with so much fierceness, (for if he escapes the first man, he runs upon the rest as they are in his way,) that he gores the horse with his horns, that his guts come out, and he falls before the rider can get from his back. Sometimes, by the strength of his neck, he raises horse and man from the ground, and throws both down, and then the greatest danger is another gore upon the ground. In any of these disgraces, or any other by which the rider comes to be dismounted, he is obliged in honour to take his revenge upon the bull by his sword, and upon his head, towards which the standers by assist him by running after the bull and hocking him, by which he falls upon his hinder legs; but before that execu¬ tion can be done, a good bull hath his revenge upon many poor fellows. Sometimes he is so unruly that nobody dares to attack him, and then the King calls for his mastiffs, whereof two are let out at a time, and if they cannot master him, but are themselves killed, as frequently they are, the King then, as a last refuge, calls for the English mastiffs, of which they seldom turn above one at a time; and he rarely misses of taking the bull and holding him by the nose till the men run in; and after they have hocked him, they quickly kill him. In one of those days there were no fewer than sixteen horses, as good as any in Spain, the worst of which would that very morning have yielded three hundred pistoles, killed, and four or five men, besides many more of both hurt: and some men remain perpetually maimed : for after the horsemen have done as much as they can, they withdraw themselves, and A BULL-FIGHT. 235 then some accustomed nimble fellows, to whom money is thrown when they perform their feats with skill, stand to receive the bull, whereof the worst are reserved till the last: and it is a wonderful thing to see with what steadiness those fellows will stand a full career of the bull, and by a little quick motion upon one foot avoid him, and lay a hand upon his horn, as if he guided him from him; but then the next standers by, who have not the same activity, commonly pay for it, and there is no day without much mischief. It is a very barbarous exercise and triumph, in which so many men’s lives are lost, and always ventured; but so rooted in the affections of that nation, that it is not in the King’s power, they say, to suppress it, though, if he disliked it enough, he might forbear to be present at it. There are three festival days in the year, whereof midsummer is one, on which the people hold it to be their right to be treated with these spec¬ tacles, not only in great cities, where they are never dis¬ appointed, but in very ordinary towns, where there are places provided for it. Besides those ordinary annual days, upon any extraordinary accident of joy, as at this time for the arrival of the Queen, upon the birth of the King’s children, or any signal victory, these triumphs are repeated, which no ecclesiastical censures or authority can suppress or discoun¬ tenance. For pope Pius the Fifth, in the time of Philip the Second, and very probably with his approbation, if not upon his desire, published a bull against the ioros in Spain, which is still in force, in which he declared, that nobody should be capable of Christian burial who lost his life at those spect¬ acles, and that every clergyman who should be present at them stood excommunicated ipso facio ; and yet there is always one of the largest galleries assigned to the office of the inquisition and the chief of the clergy, which is always 2 3 6 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. filled; besides that many religious men in their habits get other places; only the Jesuits, out of their submission to the supreme authority of the pope, are never present there, but on those days do always appoint some solemn exercise to be performed, that obliges their whole body to be together. Death of Montrose. The marquis of Montrose, and the rest of the prisoners, were the next day, or soon after, delivered to David Lesley; who was come up with his forces, and had now nothing left to do but to carry them in triumph to Edinburgh; whither notice was quickly sent of their great victory; which was received there with wonderful joy and acclamation. David Lesley treated the marquis with great insolence, and for some days carried him in the same clothes, and habit, in which he was taken; but at last permitted him to buy better. His behaviour was, in the whole time, such as became a great man; his countenance serene and cheerful, as one that was superior to all those reproaches, which they had pre¬ pared the people to pour out upon him in all the places through which he was to pass. When he came to one of the gates of Edinburgh, he was met by some of the magistrates, to whom he was delivered, and by them presently put into a new cart, purposely made, in which there was a high chair, or bench, upon which he sat, that the people might have a full view of him, being bound with a cord drawn over his breast and shoulders, and fastened through holes made in the cart. When he was in this posture, the hangman took off his hat, and rode himself before the cart in his livery, and with his bonnet on; the other officers, who were taken prisoners with him, walking DEATH OF MONTROSE. 2.37 two and two before the cart; the streets and windows being full of people to behold the triumph over a person whose name had made them tremble some few years before, and into whose hands the magistrates of that place had, upon their knees, delivered the keys of that city. In this manner he was carried to the common gaol, where he was received and treated as a common malefactor. Within two days after, he was brought before the Parliament, where the earl of Lowden, the Chancellor, made a very bitter and virulent declamation against him: told him, ‘ he had broken all the covenants by which that whole nation stood obliged; and had impiously rebelled against God, the King, and the king¬ dom ; that he had committed many horrible murders, trea¬ sons, and impieties, for all which he was now brought to suffer condign punishment; ’ with all those insolent re¬ proaches upon his person, and his actions, which the liberty of that place gave him leave to use. Permission was then given to him to speak; and without the least trouble in his countenance, or disorder, upon all the indignities he had suffered, he told them, 1 since the King had owned them so far as to treat with them, he had appeared before them with reverence, and bareheaded, which other¬ wise he would not have done : that he had done nothing of which he was ashamed, or had cause to repent; that the first Covenant, he had taken, and complied with it, and with them who took it, as long as the ends for which it was ordained were observed; but when he discovered, which was now evident to all the world, that private and particular men designed to satisfy their own ambition and interest, instead of considering the public benefit; and that, under the pre¬ tence of reforming some errors in religion, they resolved to abridge and take away the King’s just power, and lawful 238 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. authority, he had withdrawn himself from that engagement: that for the League and Covenant, he had never taken it, and therefore could not break it: and it was now too apparent to the whole Christian world, what monstrous mischiefs it had produced : that when, under colour of it, an army from Scotland had invaded England in assistance of the rebellion that was then against their lawful King, he had, by his majesty’s command, received a commission from him to raise forces in Scotland, that he might thereby divert them from the other odious prosecution: that he had executed that commission with the obedience and duty he owed to the King; and, in all the circumstances of it, had proceeded like a gentleman; and had never suffered any blood to be shed but in the heat of the battle; and that he saw many persons there, whose lives he had saved : that when the King com¬ manded him, he laid down his arms, and withdrew out of the kingdom; which they could not have compelled him to have done.’ He said, ‘ he was now again entered into the king¬ dom by his majesty’s command, and with his authority: and what success soever it might have pleased God to have given him, he would always have obeyed any commands he should have received from him.’ He advised them, ‘to consider well of the consequence before they proceeded against him, and that all his actions might be examined, and judged by the laws of the land, or those of nations.’ As soon as he had ended his discourse, he was ordered to withdraw; and, after a short space, was again brought in; and told by the Chancellor, ‘ that he was, on the morrow, being the one and twentieth of May 1650, to be carried to Edin¬ burgh cross, and there to be hanged upon a gallows thirty foot high, for the space of three hours, and then to be taken down, and his head to be cut off upon a scaffold, and hanged DEATH OF MONTROSE. 239 on Edinburgh tollbooth; his legs and arms to be hanged up in other public towns of the kingdom, and his body to be buried at the place where he was to be executed, except the Kirk should take off his excommunication; and then his body might be buried in the common place of burial.’ He desired, ‘that he might say something to them;’ but was not suffered, and so was carried back to prison. That he might not enjoy any ease or quiet during the short remainder of his life, their ministers came presently to insult over him with all the reproaches imaginable ; pro¬ nounced his damnation ; and assured him, ‘that the judgment he was the next day to undergo, was but an easy prologue to that which he was to undergo afterwards.’ After many such barbarities, they offered to intercede for him to the Kirk upon his repentance, and to pray with him; but he too well under¬ stood the form of their common prayer, in those cases, to be only the most virulent and insolent imprecations against the persons of those they prayed against, (‘ Lord, vouchsafe yet to touch the obdurate heart of this proud incorrigible sinner, this wicked, perjured, traitorous, and profane person, who refuses to hearken to the voice of thy Kirk,’ and the like charitable expressions,) and therefore he desired them ‘ to spare their pains, and to leave him to his own devotions.’ He told them, ‘that they were a miserable, deluded, and deluding people; and would shortly bring that poor nation under the most insupportable servitude ever people had sub¬ mitted to.’ He told them, ‘ he was prouder to have his head set upon the place it was appointed to be, than he could have been to have had his picture hang in the King’s bedchamber: that he was so far from being troubled that his four limbs were to be hanged in four cities of the kingdom, that he heartily wished that he had flesh enough to be sent to every 240 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. city in Christendom, as a testimony of the cause for which he suffered.’ The next day, they executed every part and circumstance of that barbarous sentence, with all the inhumanity imagin¬ able ; and he bore it with all the courage and magnanimity, and the greatest piety, that a good Christian could manifest. He magnified the virtue, courage, and religion of the last King, exceedingly commended the justice, and goodness, and understanding of the present King; and prayed, ‘ that they might not betray him as they had done his father.’ When he had ended all he meant to say, and was expecting to expire, they had yet one scene more to act of their tyranny. The hangman brought the book that had been published of his truly heroic actions, whilst he had commanded in that king¬ dom, which book was tied in a small cord that was put about his neck. The marquis smiled at this new instance of their malice, and thanked them for it; and said, ‘ he was pleased that it should be there ; and was prouder of wearing it, than ever he had been of the Garter;’ and so renewing some devout ejaculations, he patiently endured the last act of the executioner. Soon after, the officers who had been taken with him, sir William Urry, sir Francis Hay, and many others, of as good families as any in the kingdom, were executed, to the num¬ ber of thirty or forty, in several quarters of the kingdom; many of them being suffered to be beheaded. There was one whom they thought fit to save, one Colonel Whitford; who, when he was brought to die, said, ‘ he knew the reason why he was put to death; which was only because he had killed Dorislaus at the Hague ; ’ who was one of those who had joined in the murder of the last King. One of the magis¬ trates, who were present to see the execution, caused it to be suspended, till he presently informed the council what the DEATH OF MONTROSE. 241 lan had said; and they thought fit to avoid the reproach ; nd so preserved the gentleman; who was not before known > have had a hand in that action. Thus died the gallant marquis of Montrose, after he had iven as great a testimony of loyalty and courage, as a sub- ct can do, and performed as wonderful actions in several attles, upon as great inequality of numbers, and as great isadvantages in respect of arms, and other preparations for ar, as have been performed in this age. He was a gentle- tan of a very ancient extraction, many of whose ancestors id exercised the highest charges under the King in that ngdom, and had been allied to the Crown itself. He was ' very good parts, which were improved by a good educa- on: he had always a great emulation, or rather a great mtempt of the marquis of Argyle, (as he was too apt to mtemn those he did not love,) who wanted nothing but mesty and courage to be a very extraordinary man, having 1 other good talents in a very great degree. Montrose as in his nature fearless of danger, and never declined any ■ iterprise for the difficulty of going through with it, but iceedingly affected those which seemed desperate to other i en, and did believe somewhat to be in himself which other en were not acquainted with, which made him live more sily towards those who were, or were willing to be, inferior him, (towards whom he exercised wonderful civility and nerosity,) than with his superiors or equals. He was turally jealous, and suspected those who did not concur v ith him in the way, not to mean so well as he. He was n< it without vanity, but his virtues were much superior, and he well deserved to have his memory preserved, and cele¬ brated amongst the most illustrious persons of the age in lich he lived. R 242 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON BOOK XIII. The Lord Widdrington. The lord Widdrington was one of the most goodly persons of that age, being near the head higher than most tall men, and a gentleman of the best and most ancient extraction of the county of Northumberland, and of a very fair fortune, and one of the four which the last King made choice of to be about the person of his son the prince as gentleman of his privy chamber, when he first erected his family. His affec¬ tion to the King was always notorious; and serving in the House of Commons as knight of the shire for the county of Northumberland, he quickly got the reputation of being amongst the most malignant. As soon as the war broke out, he was of the first who raised both horse and foot at his own charge, and served eminently with them under the marquis of Newcastle; with whom he had a very particular and entire friendship. He was very nearly allied to the marquis; and by his testimony that he had performed many signal services, he was, about the middle of the war, made a peer of the kingdom. He was a man of great courage, and choler, by the last of which he incurred the ill will of many, who imputed it to an insolence of nature, which no man was farther from; no man of a nature more civil, and candid towards all, in business, or conversation. But having sat long in the House of Commons, and observed the disingenuity of the proceedings there, and the gross cheats, by which they deceived and cozened the people, he had contracted so hearty an indignation against them and all who were cozened by them, and against all who had not his zeal to oppose THE EARL OF DERBY. 243 and destroy them, that he often said things to slow and phlegmatic men, which offended them, and, it may be, injured them; which his good nature often obliged him to acknowledge, and ask pardon of those who would not ques¬ tion him for it. He transported himself into the parts beyond the sea at the same time with the marquis of Newcastle, to accompany him, and remained still with him till the King went into Scotland; and then waited upon his majesty, and endured the same affronts which others did, during the time of his residence there. And, it may be, the observation of their behaviour, the knowledge of their principles, and the disdain of their treatment, produced that aversion from their conversation, that prevailed upon his impatience to part too soon from their company, in hope that the earl of Derby, under whom he was very willing to serve, and he himself, might quickly draw together such a body of the royal party, as might give some check to the unbounded imaginations of that nation. It was reported by the enemy, that, in respect of his brave person and behaviour, they did offer him quarter; which he refused; and that they were thereby com¬ pelled, in their own defence, to kill him ; which is probable enough; for he knew well the animosity the Parliament had against him, and it cannot be doubted but that, if he had fallen into their hands, they would not have used him better than they did the earl of Derby, who had not more enemies. The Earl op Derby. The earl of Derby was a man of unquestionable loyalty to the late King, and gave clear testimony of it before he re¬ ceived any obligations from the court, and when he thought himself disobliged by it. The King, in his first year, sent R 2 244 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. him the Garter; which, in many respects, he had expected from the last. And the sense of that honour made him so readily comply with the King’s command in attending him, when he had no confidence in the undertaking, nor any inclination to the Scots; who, he thought, had too much guilt upon them, in having depressed the Crown, to be made instruments of repairing and restoring it. He was a man of great honour and clear courage; and all his defects and misfortunes proceeded from his having lived so little time among his equals, that he knew not how to treat his in¬ feriors ; which was the source of all the ill that befell him, having thereby drawn such prejudice against him from per¬ sons of inferior quality, who yet thought themselves too good to be contemned, that they pursued him to death. The King’s army was no sooner defeated at Worcester, but the Parliament renewed their old method of murdering in cold blood, and sent a commission to erect a high court of justice in Lancashire to persons of ordinary quality, many not being gentlemen, and all notoriously his enemies, to try the earl of Derby for his treason and rebellion; which they easily found him guilty of; and put him to death in a town of his own, against which he had expressed a severe displeasure for their obstinate rebellion against the King, with all the circum¬ stances of rudeness and barbarity they could invent. The same night, one of those who was amongst his judges sent a trumpet to the Isle of Man with a letter directed to the countess dowager of Derby, by which he required her ‘ to deliver up the castle and island to the Parliamentnor did their malice abate, till they had reduced that lady, a woman of very high and princely extraction, being the daughter of the duke de Tremouille in France, and of the most exemplary- virtue and piety of her time, and that whole illustrious family, ESCAPE OF CHARLES THE SECOND. 245 to the lowest penury and want, by disposing, giving, and selling, all the fortune and estate that should support it. Escape op Charles the Second. It is great pity that there was never a journal made of that miraculous deliverance, in which there might be seen so many visible impressions of the immediate hand of God. When the darkness of the night was over, after the King had cast himself into that wood, he discerned another man, who had gotten upon an oak in the same wood, near the place where the King had rested himself, and had slept soundly. The man upon the tree had first seen the King, and knew him, and came down to him, and was known to the King, being a gentleman of the neighbour county of Staffordshire, who had served his late majesty during the war, and had now been one of the few who resorted to the King after his coming to Worcester. His name was Careless, who had had a command of foot, above the degree of a captain, under the lord Loughborough. He persuaded the King, since it could not be safe for him to go out of the wood, and that, as soon as it should be fully light, the wood itself would probably be visited by those of the country, who would be searching to find those whom they might make prisoners, that he would get up into that tree, where he had been ; where the boughs were so thick with leaves, that a man would not be discovered there without a narrower inquiry than people usually make in places which they do not suspect. The King thought it good counsel; and, with the other’s help, climbed into the tree; and then helped his companion to ascend after him ; where they sat all that day, and securely saw many who came purposely into the wood to look after them, and heard all 246 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. their discourse, how they would use the King himself if they could take him. This wood was either in or upon the borders of Staffordshire; and though there was a highway near one side of it, where the King had entered into it, yet it was large, and all other sides of it opened amongst enclosures, and it pleased God that Careless was not unacquainted with the neighbour villages; and it was part of the King’s good fortune, that this gentleman, by being a Roman catholic, was acquainted with those of that profession of all degrees, who had the best opportunities of concealing him: for it must never be denied, that some of that faith had a very great share in his majesty’s preservation. The day being spent in the tree, it was not in the King’s power to forget that he had lived two days with eating very little, and two nights with as little sleep; so that, when the night came, he was willing to make some provision for both : and he resolved, with the advice and assistance of his com¬ panion, to leave his blessed tree; and, when the night was dark, they walked through the wood into those enclosures which were farthest from any highway, and making a shift to get over hedges and ditches, after walking at least eight or nine miles, which were the more grievous to the King by the weight of his boots, (for he could not put them off, when he cut off his hair, for want of shoes,) before morning they came to a poor cottage, the owner whereof being a Roman Catholic was known to Careless. He was called up, and as soon as he knew one of them, he easily concluded in what condition they both were; and presently carried them into a little barn, full of hay; which was a better lodging than he had for him¬ self. But when they were there, and had conferred with their host of the news and temper of the country, it was resolved, that the danger would be the greater if they stayed ESCAPE OP CHARLES THE SECOND. 247 together; and therefore that Careless should present!)' be gone ; and should, within two days, send an honest man to the King, to guide him to some other place of security; and in the mean time his majesty should stay upon the hay-mow. The poor man had nothing for him to eat, but promised him good buttermilk the next morning ; and so he was once more left alone, his companion, how weary soever, departing from him before day, the poor man of the house knowing no more, than that he was a friend of the captain’s, and one of those who had escaped from Worcester. The King slept very well in his lodging, till the time that his host brought him a piece of bread, and a great pot of buttermilk, which he thought the best food he ever had eaten. The poor man spoke very intelligently to him of the country, and of the people who were well or ill affected to the King, and of the great fear and terror, that possessed the hearts of those who were best affected. He told him, ‘ that he himself lived by his daily labour, and that what he had brought him was the fare he and his wife had ; and that he feared, if he should endeavour to procure better, it might draw suspicion upon him, and people might be apt to think he had somebody with him that was not of his own family. However, if he would have him get some meat, he would do it; but if he could bear this hard diet, he should have enough of the milk, and some of the butter that was made with it.’ The King was satisfied with this reason, and would not run the hazard for a change of diet; desired only the man, ‘ that he might have his company as often, and as much as he could give it him; ’ there being the same reason against the poor man’s dis¬ continuing his labour, as the alteration of his fare. After he had rested upon this hay-mow, and fed upon this diet two days and two nights, in the evening before the third 24 & SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. night, another fellow, a little above the condition of his host, came to the house, sent from Careless, to conduct the King to another house, more out of any road near which any part of the army was like to march. It was above twelve miles that he was to go, and was to use the same caution he had done the first night, not to go in any common road; which his guide knew well how to avoid. Here he new dressed himself, changing clothes with his landlord and putting on those which he usually wore: he had a great mind to have kept his own shirt; but he considered, that men are no 1 sooner discovered by any mark in disguises, than by having fine linen in ill clothes; and so he parted with his shirt too, and took the same his poor host had then on. Though he had foreseen that he must leave his boots, and his landlord had taken the best care he could to provide an old pair of shoes, yet they were not easy to him when he first put them on, and, in a short time after, grew very grievous to him. Ii this equipage he set out from his first lodging in the beginning of the night, under the conduct of his comrade, who guideo him the nearest way, crossing over hedges and ditches, that they might be in least danger of meeting passengers. Thi was so grievous a march, and he was so tired, that he was even ready to despair, and to prefer being taken and suffered to rest, before purchasing his safety at that price. His shoes had, after the walking a few miles, hurt him so much, that he had thrown them away, and walked the rest of the way in his ill stockings, which were quickly worn out: and his feet, with the thorns in getting over hedges, and with the stones in other places, were so hurt and wounded, that he many times cast himself upon the ground, with a desperate and obstinate resolution to rest there till the morning, that he might shift with less torment, what hazard soever he run. ESCAPE OF CHARLES THE SECOND. 249 sat his stout guide still prevailed with him to make a new tempt, sometimes promising that the way should be better, id sometimes assuring him that he had but little farther to ; ): and in this distress and perplexity, before the morning, tey arrived at the house designed; which though it was better lan that which he had left, his lodging was still in the barn, ion straw instead of hay, a place being made as easy in it, i the expectation of a guest could dispose it. Here he had ich meat and porridge as such people used to have; with hich, but especially with the butter and the cheese, he lought himself well feasted; and took the best care he could > be supplied with other, little better, shoes and stockings: id after his feet were enough recovered that he could go, he as conducted from thence to another poor house, within ich a distance as put him not to much trouble : for having ot yet in his thought which way, or by what means to make is escape, all that was designed was only, by shifting from ne house to another, to avoid discovery. And being now in lat quarter which was more inhabited by the Roman Catholics than most other parts in England, he was led from ne to another of that persuasion, and concealed with great delity. But he then observed that he was never carried to ny gentleman’s house, though that country was full of them, ut only to poor houses of poor men, which only yielded im rest with very unpleasant sustenance; whether there was lore danger in those better houses, in regard of the resort, nd the many servants: or whether the owners of great states were the owners likewise of more fears and appre- : ensions. Within few days, a very honest and discreet person, one Ir. Hudleston, a Benedictine monk, who attended the service f the Roman Catholics in those parts, came to him, sent by 250 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. Careless; and was a very great assistance and comfort to him. And when the places to which he carried him were at too great a distance to walk, he provided him a horse, and more proper habit than the rags he wore. This man told him, ‘ that the lord Wilmot lay concealed likewise in a friend’s house of his; which his majesty was very glad of; and wished him to contrive some means, how they might speak together; ’ which the other easily did; and, within a night or two, brought them into one place. Wilmot told the King, ‘ that he had by very good fortune fallen into the house of an honest gentleman, one Mr. Lane, a person of an excel¬ lent reputation for his fidelity to the King, but of so universal and general a good name, that, though he had a son, who had been a colonel in the King’s service, during the late war, and was then upon his way with men to Worcester the very day of the defeat, men of all affections in the country, and of all opinions, paid the old man a very great respect: that he had been very civilly treated there, and that the old gentle¬ man had used some diligence to find out where the King was, that he might get him to his house; where, he was sure, he could conceal him till he might contrive a full deliverance.’ He told him, ‘ he had withdrawn from that house, and put himself amongst the Catholics, in hope that he might discover where his majesty was, and having now happily found him, advised him to repair to that house, which stood not near any other.’ The King inquired of the monk of the reputation of this gentleman; who told him, ‘ that he had a fair estate; was exceedingly beloved: and the eldest justice of peace of that county of Stafford: and though he was a very zealous Protestant, yet he lived with so much civility and candour to¬ wards the Catholics, that they would all trust him, as much as ESCAPE CONTINUED. 251 they would do any of their own profession ; and that he could not think of any place of so good repose and security for his majesty’s repair to.’ The King, who by this time had as good a mind to eat well as to sleep, liked the proposition, yet thought not fit to surprise the gentleman; but sent Wilmot thither again, to assure himself that he might be received there; and was willing that he should know what guest he received; which hitherto was so much concealed, that none of the houses, where he had yet been, knew, or seemed to suspect more than that he was one of the King’s party that fled from Worcester. The monk carried him to a house at a reasonable distance, where he was to expect an account from the lord Wilmot; who returned very punctually, with as much assurance of welcome as he could wish. And so they two went together to Mr. Lane’s house; where the King found he was welcome, and conveniently accommodated in such places, as in a large house had been provided to conceal the persons of malignants, or to preserve goods of value from being plundered. Here he lodged, and eat very well; and begun to hope that he was in present safety. Wilmot returned under the care of the monk, and expected summons, when any farther motion should be thought to be necessary. Escape contentued. Mr. Lane had a niece, or very near kinswoman, who was married to a gentleman, one Mr. Norton, a person of eight or nine hundred pounds per annum , who lived within four or five miles of Bristol, which was at least four or five days’ journey from the place where the King then was, but a place most to be wished for the King to be in, because he did not only know all that country very well, but knew many persons 252 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. also, to whom, in an extraordinary case, he durst make himself known. It was hereupon resolved, that Mrs. Lane should visit this cousin, who was known to be of good affections; and that she should ride behind the King, who was fitted with clothes and boots for such a service; and that a servant of her father’s, in his livery, should wait upon her. A good house was easily pitched upon for the first night's lodging; where Wilmot had notice given him to meet. And in this equipage the King begun his journey; the colonel keeping him company at a distance, with a hawk upon his fist, and two or three spaniels; which, where there were any fields at hand, warranted him to ride out of the way, keeping his company still in his eye, and not seeming to be of it. In this manner they came to their first night’s lodging; and they need not now contrive to come to their journey’s end about the close of the evening, for it was in the month of October far advanced, that the long journeys they made could not be despatched sooner. Here the lord Wilmot found them ; and their journeys being then adjusted, he was instructed where he should be every night; so they were seldom seen together in the journey, and rarely lodged in the same house at night. In this manner the colonel hawked two or three days, till he had brought them within less than a day’s journey of Mr. Norton’s house ; and then he gave his hawk to the lord Wilmot; who continued the journey in the same exercise. There was great care taken when they came to any house, that the King might be presently carried into some chamber; Mrs. Lane declaring, ‘ that he was a neighbour’s son, whom his father had lent her to ride before her, in hope that he would the sooner recover from a quartan ague, with which he had been miserably afflicted, and was not yet free.’ And ESCAPE CONTINUED. 253 by this artifice she caused a good bed to be still provided for him, and the best meat to be sent; which she often carried herself, to hinder others from doing it. There was no resting in any place till they came to Mr. Norton’s, nor any thing extraordinary that happened in the way, save that they met many people every day in the way, who were very well known to the King; and the day that they went to Mr. Norton’s, they, were necessarily to ride quite through the city of Bristol; a place, and people, the King had been so well acquainted with, that he could not but send his eyes abroad to view the great alterations which had been made there, after his departure from thence: and when he rode near the place where the great fort had stood, he could not forbear putting his horse out of the way, and rode with his mistress behind him round about it. They came to Mr. Norton’s house sooner than usual, and it being on a holyday, they saw many people about a bowling-green that was before the door; and the first man the King saw was a chaplain of his own, who was allied to the gentleman of the house, and was sitting upon the rails to see how the bowlers played. William, by which name the King went, walked with his horse into the stable, until his mistress could provide for his retreat. Mrs. Lane was very welcome to her cousin, and was presently conducted to her chamber ; where she no sooner was, than she lamented the condition of 1 a good youth, who came with her, and whom she had borrowed of his father to ride before her, who was very sick, being newly recovered of an ague ; ’ and desired her cousin, ‘ that a chamber might be provided for him, and a good fire made: for that he would go early to bed, and was not fit to be below stairs.’ A pretty little chamber was presently made ready, and a fire prepared, and a boy sent 254 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. into the stable to call William, and to shew him his chamber; who was very glad to be there, freed from so much company as was below. Mrs. Lane was put to find some excuse for making a visit at that time of the year, and so many days’ journey from her father, and where she had never been before, though the mistress of the house and she had been bred together, and friends as well as kindred. She pre¬ tended, ‘ that she was, after a little rest, to go into Dorsetshire to another friend.’ When it was supper-time, there being broth brought to the table, Mrs. Lane filled a little dish, and desired the butler, who waited at the table, 1 to carry that dish of porridge to William, and to tell him that he should have some meat sent to him presently.’ The butler carried the porridge into the chamber, with a napkin, and spoon, and bread, and spoke kindly to the young man ; who was willing to be eating. The butler, looking narrowly upon him, fell upon his knees, and with tears told him, ‘ he was glad to see his majesty.’ The King was infinitely surprised, yet recollected himself enough to laugh at the man, and to ask him, ‘ what he meant ? ’ The man had been falconer to sir Thomas Jermyn, and made it appear that he knew well enough to whom he spoke, repeating some particulars, which the King had not forgot. Whereupon the King conjured him ‘not to speak of what he knew, so much as to his master, though he believed him a very honest man.’ The fellow promised, and faithfully kept his word; and the King was the better waited upon during the time of his abode there. Dr. Gorges, the King’s chaplain, being a gentleman of a good family near that place, and allied to Mr. Norton, supped with them; and, being a man of a cheerful con¬ versation, asked Mrs. Lane many questions concerning ESCAPE CONTINUED. 255 William, of whom he saw she was so careful by sending up meat to him, ‘how long his ague had been gone? and whether he had purged since it left him ? ’ and the like; to which she gave such answers as occurred. The doctor, from the final prevalence of the Parliament, had, as many others of that function had done, declined his profession, and pretended to study physic. As soon as supper was done, out of good nature, and without telling any body, he went to see William. The King saw him coming into the chamber, and withdrew to the inside of the bed, that he might be farthest from the candle ; and the doctor came, and sat down by him, felt his pulse, and asked him many questions, which he answered in as few words as was possible, and expressing great inclination to go to his bed; to which the doctor left him, and went to Mrs. Lane, and told her, 1 that he had been with William, and that he would do well; ’ and advised her what she should do if his ague returned. The next morning the doctor went away, so that the King saw him no more, of which he was right glad. The next day the lord Wilmot came to the house with his hawk, to see Mrs. Lane, and so conferred with William; who was to consider what he was to do. They thought it necessary to rest some days, till they were informed what port lay most convenient for them, and what person lived nearest to it, upon whose fidelity they might rely: and the King gave him directions to inquire after some persons, and some other particulars, of which when he should be fully instructed, he should return again to him. In the mean time Wilmot lodged at a house not far from Mr. Norton’s, to which he had been recommended. After some days’ stay here, and communication between the King and the lord Wilmot by letters, the King came to 2 $6 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. know that colonel Francis Windham lived within little more than a day’s journey of the place where he was; of which he was very glad; for besides the inclination he had to his eldest brother, whose wife had been his nurse, this gentleman had behaved himself very well during the war, and had been governor of Dunstar castle, where the King had lodged when he was in the west. After the end of the war, and when all other places were surrendered in that county, he likewise surrendered that, upon fair conditions, and made his peace, and afterwards married a wife with a competent fortune, and lived quietly, without any suspicion of having lessened his affection towards the King. The King sent Wilmot to him, and acquainted him where he was, and ‘ that he would gladly speak with him.’ It was not hard for him to choose a good place where to meet, and thereupon the day was appointed. After the King had taken his leave of Mrs. Lane, who remained with her cousin Norton, the King, and the lord Wilmot, met the colonel; and, in the way, he encountered in a town, through which they passed, Mr. Kirton, a servant of the King’s, who well knew the lord Wilmot, who had no other disguise than the hawk, but took no notice of him, nor suspected the King to be there ; yet that day made the King more wary of having him in his company upon the way. At the place of meeting they rested only one night, and then the King went to the colonel’s house; where he rested many days, whilst the colonel projected at what place the King might embark, and how they might procure a vessel to be ready there; which was not easy to find; there being so great a caution in all the ports, and so great a fear possessing those who were honest, that it was hard to procure any vessel that was outward bound to take in any passenger. ESCAPE CONTINUED. 257 There was a gentleman, one Mr. Ellison, who lived near I yme in Dorsetshire, and was well known to colonel Wind- ham, having been a captain in the King’s army, and was ill looked upon as a very honest man. With him the Lionel consulted, how they might get a vessel to be ready to ike in a couple of gentlemen, friends of his, who were in anger to be arrested, and transport them into France, 'hough no man would ask who the persons were, yet every lan suspected who they were ; at least they concluded, that was some of Worcester party. Lyme was generally as lalicious and disaffected a town to the King’s interest, as ny town in England could be : yet there was in it a master f a bark, of whose honesty this captain was very confident, 'his man was lately returned from France, and had unladen is vessel, when Ellison asked him, ‘ when he would make , nother voyage ? ’ And he answered, 1 as soon as he could et lading for his ship.’ The other asked, ‘whether he would idertake to carry over a couple of gentlemen, and land em in France, if he might be as well paid for his voyage as ; used to be when he was freighted by the merchants.’ 1 conclusion, he told him, ‘ he should receive fifty pounds r his fare.’ The large recompense had that effect, that the an undertook it; though he said ‘ he must make his -ovision very secretly; for that he might be well suspected r going to sea again without being freighted, after he was :> newly returned.’ Colonel Windham, being advertised ' this, came together with the lord Wilmot to the captain’s >use, from whence the lord and the captain rode to a house 1 -ar Lyme; where the master of the bark met them; and e lord Wilmot being satisfied with the discourse of the man, t id his wariness in foreseeing suspicions which would arise, was resolved, that on such a night, which, upon consi- s 258 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. deration of the tides, was agreed upon, the man should draw out his vessel from the pier, and, being at sea, should come to such a point about a mile from the town, where his ship should remain upon the beach when the water was gone; which would take it off again about break of day the next morning. There was very near that point, even in the view of it, a small inn, kept by a man who was reputed honest, to which the cavaliers of the country often resorted ; and London road passed that way; so that it was seldom without resort. Into that inn the two gentlemen were to come in the beginning of the night, that they might put themselves on board. All things being thus concerted, and good earnest given to the master, the lord Wilmot and the colonel returned to the colonel’s house, above a day’s journey from the place, the captain undertaking every day to look that the master should provide, and, if any thing fell out contrary to ex¬ pectation, to give the colonel notice at such a place, where they intended the King should be the day before he was to embark. BOOK XIV. Praise-God Baeebone’s Parliament. There were amongst them some few of the quality and de¬ gree of gentlemen, and who had estates, and such a proportion of credit and reputation, as could consist with the guilt they had contracted. But much the major part of them consisted of inferior persons, of no quality or name, artificers of the meanest trades, known only by their gifts in praying and preaching; which was now practised by all degrees of men, but scholars, throughout the kingdom. In which number, PRAISE-GOD BAREBONE'S PARLIAMENT. 259 that there may be a better judgment made of the rest, it will not be amiss to name one, from whom that parliament itself was afterwards denominated, who was Praise-God (that was his Christian name) Barebone, a leatherseller in Fleet-street, from whom (he being an eminent speaker in it) it was after¬ wards called Praise-God Barebone’s Parliament. In a word, they were a pack of weak senseless fellows, fit only to bring the name and reputation of Parliament lower than it was yet. It was fit these new men should be brought together by some new way: and a very new way it was. For Cromwell by his warrants, directed to every one of them, telling them ‘ of the necessity of dissolving the late Parliament, and of an equal necessity, that the peace, safety, and good government of the commonwealth should be provided for, and therefore that he had, by the advice of his council of officers, nominated divers persons fearing God, and of approved fidelity and honesty, to whom the great charge and trust of so weighty affairs was to be committed, and that having good assurance of their love to, and courage for God, and the interest of his cause, and the good people of this commonwealth; ’ he concluded in these words, ‘ I, Oliver Cromwell, captain general and commander in chief of all the forces raised, or to be raised, within this commonwealth, do hereby summon and require you personally to be and appear at the Council- chamber at Whitehall, upon the fourth day of July next, then and there to take upon you the said trust. And you are hereby called and appointed to serve as a member for the county of,’ &c. Upon this wild summons, the persons so nominated appeared at the Council-chamber upon the fourth of July, which was near three months after the dissolution of the former Parliament. 26 o SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. Cromwell, with his council of officers, was ready to receive them, and made them a long discourse of ‘ the fear of God, and the honour due to his name,’ full of texts of Scripture; and remembered ‘ the wonderful mercies of God to this nation, and the continued series of providence, by w'hich he had appeared in carrying on his cause, and bringing affairs into that present glorious condition, wherein they now were.’ He put them in mind of ‘ the noble actions of the army in the famous victory of Worcester, of the applications they had made to the Parliament, for a good settlement of all the affairs of the commonwealth, the neglect whereof made it absolutely necessary to dissolve it.’ He assured them by many arguments, some of which were urged out of Scripture, ‘ that they had a very lawful call to take upon them the supreme authority of the nation ; ’ and concluded with a very earnest desire, ‘ that great tenderness might be used towards all conscientious persons, of what judgment soever they appeared to be.’ When he had finished his discourse, he delivered to them an instrument, engrossed in parchment under his hand and seal, whereby, with the advice of his council of officers, he did devolve and intrust the supreme authority of this commonwealth into the hands of those persons therein mentioned ; and declared, ‘ that they, or any forty of them, were to be held and acknowledged the supreme authority of the nation, to which all persons within the same, and the territories thereunto belonging, were to yield obedience and subjection to the third day of the month of November, which should be in the year 1654,’ which was about a year and three months from the time that he spoke to them; and three months before the time prescribed should expire, they were to make choice of other persons to succeed them, whose PRAISE-GOD BAREBONE'S PARLIAMENT. 261 power and authority should not exceed one year, and then they were likewise to provide and take care for a like succession in the government. Being thus invested with this authority, they repaired to the Parliament house, and made choice of one Rouse to be their speaker, an old gentleman of Devonshire, who had been a member of the former Parliament, and in that time been preferred and made Provost of the college of Eton, which office he then enjoyed, with an opinion of having some knowledge in the Latin and Greek tongues; of a very mean understanding, but thoroughly engaged in the guilt of the times. At their first coming together, some of them had the modesty to doubt, that they were not in many respects so well qualified as to take upon them the style and title of a Parliament. But that modesty was quickly subdued, and they were easily persuaded to assume that title, and to consider themselves as the supreme authority in the nation. These men thus brought together continued in this capacity near six months, to the amazement and even mirth of the people; in which time they never entered upon any grave and serious debate, that might tend to any settlement, but generally expressed great sharpness and animosity against the clergy, and against all learning, out of which they thought the clergy had grown, and still would grow. There were now no bishops for them to be angry with ; they had already reduced all that order to the lowest beggary. But their quarrel was against all who had called themselves ministers, and who, by being called so, received tithes, and respect from their neighbours. They resolved the function itself to be antichristian, and the persons to be burdensome to the people, and the requiring and payment of tithes to be absolute Judaism, and they thought fit that they should 262 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. be abolished altogether; and that there might not for the time to come be any race of people who might revive those pretences, they thought fit, ‘ that all lands belonging to the Universities, and colleges in those Universities, might be sold, and the monies that should arise thereby, be disposed for the public sendee, and to ease the people from the payment of taxes and contributions.’ When they had tired and perplexed themselves so long in such debates, as soon as they were met in the morning upon the twelfth of December, and before many of them were come who were like to dissent from the motion, one of them stood up and declared, ‘ that he did believe, they were not equal to the burden that was laid upon them, and there¬ fore that they might dissolve themselves, and deliver back their authority into their hands from whom they had received it; ’ which being presently consented to, their Speaker, with those who were of that mind, went to Whitehall, and re¬ delivered to Cromwell the instrument they had received from him, acknowledged their own impotency, and besought him to take care of the commonwealth. By this frank donation he and his council of officers were once more possessed of the supreme sovereign power of the nation. And in a few days after, his council were too modest to share with him in this royal authority, but declared, ‘ that the government of the commonwealth should reside in a single person; that that person should be Oliver Cromwell, captain general of all the forces in England, Scotland, and Ireland, and that his title should be Lord Protector of the commonwealth of England, Scotland, and Ireland, and of the dominions and territories thereunto belonging; and that he should have a council of one and twenty persons to be assistant to him in the government.’ PRAISE-GOD BAREBONE'S PARLIAMENT. 263 Most men did now conclude, that the folly and sottishness of this last assembly was so much foreseen, that, from their very first coming together, it was determined what should follow their dissolution. For the method that succeeded could hardly have been composed in so short a time after, by persons who had not consulted upon the contingency some time before. It was upon the twelfth of December, that the small Parliament was dissolved, when many of the members, who came to the House as to their usual con¬ sultations, found that they who came before, were gone to Whitehall to be dissolved, which the other never thought of: and upon the sixteenth day, the commissioners of the Great Seal, with the lord mayor and aldermen, were sent for to attend Cromwell and his council to Westminster-hall, it being then vacation-time; and being come thither, the commissioners sitting upon their usual seat, and not knowing why they were sent for, the declaration of the council of officers was read, whereby Cromwell was made Protector; who stood in the court uncovered, whilst what was contained in a piece of parchment was read, which was called the Instrument of Government ; whereby it was ordained, ‘ that the Protector should call a Parliament once in every three years; that the first Parliament should be convened upon the third day of September following, which would be in the year 1654; and that he should not dissolve any Parliament once met, till they had sat five months; that such bills as should be presented to him by the Parliament, if they should not be confirmed by him within twenty days, should pass without him, and be looked upon as laws: that he should have a select council to assist him, which should not exceed the number of one and twenty, nor be less than thirteen: that immediately after his death the council should choose 264 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. another Protector before they rose: that no Protector after him should be general of the army : that the Protector should have power to make peace and war: that, with the consent of his council, he should make laws, which should be binding to the subjects during the intervals of Parliament.’ Whilst this was reading, Cromwell had his hand upon the Bible; and it being read, he took his oath, ‘ that he would not violate any thing that was contained in that Instrument o Government; but would observe, and cause the same to be observed; and in all things, according to the best of his understanding, govern the nation according to the laws, statutes, and customs, seeking peace, and causing justice and law to be equally administered.’ This new invented ceremony being in this manner per¬ formed, he himself was covered, and all the rest bare and Lambert, who was then the second person in the army carried the sword before his highness (which was the style he took from thenceforth) to his coach, all they whom he called into it sitting bare; and so he returned to Whitehall; and immediately proclamation was made by a herald, in the palace-yard at Westminster, ‘ that the late Parliament having dissolved themselves, and resigned their whole power and authority, the government of the commonwealth of England. Scotland, and Ireland, by a Lord Protector, and successive triennial parliaments, was now established: and whereas Oliver Cromwell, captain general of all the forces of the commonwealth, is declared Lord Protector of the said nations, and had accepted thereof, publication was now made of the same; and all persons, of what quality or condition soever, in any of the said three nations, were strictly charged and commanded to take notice thereof, and to conform and submit themselves to the government so established; and a! I HE RISING A 7 SALISBURY. 2 65 sheriffs, mayors, &c. were required to publish this pro- imation, to the end that none might have cause to pretend norance therein.’ Which proclamation was at the same . ne published in Cheapside by the lord mayor of London ; id, with all possible expedition, by the sheriff's, and other ficers, throughout England, Scotland, and Ireland. And a w days after, the city of London invited their new Pro¬ ctor to a very splendid entertainment at Grocers’ hall, the reets being railed, and the solemnity of his reception such j had been at any time performed to the King; and he, as xe a King, graciously conferred the honour of knighthood pon the Lord Mayor at his departure. In this manner, and with so little pains, this extraordinary tan, without any other reason than because he had a mind > it, and without the assistance, and against the desire of all able persons or men of quality, or three men, who, in the sginning of the troubles, were possessed of three hundred . ounds lands by the year, mounted himself into the throne of iree kingdoms, without the name of King, but with a greater ower and authority than had ever been exercised or claimed y any King; and received greater evidence and manifestation f respect and esteem from all the Kings and princes in bristendom, than had ever been shewed to any monarch of lose nations: which was so much the more notorious, in lat they all abhorred him, when they trembled at his power, nd courted his friendship. The Rising at Salisbury. There cannot be a greater manifestation of the universal rejudice and aversion in the whole kingdom towards Crom- ell and his government, than that there could be so many 2 66 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. designs and conspiracies against him, which were communi¬ cated to so many men, and that such signal and notorious persons could resort to London, and remain there, without any such information or discovery, as might enable him to cause them to be apprehended; there being nobody intent and zealous to make any such discoveries, but such whose trade it was for great wages to give him those informations, who seldom care whether what they inform be true or no. The earl of Rochester consulted with great freedom in London with the King’s friends; and found that the persons imprisoned were only taken upon general suspicion, and as being known to be of that party, not upon any particular discovery of what they designed or intended to do ; and that the same spirit still possessed those who were at liberty. The design in Kent appeared not reasonable, at least not to begin upon; but he was persuaded, (and he was very credulous,) that in the north there was a foundation of strong hopes, and a parly ready to appear powerful enough to possess themselves of York ; nor had the army many troops in those parts. In the west likewise there appeared to be a strong combination, in which many gentlemen were engaged, whose agents were then in London, and were exceedingly importunate to have a day assigned, and desired no more, than that sir Joseph Wagstaff might be authorized to be in the head of them ; who had been well known to them ; and he was as ready to engage with them. The earl of Rochester liked the countenance of the north better; and sent Marma- duke Darcy, a gallant gentleman, and nobly allied in those parts, to prepare the party there ; and appointed a day and place for the rendezvous; and promised to be himself there ; and was contented that sir Joseph Wagstaff should go into the west; who, upon conference with those of that country, THE RISING AT SALISBURY. 267 likewise appointed their rendezvous upon a fixed day, to be within two miles of Salisbury. It was an argument that they had no mean opinion of their strength, that they appointed to appear that very day when the judges were to keep their assizes in that city, and where the sheriff and principal gentlemen of the county were obliged to give their attend¬ ance. Of both these resolutions the earl of Rochester, who knew where the King was, took care to advertise his majesty: who, from hence, had his former faint hopes renewed; and in a short time after they were so improved, that he thought of nothing more, than how he might with the greatest secresy transport himself into England; for which he did expect a sudden occasion. Sir Joseph Wagstaff had been formerly major general of the foot in the King’s western army, a man generally beloved ; and though he was rather for execution than counsel, a stout man, who looked not far before him ; yet he had a great companionableness in his nature, which exceedingly pre¬ vailed with those, who, in the intermission of fighting, loved to spend their time in jollity and mirth. He, as soon as the day was appointed, left London, and went to some of his friends’ houses in the country, near the place, that he might assist the preparations as much as was possible. Those of Hampshire were not so punctual at their own rendezvous, as to be present at that near Salisbury at the hour; however, Wagstaff, and they of Wiltshire, appeared according to expectation. Penruddock, a gentleman of a fair fortune, and great zeal and forwardness in the service, Hugh Grove, and other persons of condition, were therh with a body of near two hundred horse well armed, which, they presumed, would every day be improved upon the access of those who had engaged themselves in the western association, especially 2 68 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. after the fame of their being up, and affecting any thing, should come to their ears. They accounted that they were already strong enough to visit Salisbury in all its present lustre, knowing that they had many friends there, and reckoning that all who were not against them, were for them; and that they should there increase their numbers both in foot and horse; with which the town then abounded: nor did their computation and conjecture fail them. They entered the city about five of the clock in the morning ; they appointed some officers, of which they had plenty, to cause all the stables to be locked up, that all the horses might be at their devotion; others, to break open the gaols, that all there might attend their benefactors. They kept a good body of horse upon the market-place, to encounter all opposition; and gave order to apprehend the judges and the sheriff, who were yet in their beds, and to bring them into the market¬ place with their several commissions, not caring to seize upon the persons of any others. All this was done with so little noise or disorder, as if the town had been all of one mind. They who were within doors, except they were commanded to come out, stayed still there, being more desirous to hear than to see what was done ; very many being well pleased, and not willing that others should discern it in their countenance. When the judges were brought out in their robes, and humbly produced their commissions, and the sheriff likewise, Wagstaff resolved, after he had caused the King to be proclaimed, to cause them all three to be hanged, (who were half dead already,) having well considered, with the policy which men in such actions are naturally possessed with, how he himself should be used if he were under their hands, choosing therefore to be before¬ hand with them. But he having not thought fit to deliberate THE RISING AT SALISBURY. 269 this beforehand with his friends, whereby their scrupulous consciences might have been confirmed, many of the country gentlemen were so startled with this proposition, that they protested against it; and poor Penruddock was so passionate to preserve their lives, as if works of this nature could be done by halves, that the major general durst not persist in it; but was prevailed with to dismiss the judges, and, having taken their commissions from them, to oblige them upon another occasion to remember to whom they owed their lives, resolving still to hang the sheriff; who positively, though humbly, and with many tears, refused to proclaim the King ; which being otherwise done, they likewise prevailed with him rather to keep the sheriff alive, and to carry him with them to redeem an honester man out of the hands of their enemies. This seemed an ill omen to their future agreement, and sub¬ mission to the commands of their general; nor was the tender-heartedness so general, but that very many of the gentlemen were much scandalized at it, both as it was a contradiction to their commander in chief; and as it would have been a seasonable act of severity to have cemented those to perseverance who were engaged in it, and have kept them from entertaining any hopes but in the sharpness of their swords. The noise of this action was very great both in and out of the kingdom, whither it was quickly sent. Without doubt it was a bold enterprise, and might have produced wonderful effects, if it had been prosecuted with the same resolution, or the same rashness, it was entered into. All that was reason¬ able in the general contrivance of insurrection and commotion over the whole kingdom, was founded upon a supposition of the division and faction in the army; which was known to be so great, that Cromwell durst not draw the whole army to 270 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. a general rendezvous, out of apprehension that, when they should once meet together, he should no longer be master of them. And thence it was concluded, that, if there were in any one place such a body brought together as might oblige Cromwell to make the army, or a considerable part of it, to march, there would at least be no disposition in them to fight to strengthen his authority, which they abhorred. And many did at that time believe, that if they had remained with that party at Salisbury for some days, which they might well have done without any disturbance, their numbers would have much increased, and their friends farther west must have been prepared to receive them, when their retreat had been neces¬ sary by a stronger part of the army’s marching against them. Cromwell himself was amazed ; he knew well the distemper of the kingdom, and in his army, and now when he saw such a body gathered together without any noise, that durst in the middle of the kingdom enter into one of the chief cities of it, when his judges and all the civil power of that county was in it, and take them prisoners, and proclaim the King in a time of full peace, and when no man durst so much as name him but with reproach, he could not imagine, that such an enter¬ prise could be undertaken without a universal conspiracy; in which his own army could not be innocent; and therefore knew not how to trust them together. But all this appre¬ hension vanished, when it was known, that within four or five hours after they had performed this exploit, they left the town with very small increase or addition to their numbers. The truth is, they did nothing resolutely after their first action; and were in such disorder and discontent between themselves, that without staying for their friends out of Hampshire, (who were, to the number of two or three hundred horse, upon their way, and would have been at THE RISING AT SALISBURY. 271 Salisbury that night,) upon pretence that they were expected in Dorsetshire, they left the town, and took the sheriff with them, about two of the clock in the afternoon : but were so weary of their day’s labour, and their watching the night before, that they grew less in love with what they were about, and differed again amongst themselves about the sheriff; whom many desired to be presently released; and that party carried it in hope of receiving good offices afterwards from him. In this manner they continued on their march west¬ ward. They from Hampshire, and other places, who were behind them, being angry for their leaving Salisbury, would not follow, but scattered themselves; and they who were before them, and heard in what disorder they had left Wilt¬ shire, likewise dispersed: so that after they had continued their journey into Devonshire, without meeting any who would join with them, horse and men were so tired for want of meat and sleep, that one single troop of horse, inferior in number, and commanded by an officer of no credit in the war, being in those parts by chance, followed them at a distance, till they were so spent, that he rather entreated than compelled them to deliver themselves; some, and amongst those Wagstaff, quitted their horses, and found shelter in some honest men’s houses; where they were concealed till opportunity served to transport them into the parts beyond the seas, where they arrived safely. But Mr. Penruddock, Mr. Grove, and most of the rest, were taken prisoners, upon promise given by the officer that their lives should be saved; which they quickly found he had no authority to make good. For Cromwell no sooner heard of his cheap victory, than he sent judges away with a new commission of oyer and terminer, and order to proceed with the utmost severity against the offenders. But Roles, his chief justice, who had 272 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. so luckily escaped at Salisbury, had not recovered the fright; and would no more look those men in the face who had dealt so kindly with him; but expressly refused to be employed in the service, raising some scruples in point of law, whether the men could be legally condemned; upon which Cromwell, shortly after, turned him out of his office, having found others who executed his commands. Penrud- dock and Grove lost their heads at Exeter; and others were hanged there; who having recovered the faintness they were in when they rendered, died with great courage and resolution, professing their duty and loyalty to the king: many were sent to Salisbury, and tried and executed there, in the place where they had so lately triumphed; and some who were condemned, where there were fathers, and sons, and brothers, that the butchery might appear with some remorse, were reprieved, and sold, and sent slaves to the Barbadoes; where their treatment was such, that few of them ever returned into their own country. Thus this little fire, which probably might have kindled and inflamed all the kingdom, was for the present extinguished in the west; and Cromwell securec without the help of his army; which he saw, by the counten¬ ance it then shewed when they thought he should have use of them, it was high time to reform; and in that he resolved to use no longer delay. BOOK XV. Coronation of Oliver Cromwell. On the day appointed, Westminster hall was prepared and adorned as sumptuously as it could be for a day of corona¬ tion. A throne was erected with a pavilion, and a chair of CORONATION OF OLIVER CROMWELL. 273 - ,te under it, to which Cromwell was conducted in an entry, i d attendance of his officers, military and civil, with as much ite (and the sword carried before him) as can be imagined, hen he was sat in his chair of state, and after a short speech, .rich was but the prologue of that by the Speaker of the .rliament Widdrington, that this promotion might not seem be without any vote from the nobility, the Speaker, with the rl of Warwick, and Whitlock, vested him with a rich purple Ivet robe lined with ermines; the Speaker enlarging upon le majesty and the integrity of that robe. Then the Speaker esented him with a fair Bible of the largest edition, richly i iund; then he, in the name of all the people, girded a ,vord about him; and lastly presented him a sceptre of gold, lich he put into his hand, and made him a large discourse ; those emblems of government and authority. Upon the ise of which, there being little wanting to a perfect formal ronation, but a crown and an archbishop, he took his oath, ministered to him by the speaker, in these words: ‘ I do, the presence, and by the name of Almighty God, promise d swear, that, to the utmost of my power, I will uphold and i lintain the true reformed Protestant Christian religion in the purity thereof, as it is contained in the holy scriptures of the Old and New Testament; and to the utmost of my T wer, and understanding, encourage the profession and professors of the same ; and that, to the utmost of my power, 1 vill endeavour, as chief magistrate of these three nations,. . ; maintenance and preserving of the peace and safety, and just rights and privileges of the people thereof; and ill in all things, according to the best of my knowledge u d power, govern the people of these three nations ac- « < ding to law.’ Alter this there remained nothing but festivals, and pro- T 274 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. clamations of his power and authority to be made in the city of London, and with all imaginable haste throughout the three kingdoms of England, Scotland, and Ireland; which was done accordingly. And that he might entirely enjoy the sovereignty they had conferred upon him, without any new blasts and disputes, and might be vacant to the despatch of his domestic affairs, which he had modelled, and might have time to consider how to fill his other House with members fit for his purpose, he adjourned his Parliament till January next, as having done as much as was necessary for one session. In this vacancy, his greatness seemed to be so much established both at home and abroad, as if it could never be shaken. He caused all the officers of his army, and all commanders at sea, to subscribe and approve all that the Parliament had done, and to promise to observe and defend it. He sent now for his eldest son Richard ; who, till this time, had lived privately in the country upon the fortune his wife had brought him, in an ordinary village in Hampshire; and brought him now to the court, and made him a privy coun¬ cillor, and caused him to be chosen Chancellor of the University of Oxford. Notwithstanding all which, few people then be¬ lieved that he intended to name him for his successor; he by his discourses often implying, ‘ that he would name such a successor, as was in all respects equal to the office : ’ and so men guessed this or that man, as they thought most like to be so esteemed by him. His second son Harry, who had the reputation of more vigour, he had sent into Ireland, and made him his Lieutenant of that kingdom, that he might be sure to have no disturbance from thence. He had only two daughters unmarried: one of those he gave to the grandson and heir of the earl of Warwick, a man of a great estate, and thoroughly engaged in the war from DEATH OF CROMWELL. 175 the beginning; the other was married to the lord viscount Falconbridge, the owner likewise of a very fair estate in York¬ shire, and descended of a family eminently loyal. There were many reasons to believe, that this young gentleman, being then of about three or four and twenty years of age, of great vigour and ambition, had many good purposes, which he thought that alliance might qualify and enable him to perform. These marriages were celebrated at Whitehall with all imaginable pomp and lustre; and it was observed, that though the marriages were performed in public view accord¬ ing to the rites and ceremonies then in use, they were pre¬ sently afterwards in private married by ministers ordained by bishops, and according to the form in the Book of Common Prayer, and this with the privity of Cromwell, who pre¬ tended to yield to it in compliance with the importunity and folly of his daughters. Death op Cromwell. He seemed to be much afflicted at the death of his friend the earl of Warwick; with whom he had a fast friendship; though neither their humours nor their natures were alike. And the heir of that house, who had married his youngest daughter, died about the same time ; so that all his relation to, or confidence in, that family was at an end ; the other branches of it abhorring his alliance. His domestic delights were lessened every day; he plainly discovered that his son Falcon- bridge’s heart was set upon an interest destructive to his, and grew to hate him perfectly. But that which chiefly broke his peace, was the death of his daughter Claypole; who had been always his greatest joy, and who, in her sickness, which was of a nature the physicians knew not how to deal with, had t 2 276 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. several conferences with him, which exceedingly perplexed him. Though nobody was near enough to hear the particulars, yet her often mentioning, in the pains she endured, the blood her father had spilt, made people conclude, that she had presented his worst actions to his consideration. And though he never made the least show of remorse for any of those actions, it is very certain, that either what she said, or her death, affected him wonderfully. Whatever it was, about the middle of August, he was seized on by a common tertian ague, from which, he believed, a little ease and divertisement at Hampton Court would have freed him. But the fits grew stronger, and his spirits much abated: so that he returned again to Whitehall, when his physicians began to think him in danger, though the preachers, who prayed always about him, and told God Almighty what great things he had done for him, and how much more need he had still of his service, declared as from God, that he should recover; and he did not think he should die, till even the time that his spirits failed him. Then he declared to them, ‘ that he did appoint his son to succeed him, his eldest son Richard; ’ and so expired upon the third day of September, 1658, a day he always thought very propitious to him, and on which he had twice triumphed for several ‘victories; a day very memorable for the greatest storm of wind that had been ever known, for some hours before and after his death, which overthrew trees, houses, and made great wrecks at sea; and [the tempest] w r as so universal, that the effects of it were terrible both in France and Flanders, where all people trembled at it; for, besides the wrecks all along the sea-coast, many boats were cast [Dunbar and Worcester.] DEATH OF CROMWELL. 277 away in the very rivers; and within few days after, the circumstance of his death, that accompanied that storm, was known. He was one of those men, quos viiuperare ne inimici quidem possunt , nisi ut simul laudent ; for he could never have done half that mischief without great parts of courage, industry, and judgment. He must have had a wonderful understand¬ ing in the natures and humours of men, and as great a dexterity in applying them; who, from a private and obscure birth, (though of a good family,) without interest or estate, alliance or friendship, could raise himself to such a height, and compound and knead such opposite and contradictory tempers, humours, and interests into a consistence, that con¬ tributed to his designs, and to their own destruction; whilst himself grew insensibly powerful enough to cut off those by whom he had climbed, in the instant that they projected to demolish their own building. What Velleius Paterculus said of Cinna may very justly be said of him, ausum eum, qua nemo auderet bonus; per/ecisse, qua a nullo, nisi fortissimo, perfici possent. Without doubt, no man with more wicked¬ ness ever attempted any thing, or brought to pass what he desired more wickedly, more in the face and contempt of religion, and moral honesty; yet wickedness as great as his could never have accomplished those trophies, without the assistance of a great spirit, an admirable circumspection and sagacity, and a most magnanimous resolution. When he appeared first in the Parliament, he seemed to have a person in no degree gracious, no ornament of discourse, none of those talents which use to reconcile the affections of the stander by: yet as he grew into place and authority, his parts seemed to be raised, as if he had had concealed faculties, till he had occasion to use them; and 278 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. when he was to act the part of a great man, he did it without any indecency, notwithstanding the want of custom. After he was confirmed and invested Protector by the humble petition and advice, he consulted with very few upon any action of importance, nor communicated any enterprise he resolved upon, with more than those who were to have principal parts in the execution of it; nor with them sooner than was absolutely necessary. When he once resolved, in which he was not rash, he would not be dissuaded from, nor endure any contradiction of his power and authority; but extorted obedience from them who were not willing to yield it. When he had laid some very extraordinary tax upon the city, one Cony, an eminent fanatic, and one who had heretofore served him very notably, positively refused to pay his part; and loudly dissuaded others from submitting to it, ‘ as an imposition notoriously against the law, and the pro¬ perty of the subject, which all honest men were bound to defend.’ Cromwell sent for him, and cajoled him with the memory of ‘ the old kindness, and friendship, that had been between them; and that of all men he did not expect this opposition from him, in a matter that was so necessary for the good of the commonwealth.’ But it was always his fortune to meet with the most rude and obstinate behaviour from those who had formerly been absolutely governed by him; and they commonly put him in mind of some expressions and sayings of his own, in cases of the like nature: so this man remembered him, how great an enemy he had expressed himself to such grievances, and had declared, ‘ that all who submitted to them, and paid illegal taxes, were more to blame, and greater enemies to their country, than they who had imposed them; and that the tyranny of princes could DEATH OF CROMWELL. 279 never be grievous, but by the tameness and stupidity of the people.’ When Cromwell saw that he could not convert him, he told him, ‘ that he had a will as stubborn as his, and he would try which of them two should be master.’ There¬ upon, with some terms of reproach and contempt, he com¬ mitted the man to prison ; whose courage was nothing abated by it; but as soon as the term came, he brought his habeas corpus in the King’s Bench, which they then called the upper bench. Maynard, who was of council with the prisoner, demanded his liberty with great confidence, both upon the illegality of the commitment, and the illegality of the im¬ position, as being laid without any lawful authority. The judges could not maintain or defend either, and enough declared what their sentence would be; and therefore the Protector’s Attorney required a farther day, to answer what had been urged. Before that day, Maynard was committed to the Tower, for presuming to question or make doubt of his authority; and the judges were sent for, and severely reprehended for suffering that license ; when they, with all humility, mentioned the law and magna charta, Cromwell told them, ‘ their * * * should not control his actions; which he knew were for the safety of the commonwealth.’ He asked them, ‘who made them judges? whether they had any authority to sit there, but what he gave them ? and if his authority were at an end, they knew well enough what would become of themselves; and therefore advised them to be more tender of that which could only preserve them ; ’ and so dismissed them with caution, ‘ that they should not suffer the lawyers to prate what it would not become them to hear.’ Thus he subdued a spirit that had been often troublesome to the most sovereign power, and made Westminster-hall as 28 o SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. obedient, and subservient to his commands, as any of the rest of his quarters. In all other matters, which did not con¬ cern the life of his jurisdiction, he seemed to have great reverence for the law, rarely interposing between party and party. As he proceeded with this kind of indignation and haughtiness with those who were refractory, and dared tc contend with his greatness, so towards all who complied with his good pleasure, and courted his protection, he used a wonderful civility, generosity, and bounty. To reduce three nations, which perfectly hated him, to an entire obedience to all his dictates; to awe and govern those nations by an army that was indevoted to him, and wished his ruin, was an instance of a very prodigious address. But his greatness at home was but a shadow of the glory he had abroad. It was hard to discover, which feared him most, France, Spain, or the Low Countries, where his friendship was current at the value he put upon it. As they did all sacrifice their honour and their interest to his pleasure, so there is nothing he could have demanded, that either of them would have denied him. To manifest which, there needs only two instances. The first is, when those of the Valley of Lucerne had unwarily rebelled against the duke of Savoy, which gave occasion to the Pope, and the neighbour princes of Italy, to call and solicit for their extirpation, and their prince positively resolved upon it, Cromwell sent his agent to the duke of Savoy, a prince with whom he had no correspond¬ ence, or commerce, and so engaged the cardinal, and even terrified the Pope himself, without so much as doing any grace to the English Roman catholics, (nothing being more usual than his saying, ‘ that his ships in the Mediterranean should visit Civita Vecchia; and that the sound of his cannon should be heard in Rome,’) that the duke of Savoy thought DEATH OF CROMWELL. 381 necessary to restore all that he had taken from them, and d renew all those privileges they had formerly enjoyed, and wly forfeited. The other instance of his anthority was yet greater, and are incredible. In the city of Nismes, which is one of the rest in the province of Languedoc, and where those of the ormed religion do most abound, there was a great faction at it season when the consuls (who are the chief magistrates) re to be chosen. Those of the reformed religion had the nfidence to set up one of themselves for that magistracy; lich they of the Roman religion resolved to oppose with all dr power. The dissension between them made so much ise, that the intendant of the province, who is the supreme nister in all civil affairs throughout the whole province, went ther to prevent any disorder that might happen. When the y of election came, those of the religion possessed themselves .h many armed men of the town-house, where the election s to be made. The magistrates sent to know what their n :aning was; to which they answered, ‘they were there give their voices for the choice of the new consuls, and to sure that the election should be fairly made.’ The bishop the city, the intendant of the province, with all the officers the church, and the present magistrates of the town, went . )gether in their robes to be present at the election, without y suspicion that there would be any force used. When -y came near the gate of the town-house, which was shut, I they supposed would be opened when they came, they '.v hin poured out a volley of musket-shot upon them, by ich the dean of the church, and two or three of the magis- 1 r tes of the town, were killed upon the place, and very many iers wounded; whereof some died shortly after. In this ffusion, the magistrates put themselves into as good a pos- 282 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. ture to defend themselves as they could, without any purpose of offending the other, till they should be better provided; in order to which they sent an express to the court with a plain relation of the whole matter of fact, ‘ and that there appeared to be no manner of combination with those of the religion in other places of the province; but that it was an insolence in those of the place, upon the presumption of their great numbers, which were little inferior to those of the catholics.’ The court was glad of the occasion, and resolved that this provocation, in which other places were not involved, and which nobody could excuse, should warrant all kind of severity in that city, even to the pulling down their temples, and expelling many of them for ever out of the city; which, with the execution and forfeiture of many of the principal persons, would be a general mortification to all of the religion in France ; with whom they were heartily offended; and a part of the army was forthwith ordered to march towards Nismes, to see this executed with the utmost rigour. Those of the religion in the town were quickly sensible into what condition they had brought themselves ; and sent, with all possible submission, to the magistrates to excuse themselves, and to impute what had been done to the rash¬ ness of particular men, who had no order for what they did. The magistrates answered, ‘ that they were glad they were sensible of their miscarriage; but they could say nothing upon the subject, till the King's pleasure should be known; to whom they had sent a full relation of all that had passed.’ The others very well knew what the King’s pleasure would be, and forthwith sent an express, one Moulins, a Scotchman, who had lived many years in that place, and in Montpelier, to Cromwell to desire his protection and interposition. The express made so much haste, and found so good a reception DEATH OF CROMWELL. 283 the first hour he came, that Cromwell, after he had received the whole account, bade him 1 refresh himself after so long a journey, and he would take such care of his business, that by the time he came to Paris he should find it despatched ; ’ and, that night, sent away another messenger to his ambas¬ sador Lockhart; who, by the time Moulins came thither, had so far prevailed with the cardinal, that orders were sent to stop the troops, which were upon their march towards Nismes; and, within few days after, Moulins returned with a full pardon and amnesty from the King, under the great seal of France, so fully confirmed with all circumstances, that there was never farther mention made of it, but all things passed as if there had never been any such thing. So that nobody can wonder, that his memory remains still in those parts, and with those people, in great veneration. He would never suffer himself to be denied any thing he ever asked of the cardinal, alleging, ‘ that the people would not be otherwise satisfied ; ’ which the cardinal bore very heavily, and complained of to those with whom he would be free. One day he visited madam Turenne, and when he took his leave of her, she, according to her custom, besought him to con¬ tinue gracious to the churches. Whereupon the cardinal told her, ‘ that he knew not how to behave himself ; if he advised the King to punish and suppress their insolence, Cromwell threatened him to join with the Spaniard ; and if he shewed any favour to them, at Rome they accounted him an heretic.’ He was not a man of blood, and totally declined Machia- vel’s method ; which prescribes, upon any alteration of government, as a thing absolutely necessary, to cut off all the heads of those, and extirpate their families, who are friends to the old one. It was confidently reported, that, in the council of officers, it was more than once proposed, ‘ that there 284 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. might be a general massacre of all the royal party, as the only expedient to secure the government,’ but that Cromwell would never consent to it; it may be, out of too much con¬ tempt of his enemies. In a word, as he had all the wicked¬ ness against which damnation is denounced, and for which hell-fire is prepared, so he had some virtues which have caused the memory of some men in all ages to be celebrated; and he will be looked upon by posterity as a brave bad man. BOOK XVI. Richard Cromwell. It may not prove ingrateful to the reader, in this place, to entertain him with a very pleasant story, that related to this miserable Richard, though [it happened] long afterwards; because there will not be again any occasion so much as to mention him, during the continuance of this relation. Shortly after the King’s return, and the manifest joy that possessed the whole kingdom thereupon, this poor creature found it necessary to transport himself into France, more for fear of his debts than of the King; who thought it not necessary to inquire after a man so long forgotten. After he had lived some years in Paris untaken notice of, and indeed unknown, living in a most obscure condition and disguise, not owning his own name, nor having above one servant to attend him, he thought it necessary, upon the first rumour and apprehen¬ sion that there was like to be a war between England and France, to quit that kingdom, and to remove to some place that would be neutral to either party; and pitched upon Geneva. Making his way thither by Bourdeaux, and through RICHARD CROMWELL. 2 8 5 the province of Languedoc, he passed through Pezenas, a very pleasant town belonging to the prince of Conti, who hath a fair palace there, and, being then governor of Languedoc, made his residence in it. In this place Richard made some stay, and walking abroad to entertain himself with the view of the situation, and of many things worth the seeing, he met with a person who well knew him, and was well known by him, the other having always been of his father’s and of his party; so that they were glad enough to find themselves together. The other told him, ‘ that all strangers who came to that town used to wait upon the Prince of Conti, the governor of the province ; who expected it, and always treated strangers, and par¬ ticularly the English, with much civility : that he need not be known, but that he himself would first go to the prince and inform him, that another English gentleman was passing through that town towards Italy, who would be glad to have the honour to kiss his hands.’ The Prince received him with great civility and grace, according to his natural custom, and after few words, begun to discourse of the affairs of England, and asked many questions concerning the King, and whether all men were quiet, and submitted obediently to him; which the other answered briefly, according to the truth. ‘ Well,’ said the Prince, ‘ Oliver, though he was a traitor and a villain, was a brave fellow, had great parts, great courage, and was worthy to command : but that Richard, that coxcomb, coquin, poltron, was surely the basest fellow alive. What is become of that fool ? how was it possible he could be such a sot ? ’ He answered, ‘ that he was betrayed by those whom he most trusted, and who had been most obliged by his father; ’ so being weary of his visit, quickly took his leave, and the next morning left the town, out of fear that the Prince might know 286 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. that he was the very fool and coxcomb he had mentioned so kindly. And within two days after, the Prince did come to know whom it was that he had treated so well, and whom before, by his behaviour, he had believed to be a man not very glad of the King’s restoration. The King’s Return. With these committees from the Parliament and from the city, there came a company of their clergymen, to the number of eight or ten ; who would not be looked upon as chaplains to the rest, but being the popular preachers of the city, (Rey¬ nolds, Calamy, Case, Manton; and others, the most eminent of the presbyterians), desired to be thought to represent that party. They entreated to be admitted all together to have a formal audience of his majesty; where they presented their duties and magnified the affections of themselves and their friends; who,they said, ‘had always according to the obligation of their covenant, wished his majesty very well; and had lately, upon the opportunity that God had put into their hands, informed the people of their duty; which, they presumed, his majesty had heard had proved effectual, and been of great use to him.’ They thanked God ‘ for his constancy to the protestant religion ; ’ and professed, 1 that they were no enemies to moderate episcopacy; only desired that such things might not be pressed upon them in God’s worship, which in their judgment who used them were acknowledged to be matters indifferent, and by others were held unlawful.’ The King spoke very kindly to them ; and said, ‘ that he had heard of their good behaviour towards him; and that he had no purpose to impose hard conditions upon them, with reference to their consciences: that they well knew, he THE KING'S RETURN. 387 had referred the settling all differences of that nature to the wisdom of the Parliament; which best knew what indulgence and toleration was necessary for the peace and quiet of the kingdom.’ But his majesty could not be so rid of them ; they desired several private audiences of him ; which he never denied; wherein they told him, 1 the Book of Common Prayer had been long discontinued in England, and the people having been disused to it, and many of them having never heard it in their lives, it would be much wondered at, if his majesty should, at his first landing in the kingdom, revive the use of it in his own chapel: whither all persons would resort; and therefore they besought him, that he would not use it entirely and formally, but have only some parts of it read, with mixture of other good prayers, which his chap¬ lains might use.’ The King told them with some warmth, * that whilst he gave them liberty, he would not have his own taken from him : that he had always used that form of service, which he thought the best in the world, and had never discontinued it in places where it was more disliked than he hoped it was by them : that, when he came into England, he would not severely inquire how it was used in other churches, though he doubted not, he should find it used in many; but he was sure he would have no other used in his own chapel.’ Then they besought him with more importunity, ‘ that the use of the surplice might be discontinued by his chaplains, because the sight of it would give great offence and scandal to the people.’ They found the King as inexorable in that point as in the other: he told them plainly, ‘ that he would not be restrained himself, when he gave others so much liberty ; that it had been always held a decent habit in the Church, constantly practised in England till these late ill times ; that 288 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. it had been still retained by him; and though he was bound for the present to tolerate much disorder and undecency in the exercise of God’s worship, he w T ould never, in the least degree, by his own practice, discountenance the good old order of the Church, in which he had been bred.’ Though they were very much unsatisfied with him, whom they thought to have found more flexible, yet they ceased further troubling him, in hope, and presumption, that they should find their importunity in England more effectual. After eight or ten days spent at the Hague in triumphs and festivals, which could not have been more splendid if all the monarchs of Europe had met there, and which were concluded with several rich presents made to his majesty, the King took his leave of the States, with all the professions of amity their civilities deserved ; and embarked himself on the Prince ; which had been before called the Protector, but had been new christened the day before, as many others had been, in the presence, and by the order, of his royal highness the admiral. Upon the four and twentieth day of May, the fleet set sail; and, in one continued thunder of cannon, arrived near Dover so early on the six and twentieth, that his majesty disembarked; and being received by the general at the brink of the sea, he presently took coach, and came that night to Canterbury ; where he stayed the next day, being Sunday; and went to his devotions to the cathedral, which he found very much dilapidated, and out of repair; yet the people seemed glad to hear the Common Prayer again. Thither came very many of the nobility, and other persons of quality, to present themselves to the King; and there his majesty assembled his Council; and swore the general of the Council, and Mr. Morrice, whom he there knighted, and gave him the signet, and swore him Secretary of State. That day his THE KING'S RETURN. 289 • jesty gave the Garter to the general, and likewise to the rquis of Hertford, and the earl of Southampton, (who had ;n elected many years before,) and sent it likewise by •ter, herald and king at arms, to admiral Mountague, who nained in the Downs. On Monday he went to Rochester; and the next day, ing the nine and twentieth of May, and his birthday, he tered London; all the ways from Dover thither being full of people, and acclamations, as if the whole kingdom d been gathered. About or above Greenwich the lord lyor and aldermen met him, with all such protestations joy as can hardly be imagined. And the concourse was great, that the King rode in a crowd from the bridge Temple-bar; all the companies of the city standing in der on both sides, and giving loud thanks to God for his ijesty’s presence. And he no sooner came to Whitehall, it the two Houses of Parliament solemnly cast themselves at is feet, with all vows of affection and fidelity to the world’s ad. In a word, the joy was so unexpressible, and so uversal, that his majesty said smilingly to some about him, le doubted it had been his own fault he had been absent so ng; for he saw nobody that did not protest, he had ever ashed for his return.’ In this wonderful manner, and with this miraculous ex- idition, did God put an end in one month (for it was e first of May that the King’s letter was delivered to the irliament, and his majesty was at Whitehall upon the venty-ninth of the same month) to a rebellion that had ged near twenty years, and been carried on with all the jrrid circumstances of parricide, murder, and devastation, at fire and the sword, in the hands of the most wicked men the world, could be ministers of; almost to the desolation 290 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. of two kingdoms, and the exceeding defacing and deform¬ ing the third. Yet did the merciful hand of God in one month bind up all those wounds, and even made the scars as undiscernible, as, in respect of the deepness, was possible; which was a glorious addition to the deliverance ; and if there wanted more glorious monuments of this deliverance, posterity would know the time of it, by the death of the two great favourites of the two crowns, cardinal Mazarine and don Lewis de Haro, who both died within three or four months, with the wonder if not the agony of this un¬ dreamed of prosperity; and as if they had taken it ill that God Almighty would bring such a work to pass in Europe without their concurrence, and against all their machinations. SELECTIONS FROM THE LIFE. Mr. Hyde’s father removes to Salisbury. He had for some time before resolved to leave the country, and to spend the remainder of his time in Salisbury, where he had caused a house to be provided for him, both for the neighbourhood of the cathedral church, where he could per¬ form his devotions every day, and for the conversation of many of his family who lived there, and not far from it; and especially that he might be buried there, where many of his family and friends lay; and he obliged his son to accompany him thither before his return to London; and he came to Salisbury on the Friday before Michaelmas day in the year 1632, and lodged in his own house that night. The next day he was so wholly taken up in receiving visits from his MR. HYDE'S FATHER REMOVES TO SALISBURY. 291 many friends, being a person wonderfully reverenced in those parts, that he walked very little out of his house. The next morning, being Sunday, he rose very early, and went to two or three churches; and when he returned, which was by eight of the clock, he told his wife and his son, ‘ that he had been to look out a place to be buried in, but found none against which he had not some exception, the cathedral only excepted: where he had made a choice of a place near a kinsman of his own name, and had shewed it to the sexton, whom he had sent for to that purpose; and wished them to see him buried there ; ’ and this with as much composedness of mind as if it had made no impression of mind ; then went to the cathedral to sermon, and spent the whole day in as cheerful conversation with his friends, as the man in the most confirmed health could do. Monday was Michaelmas day, when in the morning he went to visit his brother sir Laurence Hyde, who was then making a journey in the service of the King, and from him went to the church to a sermon, where he found himself a little pressed as he used to be, and therefore thought fit to make what haste he could to his house, and was no sooner come thither into a lower room, than, the pain in his arm seizing upon him, he fell down dead, without the least motion of any limb. The suddenness of it made it apprehended to be an apoplexy; but there being nothing like convulsions, or the least distortion or alteration in the visage, it is not like to be from that cause; nor could the physicians make any reasonable guess from whence that mortal blow proceeded. He wanted about six weeks of attaining the age of seventy, and was the greatest instance of the felicity of a country life that was seen in that age; having enjoyed a competent, and to him a plentiful fortune, a very great reputation of piety and virtue, and his death u 2 392 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. being attended with universal lamentation. It cannot be expressed with what agony his son bore this loss, having, as he was used to say, ‘ not only lost the best father, but the best friend and the best companion he ever had or could have; ’ and he was never so well pleased, as when he had fit occasions given him to mention his father, whom he did in truth believe to be the wisest man he had ever known; and he was often heard to say, in the time when his condition was at highest, ‘that though God Almighty had been very propitious to him, in raising him to great honours and pre¬ ferments, he did not value any honour he had so much as the being the son of such a father and mother, for whose sakes principally he thought God had conferred those bless¬ ings upon him.’ Ben Johnson and John Selden. Ben Johnson’s name can never be forgotten, having by his very good learning, and the severity of his nature and manners, very much reformed the stage; and indeed the English poetry itself. His natural advantages were, judg¬ ment to order and govern fancy, rather than excess of fancy, his productions being slow and upon deliberation, yet then abounding with great wit and fancy, and will live accord¬ ingly; and surely as he did exceedingly exalt the English language in eloquence, propriety, and masculine expressions, so he was the best judge of, and fittest to prescribe rules to poetry and poets, of any man, who had lived with, or before him, or since: if Mr. Cowley had not made a flight beyond all men, with that modesty yet, to ascribe much of this to the example and learning of Ben Johnson. His conversation was very good, and with the men of most note; and he had BEN JOHNSON AND JOHN SELDEN. 293 for many years an extraordinary kindness for Mr. Hyde, till he found he betook himself to business, which he believed ought never to be preferred before his company. He lived to be very old, and till the palsy made a deep impression upon his body and his mind. Mr. Selden was a person whom no character can flatter, or transmit in any expressions equal to his merit and virtue. He was of so stupendous learning in all kinds and in all languages, (as may appear in his excellent and transcendent writings,) that a man would have thought he had been entirely conversant amongst books, and had never spent an hour but in reading and writing; yet his humanity, courtesy, and affability was such, that he would have been thought to have been bred in the best courts, but that his good nature, charity, and delight in doing good, and in communicating all he knew, exceeded that breeding. His style in all his writings seems harsh and sometimes obscure; which is not wholly to be imputed to the abstruse subjects of which he commonly treated, out of the paths trod by other men; but to a little undervaluing the beauty of a style, and too much propensity to the language of antiquity : but in his conversation he was the most clear discourser, and had the best faculty of making hard things easy, and presenting them to the understanding, of any man that hath been known. Mr. Hyde was wont to say, that he valued himself upon nothing more than upon having had Mr. Selden’s acquaint¬ ance from the time he was very young; and held it with great delight as long as they were suffered to continue together in London; and he was very much troubled always when he heard him blamed, censured, and reproached, for staying in London, and in the parliament, after they were in rebellion, and in the worse times, which his age obliged him 294 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. to do; and how wicked soever the actions were which were every day done, he was confident he had not given his consent to them; but would have hindered them if he could with his own safety, to which he was always enough in¬ dulgent. If he had some infirmities with other men, they were weighed down with wonderful and prodigious abilities and excellencies in the other scale. Snt Kenelm Digby, Thomas May and Thomas Cabew. Sir Kenelm Digby was a person very eminent and no¬ torious throughout the whole course of his life, from his cradle to his grave; of an ancient family and noble extrac¬ tion ; and inherited a fair and plentiful fortune, notwith¬ standing the attainder of his father. He was a man of a very extraordinary person and presence, which drew the eyes of all men upon him, which were more fixed by a wonderful graceful behaviour, a flowing courtesy and civility, and such a volubility of language, as surprised and delighted; and though in another man it might have appeared to have somewhat of affectation, it was marvellous graceful in him, and seemed natural to his size, and mould of his person, to the gravity of his motion, and the tune of his voice and delivery. He had a fair reputation in arms, of which he gave an early testimony in his youth, in some encounters in Spain and Italy, and afterwards in an action in the Mediter¬ ranean sea, where he had the command of a squadron of ships of war, set out at his own charge under the king’s commission; with which, upon an injury received, or ap¬ prehended from the Venetians, he encountered their whole fleet, killed many of their men, and sunk one of their S/R K. DIGBY, THOMAS MAY, THOMAS CAREIV. 295 galleasses; which in that drowsy and unactive time was looked upon with a general estimation, though the Crown disavowed it. In a word, he had all the advantages that nature, and art, and an excellent education could give him; which, with a great confidence and presentness of mind, buoyed him up against all those prejudices and disadvant¬ ages, (which the attainder and execution of his father, for a crime of the highest nature; his own marriage with a lady, though of an extraordinary beauty, of as extraordinary a fame ; his changing and rechanging his religion; and some personal vices and licenses in his life,) which would have suppressed and sunk any other man, but never clouded or eclipsed him, from appearing in the best places, and the best company, and with the best estimation and satisfaction. Thomas May was the eldest son of his father, a knight, and born to a fortune, if his father had not spent it; so that he had only an annuity left him, not proportionable to a liberal education: yet since his fortune could not raise his mind, he brought his mind down to his fortune, by a great modesty and humility in his nature, which was not affected, but very well became an imperfection in his speech, which was a great mortification to him, and kept him from entering upon any discourse but in the company of his very friends. His parts of nature and art were very good, as appears by his translation of Lucan, (none of the easiest work of that kind,) and more by his supplement to Lucan, which being entirely his own, for the learning, the wit, and the language, may be well looked upon as one of the best dramatic poems in the English language. He writ some other commendable pieces, of the reign of some of our kings. He was cherished by many persons of honour, and very acceptable in all places; yet, (to shew that pride and envy have their in- 296 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. fluences upon the narrowest minds, and which have the greatest semblance of humility,) though he had received much countenance, and a very considerable donative from the King, upon his majesty’s refusing to give him a small pension, which he had designed and promised to another very ingenious person, whose qualities he thought inferior to his own, he fell from his duty, and all his former friends, and prostituted himself to the vile office of celebrating th< infamous acts of those who were in rebellion against the King; which he did so meanly, that he seemed to all men tc have lost his wits when he left his honesty; and so shortl) after died miserable and neglected, and deserves to be for¬ gotten. Thomas Carew was a younger brother of a good family, and of excellent parts, and had spent many years of his youth in France and Italy; and returning from travel, followed the Court; which the modesty of that time dis¬ posed men to do some time, before they pretended to be of it; and he was very much esteemed by the most eminent persons in the Court, and well looked upon by the King himself, some years before he could obtain to be sewer to the King; and when the King conferred that honour upon him, it was not without the regret even of the whole Scotch nation, which united themselves in recommending another gentleman to that place: of so great value were those relations held in that age, when majesty was beheld with the reverence it ought to be. He was a person of a pleasant and facetious wit, and made many poems, (especially in the amorous way,) which for the sharpness of the fancy, and the elegancy of the language in which that fancy was spread, were at least equal, if not superior to any of that time: but his glory was, that after fifty years of his life, spent with less SIDNEY GODOLPHIN, EDMUND WALLER , ETC. 297 everity or exactness than it ought to have been, he died with le greatest remorse for that license, and with the greatest tanifestation of Christianity that his best friends could esire. Sidney Godolphin, Edmund Waller, Dr. Sheldon, Dr. Morley, Dr. Earles. Sidney Godolphin was a younger brother of Godolphin, it by the provision left by his father, and by the death of a •Unger brother, liberally supplied for a very good education, d for a cheerful subsistence, in any course of life he pro- osed to himself. There was never so great a mind and irit contained in so little room; so large an understanding a d so unrestrained a fancy in so very small a body; so that : lord Falkland used to say merrily, that he thought it was great ingredient into his friendship for Mr. Godolphin, that was pleased to be found in his company, where he was properer man ; and it may be, the very remarkableness of little person made the sharpness of his wit, and the com- sed quickness of his judgment and understanding, the more notorious and notable. He had spent some years in mce, and in the Low Countries; and accompanied the 1 of Leicester in his ambassage into Denmark, before he olved to be quiet, and attend some promotion in the irt; where his excellent disposition and manners, and raordinary qualifications, made him very acceptable, ough every body loved his company very well, yet he id very much to be alone, being in his constitution in- ed somewhat to melancholy, and to retirement amongst books; and was so far from being active, that he was tented to be reproached by his friends with laziness; and 298 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. was of so nice and tender a composition, that a little rain or wind would disorder him, and divert him from any short journey he had most willingly proposed to himself; inso¬ much as, when he rid abroad with those in whose company he most delighted, if the wind chanced to be in his face, he would (after a little pleasant murmuring) suddenly turn his horse, and go home. Yet the civil war no sooner began, (the first approaches towards which he discovered as soon as any man, by the proceedings in Parliament, where he was a member, and opposed with great indignation,) than he put himself into the first troops which were raised in the west for the King; and bore the uneasiness and fatigue of winter marches with an exemplar courage and alacrity ; until by too brave a pursuit of the enemy, into an obscure village in Devonshire, he was shot with a musket; with which (without saying any word more, than, Oh God! I am hurt) he fell dead from his horse; to the excessive grief of his friends, who w r ere all that knew him; and the irreparable damage of the public. Edmund Waller was born to a very fair estate, by the parsimony or frugality of a wise father and mother; and he thought it so commendable an advantage, that he resolved to improve it with his utmost care, upon which in his nature he was too much intent; and in order to that, he was so much reserved and retired, that he was scarce ever heard of, till by his address and dexterity he had gotten a very rich wife in the city, against all the recommendation, and counte¬ nance, and authority of the court, which was thoroughly engaged on the behalf of Mr. Crofts; and which used to be successful, in that age, against any opposition. He had the good fortune to have an alliance and friendship with Dr. Morley, who had assisted and instructed him in the reading SIDNEY GODOLPHIN, EDMUND WALLER , ETC. 299 many good books, to which his natural parts and promptitude inclined him; especially the poets: and at the age when other men used to give over writing verses, (for he was near thirty years of age when he first engaged himself in that exercise, at least that he was known to do so,) he surprised the town with two or three pieces of that kind; as if a tenth muse had been newly born, to cherish drooping poetry. The doctor at that time brought him into that company which was most celebrated for good conversation; where he was received, and esteemed, with great applause and respect. He was a very pleasant discourser, in earnest and in jest, and therefore very grateful to all kind of company, where he was not the less esteemed for being very rich. He had been even nursed in parliaments, where he sat when he was in his infancy; and so when they were re¬ sumed again, (after a long intermission and interdiction,) he appeared in those assemblies with great advantage, having a graceful way of speaking; and by thinking much upon several arguments, (which his temper and complexion, that had much of melancholic, inclined him to,) he seemed often to speak upon the sudden, when the occasion had only ad¬ ministered the opportunity of saying what he had thoroughly considered, which gave a great lustre to all he said; which yet was rather of delight than weight. There needs no more be said to extol the excellence and power of his wit, and pleasantness of his conversation, than that it was of mag¬ nitude enough to cover a world of very great faults; that is, so to cover them, that they were not taken notice of to his reproach; viz. a narrowness in his nature to the lowest degree; an abjectness, and want of courage to support him in any virtuous undertaking; an insinuation and servile flattery to the height the vainest and most imperious nature 3 °° SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. could be contented with; that it preserved and won his life from those who were most resolved to take it, and in an occasion in which he ought to have been ambitious to have lost it; and then preserved him again, from the reproach and contempt that was due to him for so preserving it, and for vindicating it at such a price; that it had power to reconcile him to those whom he had most offended and provoked; and continued to his age with that rare felicity, that his company was acceptable, where his spirit was odious; and he was at least pitied, where he was most detested. Of Doctor Sheldon, there needs no more be said in this place, (there being frequent occasions to mention him here¬ after in the prosecution of this discourse,) than that his learning, and gravity, and prudence, had in that time raised him to such a reputation, when he was chaplain in the house to the lord keeper Coventry, (who exceedingly esteemed him, and used his service not only in all matters relating to the church, but in many other businesses of importance, and in which that great and good lord was nearly concerned,) and when he was afterwards warden of All Souls’ college in Oxford, that he then was looked upon as very equal to any preferment the church could [yield] or hath since yielded unto him; and sir Francis Wenman would often say, when the doctor resorted to the conversation at the lord Falkland’s house, as he frequently did, that ‘ Dr. Sheldon was born and bred to be archbishop of Canterbury.’ Doctor Morley (of whom more must likewise be said in its place) was a gentleman of very eminent parts in all polite learning; of great wit, and readiness, and subtilty in dis¬ putation; and of remarkable temper and prudence in con¬ versation, which rendered him most grateful in all the best DOCTOR SHELDON ,, DOCTOR MORLEY, ETC . 301 company. He was then chaplain in the house, and to the family, of the lord and lady Carnarvon, which needed a wise and a wary director. From some academic contests he had been engaged in, during his living in Christ Church in Oxford, where he was always of the first eminency, he had, by the natural faction and animosity of those disputes, fallen under the reproach of holding some opinions which were not then grateful to those churchmen who had the greatest power in ecclesiastical promotions; and some sharp answers and re¬ plies he used to make in accidental discourses, and which in truth were made for mirth and pleasantness’ sake, (as he was of the highest facetiousness,) were reported, and spread abroad to his prejudice: as being once asked by a grave country gentleman, (who was desirous to be instructed what their tenets and opinions were,) ‘ what the Arminians held,’ he pleasantly answered, that they held all the best bishoprics and deaneries in England; which was quickly reported abroad, as Mr. Morley’s definition of the Arminian tenets. Such and the like harmless and jocular sayings, upon many accidental occasions, had wrought upon the archbishop of Canterbury, Laud, (who lived to change his mind, and to have a just esteem of him,) to entertain some prejudice to¬ wards him; and the respect which was paid him by many eminent persons, as John Hambden, Arthur Goodwin, and others, who were not thought friends to the prosperity the Church was in, made others apprehend that he was not enough zealous for it. But that disaffection and virulency (which few men had then owned and discovered) no sooner appeared, in those and other men, but Dr. Morley made haste as publicly to oppose them, both in private and in public; which had the more effect to the benefit of the Church, by his being a person above all possible reproach, 3°2 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. and known and valued by more persons of honour than most of the clergy were, and being not only without the envy of any preferment, but under the advantage of a dis¬ countenanced person. And as he was afterwards the late King’s chaplain, and much regarded by him, and as long about him as any of his chaplains were permitted to attend him ; so presently after his murder he left the kingdom, and remained in banishment till his majesty’s happy return. Doctor Earles was at that time chaplain in the house to the earl of Pembroke, lord chamberlain of his majesty’s household, and had a lodging in the court under that re¬ lation. He was a person very notable for his elegance in the Greek and Latin tongues; and being fellow of Merton college in Oxford, and having been proctor of the university, and some very witty and sharp discourses being published in print without his consent, though known to be his, he grew suddenly into a very general esteem with all men; being a man of great piety and devotion; a most eloquent and powerful preacher; and of a conversation so pleasant and delightful, so very innocent and so very facetious, that no man’s company was more desired and more loved. No man was more negligent in his dress, and habit, and mien; no man more wary and cultivated in his behaviour and dis¬ course ; insomuch as he had the greater advantage when he was known, by promising so little before he was known. He was an excellent poet, both in Latin, Greek, and English, as appears by many pieces yet abroad ; though he suppressed many more himself, especially of English, incomparably good, out of an austerity to those sallies of his youth. He was very dear to the lord Falkland, with whom he spent as much time as he could make his own; and as that lord would impute the speedy progress he made in the Greek tongue, to JOHN HALES. 3°3 the information and assistance he had from Mr. Earles, so Mr. Earles would frequently profess, that he had got more useful learning by his conversation at Tew, (the lord Falk¬ land’s house,) than he had at Oxford. In the first settling of the prince’s family, he was made one of his chaplains; and attended on him when he was forced to leave the kingdom, and therefore we shall often have occasion to mention him hereafter. He was amongst the few excellent men who never had nor ever could have an enemy, but such a one who was an enemy to all learning and virtue, and therefore would never make himself known. John Hales. Mr. John Hales had been Greek professor in the univer¬ sity of Oxford; and had borne all the labour of that excel¬ lent edition and impression of St. Chrysostom’s Works, set out by sir Harry Savile; who was then warden of Merton college, when the other was fellow of that house. He was chaplain in the house with sir Dudley Carleton, ambassador of the Hague in Holland, at the time when the synod of Dort was held, and so had liberty to be present at the con¬ sultations in that assembly; and hath left the best memorial behind him, of the ignorance, and passion, and animosity, and injustice of that convention; of which he often made very pleasant relations; though at that time it received too much countenance from England. Being a person of the greatest eminency for learning, and other abilities, from which he might have promised himself any preferment in the church, he withdrew himself from all pursuits of that kind into a private fellowship in the college of Eton, where his friend sir Harry Savile was provost; where he lived 304 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. amongst his books, and the most separated from the world of any man then living: though he was not in the least degree inclined to melancholy, but, on the contrary, of a very open and pleasant conversation; and therefore was very well pleased with the resort of his friends to him, who were such as he had chosen, and in whose company he delighted, and for whose sake he would sometimes, once in a year, resort to London, only to enjoy their cheerful conversation. He would never take any cure of souls; and was so great a contemner of money, that he was wont to say, that his fellowship, and the bursar’s place, (which, for the good of the college, he held many years,) was worth him fifty pounds a year more than he could spend; and yet, besides his being very charitable to all poor people, even to liberality, he had made a greater and better collection of books, than were to be found in any other private library that I have seen; as he had sure read more, and carried more about him in his excellent memory, than any man I ever knew, my lord Falkland only excepted, who I think sided him. He had. whether from his natural temper and constitution, or from his long retirement from all crowds, or from his profound judgment and discerning spirit, contracted some opinions which were not received, nor by him published, except in private discourses; and then rather upon occasion of dis pute, than of positive opinion : and he would often say, his opinions he was sure did him no harm, but he was far from being confident that they might not do others harm who entertained them, and might entertain other results from them than he did; and therefore he was very reserved in communicating what he thought himself in those points, in which he differed from what was received. JOHN HALES . 305 Nothing troubled him more than the brawls which were ■ own from religion; and he therefore exceedingly detested e tyranny of the church of Rome; more for their imposing icharitably upon the consciences of other men, than for the rors in their own opinions: and would often say, that he ould renounce the religion of the Church of England to- orrow, if it obliged him to believe that any other Christians lould be damned; and that nobody would conclude another an to be damned, who did not wish him so. No man tore strict and severe to himself; to other men so charit- de as to their opinions, that he thought that other men were lore in fault for their carriage towards them, than the men lemselves were who erred; and he thought that pride and 1 assion, more than conscience, were the cause of all separa- on from each other’s communion; and he frequently said, lat that only kept the world from agreeing upon such a turgy, as might bring them into one communion; all doc- •inal points, upon which men differed in their opinions, eing to have no place in any liturgy. Upon an occasional iscourse with a friend, of the frequent and uncharitable jproaches of heretic and schismatic, too lightly thrown at ach other, amongst men who differ in their judgment, he writ little discourse of schism, contained in less than two sheets f paper; which being transmitted from friend to friend in /riting, was at last, without any malice, brought to the view f the archbishop of Canterbury, Dr. Laud, who was a very igid surveyor of all things which never so little bordered 1 pon schism; and thought the Church could not be too igilant against, and jealous of, such incursions. He sent for Mr. Hales, whom, when they had both lived 1 the university of Oxford, he had known well; and told im, that he had in truth believed him to be long since x 306 selections from clarendon. dead; and chid him very kindly for having never come to him, having been of his old acquaintance: then asked him, whether he had lately written a short discourse of scmsm, and whether he was of that opinion which that discourse implied. He told him that he had, for the satisfaction of a private friend, (who was not of his mind,) a year or two before, writ such a small tract, without any imagination that it would be communicated; and that he believed it did not contain any thing that was not agreeable to the judgment of the primitive fathers : upon which, the archbishop debated with him upon some expressions of Irenseus, and the most ancient fathers; and concluded with saying, that the time was very apt to set new doctrines on foot, of which the wits of the age were too susceptible; and that there could not be too much care taken to preserve the peace and unity of the Church ; and from thence asked him of his condition, and whether he wanted any thing : and the other answering, that he had enough, and wanted or desired no addition, so dismissed him with great courtesy; and shortly after sent for him again, when there was a prebendary of Windsor fallen, and told him, the King had given him the preferment, be¬ cause it lay so convenient to his fellowship of Eton; which (though indeed the most convenient preferment that could be thought of for him) the archbishop could not without great difficulty persuade him to accept, and he did accept it rather to please him than himself; because he really believed he had enough before. He was one of the least men in the kingdom; and one of the greatest scholars in Europe. MR. CHILLINGWORTH. 3°7 MR. CHILLINGWORTH. Mr. Chillingworth was of a stature little superior to Mr. Hales, (and it was an age in which there were many great and wonderful men of that size,) and a man of so great a subtilty of understanding, and so rare a temper in debate, that, as it was impossible to provoke him into any passion, so it was very difficult to keep a man’s self from being a little discomposed by his sharpness and quickness of argument, and instances, in which he had a rare facility, and a great advantage over all the men I ever knew. He had spent all his younger time in disputation, and had arrived to so great a mastery, as he was inferior to no man in those skirmishes: but he had, with his notable per¬ fection in this exercise, contracted such an irresolution and habit of doubting, that by degrees he grew confident of nothing, and a sceptic, at least, in the greatest mysteries of faith. This made him, from first wavering in religion, and in¬ dulging to scruples, to reconcile himself too soon and too easily to the church of Rome; and carrying still his own inquisitiveness about him, without any resignation to their authority, (which is the only temper can make that church sure of its proselytes,) having made a journey to St. Omer’s, purely to perfect his conversion by the conversation of those who had the greatest name, he found as little satisfaction there; and returned with as much haste from them; with a belief, that an entire exemption from error was neither inherent in nor necessary to any church: which occasioned that war, which was carried on by the Jesuits with so great asperity and reproaches against him, and in which he de- 308 selections from clarendon. fended himself by such an admirable eloquence of language, and clear and incomparable power of reason, that he not only made them appear unequal adversaries, but carried the war into their own quarters; and made the Pope’s infalli¬ bility to be as much shaken, and declined by their own doctors, (and as great an acrimony amongst themselves upon that subject,) and to be at least as much doubted, as in the schools of the reformed or protestant; and forced them since to defend and maintain those unhappy contro¬ versies in religion, with arms and weapons of another nature than were used or known in the church of Rome when Bellarmine died; and which probably will in time under¬ mine the very foundation that supports it. Such a levity, and propensity to change, is commonly attended with great infirmities in, and no less reproach and prejudice to the person; but the sincerity of his heart was so conspicuous, and without the least temptation of any corrupt end; and the innocence and candour of his nature so evident, and without any perverseness; that all who knew him clearly discerned, that all those restless motions and fluctuations proceeded only from the warmth and jealousy of his own thoughts, in a too nice inquisition for truth. Neither the books of the adversary, nor any of their persons, though he was acquainted with the best of both, had ever made great impression upon him; all his doubts grew out of himself, when he assisted his scruples with all the strength of his own reason, and was then too hard for himself; but finding as little quiet and repose in those victories, he quickly recovered, by a new appeal to his own judgment; so that he was, in truth, upon the matter, in all his sallies and retreats, his own convert; though he was not so totally divested of all thoughts of this world, but that when he MR. CHILLINGWORTH. 3° 9 was ready for it, he admitted some great and considerable churchmen to be sharers with him in his public conversion. Whilst he was in perplexity, or rather some passionate disinclination to the religion he had been educated in, he had the misfortune to have much acquaintance with one Mr. Lugar, a minister of that church; a man of a compe¬ tency of learning in those points most controverted with the Romanists, but of no acute parts of wit or judgment; and wrought so far upon him, by weakening and enervating those arguments, by which he found he was governed, (as he had all the logic, and all the rhetoric, that was necessary to persuade very powerfully men of the greatest talents,) that the poor man, not able to live long in doubt, too hastily deserted his own church, and betook himself to the Roman : nor could all the arguments and reasons of Mr. Chilling- worth make him pause in the expdition he was using, or reduce him from that church after he had given himself to it; but he had always a great animosity against him, for having (as he said) unkindly betrayed him, and carried him into another religion, and there left him. So unfit are some constitutions to be troubled with doubts after they are once fixed. He did really believe all war to be unlawful; and did not think that the Parliament (whose proceedings he perfectly abhorred) did in truth intend to involve the nation in a civil war, till after the battle of Edge-hill; and then he thought any expedient or stratagem that was like to put a speedy end to it, to be the most commendable: and so having too mathematically conceived an engine, that should move so lightly as to be a breastwork in all encounters and assaults in the field, he carried it, to make the experiment, into that part of his majesty's army, which was only in that winter 310 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. season in the field, under the command of the lord Hopton, in Hampshire, upon the borders of Sussex; where he was shut up in the castle of Arundel; which was forced, after a short, sharp siege, to yield for want of victual; and poor Mr. Chillingworth with it, falling into the rebels’ hands; and being most barbarously treated by them, especially by that clergy which followed them; and being broken with sick¬ ness, contracted by the ill accommodation, and want of meat and fire during the siege, which was in a terrible season of frost and snow, he died shortly after in prison. He was a man of excellent parts, and of a cheerful disposition; void of all kind of vice, and endued with many notable virtues; of a very public heart, and an indefatigable desire to do good; his only unhappiness proceeded from his sleeping too little, and thinking too much; which sometimes threw him into violent fevers. Mr. Hyde’s unpleasant reception. There happened an accident, at Mr. Hyde’s first coming to York, which he used often to speak of, and to be very merry at. One of the King’s servants had provided a lodging for him, so that when he alighted at the Court, he sent his servants thither, and stayed himself at the Court till after supper, and till the King went into his chamber; and then he had a guide, who went with him, and conducted him to his chamber; which he liked very well, and began to undress himself. One of his servants wished that he had any other lodging, and desired him not to lie there: he asked why, it seemed to him a good chamber : his servant answered, that the chamber was good, but the people of the house the worst he ever saw, and such as he w T as confident would do him MR. HYDE'S UNPLEASANT RECEPTION. 311 some mischief: at which wondering, his servant told him, that the persons of the house seemed to be of some con¬ dition by their habit that was very good; and that the servants, when they came thither, found the master and mistress in the lower room, who received them civilly, and shewed them the chamber where their master was to lodge, and wished them to call for any thing they wanted, and so left them: that shortly after, one of them went down, and the mistress of the house being again in the lower room, where it seems she usually sat, she asked him what his master’s name was, which he told her: ‘ What,’ said she, ‘ that Hyde that is of the house of commons ? ’ and he answering ‘ Yes,’ she gave a great shriek, and cried out, that he should not lodge in her house ; cursing him with many bitter execrations. Upon the noise, her husband came in ; and when she told him who it was that was to lodge in the chamber above, he swore a great oath that he should not; and that he would rather set his house on fire than entertain him in it. The servant stood amazed, knowing that his master had never been in or near that city, and desired to know what offence he had committed against them; he told them, he was confident his master did not know them, nor could be known to them. The man answered, after two or three curses, that he knew him well enough, and that he had undone him, and his wife, and his children; and so, after repeating some new bitter curses, he concluded, that he would set his house on fire, as soon as the other should set his foot in it; and so he and his wife went away in a great rage into an inner room, and clapped the door to them. When his servant had made this relation to him, he was no less surprised; knew not what to make of it; asked whether the people were drunk; was assured that they were 312 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. very sober, and appeared before this passion to be well bred. He sent to desire the master of the house to come to him, that they might confer together; and that he would im¬ mediately depart his house, if he desired it. He received no answer, but that he and his wife were gone to bed: upon which he said no more, but that, if they were gone to bed, he would go to bed too; and did accordingly. Though he was not disturbed in the night, the morning was not at all calmer; the master and the mistress stormed as much as ever, and would not be persuaded to speak with him; but he then understood the reason : the man of the house had been an attorney in the court of the president and council of the north, in great reputation and practice there; and thereby got a very good livelihood; with which he had lived in splendour; and Mr. Hyde had sat in the chair of that com¬ mittee, and had carried up the votes of the Commons against that court, to the House of Peers ; upon which it was dis¬ solved : which he confessed was a better reason for being angry with him than many others had, who were as angry, and persecuted him more. However, he thought himself obliged to remove the eyesore from them, and to quit the lodging that had been assigned to him; and he was much better accommodated by the kindness of a good prebendary of the church, Dr. Hodshon, who sent to invite him to lodge in his house, as soon as he heard he was come to town ; where he resided as long as the Court stayed there. The Marquis op Ormond, Lord Colepepper, Secretary Nicholas. The Marquis of Ormond was the person of the greatest quality, estate, and reputation, who had frankly engaged his RQUIS OF ORMOND , LORD COLEPEPPER, ETC. 313 ■ I son and his fortune in the King’s service from the first ur of the troubles, and pursued it with that courage and stancy, that when the King was murdered, and he serted by the Irish, contrary to the articles of the peace ch they had made with him, and when he could make no ger defence, he refused all the conditions which Cromwell ;red, who would have given him all his vast estate, if he aid have been contented to have lived quietly in some of own houses, without further concerning himself in the trrel ; and transported himself, without so much as ac¬ ting a pass from his authority, in a little weak vessel into !' mce, where he found the King, from whom he never r ted till he returned with him into England. And having s merited as much as a subject can do from a prince, he 1 much more credit and esteem with the King than any er man: and the lustre the chancellor was in, was no less m the declared friendship the marquis had for him, than m the great trust his majesty reposed in him. The lord Colepepper was a man of great parts, a very harp and present wit, and an universal understanding; so i t few men filled a place in council with more sufficiency, expressed themselves upon any subject that occurred with >re weight and vigour. He had been trusted by the late ng (who had a singular opinion of his courage and other lities) to wait upon the prince when he left his father, and itinued still afterwards with him, or in his service, and in good correspondence wdth the chancellor. Secretary Nicholas was a man of general good reputation h all men, of unquestionable integrity and long experience the service of the crown ; whom the late King trusted as ich as any man to his death. He was one of those who re excepted by the parliament from pardon or compo- 314 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON . sition, and so was compelled to leave the kingdom shortly after Oxford was delivered up, when the King was in the hands of the Scots. The present King continued him in the office of secretary of state, which he had so long held under his father. He was a man of great gravity, and without any ambitious or private designs; and had so fast a friendship with the chancellor for many years, that he was very well content, and without any jealousy for his making many despatches and other transactions, which more immediately related to his office, and which indeed were always made with his privity and concurrence. The Earl of Lautherdale. The Earl of Lautherdale, who had been very eminent in contriving and carrying on the King’s service, when his majesty was crowned in Scotland, and thereby had wrought himself into a very particular esteem with the King, had marched with him into England, and behaved himself well at Worcester, where he was taken prisoner; had, besides that merit, the suffering an imprisonment from that very time with some circumstances of extreme rigour, being a man against whom Cromwell had always professed a more than ordinary animosity. And though the scene of his imprisonment had been altered, according to the alteration of the governments which succeeded, yet he never found himself in complete liberty, till the King was proclaimed by the Parliament, and then he thought it not necessary to repair into Scotland for authority or recommendation; but sending his advice thither to his friends, he made haste to transport himself with the Parliament Commissioners to the Hague, where he was very well received by the King, and THE EARL OF LAUTHERDALE. 315 left nothing undone on his part that might cultivate those old inclinations, being a man of as much address and insinuation, in which that nation excels, as was then amongst them. He applied himself to those who were most trusted by the King with a marvellous importunity, and especially to the chancel¬ lor, with whom, as often as they had ever been together, he had a perpetual war. He now magnified his constancy with loud elogiums, as well to his face as behind his back; re¬ membered ‘ many sharp expressions formerly used by the chancellor, which he confessed had then made him mad, though upon recollection afterwards he had found them to be very reasonable.’ He was very polite in all his dis¬ courses ; called himself and his nation ‘ a thousand traitors and rebels ; ’ and in his discourses frequently said, ‘ When I was a traitor,’ or ‘ When I was in rebellion ; ’ and seemed not equally delighted with any argument, as when he scornfully spake of the covenant, upon which he brake a hundred jests. In sum, all his discourses were such as pleased all the company, who commonly believed all he said, and concurred with him. He renewed his old acquaintance and familiarity with Middleton, by all the protestations of friendship; as¬ sured him ‘ of the unanimous desire of Scotland to be under his command ; ’ and declared to the King, ‘ that he could not send any man into Scotland, who would be able to do him so much service in the place of commissioner as Middleton ; and that it was in his majesty’s power to unite that whole kingdom to his service as one man.’ All which pleased the King well: so that, by the time that the commissioners ap¬ peared at London, upon some old promise in Scotland, or new inclination upon his long s fferings, which he magnified enough, the King gave him the signet, and declared him to be secretary of state of that kingdom; and at the same 31 6 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. time declared that Middleton should be his commissioner ; the earl of Glencarne his chancellor; the earl of Rothes, who was likewise one of the commissioners, and his person very agreeable to the King, president of the council; and conferred all other inferior offices upon men most notable for their affection to the old government of church and state. Sir Harry Bennet and Mr. William Coventry. But there were two persons now introduced to act upon that stage, who disdained to receive orders, or to have any method prescribed to them ; who took upon them to judge of other men’s defects, and thought their own abilities beyond exception. The one was sir Harry Bennet, who had procured him¬ self to be sent agent or envoy into Spain, as soon as the King came from Brussels; being a man very well known to the King, and for his pleasant and agreeable humour accept¬ able to him: and he remained there at much ease till the King returned to England, having waited upon his majesty at Fuentarabia in the close of the treaty between the two crowns, and there appeared by his dexterity to have gained good credit in the court of Spain, and particularly with don Lewis de Haro; and by that short negotiation he renewed and confirmed the former good inclinations of his master to him. He had been obliged always to correspond with the chancellor, by whom his instructions had been drawn, and to receive the King’s pleasure by his signification ; which he had always done, and professed much respect and submission to him : though whatever orders he received, and how positive soever, in particulars which highly concerned the King’s SIR HARRY BENNET AND MR. IV. COVENTRY. 317 honour and dignity, he observed them so far and no further than his own humour disposed him; and in some cases flatly disobeyed what the King enjoined, and did directly the con¬ trary, as in the case of the Jesuit Peter Talbot; who having carried himself with notorious insolence towards the King in Flanders, had transported himself into England, offered his service to Cromwell, and after his death was employed by the ruling powers into Spain, upon his undertaking to pro¬ cure orders, by which the King should not be suffered longer to reside in Flanders: of all which his majesty having received full advertisement, he made haste to send orders into Spain to sir Harry Bennet, ‘ that he should prepare don Lewis for his reception by letting him know, that though that Jesuit was his natural subject, he had so misbehaved himself, that he looked upon him as a most [inveterate] enemy and a traitor ; and therefore his majesty desired, that he might receive no countenance there, being, as he well knew, sent by the greatest rebels to do him prejudice.’ This was received by sir Harry Bennet before the arrival of the man, who found no inconvenience by it; and instead of making any complaint concerning him, he writ word, ‘ that Talbot had more credit than he in that court; that he professed to have great devotion for the King; and therefore his advice was, that the King would have a better opinion of him, and employ him in his service : ’ and himself received him into his full confidence, and consulted with no man so much as with him; which made all men believe that he was a Roman Catholic, who did believe that he had any religion. But he had made his full excuse and defence for all this at the interview at Fuentarabia, from whence the King returned with marvellous satisfaction in his discretion as well as in his affection. And until, contrary to all his expectation, he 3 l8 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. heard of the King’s return into-England, all his thoughts were employed how to make benefit of the duke of York’s coming into Spain to be admiral of the galleys; which he writ to hasten all that might be. Though he continued his formal correspondence with the chancellor, which he could not decline; yet he held a more secret intelligence with Daniel O’Neile of the bedchamber, with whom he had a long friendship. As soon as the King arrived in England, he trusted O’Neile to procure any direc¬ tion from the King immediately in those particulars which himself advised. And so he obtained the King’s consent, for his consenting to the old league that had been made between England and Spain in the time of the late King, and which Spain had expressly refused to renew after the death of that King, (which was suddenly proclaimed in Spain, without ever being consulted in England;) and presently after leave to return into England without any letter of revocation: both which were procured, or rather signified, by O’Neile, without the privity of the chancellor or of either of the secretaries of state; nor did either of them know that he was from Madrid, till they heard he was in Paris, from whence he arrived in London in a very short time after. So far the chancellor was from that powerful interest or influence, when his credit was at highest. But he was very well received by the King, in whose affections he had a very good place: and shortly after his arrival, though not so soon as he thought his high merit deserved, his majesty conferred the only place then void (and that had been long promised to a noble person, who had behaved himself very well towards his majesty and his blessed father) upon him, which was the office of privy purse; received him into great familiarity, and into the SIR HARRY BENNET AND MR. IV. COVENTRY. 319 nightly meeting, in which he filled a principal place to all intents and purposes. The King very much desired to have him elected a member in the House of Commons, and com¬ manded the chancellor to use his credit to obtain it upon the first opportunity: and in obedience to that command, he did procure him to be chosen about the time we are now speaking of, when the Parliament assembled in February. The other person was Mr. William Coventry, the youngest son to a very wise father, the lord Coventry, who had been lord keeper of the great seal of England for many years with a universal reputation. This gentleman was young whilst the war continued : yet he had put himself before the end of it into the army, and had the command of a foot company, and shortly after travelled into France ; where he remained whilst there was any hope of getting another army for the King, or that either of the other crowns would engage in his quarrel. But when all thoughts of that were desperate, he returned into England; where he remained for many years without the least correspondence with any of his friends beyond the seas, and with so little reputation of caring much for the King’s restoration, that some of his own family, who were most zealous for his majesty’s service, and had always some signal part in any reasonable design, took care of nothing more, than that nothing they did should come to his knowledge; and gave the same advice to those about the King, with whom they corresponded, to use the same caution. Not that any body suspected his being inclined to the rebels, or to do any act of treachery; but that the pride and cen¬ soriousness of his nature made him unconversable, and his despair that any thing could be effectually done made him incompetent to consult the ways of doing it. Nor had he any conversation with any of the King’s party, nor they with 3 20 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. him, till the King was proclaimed in London ; and then he came over with the rest to offer his service to his majesty at the Hague, and had the good fortune to find the duke of York without a secretary. For though he had a Walloon that w r as, in respect of the languages of which he was master fit for that function in the army, and had discharged it very well for some years; y'et for the province the duke w r as now to govern, having the office of high admiral of England, he was without any fit person to discharge the office of secretary with any tolerable sufficiency: so that Mr. Coventry no sooner offered his service to the duke, but he was received into that employment, very honourable under such a master, and in itself of the greatest profit next the secretaries 01 state, if they in that respect be to be preferred. He had been well known to the King and duke in France, and had a brother whom the King loved w’ell and ha* promised to take into his bedchamber, as he shortly afte did, Harry Coventry, who was beloved by everybody, which made them glad of the preferment of the other ; whilst they who knew the worst of him, yet knew him able to discharge that office, and so contributed to the duke’s receiving hin. He was a sullen, ill-natured, proud man, whose ambitio had no limits, nor could be contained within any'. His par s were very good, if he had not thought them better than an. other man’s; and he had diligence and industry, which men of good parts are too often without, which made [him : quickly to have at least credit and power enough with the duke; and he was without those vices which were too much in request, and which make men most unfit for business and the trust that cannot be separated from it. He had sat a member in the House of Commons, from th beginning of the Parliament, with very much reputation c SIR HARRY BENNET AND MR. W. COVENTRY. 321 an able man. He spake pertinently, and was always very acceptable and well heard ; and was one of those with whom they, who were trusted by the King in conducting his affairs in the Lower House, consulted very frequently; but not so much, nor relied equally upon his advice, as upon some few thers who had much more experience, which he thought as of use only to ignorant and dull men, and that men of igacity could see and determine at a little light, and ought rather to persuade and engage men to do that which they ; idged fit, than consider what themselves were inclined to do : and so did not think himself to be enough valued and relied upon, and only to be made use of to the celebrating the designs and contrivance of other men, without being 'gnal in the managery, which he aspired to be. Nor did ay man envy him the province, if he could indeed have overned it, and that others who had more useful talents ould have been ruled by him. However, being a man who aturally loved faction and contradiction, he often made xperiments how far he could prevail in the House, by eclining the method that was prescribed, and proposing : >mewhat to the House that was either beside or contrary to and which the others would not oppose, believing, in r. gard of his relation, that he had received newer directions : ad then if it succeeded well, (as sometimes it did,) he had gument enough to censure and inveigh against the chancel- r, for having taken so ill measures of the temper and affec- ons of the House; for he did not dissemble in his private nversation (though his outward carriage was very fair) that had no kindness for him, which in gratitude he ought to ve had; nor had he any thing to complain of from him, ut that he wished well and did all he could to defend and pport a very worthy person, who had deserved very well Y 322 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. from the King, against whom he manifested a great and causeless animosity, and desired to oppress for his own profit, of which he had an immoderate appetite. Sir John Lawson. There was another almost irreparable loss this day in sir John Lawson, who was admiral of a squadron, and of so eminent skill and conduct in all maritime occasions, that his counsel was most considered in all debates, and the greatest seamen were ready to receive advice from him. In the middle of the battle he received a shot with a musket- bullet upon the knee, with which he fell: and finding that he could no more stand, and was in great torment, he sent to the duke to desire him to send another man to command his ship; which he presently did. The wound was not con¬ ceived to be mortal; and they made haste to send him on shore, as far as Deptford or Greenwich, where for some days there was hope of his recovery; but shortly his wound gan¬ grened, and so he died with very great courage, and profes¬ sion of an entire duty and fidelity to the King. He was indeed of all the men of that time, and of that extraction and education, incomparably the modestest and the wisest man, and most worthy to be confided in. He was of Yorkshire near Scarborough, of that rank of people who are bred to the sea from their cradle. And a young man of that profession he was, when the parliament first possessed themselves of the royal navy; and Hull being in their hands, all the northern seamen easily betook them¬ selves to their service: and his industry and sobriety made him quickly taken notice of, and to be preferred from one degree to another, till from a common sailor he was pro- SIR JOHN LAWSON. 323 moted to be a captain of a small vessel, and from thence to the command of the best ships. He had been in all the actions performed by Blake, some of which were very stupendous, and in all the battles which Cromwell had fought with the Dutch, in which he was a signal officer and very much valued by him. He was of that classis of religion which were called Independents, most of which were anabaptists, who were generally believed to have most aversion to the King, and therefore employed in most offices of trust. He was commander in chief of the fleet when Richard was thrown out: and when the contest grew between the rump and Lambert he brought the whole fleet into the river, and declared for that which was called the Parliament; which brake the neck of all other designs, though he intended only the better settlement of the com¬ monwealth. When the council of state was settled between the disso¬ lution of the rump and the calling the Parliament, they did not like the temper of the fleet, nor especially of Lawson, who, under the title of vice-admiral, had the whole com¬ mand of the fleet, which was very strong, and in which there were many captains they liked well: yet they durst not remove the vice-admiral, lest his interest in the seamen, which was very great, should give them new trouble. The expedient they resolved upon was to send colonel Mountague as admiral to command the fleet, without removing Lawson, who continued still in his command, and could not refuse to be commanded by Mountague, who had always been his superior officer, and who had likewise a great interest in very many of the officers and seamen. Yet Mountague, who brought with him a firm resolution to serve the King, which was well known to his majesty, had no confidence Y 2 3 2 4 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. in Lawson till the Parliament had proclaimed the King: and when he brought the fleet to Scheveling to receive the King, all men looked upon the vice-admiral as a great anabaptist, and not fit to be trusted. But when the King and the duke had conferred with him, they liked him very well: and he was from time to time in the command of vice-admiral in all the fleets which were sent into the Mediterranean. Nor did any man perform his duty better: he caused all persons how well qualified soever, who he knew were affected to a republic, to be dismissed from the service, and brought very good order into his own ship, and frequented the church-prayers him¬ self, and made all the seamen do so. He was very remark¬ able in his affection and countenance towards all those who had faithfully served the King, and never commended any body to the duke to be preferred but such ; and performed to his death all that could be expected from a brave and an honest man. It looked like some presage that he had of his own death, that before he went to sea he came to the treasurer and the chancellor, to whom he had always borne much respect, and spake to them in a dialect he had never before used, for he was a very generous man, and lived in his house decently and plentifully, and had never made any the least suit or pretence for money. Now he told them, ‘ that he was going upon an expedition in which many honest men must lose their lives: and though he had no apprehension of himself, but that God would protect him as he had often done in the same occasions, yet he thought it became him against the worst to make his condition known to them, and the rather, because he knew he was esteemed generally to be rich.’ He said, ‘ in truth he thought himself so some few months since, when he was worth eight or nine thousand SIR JOHN LAWSON. 325 pounds: but the marriage of his daughter to a young gen¬ tleman in quality and fortune much above him, (Mr. Richard Norton of Southwick in Hampshire, who had fallen in love with her, and his father, out of tenderness to his son, had consented to it,) had obliged him to give her such a portion as might in some degree make her worthy of so great a fortune; and that he had not reserved so much to himself and wife, and all his other children, which were four or five, as he had given to that daughter.’ He desired them there¬ fore, ‘ that if he should miscarry in this enterprise, the King would give his wife two hundred pounds a year for her life; if he lived, he desired nothing. He hoped he should make some provision for them by his own industry: nor did he desire any other grant or security for this two hundred pounds yearly, than the King’s word and promise, and that they would see it effectual.’ The suit was so modest, and the ground of making it so just and reasonable, that they willingly informed his majesty of it, who as graciously granted it, and spake himself to him of it with very obliging circum¬ stances ; so that the poor man went very contentedly to his work, and perished as gallantly in it with an universal lamen¬ tation. And it is to be presumed that the promise was as well performed to his wife: sure it is, it was exactly complied with w hilst either of those two persons had any pow r er. The victory and triumph of that day was surely very great, and a just argument of public joy: how it came to be no greater shall be said anon. And the trouble and grief in many noble families, for the loss of so many worthy and gallant persons, could not be but very lamentable in wives, in fathers and mothers, and the other nearest relations: but no sorrow was equal, at least none so remarkable, as the King’s w r as for the earl of Falmouth. They who knew his 326 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. majesty best, and had seen how unshaken he had stood in other very terrible assaults, were amazed at the flood of tears he shed upon this occasion. The immenseness of the victory, and the consequences that might have attended it; the safety and preservation of his brother with so much glory, on whose behalf he had had so terrible apprehensions during the three days’ fight, having by the benefit of the wind heard the thunder of the ordnance from the beginning, even after by the lessening of the noise, as from a greater distance, he concluded that the enemy was upon flight: yet all this, and the universal joy that he saw in the countenance of all men for the victory and the safety of the duke, made no impression in him towards the mitigation of his passion for the loss of this young favourite, in whom few other men had ever observed any virtue or quality which they did not wish their best friends without; and very many did believe that his death was a great ingredient and considerable part of the victory. He was young and of insatiable ambition; and a little more experience might have taught him all things which his weak parts were capable of. But they who observed the strange degree of favour he had on the sudden arrived to, even from a detestation the King had towards him, and concluded from thence, and more from the deep sorrow the King was possessed with for his death, to what a prodigious height he might have reached in a little time more, were not at all troubled that he was taken out-of the way. The Stuart family. The truth is, it was the unhappy fate and constitution of that family, that they trusted naturally the judgments of these, who were as much inferior to them in understanding THE STUART FAMILY. 327 as they were in quality, before their own, which was very good ; and suffered even their natures, which disposed them to virtue and justice, to be prevailed upon and altered and corrupted by those, who knew how to make use of some one infirmity that they discovered in them; and by com¬ plying with that, and cherishing and serving it, they by degrees wrought upon the mass, and sacrificed all the other good inclinations to that single vice. They were too much inclined to like men at first sight, and did not love the conversation of men of many more years than themselves, and thought age not only troublesome but impertinent. They did not love to deny, and less to strangers than to their friends; not out of bounty or generosity, which was a flower that did never grow naturally in the heart of either of the families, that of Stuart or the other of Bourbon, but out of an unskilfulness and defect in the countenance: and when they prevailed with themselves to make some pause rather [than] to deny, importunity removed all resolution, which they knew neither how to shut out nor to defend themselves against, even when it was evident enough that they had much rather not consent; which often made that which would have looked like bounty lose all its grace and lustre. If the duke seemed to be more firm and fixed in his resolutions, it was rather from an obstinacy in his will, which he defended by aversion from the debate, than [from] the constancy of his judgment, which was more subject to persons than to arguments, and so as changeable at least as the King’s, which was in greatest danger by surprise: and from this want of steadiness and irresolution (whence¬ soever the infirmity proceeded) most of the misfortunes, which attended either of them or their servants who served 328 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. them honestly, had [their] rise and growth; of which there will be shortly an occasion, and too frequently, to say much more. In the mean time it cannot be denied, and was ob¬ served and confessed by all, that never any prince had a more humble and dutiful condescension and submission to an elder brother, than the duke had towards the King: his whole demeanour and behaviour was so full of reverence that [it] might have given example to be imitated by those, who ought but did not observe a greater distance. And the conscience and resentment he had within himself, for the sally he had made in Flanders, made him after so wary in his actions, and so abhorring to hear any thing that might lessen his awe for the King, that no man who had most credit with [him] durst approach towards any thing of that kind; so that there was never less ground of jealousy than of him. And (as was said before) the King (who was in his nature so far from any kind of jealousy, that he was too much inclined to make interpretations of many words and actions which might reasonably harbour other appre¬ hensions) was as incapable of any infusions which might lessen his confidence in his brother, as any noble and vir¬ tuous mind could be. The Eabl op Southampton. There happened at this time an accident that made a fatal breach into the chancellor’s fortune, with a gap wide enough to let in all that ruin which soon after was poured upon him The earl of Southampton, the treasurer, with whom he had an entire fast friendship, and who, when they were togethe had credit enough with the King and at the board to prevent, at least to defer, any very unreasonable resolution, was no THE EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON. 329 ready to expire with the stone; a disease that had kept him in great pain many months, and for which he had sent to Paris for a surgeon to be cut, but had deferred it too long by the physicians not agreeing what the disease was : so that at last he grew too weak to apply that remedy. They who had with so much industry, and as they thought ertainty, prevailed with the King at Oxford to have removed im from that office, had never since intermitted the pur¬ ring the design, and persuaded his majesty, ‘ that his srvice had suffered exceedingly by his receding from his purpose; ’ and did not think their triumph notorious enough, if they suffered him to die in the office: insomuch as when he grew so weak, that it is true he could not sign any orders with his hand, which was four or five days before his death, tiey had again persuaded the King to send for the staff, lut the chancellor again prevailed with him not to do so ungracious an act to a servant who had served him and his ather so long and so eminently, to so little purpose as the avishing an office unseasonably, which must within five or ix days fall into his hands, as it did within less time, by his leath. He was a person of extraordinary parts, of faculties very liscerning and a judgment very profound, great eloquence n his delivery, without the least affectation of words, for he always spake best on the sudden. In the beginning of the roubles, he was looked upon amongst those lords who were east inclined to the Court, and so most acceptable to the >eople; he was in truth not obliged by the Court, and thought himself oppressed by it, which his great spirit could lot bear; and so he had for some years forbore to be much seen there, which was imputed to a habit of melancholy, to which he was naturally inclined, though it appeared more in 330 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. his countenance than in his conversation, which to those with whom he was acquainted was very cheerful. The great friendship that had been between their fathers made many believe, that there was a confidence between the earl of Essex and him ; which was true to that degree as could be between men of so different natures and under¬ standings. And when they came to the Parliament in the year 1640, they appeared both unsatisfied with the prudence and politics of the court, and were not reserved in de¬ claring it, when the great officers were called in question for great transgressions in their several administrations: but in the prosecution there was great difference in their passions and their ends. The earl of Essex was a great lover of justice, and could not have been tempted to consent to the oppression of an innocent man: but in the discerning the several species of guilt, and in the proportioning the degrees of punishment to the degree of guilt, he had no faculties or measure of judging; nor was above the temptation of general prejudice, and it may be of particular disobligations and resentments, which proceeded from the weakness of his judgment, not the malice of his nature. The earl of South¬ ampton was not only an exact observer of justice, but so clear-sighted a discerner of all the circumstances which might disguise it, that no false or fraudulent colour could impose upon him; and of so sincere and impartial a judgment, that no prejudice to the person of any man made him less awake to his cause; but believed that there is ‘ aliquid et in hostem nefas,’ and that a very ill man might be very unjustly dealt with. This difference of faculties divided them quickly in the progress of those businesses, in the beginning whereof they were both of one mind. They both thought the Crown had THE EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON. 331 committed great excesses in the exercise of its power, which the one thought could not be otherwise prevented, than by [its] being deprived of it: the consequence whereof the other too well understood, and that the absolute taking away that power that might do hurt, would likewise take away some of that which was necessary for the doing good ; and that a monarch cannot be deprived of a fundamental right, without such a lasting wound to monarchy itself, that they who have most shelter from it and stand nearest to it, the nobility, could [not] continue long in their native strength, if the Crown received a maim. Which if the earl of Essex had comprehended, who set as great a price upon nobility as any man living did, he could never have been wrought upon to have contributed to his own undoing; which the other knew was unavoidable, if the King were undone. So they were both satisfied that the earl of Strafford had counten¬ anced some high proceedings, which could not be supported by any rules of justice, though the policy of Ireland, and the constant course observed in the government of [that kingdom], might have excused and justified many of the high proceedings with w'hich he was reproached: and they who had now the advantage-ground, by being thought to be most solicitous for the liberty of the subject, and most vigilant that the same outrages might not be transplanted out of the other kingdom into this, looked upon him as having the strongest influence upon the counsels of England as well as governor of Ireland. Then he had declared him¬ self so averse and irreconcilable to the sedition and rebellion of the Scots, that the whole nation had contracted so great an animosity against him, that less than his life could not secure them from the fears they had conceived of him: and this fury of theirs met with a full concurrence from those of the 332 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. English, who could not compass their own ends without their help. And this combination too soon drew the earl of Essex, who had none of their ends, into their party, to satisfy his pride and his passion, in removing a man who seemed to have no regard for him; for the stories, which were then made of disobligations from the earl of Strafford towards the earl of Clanrickard, were without any foundation of truth. ***** His own natural disposition inclined to melancholic ; and his retirement from all conversation, in which he might have given some vent to his own thoughts, with the discontinu¬ ance of all those bodily exercises and recreations to which he had been accustomed, brought many diseases upon him, which made his life less pleasant to him; so that from the time of the King’s return, between the gout and the stone, he underwent great affliction. Yet upon the happy return of his majesty he seemed to recover great vigour of mind, and undertook the charge of high treasurer with much alacrity and industry, as long as he had any hope to get a revenue settled proportionable to the expense of the crown, (towards which his interest and authority and counsel con¬ tributed very much,) or to reduce the expense of the Court within the limits of the revenue. But when he discerned that the last did and would still make the former impossible, (upon which he made as frequent and lively representations as he thought himself obliged to do,) and when he saw irregularities and excesses to abound, and to overflow all the banks which should restrain them ; he grew more dis- spirited, and weary of that province, which exposed him to the reproaches which others ought to undergo, and which supplied him not with authority to prevent them. And he had then withdrawn from the burden, which he infinitely THE EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON. 333 desired to be eased of, but out of conscience of his duty to the King, who he knew would suffer in it; and that the people who knew his affections very well, and already opened their mouths wide against the license of the Court, would believe it worse and incurable if he quitted the station he was in. This, and this only, prevailed with him still to undergo that burden, even when he knew that they who enjoyed the benefit of it were as weary that he should be disquieted with it. He was a man of great and exemplary virtue and piety, and very regular in his devotions; yet was not generally believed by the bishops to have an affection keen enough for the government of the Church, because he was willing and desirous, that somewhat more might have been done to gratify the presbyterians than they thought just. But the truth is; he had a perfect detestation of all the presbyterian principles, nor had ever had any conversation with their persons, having during all those wicked times strictly ob¬ served the devotions prescribed by the Church of England ; in the performance whereof he had always an orthodox chaplain, [one of those] deprived of their estates by that government, which disposed of the church as well as of the state. But it is very true, that upon the observation of the great power and authority which the presbyterians usurped and were possessed of, even when Cromwell did all he could to divest them of it, and applied all his interest to oppress or suppress them, insomuch as they did often give a check to and divert many of his designs; he did believe that their numbers and their credit had been much greater than in truth [they were]. And then some persons, who had credit with him by being thought to have an equal aversion from them, persuaded him to believe, that they would be satisfied 334 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. with very easy concessions, which would bring no prejudice or inconvenience to the Church. And this imagination pre¬ vailed with him, and more with others who loved them not, to wish that there might be some indulgence towards them. But that which had the strongest influence upon him, and which made him less apprehensive of the venom of any other sect, was the extreme jealousy he had of the power and malignity of the Roman catholics; whose behaviour from the time of the suppression of the regal power, and more scandalously at and from the time of the murder of the King, had very much irreconciled him towards them : and he did believe, that the King and the duke of York had a better opinion of their fidelity, and less jealousy of their affections, than they deserved; and so thought there could not be too great an union of all other interests to control the exorbitance of that. And upon this argument, with his private friends, he was more passionate than in any other. He had a marvellous zeal and affection for the royal family; insomuch as the two sons of the duke of York falling both into distempers, (of which they both shortly after died,) very few days before his death, he was so mar¬ vellously affected with it, that many believed the trouble of it, or a presage what might befall the kingdom by it, hast¬ ened his death some hours: and in the agony of death, the very morning he died, he sent to know how they did; and seemed to receive some relief, when the messenger returned with the news, that they were both alive and in some degree mended. TILE FALL OF CLARENDON. 335 The pall op Clarendon. Within few days after his wife’s death, the King vouchsafed to come to his house to condole with him, and used many gracious expressions to him: yet within less than a fortnight the duke (who was seldom a day without doing him the honour to see him) came to him, and with very much trouble told him, ‘ that such a day, that was past, walking with the King in the park, his majesty asked him how the chancellor did: to which his highness had made answer, that he was the [most] disconsolate person he ever [saw]; and that he had lamented himself to him not only upon the loss of his wife, but out of apprehension that his majesty had of late withdrawn his countenance from him : to which his majesty replied, that he wondered he should think so, but that he would speak more to him of that subject the next day. And that that morning his majesty had held a long discourse with him, in which he told him, that he had received very particu¬ lar and certain intelligence, that when the Parliament should meet again, they were resolved to impeach the chancellor, who was grown very odious to [them], not only for his having opposed them in all those things upon which they had set their hearts, but that they had been informed that he had proposed and advised their dissolution; which had enraged them to that degree, that they had taken a resolution as soon as they came together again to send up an impeach¬ ment against him; which would be a great dishonour to his majesty, and obstruct all his affairs, nor should he be able to protect him or divert them : and therefore that it would be necessary for his service, and likewise for the preservation of the chancellor, that he should deliver up the seal to him. All which he desired the duke ’ (who confessed that he had like- 33 6 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON wise received the same advertisement) ‘ to inform him of and that the chancellor himself should choose the way and the manner of delivering up the seal, whether he would wait upon the King and give it into his own hand, or whether the King should send a secretary or a privy counsellor for it. When the duke had said all that the King had given him in charge, he declared himself 1 to be much unsatisfied with the King’s resolution; and [that] though he had received the same advertisement, and believed that there was a real com bination and conspiracy against him, yet he knew the chancellor’s innocence would not be frighted with it.’ The chancellor was indeed as much surprised with this relation, as he could have been at the sight of a warrant for his execution. He told the duke, ‘ that he did not wonder that the King and his highness had been informed of such a resolution; for that they who had contrived the conspiracy, and done all they could to make it prevalent, could best inform his majesty and his highness of what would probably fall out.’ And thereupon he informed the duke ‘ of what had passed at the day of the last prorogation, and the discourse and promise sir William Coventry had made to them, if they had a mind to be rid of the chancellor: but,’ he said, ‘ that which only afflicted him was, that the King should have no better opinion of his innocence and integrity, than to con elude that such a combination must ruin him. And he was more troubled to find, that the King himself had so terrible an apprehension of [their] power and [their] purposes, as i they might do anything they had a mind to do. He did not believe that he was so odious to the Parliament as he was reported to be; if he were, it was only for his zeal to his majesty’s service, and his insisting upon what his majesty had resolved : but he was confident that when his enemies THE FALL OF CLARENDON. 337 had done all that their malice could suggest against him, it would appear that the Parliament was not of their mind. He v. i hed that he might have the honour to speak with the King, before he returned any answer to his commands/ The duke was pleased graciously to reply, ‘that it was the advice he intended to give him, that he should desire it; and that he doubted not but that he should easily prevail with the King to come to his house, whither he had used so frequently to come, and where he had been so few days before: ’ and at this time the chancellor was not only not well able to walk; besides that it was against the common rules of decency to go so soon out of his house. When the duke iesired the King, that he would vouchsafe to go to Clarendon- house, his majesty very readily consented to it; and said, ‘ he would go thither the next day.’ But that and more days passed ; and then he told the duke, ‘ that since he resolved to take the seal, it would not be so fit for him to go thither; but he would send for the chancellor to come to his own chamber in Whitehall, and he would go thither to him.’ In the mean time it began to be the discourse of the Court: and the duchess, from whom the duke had yet con¬ cealed it, came to be informed of it; who presently went to the King with some passion ; and the archbishop of Canter¬ bury and the general accompanied her, who all besought the King not to take such a resolution. And many other of the Privy Council, with none of whom the chancellor had spoken, taking notice of the rumour, attended the King with the same suit and advice. To all whom his majesty answered, ‘that what he intended was for his good, and the only way to preserve him.’ He held longer discourse to the general, ‘ that he did believe by what his brother had told him, of the extreme agony the chancellor was in upon the death of his z 33 8 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. wife, that he had himself desired to be dismissed from his office; ’ and bade the general ‘ go to him, and bid him come the next morning to his own chamber at Whitehall, and the King would come thither to him.’ And the general came to him with great professions of kindness, which he had well deserved from him, gave him a relation of all that had passed with the King, and concluded, ‘ that what had been done had been upon mistake; and he doubted not, but that upon conference with his majesty all things would be well settled again to his content; ’ which no doubt he did at that time believe as well as wish. Upon Monday, the 26th of August, about ten of the clock in the morning, the chancellor went to his chamber in Whitehall, where he had not been many minutes, before the King and the duke by themselves came into the room. His majesty looked very graciously upon him, and made him sit down; when the other acknowledged ‘the honour his majesty had done him, in admitting him into his presence before he executed a resolution he had taken.’ He said, ‘ that he had no suit to make to him, nor the least thought to dispute with him, or to divert him from the resolution he had taken; but only to receive his determination from him¬ self, and most humbly to beseech him to let him know what fault he had committed, that had drawn this severity upon him from his majesty.’ The King told him, ‘ he had not any thing to object against him; but must always ac¬ knowledge, that he had always served him honestly and faithfully, and that he did believe that never king had a better servant, and that he had taken this resolution for his good and preservation, as well as for his own convenience and security; and that he had verily believed that it had been upon his consent and desire.’ And thereupon his THE FALL OF CLARENDON. 339 majesty entered upon a relation of all that had passed between him and the duke, and ‘ that he really thought his brother had concurred with him in his opinion, as the only way to preserve him.’ In that discourse the duke sometimes positively denied to have said somewhat, and explained other things as not said to the purpose his majesty understood, or that he ever implied that himself thought it fit. The sum of what his majesty said was, ‘ that he was most assured by information that could not deceive him, that the Parliament was resolved, as soon as they should come together again, to impeach the chancellor; and then that his innocence would no more defend and secure him against their power, than the earl of Strafford had defended himself against them : and,’ he said, ‘ he was as sure, that his taking the seal from him at this time would so well please the Par¬ liament, that his majesty should thereby be able to preserve him, and to provide for the passage of his own business, and the obtaining all that he desired.’ He said, ‘ he was sorry that the business had taken so much air, and was so publicly spoken of, that he knew not how to change his purpose; ’ which he seemed to impute to the passion of the duchess, that had divulged it. The chancellor told him, ‘ that he had not contributed to the noise, nor had imparted it to his own children, till they with great trouble informed him, that they heard it from such and such persons,’ whom they named, ‘ with some complaint that it was concealed from them: nor did he then come in hope to divert him from the resolution he had taken in the matter itself.’ He said, ‘ he had but two things to trouble him with. The first, that he would by no means suffer it to be believed that he himself was willing to deliver up the seal; and that he should not think himself a gentle- 34 ° SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. man, if he were willing to depart and withdraw himself from the office, in a time when he thought his majesty would have need of all honest men, and in which he thought he might be able to do him some service. The second, that he could not acknowledge this deprivation to be done in his favour, or in order to do him good; but on the contrary, that he looked upon it as the greatest ruin he could undergo, by his majesty’s own declaring his judgment upon him, which would amount to little less than a confirmation of those many libellous discourses which had been raised, and would upon the matter expose him to the rage and fury of the people, who had been with great artifice and industry persuaded to believe, that he had been the cause and the counsellor of all that they liked not. That he was so far from fearing the justice of the Parliament, that he renounced his majesty’s protection or interposition towards his preserva¬ tion : and that though the earl of Strafford had undergone a sentence he did not deserve, yet he could not acknowledge their cases to be parallel. That though that great person had never committed any offence that could amount to treason, yet he had done many things which he could not justify, and which were transgressions against the law ; whereas he was not guilty of any action, whereof he did not desire the law might be the judge. And if his majesty himself should discover all that he had said to him in secret, he feared not any censure that should attend it: if any body could charge him with any crime or offence, he would most willingly undergo the punishment that belonged to it. ‘ But,’ he said, ‘ he doubted very much, that the throwing off an old servant, who had served the Crown in some trust near thirty years, (who had the honour by the command of his blessed father, who had left good evidence of the esteem THE FALL OF CLARENDON. 341 he had of his fidelity, to wait upon his majesty when he went out of the kingdom, and by the great blessing of God had the honour to return with him again; which no other coun¬ sellor alive could say,) [on the] sudden, without any sugges¬ tion of a crime, nay, with a declaration of innocence, would call his majesty’s justice and good-nature into question; and men would not know how securely to serve him, when they should see it was in the power of three or four persons who had never done him any notable service, nor were in the opinion of those who knew them best like to do, to dispose him to so ungracious an act.’ The King seemed very much troubled and irresolute; then repeated ‘ the great power of the Parliament, and the clear information he had of their purposes, which they were re¬ solved to go through with, right or wrong; and that his own condition was such, that he could not dispute with them, but was upon the matter at their mercy.’ The chancellor told him, ‘ it was not possible for his majesty to have any probable assurance what the Parliament would do. And though he knew he had offended some of the House of Commons, in opposing their desires in such particulars as his majesty thought were prejudicial to his service; yet he did not doubt but his reputation was much greater in both houses, than either of theirs who were known to be his enemies, and to have this influence upon his majesty, who were all known to be guilty of some trans¬ gressions, which they would have been called in question for in Parliament, if he had not very industriously, out of the tenderness he had for his majesty’s honour and service, pre¬ vented it; somewhat whereof was not unknown to his majesty.’ He concluded ‘ with beseeching him, whatever resolution he took in his particular, not to suffer his spirits 342 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. to fall, nor himself to be dejected with the apprehension of the formidable power of the Parliament, which was more or less or nothing, as he pleased to make it: that it was yet in his own power to govern them; but if they found it was in theirs to govern him, nobody knew what the end would be.’ And thereupon he made him a short relation of the method that was used in the time of Richard the Second, ‘ when they terrified the King with the power and the pur¬ poses of the Parliament, till they brought him to consent to that from which he could not redeem himself, and without which they could have done him no harm.’ And in the warmth of this relation he found a seasonable opportunity to mention the lady with some reflections and cautions, which he might more advisedly have declined. After two hours’ discourse, the King rose without saying any thing, but appeared not well pleased with all that had been said; and the duke of York found he was offended with the last part of it. The garden, that used to be private, had now many in it to observe the countenance of the King when he came out of the room : and when the chancellor returned, the lady, the lord Arlington, and Mr. May, looked together out of her open window with great gaiety and triumph, which all people observed. GLAfiENDOW’S TRANQUILLITY IN HIS BANISH¬ MENT. The seventeenth and last article was, ‘That he was a principal author of that fatal counsel of dividing the fleet about June 1666.’ For answer to this, he set down at large an account of all the agitation that was in council upon that affair, and that CLARENDON 3 S TRANQUILLITY IN BANISHMENT. 343 the dividing and separation of the fleet at that time was by the election and advice of the two generals, and not by the order or direction of the Council: all which hath been at large, in that part of this discourse which relates to the transactions of that time, set down, and therefore needs not to be again inserted. He took notice of the prejudice that might befall him, in the opinion of good men, by his absenting himself, and thereby declining the full examination and trial which the public justice would have allowed him; which obliged him to set down all the particulars which passed from the taking the seal from him, the messages he had received by the bishop of Hereford, and finally the advice and command the bishop of Winchester brought him from the duke of York with the approbation of the King. Upon all which, and the great distemper that appeared in the two Houses at that time, and which was pacified upon his withdrawing, he did hope, that all dispassioned men would believe that he had not deserted and betrayed his own innocence; but on the contrary, that he had complied with that obligation and duty which he had always paid to his majesty and to his service, in choosing at that time to sacrifice his own honour to the least intimation of his majesty’s pleasure, and when the least inconvenience might have befallen it by his obstinacy, though in his own defence: and concluded, that though his enemies, who had by all the evil arts imaginable contrived his destruc¬ tion, had yet the power and the credit to infuse into his majesty’s ears stories of words spoken and things done by him, of all which he was as innocent as he was at the time of his birth, and other jealousies of a nature so odious, that themselves had not the confidence publicly to own; yet, he said, notwithstanding all those disadvantages for the present, 344 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. he did not despair, but that his majesty, in his goodness and justice, might in due time discover the foul artifices which had been used to gain credit with him, and would reflect graciously upon some poor services (how over-re¬ warded soever) heretofore performed by him, the memory whereof would prevail with him to think, that the banishing him out of his country, and forcing hint to seek his bread in foreign pails at this age, is a very severe judgment. How¬ ever, he was confident that posterity will clearly discern his innocence and integrity in all those particulars, which have been as untruly as maliciously laid to his charge by men who did nothing before, or have done any thing since, that will make them be thought to be wise or honest men; and will believe his misfortunes to have been much greater than his faults. As soon as he had digested and transmitted this his answer and vindication to his children, which he did in a short time after his arrival at Montpelier, he appeared to all men who conversed with him, to be entirely possessed of so much tranquillity of mind, and so unconcerned in all that had been done to him or said of him, that men believed the temper to be affected with much art; and [that it] could not be natural in a man, who was known to have so great an affection for his own country, the air and climate thereof; and to take so much delight and pleasure in his relations, from whom he was now banished, and at such a distance, that he could not wish that they should undergo the in¬ conveniences in many respects which were like to attend their making him many visits. But when there was visibly always in him such a vivacity and cheerfulness as could not be counterfeited, that was not interrupted nor clouded upon such ill news as came every week out of England, clarendon's tranquillity IN BANISHMENT. 345 of the improvement of the power and insolence of his =■ emies; all men concluded, that he had somewhat about 1 im above a good constitution, and prosecuted him with all the offices of civility and respect they could manifest -yards a stranger. NOTES. Note 1 , pp. 1 - 4 . The introductory portion of the History is an admirable specimen of Clarendon’s style and manner. The sentences are long and somewhat involved, but there is dignity and distinction in his calm, though some¬ what pretentious declaration of his motives. The passage was a favourite of Hume’s, who in several places gives evidence of the influ¬ ence Clarendon exercised on his style. There is no reason to doubt the religious feelings of Clarendon, although fault has been found with such appeals as he makes in the early part of the Introduction. Note 2 , pp. 5 - 19 . In spite of all the light thrown by Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Brewer on the reign of the first of the Stuarts, there are many points of interest which involve the student of the period in perplexed consideration. The whole character and government of the Duke of Buckingham presents remarkable difficulty. Clarendon commences his character in two sen¬ tences, which are masterpieces of quiet irony. That the person of Buckingham was his original passport to favour is of course clear. His contemporaries, however, greatly undervalued his intellectual powers. Clarendon is evidently taking great pains with Buckingham, and seems to have felt his fascination, much in the same way that Laud did. Some believe that Buckingham had visions of an absolute monarchy, fashioned after the French example. But that his policy was generally dictated by the exigencies of the moment is evident from the careful investigations of Mr. Gardiner and the great German his¬ torian. Mr. Green’s account of the Spanish policy of James I and Buckingham leaves little to be desired. The breach with Spain in 1624, the result of the intrigue of Charles I and Buckingham, is a striking illustration of the force of Buckingham’s character, and the obstinate weakness of Charles I. For once James I was in the right, 348 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. while the favourite and his son were bent on developing their disastrous policy. There is great spirit and vivacity in Clarendon’s brief account of Buckingham’s freaks on the Continent, and the attentive reader cannot fail to mark the quiet undertone in which the historian shows his knowledge of human nature. Note 3, pp. 19-30. In Sir Thomas Coventry and Sir Richard Weston, Clarendon has two capital subjects, and among the minor personages of his gallery no portraits are touched with greater discrimination. There is something pathetic in the description of Coventry’s death, and the portrait, though short, is as distinct and clear as the longer one of Sir Richard Weston. The story of Weston and Sir Julius Coesar is an apt illustration of Clarendon’s lighter narrative. Some critics of the History have objected to the introduction of characters hardly possessing much historical significance, and it may be true that the general narrative is sometimes sluggish. But if it be remembered that the title of ‘ Memoirs ’ would perhaps have been more appropriate than ‘ History,’much of this objection would be removed. A minute account of the long struggle which ended in the imprisonment of Sir John Eliot formed no part of Clarendon’s plan. But it is impossible to refrain from wishing that the period dealt with by Mr. John Forster in his Life of Sir John Eliot had been graphi¬ cally treated by Clarendon. The Strafford letters and some of the Calendars of State Papers should be consulted by students who wish to grasp the leading features of the personal government in the early part of Charles I’s reign. Note 4, pp. 31-40. Manchester, Arundel, Pembroke, Montgomery, Dorset, Holland, Cooke, Carleton, although possessing distinct characteristics, do not seem to demand any special comment. The character of the Earl of Pembroke, however, is admirably drawn, and the dignity of style is nowhere more evident than in the graceful sentences which describe the poor nature of the Earl of Arundel. On Attorney-General Noy and Sir John Finch, Clarendon did not evidently bestow much pains. He was no friend to lawyers, and seems to have felt that they were too prominent in the history of the great struggle. Every reader of the history is conscious of the deepened tone of interest which pervades the narrative, when Clarendon approaches the stirring time when he played so prominent a part. In his account of the reign of James I he has had to rely upon the general tradition of the time. But when he comes NOTES. 349 to treat of the troubles in Scotland and the rapid rush of events which led to the fall of Strafford and the discomfiture of ‘ Thorough ’ he seems to tread with firmer footing, and there is a perceptible difference in the march of his narrative. Note 5, pp. 47-52. To the narrative of the troubles in Scotland, briefly given by Clarendon, much interesting material has been added by recent researches. The folly of the king, and the impracticable obstinacy of Laud, become more and more conspicuous as fresh revelations are made as to the intensity of the religious feeling of Scotland, and the failure of the king to perceive the grave issues involved in the struggle. Clarendon evidently labours hard to do justice to Laud, but he cannot conceal his aversion. His courage in his hour of suffering, and ‘ his learning, piety, and virtue,’ extract from him in the account of his execution a feeling tribute. It is hardly possible to do justice to Laud, the theologian, even in these days of calm historical scrutiny. The late Professor Mozley, in an elaborate essay, gave a highly-coloured picture of Laud as he appeared to the eyes of those who took a prominent part in the Oxford movement. Laud must always possess a peculiar interest for those who believe that it is possible for a churchman to play a part in political history. He made the attempt, and the failure is written in the Strafford letters, where Laud is seen at his best, a firm friend, a real believer in Wentworth’s theory, not without humour of a grim kind, and in spite of much superstitious integument, a devout believer in his own system. To accuse Laud of an underhand design to introduce popery, is entirely to mistake his attitude. In his famous conference with Fisher the Jesuit, he puts the case and position of the English Church with definite clearness. He believed that if he had only a free hand he could have crushed the Puritan movement, and once master of the situation, he would probably, as he did in the case of Hales and Chillingworth, have proved that he could be tolerant and forgiving. Lord Macaulay did not show his usual sagacity in his estimate of Laud. Laud cannot be with justice made responsible for the cruel treatment of offenders. He was in no way ahead of his age, and it is hardly fair to expect him to treat men differently from the way in which all in authority at that time abused power. What we might have expected a man of Laud’s insight to discover, was the desirableness of treating with the Puritan movement in such a way as to render compromise not impossible. But the disciples of ‘ Thorough ’ could only see before them an organized absolutism, and a complete repression of antagonist opinion. The chapter in Ranke’s History, vol. ii, which gives an account of the tendencies of 35 ° SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. the age, contains an admirable account of the difference between the policy of James and his son. The influence of Laud upon the king’s view of the prerogative in ecclesiastical affairs has hardly ever received sufficient consideration. Clarendon indeed may have perceived the fatal consequences of Laud’s influence, but it is hardly apparent in his account of the Archbishop’s supremacy. Mr. Wakeman, in his work upon the Church and the Puritans, has given a candid and truthful account of Laud’s ecclesiastical reforms. Those, however, who wish to make Laud and his times a complete study, must consult Heylyn, Le Bas, and the careful reprint of Laud’s writings in the Anglo-Catholic Library. Professor Masson, in his elaborate ‘ Life of Milton,’ has accumulated a rich mass of material for the use of the student of this period. Note 6, pp. 54-55, also pp. 63-78. Professor Gardiner, in a most interesting introduction to an annotated edition of Mr. Browning’s Tragedy of Strafford, has given an extract from Mr. Forster’s Life of Strafford which ought to be read along with Clarendon’s narrative. Professor Gardiner says with great justice that it ‘ rises far above Mr. Forster’s ordinary level,’ and exhibits the ‘ true theory of the identity of Strafford’s life : ’— ‘In one word, what is desired to impress upon the reader, before the delineation of Wentworth in his after years, is this—that he was con¬ sistent to himself throughout. I have always considered that much good wrath is thrown away upon what is usually called “apostasy.” In the majority of cases if the circumstances are thoroughly examined it will be found there has been “ no such thing.” The position on which the acute Roman thought fit to base his whole theory of Aesthetics— “ Humano capiti cervicem pictor equinam Jungere si velit, et varias inducere plumas Undique collatis membris, ut turpiter atrum Desinat in piscem mulier formosa superne, Spectatnm admissi risum teneatis amici ? ”— is of far wider application than to the exigencies of an art of poetry; and those who carr)' their researches into the moral nature of mankind, cannot do better than impress upon their minds, at the outset, that in the regions they explore they are to expect no monsters, no essentially discordant termination to any “ mulier formosa superne.” ‘ Against all such conclusions I earnestly protest in the case of the remarkable personage whose ill-fated career we are now retracing. Let him be judged sternly, but in no unphilosophic spirit. In turning from the bright band of patriot brothers to the solitary Strafford—“a star NOTES. 35 1 which dwelt apart”—we have to contemplate no extinguished splendour, razed and blotted from the book of life. Lustrous, indeed, as was the gathering of the lights in the political heaven of this great time, even that radiant cluster might have exulted in the accession of the “ comet beautiful and fierce ” which tarried awhile within its limits ere it “ dashed athwart with train of flame.” But it was governed by other laws than were owned by its golden associates, and—impelled by a contrary, yet no less irresistible force, than that which restrained them within their eternal orbits—it left them, never to ‘float into that azure heaven again.’” Mr. Gardiner rightly says that Mr. Forster’s Life of Strafford did not answer the expectation raised by these sentences. He saw in Strafford a man of zeal and energy, but he had not the clear insight of Mr. Green, who says that in his earlier days Strafford aimed at the restoration of the Tudor system, when the sovereign was the natural head of the people, but when parliaments were simply the creatures of the crown. There will always rage a battle of opinion round the character of Strafford. Whatever else may be thought of him, he is always interesting. His stem and able rule in Ireland conferred immediate benefit on the unhappy country. He ruled as tyrant, but he delivered the Irish people from a mob of tyrants. Unfortunately the reconciliation of Protestant and Catholic was hindered by his eccle¬ siastical policy. Clarendon evidently had no love for Strafford. But there is no real unfairness in his account of the trial, and the circum¬ stances attending the Bill of Attainder. It is clear also that, in his account of the King’s conduct, Clarendon puts a considerable restraint upon himself. Strafford was never a favourite of Henrietta Maria’s. From his correspondence it appears that he was aware of secret intrigues intended to stop his progress, and doubtless Strafford’s un¬ disguised attempt to make himself the Richelieu of the situation must have impressed the Queen’s mind with the feeling that the great minister aimed at more than the assertion of royal prerogative. Mr. Green’s defence of the Bill of Attainder is undoubtedly able, but opinion on the whole is strong in favour of those who think that the public safety hardly demanded such a departure from precedent. Even Mr. Green admits that the technical proof of treason was not strong. Pym and Hampden were content to rely on impeachment; but, as has often happened in English history, the extremists carried the day. An interesting essay by the late Lord Lytton, reprinted from the Quarterly Review, should be read by those who desire a greater knowledge of the trial of Strafford. What Clarendon calls the courage and Christianity of his death, has greatly affected the historical estimate of Strafford’s strange and commanding character. 352 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. Note 7, p. 60. Hampden is the favourite of almost all who have written upon this portion of English history. There are few historical characters more attractive. When he refused in 1636 the illegal impost of ship-money, he became at once the champion of freedom and the favourite of all friends of constitutional liberty. He was one of those who meditated the abandonment of England, and he had actually purchased land in the New World. Inferior to Pym in political ability, he possessed qua¬ lities which fascinated his fellow-countrymen. Lord Macaulay in one of his early essays has drawn a careful portrait of the Buckinghamshire squire, but the few words of Clarendon leave perhaps as strong an im¬ pression of his greatness, and the charm of his character. In the second extract, pp. 151-155, Clarendon betrays his real opinion as to the great¬ ness of the man, whose real temper and genius he never seems to have entirely understood. The account of Hampden’s last hours is one of the most pathetic passages in English history, and the passage from the Weekly Intelligencer, given by Lord Nugent in his memorials of Hampden, has been fully justified by the increasing admiration of after ages. ‘ The loss of Colonel Hampden goeth near the heart of every man that loves the good of his King and country, and makes some con¬ ceive little content to be at the army now that he is gone. The memory of this deceased colonel is such that in no age to come but it will more and more be had in honour and esteem ; a man so religious, and of that prudence, judgment, temper, value, and integrity, that he hath left few his like behind.’ Note 8, p. 61. The character of Vane is one of the best of what may be called the second gallery of the historian. Vane was in all respects a remarkable man. In the reign of James I his father held many offices of import¬ ance, and was sent as ambassador to Gustavus Adolphus. The part he played in the prosecution of Lord Strafford made him unacceptable to Charles I. Vane had a good deal of the fanatic in his composition, and there is a remarkable account of him in Richard Baxter’s auto¬ biography. There is no doubt that what Clarendon says is true, that the title of Raby, which Strafford took, was coveted by the Vanes, and that the feeling of the father and son was inspired by the recollection of their wrong. Note 9, p. 82. Mr. Forster has given us an elaborate account of the debates on the Grand Remonstrance. Party passion rose to its height, in all the NOTES. 353 ,c>unts of this remarkable affair. Mr. Forster writes with a strong •nus against Clarendon, but in spite of all his efforts the dignified . impressive narrative will continue to maintain its ground. Some, •vhose opinion is entitled to respect, think that Forster greatly exag¬ gerates the importance of the Diary of Sir Simonds D’Ewes, and the very lengthy accounts which D’Ewes gives of his own stilted orations incline dispassionate readers of the literature of the period to adopt that view. No doubt Clarendon was at the time of the Remonstrance in a state of great mental uncertainty. He was a real admirer of the Church system, and believed in the possibilities of reform. It was natural that he should look with suspicion on the conduct of Pym and Hampden, and there is perhaps ground for the belief that his account of the debate is highly coloured. The intensity of the feeling of the moment is felt throughout the passage. It was a great crisis in the national struggle. ‘ Had it been rejected,’ said Cromwell, speaking of the Remonstrance, ‘ I would have sold to-morrow all I possess, and left England to-morrow.’ Falkland’s speech in the debate marked his severance from the popular party. It was only by a majority of n that the Remonstrance was finally carried ; and there is nothing perhaps sadder in the history of the struggle than the firm persuasion which im¬ partial students of the period must entertain, that even at this supreme moment bloodshed might have been averted, had the King only pos¬ sessed the firmness and sagacity of Elizabeth or William III. Guizot and Ranke have shown great judgment in their accounts of the par¬ liamentary action of this time. In Mr. Carlyle’s Essays there is an interesting paper on an election to the Long Parliament, but since the time when he wrote great discoveries have been made as to the value of Sir Simonds D’Ewes’ work as a narrative of events. The judgment, however, of Mr. Carlyle would probably be confirmed. Those who have made special study of the period may probably be inclined to think, as I have already said, that Mr. Forster, who quotes largely from D’Ewes, has over-estimated his treasure-trove. Note 10, p. 85. he character of Lord Digby is one of the very best in the series, and re last few sentences Clarendon delineates with great fairness and l the unhappy influence he exerted on the king’s policy. Digby learnt lessons in the school of king-craft, and he found an apt pupil s royal master. It is probable that if he had remained in the House ommons he might have served the cause of Charles more efficiently, the miserable story of his unfortunate suggestion as to the five a a 354 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. members might never have been made. In Mr. Forster’s 'Arrest of the Five Members’ there is a note on the appointment of Lunsford, where he bears somewhat heavily upon Clarendon. But there seems hardly reason for this grave censure, although the levity and indiscretion of Digby afford some colour for the belief that in appointing a successor to the governorship of the Tower in Lunsford, there was a careful design against the liberties of the five members. Digby probably only thought of advancing his own creature. Note 11, pp. 88-94. The arrest of the five members has been given in full. No passage in Clarendon’s History has been more keenly scrutinised. Mr. Forster’s volume ought to be thoroughly mastered, for although his prejudices are strong, he has carefully examined all the accounts of this remarkable story. It must be remembered that while there were some who merely desired, like Pym and Falkland, the dismissal of the clergy from secular duties, and the expulsion of the bishops from the House of Lords, there was a rising party anxious to go further. Bishop Williams and some others protested against the bill for the removal of bishops being dis¬ cussed in their absence, which they said was caused by the violence of the mob. The quarrels of the King’s friends and the Parliamentarians caused grave alarm, and at that moment the five members were accused of treason in their traffic with the Scots. The resolution of the King to enter the House seems to have been suddenly taken. Clarendon cer¬ tainly understates the numbers that the King had with him, and there was no doubt an intention of forcibly removing the members had they been present. The Speaker’s conduct was simple and dignified, and it is impossible not to read the words in Rushworth’s original note—‘ Well, since I see all my birds are flown, I do expect from you that you will send them unto me as soon as they return hither ’—without a feeling of emotion. Charles must at that moment have felt that he was entering upon a new stage of the struggle, and when the cry of ‘ Privilege! Privilege ! ’ rang in his ears, he must have known that evil days were in store for him. From Wednesday, the 5th of January', when the King determined on a conference with the city authorities, and failed in his effort to secure the persons of the five members, and again heard the cry of the privileges of Parliament, it is not too much to say, in Mr. Forster’s words, that ‘ he had thrown and lost the stake.’ There is a grave difference between Clarendon’s account of what followed in the House of Commons and the statements made by D’Ewes, Vemey, and Rushworth. Experience of the variations in the accounts which we NOTES. 355 have of such scenes as took place in Paris in 1848 in the Chamber, by different persons all anxiously bent on giving their own impressions of passing events, will probably incline fair-minded readers to give Claren¬ don the benefit of a doubt. The position which he and the King’s new advisers found themselves in, was one of great trial. Culpepper, Falkland, and Clarendon never really obtained the full confidence of the King. They had the odious task of endeavouring to strike a stroke in favour of what they believed to be constitutional prerogatives of the Crown, while they were aware that Charles was really anxious to restore personal government. The proclamation of the King, accusing the members of high treason, made a middle course of action impossible. To use Mr. Forster’s words : ‘ It had become clear that the attempt upon the members could not be defeated without a complete overthrow of the power of the King. He could not remain at Whitehall if they returned to Westminster. Charles raised the issue, the Commons ac¬ cepted it, and so began our great Civil War. The King drew the sword upon the day when he went with his armed followers to arrest the five members in their places in the House. The House of Commons un¬ furled their standard on the day when, declining to surrender their members, they branded with the epithet of a scandalous paper the articles of impeachment issued by the King.’ Note 12, pp. 100-107. The interesting account of Sir John Hotham’s conduct at Hull is a good specimen of Clarendon’s faculty for telling a story. The part played by Digby is admirably given, and there is a grim irony in the by-play of Hotham, who felt himself in the hands of a skilful intriguer. There is a touch of humour in Clarendon’s account of Hotham’s deci¬ sion : ‘ If the King would come before the town, though with but one regiment, and plant his cannon against it, and make but one shot, he should think he had discharged his trust to the Parliament, as far as he ought to do, and that he would immediately then deliver up the town, which he made no doubt he should be able to do.’ Note 13, pp. 107-113. Lyttelton was by no means a fortunate politician. As a lawyer his reputation was high, but he wanted the real requisites demanded by the changing conditions of popular opinion. He gave unfortunate advice on the question of the five members, and in consequence of his favour¬ able view of the Ordinance of Militia, he lost the favour of the King, and would have lost the great seal had he not been fortunate enough to a a 2 356 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. secure the influence of Clarendon. In Lord Campbell’s ‘ Lives of the Chancellors’ there is a good account of his position as a lawyer, and the life is, upon the whole, one of the best specimens of Lord Campbell’s ability as a biographer. The story of Pierrepoint and Dencourt is an apt illustration of the almost anecdotal character of certain portions of the History. Pierrepoint took his side with the King early in the struggle. Clarendon accuses him of parsimony, but his general reputation was that of being ‘ a good man,’ an epithet which is not generally given in England to men who are accused of want of liberality. He was accidentally killed by a volley fired on the vessel in which he was a cap¬ tive in 1643. Note 14, pp. 113-120. The account of the battle of Edge Hill is full of interest. A very complete account is given in the notes to the sixth book of Clarendon, edited by Mr. Arnold, and I must refer all who desire accurate informa¬ tion to his interesting summary. Cromwell most probably took part in the battle, and no credence can be given to the intemperate account of Denzil Hollis, penned in his exile, and intended to damage Cromwell. Clarendon, of course, does not possess the power and eloquence which imparted such a charm to Sir William Napier’s accounts of battles in his ‘ History of the Peninsular War.’ He writes as a civilian, anxious to convey the general impression of the fight. The stories of the cruelties of Prince Rupert and his followers were no doubt greatly exaggerated. On the whole the Parliamentarian party suffered most severely. The withdrawal of the Earl of Essex gave the King a semblance of victory, but the sturdiness and vigour of his opponents had been clearly shown. Probably if Prince Rupert had prevailed on the King to return to Lon¬ don a very different history might have followed. The occupation of Oxford was one of the most unfortunate steps taken by the King. Note 15, pp. 120, 122-124. The description of the last moments of the Earl of Lindsey is a touch¬ ing instance of the many horrors of a time of civil war. He was a man of high character, who felt the slight put upon him by Prince Rupert deeply. Lord St. John was not the ancestor of the famous Henry St. John, Viscount Bolingbroke. The title of the earldom came to an end in 1711. Note 16, pp. 127-129. Northampton was a great favourite of King Charles. He had been admitted to great intimacy, and was with him when he went with NOTES. 357 Buckingham to Spain in 1623. The picture which Clarendon draws of the careless man of pleasure, awakened out of his selfishness into a noble temper of endurance and fortitude, cannot fail to impress the imagination. Indeed, it seems as if all the portraits of this period are executed with a remarkable brilliance and power. The historian evi¬ dently felt deeply the withdrawal of these men from their proper spheres of action and employment, and the loss which was incurred by the country when the demons of discord were let loose. Note 17, pp. 129-147. The sixth chapter of the sixth book of the History is really a gallery of portraits. They may be grouped together, although each possesses distinctive features. The Duke of Richmond, being of royal blood, was a figure of interest. He possessed the Stuart infirmity of purpose. Lord Southampton was a man of high public spirit, with much of Falkland’s temper. Southampton lived to see the Restoration, and won fame as a financier. The earls who form a group were not men of remarkable consideration, but the Earl of Bristol enjoyed a greater reputation than Clarendon is inclined to allow him. His differences with his son, Lord Digby, undoubtedly lessened his reputation. Savile was notoriously the personal foe of Strafford. The Earl of Berkshire attained a great age, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. Duns- more was a distant connexion of the ancestor of the present Lord Leigh. Seymour, ennobled at the instance of Strafford, was a pattern Cavalier. Note 18, pp. 140-144. The Earls of Warwick and Manchester are drawn at full length. The language is stately, and there is an evident desire on Clarendon’s part to do some justice to the characters. The Earl of Manchester’s conduct with regard to the restoration of Charles II was no doubt the result of his disgust at the weakness of Richard Cromwell. There is an amusing instance of Clarendon’s sententiousness in his account of Manchester’s Church opinions: * The true logic is, that the thing desired is not necessary, if the ways are unlawful which are proposed to bring it to pass.’ Note 19, pp. 144-146. According to Whitelocke, Lord Say and Sele was a man of remarkable character, but it is evident he had aroused the deep displeasure of the historian. His reconciliation to the Court after the Restoration created great indignation amongst the extreme Royalists. Although he was the 358 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. author of some political pamphlets, it is believed that several which he had the credit of writing were composed by his son, Nathaniel Fiennes. Note 20, pp. 155-168. I have already in my Preface alluded to this beautiful character, so well known to all real lovers of grand historical figures. Those who are anxious to know something of the charm and fascination attaching to Falkland ought to study the late Principal Tulloch’s most interesting account in his ‘ Rational Theology and Christian Philosophy in Eng¬ land in the Seventeenth Century.’ Falkland possessed the power which is given to so few of impressing his contemporaries with a most perfect belief in his integrity. Over Clarendon he seems to have exercised a real fascination. Mr. Matthew Arnold has given us, in one of his volumes of Essays, a most interesting picture of Falkland in his retired solitude at Great Tew, and it is not too much to say that the manly pathos of Clarendon’s affecting account of Falkland’s last days will re¬ main an imperishable record of one of the noblest characters of English history. It is said that Sir James Mackintosh, who was fond of reading extracts from Clarendon to his family, burst into tears as he came to the words ‘ Peace, peace,’ and was so agitated that on some later occasion, when he was asked to read aloud, he said, ‘ I will read anything but Clarendon’s character of Falkland.’ Note 21, pp. 174-177. Clarendon has certainly done little justice to the character of Pym. Pym, however, has found in the late Mr. Green and Mr. Goldwin Smith two champions of his fame who have done more than justice to his extraordinary ability and foresight. Much has been discovered since Mr. Forster drew his sketch of Pym in his ‘ Statesmen of the Common¬ wealth,’ and few will now call in question Mr. Green’s emphatic de¬ claration, that Pym ‘ was the first English statesman who discovered, and applied to the political circumstances around him, what may be called the doctrine of constitutional proportion.’ Pym’s doctrine as to the supremacy of the House of Commons has since 1832 obtained the acknowledgment of all parties in the state. Pym was no revolutionist, and had his life been prolonged the course of events might have been greatly changed. The scandals as to his character, widely circulated amongst the Royalists, have little foundation. When the war broke out Pym showed himself in his true colours, and he made many efforts to control the violent temper of the extreme Presbyterians and fanatical leaders. His alliance with the Scots was forced upon him, and his un- NOTES. 359 timely death led to great confusion in the Parliamentarian camp. Mr. Goldwin Smith’s picture of Pym ought to be read by all who wish to understand the progress of the struggle. Pym died in December, 1643, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. His famous speech delivered on April 13, 1641, made a great impression on the King. At the Restoration the bodies of Pym and Blake were removed from the Abbey and placed in St. Margaret’s churchyard. The resemblance between Pym and Mirabeau, which some delighted to trace, is somewhat fanci¬ ful. £10,000 was voted to pay Pym’s debts. No stain of dishonour or corruption attaches to Pym, who may be pronounced on the whole to be one of the noblest members the House of Commons can boast of. Note 22, pp. 181-183. Newcastle is vigorously drawn. He may be called upon the whole a pattern Cavalier. His defence of York was vigorous. A quarrel with Prince Rupert led to his withdrawal abroad. He incurred great losses in the royal cause, and was rewarded with a duchy at the Restoration. Plorace Walpole calls the duke and the duchess a fantastic couple, and that verdict is not likely to be challenged by any who pay attention to their strange literary productions. Note 23, pp. 184-190. This extract is long, but it seemed necessary to give a specimen of Clarendon’s power as a simple narrator of episodes in the war, and in the relief of Basing House there is a dignified simplicity really attractive and characteristic. The picture of the march of the troops from Oxford in their scarfs and ribands, that they might be taken for the Parliament soldiers, is a touch which gives life and colour to the narrative. Note 24, pp. 190-194. Sir Richard Greenville is also drawn with great skill. He was the younger brother of Sir Bevil, whose loss in the engagement at Lans- down, near Bath, was nothing short of a calamity to the royal cause. Granville, a minor poet, favourably mentioned by Pope, was the de¬ scendant of Sir Bevil, not, as has been said by some, of Sir Richard. Note 25, pp. 198-200. The King was anxious as well as Prince Rupert for the battle of Naseby. Cromwell, on the other hand, had great misgivings. The charge of Rupert, though furious, was not sustained, and Cromwell, 3 6 ° SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. who had kept a stem hold on the enthusiasm of his troops, fell on the royal force with such strength that a panic ensued. This was the crisis of the struggle. It is evident that Clarendon in his brief narrative can hardly bear to dwell upon the disaster at Naseby. The quarrel of the sects and the supremacy of the army are chief features in the strange confusion of the time. Note 26, pp. 201-203. Clarendon’s estimate of the two cardinals is so distinctive as to make us wish that he had drawn Richelieu and Mazarin at full length. The whole career of Richelieu had great interest for the politicians in the Civil War. It is doubtful how far the nature of the struggle in England was grasped by a Frenchman, and there are indications in the letters, which have recently seen the light, of a belief on the part of Mazarin that the rebellion in England might have been extinguished easily. The religious fervour of the Puritan party was not understood in France. Note 27, PP. 208-216, 219-229. The whole account of the King and his children, his escape, and his retreat to the Isle of Wight, is full of interest, and told with remarkable historical power. The letters of Cromwell to Hammond, which are to be found in Mr. Carlyle’s well-known work, ought to be very carefully read. No portion of English history has been so accurately examined by competent critics, but there is good reason to believe that the calm and judicial treatment it has received from Ranke will probably hold the field. In the eleventh book of the History, where Clarendon gives his account of the last days of Charles, and gives his final judgment on his character, his language is grave and solemn. He entirely suppresses his own feelings as to the negotiations carried on with the Scots, and in the words ‘he was the worthiest gentleman, the best master, the best friend, the best husband, the best father, and the best Christian ’ that the age in which he lived produced, we may well believe that the man within the man speaks, and that the historian has forgotten all blemishes and king-craft in his desire to do justice to the master he really loved. Ranke’s judgment it is well to add. ‘To some it will appear scarcely allowable in the light of our times to revert to the question how far the words repeatedly uttered by Charles I in the solemn moments between this life and eternity, that he died as a martyr, really expressed a truth. Certainly not so in the sense that has been attached to them, that he was merely a sufferer who lived and bled for the known truth. He was rather a prince who all his life long fought for his own rights and power, NOTES. 361 which he, if ever man did, personally exercised, seeking at first to ex¬ pend, and later only to defend them, by all means in his power, open and secret, in council and in the field, in the battle of words and with actual weapons, and who perished in the conflict.’ Note 28, pp. 229-232. The character of Lord Capel stands next to Falkland in beauty and i jnity. When he was forced to surrender Colchester in 1648, he sub- tted to Fairfax, who would willingly have spared his life. The Par- mentarians were determined to get rid of a man who had been so inent a champion of the King’s, and the trial and execution of Capel is a great stain on the history of the time. In Lady Theresa Lewis’ most interesting book, ‘Lives of the Friends and Contemporaries of t ord Chancellor Clarendon,’ there is a full memoir of Lord Capel. The portrait of him, like that of Falkland, conveys from the canvas unmis- eable traces of the ‘ courage, virtue, and fidelity ’ of this distinguished man. Note 29, pp. 236-241. -lontrose is the hero Cavalier. Mr. Carlyle, though never anxious to ' estow eulogy on a Royalist, has, in his ‘ Fleroes and Hero-worship,’ ■' te words of commendation for the gallant marquis. The period of ' ttish history during which Montrose flourished has been thoroughly mined, and a vindication of his conduct in the difficult days of his th, proceeding, it is said, from the pen of one who occupies the : i best judicial position in Scotland, published in Blackwood’s Maga- , ine in 1887, will be read with great interest. The late Lord Stanhope '.rote a fair account of Montrose in the Quarterly Review many years ago Much additional matter illustrative of Montrose’s character has recently seen the light. His touching and affecting verses, beginning ■ dear and only love,’ are to be found in Archbishop Trench’s ‘ Household-book of Poetry.’ Sir Walter Scott is hardly at his best in '.v Legend of Montrose,’ but his portrait possesses remarkable attri¬ butes. Note 30, pp. 245-258. The graphic account of the escape of Charles II could hardly be ted from this selection. It is admirably done, and upon the whole ■ oust be pronounced a narrative of great spirit and fidelity. Huddle- ne, the Benedictine monk, appears again, as is well known, at the l-bed scene of Charles II. 362 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. Note 31, pp. 265-272. It would be altogether premature to pronounce a sentence on the merits of the controversy which has been raised by Mr. Reginald Pal- grave’s account of the rising at Salisbury. The whole question is full of interest, and there is much to be said in favour of Mr. Palgrave’s view. Note 32, pp. 216-218 ; pp. 272-284. Perhaps the most difficult problem ever presented to historical stu¬ dents is the character of Oliver Cromwell. Since the publication of Mr. Carlyle’s ‘ Oliver Cromwell’s Letters and Speeches, with Elucida¬ tions,’ the whole subject has been thoroughly explored, and much light has been thrown upon Cromwell’s policy, religious motives, and general character. In the late Professor Mozley’s essays, the one on Carlyle’s Cromwell may be taken as upon the whole the best modem exposition of Clarendon’s view. Ranke and Mr. Lecky, in his masterly history of the eighteenth century, have treated the subject of the Irish massacres with great impartiality. Upon the whole, Ranke’s words regarding Cromwell’s failure to consolidate a tolerably durable political constitu¬ tion, will express the view many are now inclined to take regarding Cromwell’s personal rule. 1 His was at best but a de facto authority, depending for its existence on the force of arms and his own personal character. Such as it was, it was felt to be an oppressive burden at home no less “ by the lovers of the old legitimate forms ” than by his own party: abroad by those who feared him, and by those who were his allies.’ Mr. Forster, in a most interesting article in the 209th number of the ‘ Edinburgh Review,’ reprinted in ‘ Biographical Essays,’ discusses fully the various changes which have taken place in public opinion with regard to Cromwell’s character. Mr. Forster himself entirely adopts Mr. Carlyle’s view, ‘ that in Cromwell was seen a man whom no fear but of the Divine anger could distract; whom no honour in man’s bestowal could seduce or betray ; who knew the duty of the hour to be ever imperative, and who sought only to do the work, whatever it might be, whereunto he believed God to have called him.’ If I may venture to express an opinion, the view of Monsieur Guizot, whose calm judg¬ ment is seen to great advantage, in his ‘ Histoire de la Republique d’Angleterre et de Cromwell,’ and * Richard Cromwell,’ will ultimately prevail amongst dispassionate readers of history. Cromwell, according to Monsieur Guizot, had nobility of mind, and all that was little he made subservient to the lust of power. Where passion led him, there he thought duty lay. He loved government, and was a great, successful, NOTES. 363 and unscrupulous ruler. Monsieur Guizot also believes that Cromwell really desired to transmit a crown and sceptre to his family. Mr. Forster criticizes with no great success Guizot’s views regarding Crom¬ well’s religious attitude. It is difficult perhaps at this distance of time to pronounce, with anything like decision, as to the sincerity of religious expressions such as abound in Cromwell’s letters, and the whole question will probably remain among the many unsolved problems of English history. Long before Cromwell had made himself a name, in the year 1639, his eldest son, who had given promise of a noble future, was buried in the churchyard of Felsted. He is called in the register Robertus Cromwell, filius honorandi viri. The vicar of Felsted bore the name of Wharton, and the insertion of this epithet in a parish register is an interesting proof of the opinion entertained by a country clergyman of Cromwell’s character. Mr. Forster, many years ago, reproduced from a forgotten pamphlet an account of the death-bed of the Protector, and the allusion of the dying man : ‘ This Scripture did once save my life, when my eldest son died, which went as a dagger to my heart, indeed it did,’ undoubtedly refers to the death of the boy at Felsted. Mr. Forster’s belief, ‘ If Fleaven had but spared all that gentle and noble promise which represented once the eldest son and successor of Cromwell’s name, the sceptre then falling might have found a hand to grasp and sustain it, and the history of England taken quite another course,’ will provoke a smile when contrasted with Lord Macaulay’s words, as to the restoration of Charles II : ‘ The whole nation was sick of government by the sword, and pined for government by the law.’ Note 33, pp. 284-286. Richard Cromwell is an interesting character. His resolution ‘ not to have a drop of blood shed on his poor account,’ was magnanimous. His brother Henry, in command of the Irish army, might have deluged the country with blood, but Richard determined to step aside rather than commence another Civil War. He was buried at Hursley in 1712, and his letters show him to have been a man of high character and deep re¬ ligious feeling. Note 34, pp. 286-290. Lord Macaulay has given in one of his very best passages a most in¬ teresting and graphic picture of the Restoration of Charles II. Mr. Brewer’s able paper in the ! Quarterly Review,’ reprinted in ‘ English Studies,’ on the Stuarts, must be consulted. Professor Seeley has shewn that it was the ambition of the later Stuarts to follow the methods of 364 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. Cromwell in foreign policy, for the benefit of the old monarchy. ‘ They failed where their model had succeeded, and the distinction of having enslaved England remained peculiar to Cromwell.’ I owe this last re¬ ference to the notes of Professor Palgrave, in his volume of interesting poems, ‘ The Visions of England.’ The notes are a sufficient indication that interest in historical questions is hereditary, and shew what dis¬ crimination Mr. Palgrave could bring to the task, if he should ever attempt it, of treating some portion of English history at length. Note 35, pp. 290-292. In the life of Clarendon, the narrative is generally less stately, and the characters have a peculiar personal distinctness. In the account of his father, Clarendon shews real feeling. The concluding passage of this extract will recall the beautiful passage in Cowper’s lines, on receiving his mother’s picture :— ‘ My boast is not, that I deduce my birth From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth; But higher far my proud pretensions rise, The son of parents passed into the skies.” The picture of the old man selecting his grave in the cathedral of Salis¬ bury, is in keeping with the description of his habits as he lived. Note 36, pp. 292-294. After many changes of opinion, the fame of Ben Jonson has now been thoroughly vindicated. The brief character of Clarendon will be found to be almost identical with the elaborate study of Professor Ward. Gifford, who has cleared Ben Jonson from cruel aspersions, dwells upon Clarendon’s estimate of his character. Professor Ward has well said ‘ that the admiration of the few, rather than the favour of the many, has kept green the fame of the most independent among all the masters of an art which, in more senses than one, must please to live.’ In what he says of Selden, Clarendon is particularly happy, but it is impossible to help wishing that he had given more space to the portrait of one of the most remarkable men of the time. ‘The Table Talk’ of Selden preserves his memory still. According to Mr. Hallam, it gives ‘ a more exalted notion of Selden’s natural talents than any of his learned writings,’ and S. T. Coleridge has recorded his opinion of its merits in glowing terms. There is an interesting passage in Baxter’s Diary, bearing evident traces of the writer’s veracity. ‘ The Hobbians and other infidels would have persuaded the world that Selden was of their NOTES. 3 6 5 mind, but Sir Matthew Hale, his intimate friend and executor, assured me that Selden was an earnest professor of the Christian faith, and so angry an adversary to Hobbes, that he hath rated him out of the room.’ Note 37, pp. 294-303. Clarendon touches lightly on the strange and romantic incidents in the early life of Sir Kenelm Digby. Digby’s changes in religion undoubtedly affected his reputation. His career was an interesting one. He enjoyed the confidence of Henrietta Maria, and at one time his compromising relations with Cromwell damaged his reputation. Digby was certainly more of an amateur than a man of science. His portrait by Vandyck in the National Portrait Gallery, as well as the well-known one at Oxford, seems to reveal the character of the man. Clarendon evidently wished to reinstate Digby in public opinion. The family of Glynne are descended from Sir Kenelm Digby. The judgment on May is undoubtedly severe, but may be taken to represent the general opinion of the Royalist party. Modem criticism has fully confirmed Clarendon’s opinion of Carew’s poetical powers. Archbishop Trench considers him immensely superior to Waller, who is described admirably in the next group of portraits. Sheldon and Morley were among the most remarkable of the church¬ men of the Restoration period. The consideration of Sheldon’s influence in shaping the Church policy of his time, belongs more properly to special Church history. Attempts to conciliate the Puritan party were not encouraged by Sheldon, who had however, it must be confessed, a difficult part to play. A full account of Bishop Earles is given in Bliss’ edition of his Micro-cosmography. Walton says of him—‘None since the death of Mr. Hooker had been blessed with more innocent wisdom, more sanctified learning, or a more pious, peaceable, and primitive temper.’ Note 38, pp. 303-306. The reputation of John Plales is hardly sustained by his Remains. Principal Tulloch did his best, in the work which has been already alluded to in these notes, to revive interest in his career and writings. In the last century Lord Hailes reprinted his Remains, and modernised the language, a step which Dr. Johnson disapproved of. ‘He disapproved of Lord Hailes, for having modernised the language of the ever-memorable John Hales of Eton, in an edition which his Lordship published of that writer’s works. An authour’s language. Sir, (said he,) is a characteristical part of his composition, and is also 366 SELECTIONS FROM CLARENDON. characteristical of the age in which he writes. Besides, Sir, when the language is changed we are not sure that the sense is the same. No, Sir ; I am sorry Lord Hailes has done this.’ Vide p. 315, vol. 4, Bos¬ well’s Life of Johnson, edited by G. B. Hill. The account of Laud’s interview with Hales affords us a pleasant glimpse of the Archbishop in his kindlier moods. The style of Claren¬ don in these later portraits is dignified and pathetic. Note 39, pp. 307-310. The present Dean of Wells, Dr. Plumptre, in a very complete study of Chillingworth, has commented with great discrimination on the sen¬ tence ‘ the Bible, and the Bible only, is the religion of Protestants,’ which more than anything else preserves the memory of Chillingworth. At the instigation of the Jesuit Fisher, Chillingworth in 1629 joined the Church of Rome. After a sharp experience in the Jesuit seminary at Douay, he returned to the communion of the Church of England. Hales, Selden, and Falkland were his friends, and at Falkland’s plea¬ sant country seat, Great Tew, his famous controversial work was planned. It has fallen into perhaps unmerited oblivion, and undoubtedly contains many noble passages. It is difficult to define the exact posi¬ tion Chillingworth maintains in the ‘ Religion of Protestants.’ Unfair attacks were made on his doctrinal tendencies. Dean Plumptre describes Chillingworth’s work as ‘ an overgrown, enormous pamphlet,’ but it is fair to add that Locke thought that it ought to be studied, as a training ground for the logical powers of men At the close of his life Chilling¬ worth underwent much petty persecution at the hands of Cheynell. The narrative of his sickness, death, and funeral, written by Cheynell, is an extraordinary record of bigoted fanaticism, and almost deserves the epithet given to it by Locke, ‘ a villanous publication.’ Note 40, pp. 312-334. There is little to be said upon Ormond, Lauderdale, Bennet, and Coventry. Sir John Lawson is sketched with great ability; and the extract on the Stuart family is remarkably powerful. The Earl of Southampton was a notable figure in the history of his time. Guizot, in his • Married Life of Rachel, Lady Russell,’ has drawn Southampton at full length ; and the parallel drawn between Southampton and Claren¬ don, and Turgot and Malesherbes, is extremely striking. ‘ Turgot, full of ardour, faith, hope, and perseverance; Malesherbes equally sincere, but weaker, more easily discouraged, saying : “Turgot will not let me retire; he does not perceive that we shall both be turned out.” They NOTES. 367 were, in fact, turned out by the weakness of a King well disposed like themselves, who valued them, but who did not support them better than he defended himself. Charles II, as clearsighted as he was corrupt, soon discovered that Lord Southampton was indifferent to power, and sought to profit by this indifference, quietly to free himself from an inde¬ pendent and inconvenient counsellor; but Clarendon, employing all the influence that remained to him, maintained his friend in office, as he did himself. Lord Southampton, who was Lord Treasurer until his death, which took place a few months after, quitted office and life without falling, like the Lord Chancellor in the sadness of exile, under the unjust hatred of the people, and the ingratitude of the King.’ It has been said that Clarendon ‘ cannot penetrate to the innermost recesses of men’s souls, and let us read the motives of their lives ’—but it seems to me that in the portrait of Southampton, as well as in that of Falkland, there is real insight, and an evidence that the historian, conscious of his own in¬ firmities, was capable of appreciating the lofty ends and aims of men who walked securely in a region he himself had never entered. Note 41, pp. 335-345. The fall of Clarendon, and his calm account of his banishment, seem indispensably required to close this series of selections. Evelyn tells us of a visit he paid to Clarendon on the 29th November, 1667, when he was sitting in his garden at his new-built palace. ‘ After somewhile deplor¬ ing his condition to me, I took my leave. Next morning I heard he was gone.’ Clarendon had collected many excellent pictures of Vandyck and Lely, and to leave these behind him must have been even more painful than to leave his scarcely finished mansion. Many of these pictures are still to be seen in the possession of one of Clarendon’s descendants. In the account of his fall Clarendon evidently exercises great self-restraint. His unfortunate disclosure of what took place on the discovery of his daughter’s marriage, shows him in a mean and un¬ worthy light ; and the interest which the account of his fall would have otherwise created is somewhat obliterated by the recollection of his subservience in urging the Queen to admit her husband’s mistress to a place at court. In his retirement he behaved with dignity, but his appeal for permission to die in England was refused, at least no answer ever reached him, and he expired at Rouen, December 9, 1674. The Stuarts never seem during the long drama of their history to have cultivated 1 the art of forgiveness.’ THE END. ✓ D00545107M