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CHARLES I. 
 
CHARLES I. 
 
 BY 
 
 Sir JOHN SKELTON, K.C.B. 
 
 GOUPIL & CO., 
 
 FINE ART PUBLISHERS. 
 
 JEAN BOUSSOD, MANZI, JOVANT & GO., 
 
 SUCCESSORS, 
 
 FINE ART PUBLISHERS TO HER MAJESTY. 
 
 LONDON : PARIS : 
 
 25, BEDFORD STREET, STRAND. 24, BOULEVARD DES CAPUC1NES. 
 
 EDINBURGH : 
 
 W. BROWN, 26, PRINCES STREET. 
 
 1898 . 
 
PUBLISHERS’ NOTE. 
 
 It is with the greatest regret the Publishers have to state that the author of 
 Charles I. died last year. Sir John Skelton, who was knighted at the time of the 
 Diamond Jubilee, had been in weak health, but he worked diligently at the 
 volume up to the day of his death, on 19th July, 1897. He had written the whole 
 of the text and revised it up to the middle of the last chapter, and it has not 
 been found necessary, after the most competent examination, to alter the author’s 
 work in any particular. Every care has been taken to insure accuracy, and it 
 is hoped that textual errors have been entirely avoided. The Publishers desire 
 to thank the owners of the originals of the beautiful illustrations of the volume. 
 The majority are from works in the Royal Collections, Her Majesty the Queen 
 having very graciously given instructions to permit the Publishers to select 
 what they considered best for this purpose. This selection has been left to the 
 care of Mr. D. C. Thomson, Editor of the Art Journal , who has also arranged 
 the other plates. The Publishers thank the authorities of the Louvre, His Grace 
 the Duke of Westminster, His Grace the Duke of Buccleuch, the Earl of Radnor, 
 the Earl of Buckinghamshire, and the Earl of Rosebery, for the use of unique 
 and famous works of art. To the Committee of the House of Lords for permission 
 to reproduce the Death Warrant, the Society of Antiquaries, and the authorities 
 of the British Museum and South Kensington Museum, for assistance of various 
 kinds, they also tender their cordial thanks. 
 
HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN 
 
 ACCEPTED 
 
 HE DEDICATION OF THIS VOLUME 
 
 FROM THE AUTHOR. 
 
PRELUDE. 
 
 The place of Charles I. in English constitutional history is a matter of 
 supreme interest on which, however, no authoritative verdict can be pro- 
 nounced until his relation to those who went before him, and to those 
 who came after him, has been duly examined, and at least provisionally 
 settled. We cannot judge him fairly unless we know something of the 
 Tudors ; something of the Scottish family who were to wear the English 
 Crown; something of Cromwell and the Commonwealth; something, too, 
 of the later Stuarts. Not otherwise, in my humble judgment, can the due 
 historical perspective be maintained. Forced as 1 am to work under 
 stringent limitations, there is risk, I can see, of overcrowding the canvas. 
 But now that the evidence has been led and the facts ascertained (and it 
 is impossible to speak too highly of the unwearied industry which has 
 made our national records easily accessible), the narrative will admit of 
 reasonable compression; and, with Vandyke to help us, the portraits may be 
 in miniature. On one or two of the most striking episodes, it will be con- 
 venient and interesting to enlarge; but the reader who desires to make 
 close acquaintance with the varied incidents and the motley actors in a 
 
CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 prolonged constitutional struggle, must turn to the monumental work of 
 Samuel Rawson Gardiner. 
 
 The whole subject is eminently controversial ; and, after all that has 
 been written , one cannot but feel that the debate has not been con- 
 cluded. The Stuart Rings of England are at the bar. Guilty or not 
 
 guilty ? They have been bitterly assailed; they have been eagerly defended, 
 Can any middle way be found ? An intemperate partisanship defeats itself. 
 
 1 am not prepared to maintain that they governed with eminent wisdom, 
 or that theirs was a policy which high political sagacity would have dictated 
 or approved. But, on the other hand, the strain of the political situation 
 was great, and they laboured, as we shall see, under special disabilities. 
 Taking all the circumstances into account, is it fair to allege (for this is 
 the specific charge on which they are being tried) that they subverted, or 
 tried to subvert, the Constitution ? 
 
 The line I propose to follow may be briefly indicated. 1 propose to 
 inquire, in the first place, what, under the Tudors, was the recognised 
 relation between the Parliament, the People, and the Sovereign? I do not 
 go further back, because it appears to me that, so far as Charles, so far as 
 the Stuart Kings, may be held to be culpable, the practice between the 
 accession of Henry VII. in 1485, and the death of Elizabeth in 1603, is, 
 if not the sole, the most material, factor. The precedents of a hundred 
 and twenty years cannot be lightly displaced. The Tudors were autocratic 
 no doubt ; but it is not denied that, upon the whole, the ancient con- 
 stitutional maxims, so far as applicable, were fairly observed by them. 
 “ So far as applicable; for Lhe conditions had changed. It was of course 
 in the province of ecclesiastical polity that the change was most marked. 
 The Church of the Tudors was not the Church of the Plantagenets ; the King 
 of England had taken the place of the Bishop of Rome ; the Papal supremacy 
 had been exchanged for the Royal. No precedents drawn from ecclesiastical 
 law or usage prior to the Reformation could, when Elizabeth died, be 
 regarded as binding. If it was assumed by the Stuarts when they came 
 to England that the constitutional compact which they were bound to 
 
PRELUDE. 
 
 ill 
 
 observe had taken definitive form during the sixteenth century, they may 
 have erred, hut the error was not unnatural. 
 
 The annals of the Scottish line of Kings, up to the day when James VI. 
 left his ancient capital, must then be rapidly reviewed. The fact that the 
 Stuarts were unfamiliar with the people that they came to govern no 
 doubt explains much. The experience they had gained in Scotland could 
 be of little service to them in the South, — was indeed but indifferent pre- 
 paration for the novel part they were called on to play. Their racial feuds 
 with Scottish nobles, their acrid controversies with Scottish ecclesiastics, 
 had not involved any large or intricate questions of constitutional law. A 
 rude society, still profoundly feudal, was used to plainer methods. Maitland 
 of Lethington was, as Elizabeth said, “the flower of the wits of Scotland;” 
 but Maitland was in truth an altogether exceptional figure; on the one 
 hand, the hardy moss-trooper, on the other, the austere fanatic, were the 
 exponents of law and gospel across the Tweed. Then there was a strain 
 not exactly of madness, but of moodiness, in the Stuart temperament. The 
 evil Fate that attended the House had left tragic reminiscences. The sense 
 of persistent ill-luck haunted them to the end. Not mad exactly ; but the 
 alternate fits of gaiety and gloom, of obstinacy and languor (from which no 
 Stuart was free) are symptomatic of mental disturbance. 
 
 The Union of the Crowns could not thus be regarded as an unmixed 
 blessing either for the rulers or the ruled. The initial difficulties under 
 the most favourable conditions must have been considerable ; but the 
 problems which the Stuart Kings of England were asked to solve were, it 
 must be admitted, well-nigh insoluble. They would have baffled Henry VIII. 
 himself; were, on her death-bed, baffling Elizabeth. Henry and Elizabeth 
 were mainly responsible indeed for the special forms which the vast forces 
 which had been set in motion by Humanist and Reformer had taken in 
 England. Even at the time there were men who foresaw that the Tudor 
 policy would one day lead to war. There was, it may be, a happy moment 
 when conciliation might have disarmed hostility. But it was allowed to 
 pass, and the gulf had widened, — had widened into an impassable chasm. 
 
IV 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 It may be asserted with absolute confidence that, while the Seventeenth 
 Century was yet in its teens, no cunning device, no sobriety of judgment, 
 no lucidity of intelligence, could have averted the constitutional struggle 
 that was at hand. Its development into civil strife was in the circum- 
 stances inevitable. Try as they might, both sides were helpless; they were 
 driven on, as in Homeric battle, by the Gods, or, as we say now, by an 
 imperious necessity. It was one of those cases in which, from an apparently 
 trivial misunderstanding at the outset, a feud arises which must be fought 
 out to the bitter end, and which cannot be stayed until one or other of 
 the combatants is exhausted. In such conflicts it is often difficult to deter- 
 mine which side deserves to win. Our new schools of political thought are 
 somewhat intolerant; and though a minority may still believe that “the 
 right of private judgment” is valuable to those only who are capable of 
 using it with wisdom, and that the weight of too much liberty is apt to 
 become oppressive, yet the majority, in their devotion to democratic rule, 
 have turned “ freedom ’ into a fetish . The doctrine of passive obedience 
 was held at the time Lo have scriptural warrant; the same authority was 
 invoked by the men who resisted the Lord’s Anointed even unto death. 
 Into these high regions of speculation the lay historian may prudently decline 
 to venture ; the abstract right of subjects to rebel, of rulers to repress 
 rebellion, being one of those conundrums which may be discussed till 
 Domesday, — the answer varying according to time and locality and individual 
 temperament. During one age the right divine of the wise to counsel the 
 ignorant and control the foolish, in other words, the commanding authority 
 of ripe experience, will be freely acknowledged ; whereas in an age of 
 intellectual restiveness and restlessness, of pride in nonconformity, of hunger 
 lor change, it is treated with disrespect or derision. But putting all these 
 problems aside, the practical question that has to be resolved, when we 
 come to deal with the prolonged quarrel between Charles and the Commons, 
 is simply, Who was truly the aggressor? By whom was the status quo ante 
 helium disturbed? Are we to blame Charles and Strafford and Laud? or 
 Pym and Vane and Cromwell ? 
 
 04UND BV WALTUV ox'd* 
 
PRELUDE. 
 
 The death of Charles, it is no paradox to say, was the cause of a temporary 
 recoil in the advancing tide of Democracy. The flood-gates were closed 
 again. The social, political, and religious forces which made for change 
 were meantime checked. The Commonwealth meant the strong hand of the 
 Army — the genius ol Cromwell — nothing more. The English as a people did 
 not accept it; on the contrary it was regarded by them with impatience and 
 resentment ; and the mad revel of the Restoration was the reply that 
 they gave. The folly of the second Charles, and the fanaticism of the 
 second James, turned the tide once more in the direction which, even 
 under a Harley, a Walpole, or a North, it has ever since maintained. 
 Democracy, it may be assumed, was hound to win sooner or later — as it 
 has indeed won in the qualified form of a monarchy controlled by the 
 Commons ; hut had the King’s life been spared we might to-day have 
 been citizens of the Republic founded by Oliver. The execution of Charles 
 was not only an “inexpiable” crime, — it was the crowning blunder. 
 

 
 
 ne ; ' 
 
 
 SOVEREIGN OF THE SEAS 
 From an old print by J. Payne. 
 
CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 CHAPTER ONE. 
 
 THE ENGLISH CONSTITUTION UNDER THE TUDORS. 
 
 hen Henry Richmond on the field of Bosworth 
 assumed the Crown, the Catholic Church was 
 still powerful in England, and the New Learning 
 had made comparatively little progress. The life, 
 both civic and religious, was still ruled by a code 
 which had been framed in the Middle Ages. 
 The genius of the medieval architect had made 
 our cities picturesque; and the ceremonies of 
 medieval Catholicism, splendidly decorative, lent the colour that might 
 be needed. What a spectacle to the rustic coming from outlying marsh 
 or woodland — and in those days a third of the land at least was marsh 
 
CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 2 
 
 and woodland — must a Cathedral city have presented. We may compare 
 the august ritual of Rome unfavourably with a simpler service; but only 
 the narrowest fanaticism can treat it wilh ridicule. In that communion 
 there were then as now — let Puritanism say what it may — many pure 
 and spiritually minded men, who were able to rise above the allurements 
 of sense, and to behold, beyond the smoke of the incense and the gloom of 
 the sanctuary, the vision of a righteous Judge. Nor was it in the Cathedral 
 city alone that the Church wielded an unquestioned authority. With uncom- 
 promising energy it had penetrated into fen and forest. It shared the 
 most absolute solitudes with the wild animals of the chase. Centuries had 
 passed since Canute and his Knights, lying on their oars, had listened to 
 the even-song of the Monks of Ely ; and men who shrank from the rough 
 issues of common life still practised, upon the Marsh of Romney or among 
 the Lincoln Washes, the perilous virtues of the cloister. 
 
 ^ et it was true that somehow or other, the whole of the spacious edifice 
 had been undermined, and that it was tottering to its fall. Mitred eccle- 
 siastics in the privacy of the chapter house might still discuss the policy of 
 princes without any sense of impending doom. The faith once delivered 
 to the Saints was still expounded in remote hamlet, or crowded city, by 
 faithful servants of the Most High. Rut behind the fair show there was, it 
 cannot be doubted, foul decay. The written record remains. Too often 
 the monastic building has become a den of thieves ; too often the nun, 
 the bride of Heaven, is as shameless as the monk. Pilgrims swarming 
 with vermin swarm along the highways, filthy mendicants recount their 
 Pdthy adventures at this or the other shrine, pardoners dispose of their stale 
 wares cheaply to gaping rustics. The popular satirist must not be taken 
 too literally; and we are not bound to believe that the French-hood and 
 bon-grace of the Virgin, the great toe of the Trinity, the jawbone of All- 
 Saints, and the bees that stang Eve when she ate the apple, were hawked 
 about ; yet only a few years later, when the visitation of the monasteries 
 was proceeding, Layton wrote to Cromwell from the Priory of Maiden 
 Biadlej , By my sen ant I sende yowe relyqwis, fyrste, two flowres wrappede 
 
 >'rOX«<ML' 
 
THE ENGLISH CONSTITUTION UNDER THE TUDORS. 
 
 3 
 
 in white and Make sarcenet that one Christynmas evyn hora ipsa qua Christas 
 natus fuerat will spring and burgen and here blossoms, quod e.rpertum 
 esse, saith the prior off Maden Bradeley ; ye shall also receve a bage ol 
 reliquis, wherein ye shall se straingeis thynges, as shall appere by the 
 scripture, as Oure lades smoke, Parte of Godes supper in cena do mini , 
 Pars pelre super qua natus erat Jesus in Betlielem , belyke ther is in 
 Bethelem plentie of stones, and makith ther maingierres off stone. The 
 scripture ol evere thyng shall declare yowe all ; and all ihes of Maden 
 Bradeley, wheras is an holy prior, and hath but six children, and but one 
 dowghter mariede yet of the goodes of the monasterie, trystyng shortly to 
 
 mary the reste I send yowe also oure lades gyrdell of Bruton, rede silke, 
 
 wiche is a solemne reliquie sent to women travelyng, wiche shall not mis- 
 carie in partu." The scandal was open; it was noised abroad; it became 
 the subject of common jest and satire. When lines like Ileywood’s — lines 
 penned, be it observed, by a devout Catholic, — 
 
 “With small cost and without any puine, 
 
 These pardons bring them to Heaven plaine ; 
 
 Give me but a penny or two pence, 
 
 And as soon as the soul departeth hence, 
 
 In half an hour, or three quarters at most, 
 
 The soul is in Heaven with the Holy Ghost, — ” 
 
 when lines like these could be listened to, not only without protest, but with 
 keenest relish by a Catholic audience, the end could not be far off. The 
 change indeed from one extreme to the other came with startling rapidity. 
 Within a hundred years of Henry’s death, one half of England was Puritan. 
 
 Whatever precautions might be taken, a vast spiritual confederacy, 
 thoroughly organised, could not but be a menace to liberty. It was easier 
 on the other hand to protect the life and property of the subject against 
 an arbitrary exercise of the prerogative ol the Crown ; and on paper, it 
 may be, ample guarantees had been given. The Great Charter itself was 
 only one of a series of measures designed to preserve the freedom of the 
 English Commonalty. Where the spirit ol a free people is absent, legis- 
 lation is well nigh worthless ; — either by fraud or force, it can be evaded 
 
4 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 by an unscrupulous ruler. Against the tyranny of Prince and Priest, 
 the Englishman was protected less by legislation, than by his own sturdy 
 independence of character and the action of his municipal system. Excepting 
 the greater nobles, who during the dynastic wars had been nearly extermi- 
 nated, the gentry were mostly resident on their estates. Some of them 
 occasionally proceeded to Westminster for the transaction of parliamentary 
 business ; but the hardship of being sent there was so great — although the 
 burgesses at least had been paid for their attendance — that the Crown had 
 frequently to compel the shires and burghs to elect representatives. Im- 
 passable roads infested by highwaymen, wretched hostels infested with 
 vermin, made it a matter of labour and peril to reach the Metropolis from a 
 distant county. Thus each district of the Kingdom continued to preserve 
 within itself the elements of an independent and vigorous society. The 
 gentry were the natural leaders of a pastoral people, with whom, on their 
 many national and religious festivals, they familiarly mingled. To the classes 
 engaged in commerce, the local guilds and the great trading societies 
 supplied an obvious basis of co-operation and defence. A system which 
 concentrates in the capital the whole machinery of Government is apt to 
 weaken and enervate the national life; and though it is true that the bye- 
 laws of the County-Courts, and of the burgh magistrates, were conceived in a 
 peculiarly hostile and narrow spirit, yet it was fortunate for England that 
 the discharge of civic duties and the exercise of local government had made 
 Ihe English layman, the yeoman as well as the gentleman, tenacious of his 
 rights and jealous of his liberties. 
 
 There were two constitutional questions that came to the front in the 
 prolonged and bitter quarrel between the Stuarts and their Parliaments. 
 1. What was the compact between the Houses and the Sovereign as to the 
 revenues of the Crown, — the revenues by which the Royal State was to be 
 maintained ? 2. Ilad there been any illegal exercise of the royal preroga- 
 
 tive faj as regarded taxation, (b) as regarded the liberty of the subject, 
 f°J as regarded religion? It is in the settlement of these questions that 
 the practice of the Tudors is instructive. There is the further question of how 
 
 MAUTBV.OX'TOl*. 
 
THE ENGLISH CONSTITUTION UNDER THE TUDORS. 
 
 5 
 
 far the Tudors themselves were responsible for the conditions, social, political, 
 ecclesiastical, which made the quarrel inevitable. The resistance to Charles 
 in Parliament and in the country was conducted mainly by the Puritans. But 
 for the harsh and oppressive laws of Elizabeth, there would have been, so far 
 as we can judge, few, if any, Puritans. For the Puritan, therefore, Elizabeth 
 must he held responsible. No doubt other forces than religion were at work. 
 How far these contributed to make the crisis acute, we shall see hereafter. 
 But it may be said generally that they were all due, more or less directly, 
 to the spirit of unrest which the Reformation, the New Learning, the dis- 
 covery of other worlds in the heaven above and on the earth beneath, had 
 provoked. The temper of the time was Revolutionary, and Charles was its 
 first victim. Between Revolution and the reaction from Revolution, excess on 
 either side is probably inevitable. If democratic theories of Government had 
 not been in the air, less would have been heard of the Divine Right of Kings. 
 
 On a casual survey one would have been inclined to conclude that, 
 during the Tudor regime at any rate, the monarch was sufficiently absolute. 
 Except on rare occasions, when popular indignation was keenly roused, any 
 control exercised by the Parliament was nominal. There may have been 
 in theory constitutional limitations; in practice it was Personal Rule. The 
 very names of the parliamentary leaders have been forgotten ; whereas the 
 personality of Henry VIII. or of Elizabeth is stamped indelibly upon the 
 national record. They had great ministers; Wolsey, Cromwell, Cecil; but 
 none of these statesmen derived his force from Parliament, or owed his 
 elevation to eminence in parliamentary counsel or debate. Yet the historians 
 who have argued that the exercise of the Kingly authority was subject to 
 restraints, sanctioned by ancient statute and immemorial usage, which even 
 the most arbitrary and autocratic of the Tudors did not care to disregard, 
 are not without warrant for their view. 
 
 Mr. Hallam has observed that at the accession of the Tudors the essential 
 checks upon the royal authority were five in number : — “ I. The King could 
 levy no sort of new tax upon his people, except by the grant of the Par- 
 liament consisting as well of bishops and mitred abbots or lords spiritual, 
 
c 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 and of hereditary peers or temporal lords, who sat and voted promiscuously 
 in the same chamber, as of representatives from the freeholders of each 
 county, and from the burgesses of many towns and less considerable places, 
 forming the lower or commons house. 2. The previous assent and authority 
 of the same assembly was necessary for every new law, whether of a general 
 or temporary nature. 3. No man could he committed to prison but by a legal 
 warrant specifying his offence, and by an usage nearly tantamount to consti- 
 tutional right, he must be speedily brought to trial by means of regular 
 sessions of gaol-delivery. 4. The fact of guilt or innocence on a criminal charge 
 was determined in a public court, and in the county where the offence was 
 alleged to have occurred, by a jury of twelve men, from whose unanimous 
 verdict no appeal could he made. Civil rights, so far as they depended on 
 questions of fact, were subject to the same decision. 5. The officers and 
 servants of the Crown, violating the personal liberty or other right of the 
 subject, might he sued in an action for damages to be assessed by a jury, or 
 in some cases were liable to criminal process; nor could they plead any war- 
 rant or command in their justification, nor even the direct order of the Ivina- ” 
 II indeed these checks existed (and no doubt they did on paper) it can 
 hardly be denied, 1 think, except possibly by the legal pedant, that up to the 
 close of Elizabeth’s reign they had been habitually evaded. The Parliaments 
 of the Tudors were in one sense “servile;” the great ecclesiastical reforms 
 that were being carried through during years of peril and despondency 
 required undivided counsel ; and so long as the national credit was 
 maintained, both peers and commons were content to acquiesce. The Crown 
 had no doubt many creatures of its own in either House ; arbitrary measures 
 were taken to secure a loyal representation; but unless the people had been 
 fairly satisfied that Monarch and Minister might be trusted to do their best 
 for England, there would have been petitions and protests. One cannot help 
 feeling that in such “servility” there was a touch of patriotism which 
 later Parliaments might have imitated with advantage. Yet even these 
 servile Parliaments were ofLen dispensed with. Years would pass before 
 their attendance was required at Westminster. Elizabeth was penurious by 
 
CHARLES I. 
 
 ( With Ermine Robe.) 
 
 rora the painting by Sir Anthony Vandyke, in the Collection of Her Majesty the Queen, 
 at Windsor Castle. 
 
J,u&k 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 ;< prescntativcs from the f « 
 i s-i-s of many tow 1< 
 
 .oris house. 2 . 1 ; \i « 
 
 is necessary for new h 
 
 No man con 1' immitted 
 
 ipeeil if. ins offence, anil iji ^age ne . 
 
 > . I must be sp ought to li 
 
 wn delivery. 4. ’! 1 guilt or inn* » 
 
 1-i.i rniined in a pub':. . • ! in the con 
 
 ' > bn vc •'« cui'i- . .if twelve i 
 
 
 >1 a gem ial 
 hut by a legal 
 .unt to consti- 
 r»ns of regular 
 : a criminal cbsrg* 
 
 ! •! the offene 
 from whose uriain KM 
 
 verdict no appeal could ivil rights ir as they depended 
 
 questions of fact, wer ,*• the same ion. 5. The nri ■ and 
 servants of the Crown the per* rty or other • r ■ 
 
 subject, mi it b sueil . icti'on for damn. * i be assessed by n . 
 in some • s were liablf i riminal process nor could they plead anv war- 
 rant or . I nami ,r. th. . -tification, nor Cv.-.. the direct order ..I the Kin- 
 11 indeed these tied (and no < bt they did on -.per) it <• 
 
 hardly he denied, I t possibly : legal pedant, 'that up t 1 
 
 close of Elizabeth - 
 of the Tudors wer 
 that w^rc being ra 
 required undi * led 
 maintained, both : . 
 
 were taken to secure i 
 fairly satisfied that Monarch 
 for England, there would have 
 • hug til..: in sin-. I ,, r\ iliti 
 
 uled. The Pbi ' 
 
 . 
 
 was a touch of patriot)* 
 
 ■ ' harli r -ts might have in h advantage. \ - t - 
 
 '«'ri ' Wen- oft-.Ji aH^ilAlC) h. Ye rid „• 
 
 ; rA.M* WfWftnWiSf.'ii Eliza s 1(J , 
 
 .iieeoP nit / t^o ji. f/1 it* 1 1 To noilftlloD edJ ni r 9^^bn»;V ^noiilnA uH ytl ^niJniitfj 9fJj ino'rl 
 
KVi 
 
THE ENGLISH CONSTITUTION UNDER TIIE TUDORS. 
 
 7 
 
 nature; and though Henry VIII. was recklessly profuse, the savings of his 
 father and the spoils of the monastries were immense. It is true that most 
 of the Church lands went to greedy nobles and obsequious courtiers ; hut 
 we may assume, as has been assumed by our constitutional writers, that in 
 the interest of the Reformation this was a politic improvidence, seeing that 
 the persons among whom the partition was made would, in accordance with 
 the general laws of human nature, “give a readier reception to truths which 
 made their estates more secure.” Thus it came about that during many 
 years the ordinary expenditure did not exceed the ordinary revenue of the 
 Crown. A grant of “tonnage and poundage,” and of the first fruits of 
 benefices, was made for life to the Sovereign on his accession ; and this 
 could be supplemented on occasion by the voluntary assessments known as 
 “benevolences.” The legality of these assessments has been, and continues 
 to be, disputed ; but they were sanctioned at least by inveterate custom. 
 So that it was only in an exceptional crisis, as when a costly war was 
 imminent, that the Houses were summoned to impose a compulsory tax. 
 
 It would be exaggeration to assert that the judges of the high Courts 
 of justice were corrupt; but there can be little doubt that many of them 
 were partial to the authority by whom they were appointed, and by whom 
 they could be dismissed. Neither the goods nor the life of any man who 
 ventured to entertain sentiments unacceptable at Court was secure. Between 
 heresy and treason the line was loosely drawn ; and what was heresy to- 
 day was truth to morrow. On one hurdle six malefactors were sent by 
 Henry to the stake, — three had denied the Catholic doctrine of trans- 
 substantiation, three had refused to take the Anglican oath of Supremacy. 
 The whim of the moment was the standard of right and wrong ; and to 
 that whim the most tremendous penalties were attached. The Courts of 
 law might on occasion be unduly complaisant to the Crown ; but when 
 hard pressed they could assert their independence. There was another 
 tribunal, however, which, as its admirers declared, was not disabled by legal 
 scruples or troubled by legal subtleties. Short of life and death, the juris- 
 diction of the Star Chamber was absolute ; and the members of the Star 
 
8 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 Chamber were the Councillors of the Crown. Torture was repugnant to 
 English notions of fair play and honest inquiry ; in the Star Chamber it was 
 freely employed. The House of Peers was another Court of criminal juris- 
 diction where the will of the Sovereign was paramount. Either by impeach- 
 ment or Act of Attainder many of the most powerful nobles — Warwick, 
 Suffolk, Buckingham — had been brought to the block. The Bill of Attainder 
 was a mendacious device by which both Houses were made accessory to 
 Henry’s judicial murders. It was an instrument of gross injustice and 
 oppression, — a suspension of legal process by an act of the legislature. The 
 judges who had been consulted by Cromwell had declared that, although 
 no evidence had been led, no court of law could reverse an attainder; and 
 Cromwell himself was sentenced unheard. Whether reached by impeachment 
 or attainder however, the goal was the same. One cannot but wonder 
 how it should have come about, that a House of powerful and independent 
 nobles should have been so easily satisfied of the guilt of so many of their 
 order, especially when each new conviction added to the common peril. 
 
 While it may be true that the previous authority of Parliament was 
 necessary for every new law, it does not appear to have been invariably 
 obtained. Royal proclamations were frequently issued by which important 
 constitutional changes were effected. Though the assent of the legislature 
 was subsequently accorded, it was by proclamation that the great eccle- 
 siastical reform was initiated. For an acute emergency it is indispensable 
 that some discretionary power should be vested in the Crown; “what a 
 King by his royal power may do” (to use Henry’s words), has never been 
 precisely determined ; even democratic governments are sometimes forced to 
 break the law, and trust to Acts of Indemnity. What may be called the 
 reserved and latent energy of the Crown— to be exerted only when the State 
 is in extreme peril— received under the Tudors very liberal application. 
 
 The Anglican Church as finally established under Elizabeth (at the Nag’s 
 Head lavern, as the Catholic satirists affirmed) was a compromise. It stood 
 midway between Rome and Geneva. The Queen herself regarded either 
 extreme with impartial dislike. She would tolerate within her Kingdom 
 
THE ENGLISH CONSTITUTION UNDER THE TUDORS. 
 
 9 
 
 neither Papist nor Puritan. It is probable that, of the two, Puritanism was 
 most distasteful to her. She scoffed at Cecil and his 1 1 brothers in Christ ; 
 yet Cecil’s Puritanism was comparatively colourless and courtly. But her 
 animosity to Puritanism could not be fully gratified. In all her Parliaments, 
 the House of Commons, which was ceasing to be “servile,” was vehemently 
 Protestant. So were her most trusted Ministers. The early Puritans were 
 loyal to the Monarchy — obstinately loyal to Elizabeth herself. On the other 
 hand pretexts for Catholic persecution were easily found. Those of them who 
 refused to take the oath ol Supremacy were punished, not because they were 
 heretics, but because they were traitors, — as no doubt many of them were, 
 though with the majority the treason was constructive only. During the 
 whole of Elizabeth’s reign the laws against recusants were severe; hut as the 
 shadows lengthened the gloom deepened. One would have fancied that after 
 the Armada had been dispersed, there might have been a respite. The rival 
 Queen was dead — Mary Stuart’s detention in England had been, as Hallam 
 admits, “ in violation ol all natural, public, and municipal law;” and her 
 trial was a travesty of justice. But the rivalry — for an earthly crown at 
 least — was over; and during the months of breathless suspense when the 
 “Island Queen” was standing at bay, the Catholics had behaved well. But 
 the Government was merciless. The rack in the Tower was seldom idle. 
 During these last years no less than two hundred Catholics were quartered 
 while yet alive, —butchery that was justified by Bacon on the ground that 
 bowelling ” was less painful than burning or the wheel ! Hardly a 
 protest against this cruel slaughter was heard. Lord Burleigh, indeed, 
 who was not always consistent however, had at length in an emphatic 
 minute which has been preserved, ventured to remonstrate : — “ 1 account 
 that putting to death does no way lessen them; since we find by experience 
 that it worketh no such effect, but, like Hydra’s heads, upon cutting off 
 one, seven grow up — persecution being accounted as the badge of the 
 Church ; and, therefore, they should never have the honour to take any 
 pretence of martyrdom in England, where the fulness of blood and great- 
 ness of heart is such that they will even for shameful things go bravely 
 
10 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 to death; ’’ much more, he adds, when they think thus to climb to Heaven, 
 and their obstinacy commends them to the common people who regard 
 it as “a divine constancy.” Nor should it be forgotten that when the 
 harsh act of 1562 was passing through Parliament, Lord Montague had 
 preferred an earnest plea for liberty of conscience, if not for liberty of 
 speech. He entreated the Peers to consider whether it was just by penal 
 statute to force loyal subjects of the realm “to believe the religion of 
 Protestants on pain of death. This, 1 say, to be a thing most unjust ; 
 for that it is repugnant to the natural liberty of men’s understanding. 
 For understanding may be persuaded but not forced. Only a man of 
 no courage or stomach, and void of all sense of honour, would consent 
 to receive a new religion by compulsion, or swear the contrary of what 
 he thinks. Even a brave man might consent to be silent — ‘to keep his 
 reckoning with God alone’ — hut to be compelled to swear to a lie, or else to 
 die il he refused, was a thing that no man ought to suffer and endure.” 
 A fine speech lor any assembly; considering the time when it was made, and 
 the passions that were abroad, a really noble and memorable appeal. 
 
 If the Catholic was treated with merciless severity, the Puritan did not 
 entirely escape. It is a popular superstition that persecution must fail. 
 It does not fail when it is carried out with inflexible decision. It fails 
 only when the Inquisitor is timid and irresolute. The Puritans, who were 
 merely ejected from their livings or driven from their conventicles, rapidly 
 increased in number, so that before the close of Elizabeth’s reign a body 
 of bitter sectaries had become formidable, —a force to be reckoned with 
 in the political world. The Catholics, on the other hand, who had been 
 pursued with unsparing vigour, had dwindled to a handful. 
 
 I hose who write history are presumably more sagacious than those who 
 make it. We are wise after the event. To us the folly of Elizabeth and 
 her Ministers in their treatment of nonconformity is painfully obvious. And 
 indeed there is good reason to believe that a little forbearance at the 
 outset might have healed the feud. Nonconformity was in effect a protest 
 against the Act ol Supremacy and the Act of Uniformity. But the language 
 
 
.1! HIES THE FIRST 
 
 Ik* idds, when the) think -th’ I, to ’ Jimb'lo Heaver. 
 
 constancy." Nor shpuld it be.fo' I' win 
 
 lab:? wii' " in g through 1‘arliamei i d >m 
 
 in eanit tor liberty of consciem not libc 
 
 • h. H i Peers to consider wheth- was ju nal 
 
 subjects of the realm . lieve the r 
 
 Protest of death. This, 1 say. a thing most ,*t ; 
 
 for i n nant to the natural of men’s understanding' 
 
 F n: ■ ly be persuaded l forced. Only a 
 
 no ' ini' ' >r si ich, and void ol use of honour, woub • . 
 
 to receive a new religion by comp" •», or swear the contrai l ' 
 he thinks. Even a brave man mi). t consent to be silent — ‘to k i. It 
 ••• * ning with i <o«l alone’ — but to 1 compelled to swear to a lie, o; . !se to 
 die if 1 i w h n thing tin no man ought to sulTer and endure.” 
 
 uc speech for any as-einbly ; considering the time when it was made, and 
 the passions that were abroad, a really noble and memorable appeal. 
 
 If the Catholii w . treated with merciless severity, the Puritan did not 
 entirely escape. It is a popular superstition that persecution t fail. 
 It does > t fail when l cried out with inflexible decision. It fails 
 only when the Inquisitor's mid arid irresolute. The Puritans, c: i were 
 merely ejected from, tin ir qs or driven from their 1 eonventu i. ipidly 
 
 increased in number, so t efore the ( lose of Elizabeth’s reign a body 
 
 bitter sectaries h i be formidable, — a force to be r boned with 
 in the political world. The ( olics, on the other hand, who had been 
 sued with unsparing vigour, h.ul dwindled to a handful, 
 lose who write history are presumably more sagacious than the ■ > 
 We are wise after the -vent. To us the folly of Elizabctli 
 listers in their treatment of nonconformity is painfully obvious. 
 
 i good reason to bee, that ; little forbear ,< .' 
 
 !>'. have licalc I .tAiWIAH ! .ATTiHTIJrtfbHinity was in eflb«T ; • 
 
 i’WiH yd niwyji 
 
 
-t . " 
 
THE ENGLISH CONSTITUTION UNDER THE TUDORS. 
 
 11 
 
 of protest in the earlier years was mild. It would have been difficult no 
 doubt at any time to have conciliated the more violent spirits who had 
 listened while in exile to Knox or Calvin; but if a certain latitude had 
 been admitted, if liberty of private judgment on trifles had been conceded, 
 if reasonable elasticity instead of rigid uniformity had been the policy of 
 Parker and Whitgift, it is possible that the discontent might have been 
 allayed, might have died out. Then, as now, men of sense must have 
 regarded the frivolous usages to which either party attached undue im- 
 portance — the retention of a crucifix or a taper, of a tippet or a surplice, 
 the sign of the cross in baptism, the ring in matrimony, the posture at 
 Communion — with indifference. It was wise perhaps, when half the people 
 were still Catholic at heart, to retain some of the ceremonies to which 
 they had been used. The transition was more easily effected when fric- 
 tion was reduced to a minimum. But when it had become obvious that 
 uniformity would occasion lasting discord, that a party (so Parsons wrote 
 of 1594) “more vigorous than any other, most ardent, quick, bold, resolute, 
 and having a great part of the best captains and soldiers on their side” 
 would resist to the uttermost, a sagacious statesman would have loosened 
 the bonds. Nor to such a Minister would the lloyal Supremacy have 
 proved an insuperable barrier. The oath might have been modified by 
 politic reservations which would have saved the scruples of the precise. 
 The Puritans might be, as Cecil thought, “over-squeamish and nice in their 
 opinions, and more scrupulous than they need;” yet, by their “careful 
 catechising and diligent preaching” they were doing service to the State, 
 which ought rather to approve than condemn. 
 
 But it was not to be. History was to take a different course. Elizabeth 
 was to leave the Puritan as a legacy to her successor. Even before her 
 death he had become very truculent, — a bye-word for rudeness, asperity, 
 and intractability. The High Commission — an ecclesiastical court armed 
 with the powers of an Inquisition — could not silence Martin Marprelate. 
 The Brownists grew the more they were repressed. And, as invariably 
 happens, there was a rapid development of doctrine. The demands of the 
 
12 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 earlier dissenters were comparatively moderate, — to episcopal government 
 in the Church, to personal rule in the State, they did not seriously object. 
 But foolish intolerance had borne its usual fruit. Episcopacy had become 
 hateful to them, — presbytery was not only lawful, but divinely ordained. 
 A Government based on popular consent was the true form of civil rule. 
 The claim for ecclesiastical independence, or rather for spiritual supremacy, 
 was insistently preferred, — by Thomas Cartwright, at least, in language 
 that might have been coined by Hildebrand. The civil magistrates were the 
 nurses, but they were also the servants, of the Church; “and as they rule in 
 the Church, so they must remember to submit themselves unto the Church, 
 to submit their sceptres, to throw down their crowns before the Church, yea, 
 as the prophet speaketh, ‘to lick the dust off the feet of the Church.’” 
 
 It is to be noted moreover that in the later years of Elizabeth's reign, 
 the Commons (largely reinforced from the ranks of the Puritans) clung to 
 their ancient privileges with increasing tenacity, and were readier to assert 
 their independence. The arbitrary exercise of the prerogative was still com- 
 mon. The Star Chamber continued to sit, and to inflict penalties on obstinate 
 or contumacious jurymen. Proclamations continued to be issued. The 
 printing of books was subjected to severe restrictions. The too rapid 
 increase of the Metropolis was held to be a public danger, and forbidden ! 
 Once at least martial law had been proclaimed. But though the members 
 of the Commons themselves were occasionally committed to the Tower for 
 imprudent or insolent speech, arbitrary encroachments on their customary 
 privileges were, in each successive Parliament, more keenly resented and 
 more strenuously resisted. These privileges were numerous. The claim 
 for liberty of speech and access to the royal person was preferred at 
 the opening of each session. They were the guardians of their own order. 
 
 1 hen the members were exempted from arrest on civil process while the 
 House sat. Ihey held, moreover, that they were entitled to inquire into 
 every grievance, and to find the appropriate remedy. Before the close of 
 the century they had attacked the subsidies demanded, and the monopolies 
 granted, by the Crown. Elizabeth in her most formidable and autocratic 
 
THF. EN • CONSTITUTION UNDER THE TUI 
 
 mood failed ' verawe them. The Wentworths and their felh were 
 not to be ced. Yiorice from his room in the Tower assure. I rd 
 Burleigh l! .,t he would continue to strive, while life lasted, for freedom of 
 eons, nee justice, and the liberties of his country. They were 
 
 warn ' it idle heads should not meddle with “reforming the Church and 
 .tnsfo uing the Commonwealth.” But they replied that, “to utter an 
 griefs of the Commonwealth” was theirs of right. The attack on the mono 
 polies granted by the Sovereign to impecunious courtiers was a bitter pill i 
 Elizabeth- to stomach. The prerogative, she declared, was “the choicest 
 flower in her garden, and the principal and head pearl in her crown and 
 diadem.” But the clamour grew so loud that she was forced to give way, and 
 with that politic (or feline) adroitness which she could piv, , ■ n occasion, 
 to compliment the Commons n tl o .. ’. i r the public well-being 
 
 On every side the waters were rising. There was a pnn-e »•!.’! | 
 
 : ic into a peaceful haicn. How ,, .... 
 
 com, i, u.,1 now dev wo fit for the duty remained to he • . 
 
 
 WESTMINSTER FROM THE RIVER. 
 From an old print by Hollar. 
 
CHARLES Till IRST. 
 
 <k*»Ws ".npnrativ rale, — to episcopal government 
 
 I ! t onal rule ile, they did not seriously object 
 
 >• ranee had I » usual fruii Episcopacy had be trnc 
 
 «W i -pres!.' not only ) ■■ f u 1 , but divinely ordu I 
 
 -nt based ar consent was the I form of civil rule. 
 
 .1 e. .ist (dependence, or ratio uni supremacy, 
 
 ’* >» l'istcntly preferre. —by Thomas C.irlw •••.•• 1 lei-t, in language 
 
 might have been coined by Hildebrand. The civil magistrates were the 
 i urses, but they were also the servan .1 the Church; “and as they r lei in 
 
 ■ties, to throw own their crowns before the Church 
 • ll li the dust off the feet of the Chur 
 
 ; i' the lull years of Ihliza — 
 
 "»• . ... i • tore .I from the ranks of the Puivilans) clung to 
 
 pn\:i .tli inert .sing tenacity, and were readier to assert 
 
 their independence. e arbitrar exercise of the prerogative was still com- 
 mon. The Star Chamber contini. 1 to sit, and to inflict penalties on obstinate 
 
 or contumacious jurymen. Pr nations continued to be issued. The 
 
 printing of books was subject. severe restrictions. The tt rapid 
 
 increase of the Metropolis was to be a public danger, and i .1. n ! 
 
 Once at l^ast martial law had oe.laimed. But though the i embers 
 
 of the Commons themselves v • . casionally committed to the T . lor 
 imprudent or insolent speed >ry encroachments on their cusloi v 
 
 privileges wen in each such -»i. e Parliament, more keenly' resented and 
 i.ioie itrenuoudy resisted. • . i privileges were numerous. The claim 
 I r iberly -of speech and ae< to the royal person wa? preferred at 
 suing of each session. re the guardians of their own order 
 
 if. members were exempt. . arrest on civil process while ... 
 
 House ,..t 1 hey held, moreover. they were entitled to inquire into 
 
 an(l to find the. ri ate remedy. Before the close f 
 
 the century' they had attacked the sul s demanded, and the monopolies 
 
 most formidable and auLoeratic 
 .HaVlH 3HT MO/13 H3T8WIMT8aW 
 
 .aiilloH yd I jil'i . j 5[o j 1 1 ; Ino'i'i 
 
THE ENGLISH CONSTITUTION UNDER THE TUDORS. 
 
 13 
 
 mood failed to overawe them. The Wentworths and their fellows were 
 not to be silenced. Morice from his room in the Tower assured Lord 
 Burleigh that he would continue to strive, while life lasted, for freedom of 
 conscience, public justice, and the liberties of his country. They were 
 warned that idle heads should not meddle with “reforming the Church and 
 transforming the Commonwealth.” But they replied that, “to utter any 
 griefs of the Commonwealth” was theirs of right. The attack on the mono- 
 polies granted by the Sovereign to impecunious courtiers was a bitter pill for 
 Elizabeth to stomach. The prerogative, she declared, was “the choicest 
 flower in her garden, and the principal and head pearl in her crown and 
 diadem.” But the clamour grew so loud that she was forced to give way, and, 
 with that politic (or feline) adroitness which she could practise on occasion, 
 to compliment the Commons on their solicitude for the public well-being. 
 
 On every side the waters were rising. There was a pause while Elizabeth 
 lay on her death-bed; but the storm had not spent itself. It was clear 
 that the finest tact and the surest judgment would be needed to steer the 
 State barque into a peaceful haven. How far the Stuarts, on whom the 
 command now devolved, would prove fit for the duty remained to be seen. 
 
have to tell us when they leave ll region 
 conjecture admitting of rapid suinni; i , 
 
 The Scottish house of Stuart was descent 
 
 hereditary office) with the fess chequy on 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 WOOD CARVING IN DUNFERMLINE, THE BIRTHPLACE OF CHARLES I. 
 
CHAPTER TWO. 
 
 THE SCOTTISH STUARTS. 
 
 shield slung round the 
 
 he compilers of pedigrees are mainly responsible 
 for the earlier records of the Stuarts, — what they 
 have to tell us when they leave the region of 
 conjecture admitting of rapid summary. 
 
 The Scottish house of Stuart was descended 
 from the English house of Fitz-Alan, whose arms 
 they bore, hut (in allusion it is said to their 
 hereditary office) with the less chequy on the 
 neck of the mounted knight. They were Scot- 
 
 tish nobles for several generations before they became Scottish Kings. 
 Many cadets of noble Norman houses came to Scotland when David 1. 
 was on the throne, and were cordially welcomed by him. Among them 
 
 
16 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 were two of the Fitz-Alans, — two brothers, Walter and Simon. Walter, 
 for some reason which does not clearly appear, speedily obtained high 
 preferment. The Steward of Scotland (otherwise the Seneschall or Dapifer) 
 was a powerful functionary — perhaps the most powerful among the great 
 officers of State. The office was hereditary. Conferred on Walter, son 
 succeeded father in unbroken order, until it came to be held by that 
 other Walter who was with Bruce at Bannockburn. lie was then quite 
 a youth ; but he had already won a name by his gallant bearing and 
 his winning manners. A few months after the great battle, he was sent 
 to the Border to receive the Scots prisoners who had been detained in 
 England, — among them Elizabeth the wife, and Marjory the daughter, of 
 King Robert. llis wooing must have been done while they rode from 
 Carlisle to Edinburgh or Stirling, lor early in 1315 he was married 
 to Marjory. Next year a hoy was born, hut the mother died. The 
 Steward was acting as Regent at the time, — the King being in Ireland. 
 In 1318 he defended Berwick very gallantly against a great English army, 
 and in 1322 he nearly surprised the English King at Biland Abbey in 
 Yorkshire, hut for a hard ride to York, Edward would have been cap- 
 tured. He had had a brief, brilliant, adventurous career when in 1326 he 
 was struck down by mortal illness. He died in his thirty-third year. 
 “Had he lived, he might have equalled Randolph and Douglas; but his 
 course of glory was short.” 
 
 The boy who was born in 1316 was the grandson of the Victor of 
 Bannockburn. He too was a Robert; and for thirty distracted years only 
 the unhappy David stood between him and the throne. David, who had no 
 love for the valiant Steward, did his best to divert the succession. But David 
 left no son by Margaret Logie; the Scottish people would on no condition 
 accept the English Lionel; so that on David’s death the Steward’s claim 
 to the throne, under the settlement of 1318, was conceded without serious 
 debate. It was then, however, that the rivalry of the great house of 
 
 Douglas, pregnant with so many disasters to Scotland, first made itself felt, 
 
 a rivalry which a politic marriage pacified for the moment. 
 
THE SCOTTISH STUARTS. 
 
 17 
 
 Robert II. was succeeded by bis son, another Robert. Robert III. in 
 spite of mental and physical infirmities, had many of Lhe attractive traits 
 of his family ; but for some time before his death the reins of govern- 
 ment had dropped from his hands. His younger brother, the Earl of Fife, 
 who latterly became the famous or infamous Duke of Albany, was the real 
 governor. Whether Albany was responsible for the death of his nephew 
 Rothesay at Falkland is matter of controversy ; that he was responsible for 
 the prolonged detention of James in England is not open to doubt. It 
 need not therefore, occasion any surprise that James should have regarded 
 Albany and all his race with peculiar bitterness; and that the atonement 
 which he exacted should have been stern and terrible. 
 
 Albany is one of those peculiar and powerful characters which perplex 
 the historian. He had great opportunities, which he misused. Under his 
 government, during a period of profound peace, Scotland was given over 
 to anarchy. The patrimony of the Crown, the estates of the Church, were 
 squandered among nobles who were little better than brigands. On the 
 other hand, he had strong natural affections. He was a devoted father. 
 When he sinned he sinned for his children. He appears besides to have 
 had tastes and occupations which were uncommon in that rude society, 
 lie was a man of letters, a man of science. The contemporary annalists 
 are his apologists. The crafty and rapacious tyrant is regarded by Bower 
 and Wynton and Barbour with genuine enthusiasm. Amid the turbulence 
 of Border warfare he is represented as engaged in archaeological pursuits, 
 — -recovering and restoring the relics of an earlier age. A still more 
 striking scene has been preserved by Bower, — sitting on the ramparts of 
 the Castle of Edinburgh, the Regent discourses to his courtiers, during 
 the moonlight night, of the causes of eclipses and the order of the uni- 
 verse. 
 
 With the return of James my sketch as consecutive narrative may 
 close; the lights and shades in the lives of the later Stuarts are familiar 
 to us all. 1 turn to the question that mainly concerns us : how far their 
 Scottish experience had fitted them for English rule. The precise relation 
 
18 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 of these Scottish Sovereigns to their people, their Parliaments, and the 
 great feudal nobles, falls to be considered. 
 
 The Stuarts indeed had little reason to dread either the Parliament or 
 the people. The Parliaments, through ihe Lords of the Articles, were 
 easily managed; and the Commons were proud of the family who were 
 associated with a patriotic tradition, and worthily represented King Robert. 
 But the conflict with the aristocratic leaders was long and bitter. Feudalism 
 died hard. Mar and March and Douglas for many a year were as powerful 
 as the Sovereign ; and in Scotland a divided rule meant anarchy. Thus it 
 became the settled policy of the Stuarts to strengthen the authority of the 
 Crown by reducing the power of the aristocracy. While a score of petty 
 potentates continued to exercise an independent jurisdiction, anything like 
 orderly government was impossible. It cannot be truly said that the 
 Stuarts were worsted in the contest. They did much ; under happier cir- 
 cumstances they might have done more. But the stars in their courses 
 fought against them. 
 
 1. There was always England to reckon with. The Scots Kings had 
 to be constantly prepared for invasion. A nation far more powerful in 
 numbers and wealth lay on their flank. But the fighting force of the 
 country consisted mainly of the feudal retainers of the great nobles; and 
 when the great nobles were gravely displeased they refused to fight. Had 
 they been cordially united they might have formed a league which would 
 have left King and Kingdom defenceless. The utmost tact and dexterity 
 were needed to avert a disaster which, once at least, occurred, and which 
 more than once was imminent. 
 
 2. Ihe Stuarts were never wealthy; and impoverished rulers are forced 
 to husband their resources. In his anxiety to secure for himself and his 
 family the support of the peers, the ancient revenues of the Crown had 
 been squandered by Albany ; and when James returned from his English 
 exile he found an empty exchequer. Later on, when the abbey and other 
 ecclesiastical lands were in the market, the Sovereign was abroad, and the 
 patiimony of the Church was greedily appropriated by hungry nobles. The 
 

 L I ' -G ltSiT otV ejUrtvliiiy -my*- pu * *t / 
 
 aljirmu j'ft JA*««*i<c*- to a. jx~ % . ,v *{&£•* 
 
 Jl C 1 . *t - .V • ^ ><m2G ^UU*«' J> 0 '<.*r-{ n. 
 
 f/ r / 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 MARRIAGE CONTRACT OF CHARLES I. 
 
 From the original document, in the Collection of Her Majesty the Queen^ 
 
 at Windsor Castle 
 
 
18 
 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. • 
 
 of these Scottish Sovereigns to their people, their Parliaments, mil the 
 great feudal nobles, falls to be considered. 
 
 The Stuarts indeed had little reason to dread either the Parliament or 
 the people. The Parliaments, through the Lords of the Articles, were 
 easily managed; and the Commons were proud of the family who were 
 associated with a patriotic tradition, and worthily represented King Robert. 
 But the conflict with the aristocratic leaders was long and bitter. Feudalism 
 died hard. Mar and March and Douglas for many a ear were as powerful 
 as the Sovereign ; and in Scotland a divided rule meant anarchy. Thus it 
 became the sc!'.! icy of the Stuarts to strengti n llie authority of the 
 Crown i > 1 power <>f the aristocracy. W hile a score ol , • • 
 
 potent in > i» i exercise an independent jurisdiction, anything like 
 
 ordeiW hi was impossible. It cannot be truly said that the 
 
 Stuarts usted in the contest. They did much ; under happier cir- 
 
 cunr.-iai.o-: might have done more. But the stars in their courses 
 
 fought against them. 
 
 1. There was always England to reckon with. The Scots Kings had 
 to be constantly prepared for invasion. A nation far more powerful in 
 numbers and wealth lay on their flank. But the fighting force of the 
 country consisted mainly of the feudal retainers of the great nobles; and 
 when the great nobles were gravely displeased they refused to fight. Had 
 they been cordially united they might have formed a league which Mould 
 have left King and Kingdom defenceless. The utmost tact and dexterity 
 were m eded Lo avert a disaster which, once at least, occurred, and which 
 more than once was imminent. 
 
 2. 1 he Stuarts were never wealthy; and impoverished rulers are forced 
 
 lo husband their resources. In his anxiety to secure for himself and 1 - 
 family the support of the peers, the ancient revenues of the Cm* had 
 been squandered by Albany; and when James returned from his 1 ,h 
 exile he found an empty exchequer. Later on. when the abbe\ and o»her 
 ecclesiastical lands were in the market, the Sovereign i.ri j and the 
 
 patrimony of the Church was greedily appropriate 1 I in. nobles. The 
 
 I 83J/IAHD TO TO AflTft 00 30AIflflAM 
 
 „noouP 9 /Ij ^JgajcM ioH )o noiladlloO oiIj ui .inainuoob Isnigno orfJ iiiotT 
 sll<?>;0 lOfebni// lr. 
 
 SOVNO B •? V«lTBV.OK?Ml' 
 
— ■ 
 
THE SCOTTISH STUARTS 
 
 19 
 
 league of the peers against Mary is to be ascribed, 1 believe, to their 
 apprehension that she might revoke the generous grants which they had 
 made to each other in her absence. There can be little doubt, it may 
 be added, that Maitland of Lethington cordially approved the Stuart 
 policy. No government, he held , could be responsible for public order 
 so long as vast territories were under the absolute rule of a Hamilton or 
 a Gordon. 
 
 3. It was difficult to maintain a firm and consistent policy of repression 
 when the Sovereign was a minor; and long minorities were the curse of 
 Scotland. Five Jameses successively occupied the throne. The first was 
 forty-five when he was murdered at Perth, — he was succeeded by a boy 
 of seven; the second was thirty when he was killed at Roxburgh, — he 
 was succeeded by a boy of eight ; the third was thirty-five when he 
 was assassinated at Sauchie, — he was succeeded by a boy of sixteen ; 
 the fourth died at Flodden, aged forty-three, — he w r as succeeded by an 
 infant son ; the fifth died of a broken heart at Falkland, — he was suc- 
 ceeded by his daughter Mary who was then eight days old. We cannot 
 wonder that in these circumstances, heavily handicapped as they were, 
 they should have failed to keep the nobles steadily in check ; the wonder 
 is that they were able to do what they did. The surest testimony, indeed, 
 that feudalism was on the wane, that the life had died, or was dying, 
 out of it, is to be found in the fact that the Jameses, in spite of pro- 
 tracted minorities, should have been able in a manner to hold their own 
 to the end. 
 
 4. The pre-eminence of the house of Douglas was a real misfortune 
 for the Royal house. For more than a generation it was felt that any 
 day a disaffected Earl, with the northern and border barons at his back, 
 might make a bold bid for the Crown. The Stuarts and the Douglases 
 were rival claimants; and the title of the Douglas was thought by many 
 to be the better of the two. The Stuarts derived their title through 
 Elizabeth More, who had been the first wife of Robert II. But her son, 
 who afterwards became Robert III. had been born before the marriage was 
 
20 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 solemnised. According to the Canon Law, which recognised the legitimacy 
 of the offspring if the parents were subsequently married, the boy was 
 the true heir ; but after Elizabeth More was dead, Robert had married 
 again, and the descendants of his second wife — Euphemia Ross — were not 
 prepared without demur to recognise the law of succession as defined by 
 the ecclesiastical tribunals. The Douglas derived his right through Euphemia 
 Ross ; and, whenever the conflict became acute, the superior claims of 
 the heirs of Euphemia were obstinately preferred. There can, 1 suppose, 
 be no doubt that during the reign of James II. of Scotland it was for long 
 an open question which side would win. Had James been worsted, the 
 Earl of Douglas was prepared to claim the Crown ; and it is certain 
 that, with two-thirds of Scotland behind him, the claim would have been 
 admitted by the Estates. 
 
 These were obstacles to complete success, — serious obstacles no doubt ; 
 but the Stuarts themselves were to blame. I do not underrate their capacity, 
 nor their fitness in many respects for the high place they occupied. There 
 was hardly a member of the family who was not bright, energetic, capable. 
 They were poets, fluent writers and speakers, adventurous soldiers, able 
 administrators. They were resolved from first to last to hold their own ; 
 and they had a high conception of the kingly dignity ; yet they were not 
 arrogant. Easy of access, affable, quick at jest or repartee, they were 
 ready, with a sort of plebeian audacity, to welcome good or evil fortune. 
 They had little pride of station, — they were men and women who laughed 
 with the keenest zest over the humours of the market-place, and who 
 did not care to don the mask which custom prescribes when a King mixes 
 with the crowd. The engaging address of the Stuarts attained perhaps its 
 finest expression in Mary; but each could exert on occasion “the enchant- 
 ment whereby men are bewitched.” This is no more than the truth ; yet 
 the Stuart character was itself at fault. Somewhere in the metal there 
 was a flaw. Infirm of temper, they could not bear a protracted strain ; 
 impatient of opposition, they could not play a waiting game. To form 
 a far-reaching design, to mature it in silence, and to cling to it with 
 
THE SCOTTISH STUARTS. 
 
 21 
 
 dogged tenacity, was a line of policy which a Stuart might approve in 
 his heart, but which he rarely followed. They were at once obstinate 
 and facile, — never more so than when James IV., in spite of warning and 
 portent, flung away his crown upon the field of Flodden . Ilis grand- 
 daughter had many of the fine qualities of her family; but she had also 
 their fatal defects. She lacked the coolness, the self-control, the patience, 
 that become the diplomatist. The quick resentment was often as imprudent 
 as the prompt forgiveness. Her impulsive anger sometimes undid in a 
 day the politic labour of months. Her keen contempt for the pharisaic 
 bearing and spiritual arrogance of the “Congregation of Jesus Christ” 
 found vent, sooner or later, in rash and scornful words that worked her 
 infinite harm. She really desired to stand well with the English Queen ; 
 hut her cousin’s mean duplicity and blundering craft exhausted her patience ; 
 and a biting jest or a mocking laugh did more to exasperate Elizabeth 
 than the Darnley murder or the Bothwell marriage. 
 
 What has now been said will serve to indicate the view I take ; it 
 would be profitless to multiply illustrations. I do not assert that their 
 defects of temper absolutely disabled them for the work of government ; 
 but the absence of steady self-command unquestionably accounts in some 
 measure for the ill-luck which followed them like a shadow. Their record 
 would certainly have been less tragic had they been less impatient of 
 counsel and control. 
 
 This then was the character, these the experiences, of the family to 
 whom the Government of the English people had passed. It cannot 
 be said that the omens were propitious. Apart from any other con- 
 sideration, the fact that for three hundred years they had been engaged 
 in a constant struggle for supremacy had left behind it an inevitable 
 bias. Their aim had been to aggrandise the kingly office, to extend 
 
 and strengthen the prerogative. That the immunity from criticism of a 
 divinely appointed ruler should have become an article of the Stuart 
 creed need not surprise us. But if this conviction should prove ingrained 
 and ineradicable, what was to happen when they were brought into direct 
 
22 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 contact with the popular forces which were already at work in England? 
 
 Nor was it less than a grave public misfortune that the present repre- 
 sentative of the family was one who retained few of their finer traits, 
 and in whom their foibles were caricatured. While no King could be less 
 kingly than the Sixth Janies, no king was more persuaded of his divine 
 commission. The Stuart sovereigns with rare exceptions had been poor 
 — poor as church mice, as was said; but James was so impecunious that 
 the very shirts he wore were borrowed. After one or two spasmodic out- 
 bursts (of which the Raid of Ruthven and the Gowrie Conspiracy may be 
 reckoned the most audacious) the great nobles were ceasing to be trouble- 
 some ; but on the other hand the arrogant bearing of the Calvinistic clergy 
 had become intolerable. The place of the courtly and diplomatic priest 
 of the old religion had been taken by an indiscreet and vehement minister 
 of the new, who had no respect for decent conventions, and who rebuked 
 King and nobles with more zeal than discretion. The English sectaries, 
 who were separating themselves from the Anglican communion, favoured 
 the Presbyterian rule and ritual ; whereas to James, who had been preached 
 at and prayed for all his life, the very name of “Presbyter” had become 
 loathsome. 
 
 The character of a Stuart who combined a certain native shrewdness 
 with boundless egotism and insatiable vanity, in whom mental irritability 
 was as little under control as physical restlessness, has often been limned. 
 In the collections of Calderwood and others, the testimony of his Scottish 
 contemporaries will be found. The picture they draw almost passes belief. 
 This egregious schoolboy, who occupies his leisure in writing a commentary 
 on the Apocalypse, who, in public controversy swears like a trooper and 
 scolds like a shrew (the rival theologians being “loons” and “ smaiks ” 
 and “ leein knaves”) is surely one of the most singular royal figures of 
 whom any record remains. Long before he went to England, James had 
 fallen under the sway of unworthy favourites ; and among these, the Master 
 of Gray, Francis, Earl of Bothwell, the two Campbells, one of whom, created 
 Earl of Arran, became Chancellor of the kingdom, and married the shame- 
 
leas- of the Calvinislic pulpit, have attained an unenviable no- 
 
 . 
 
 w i ‘ nme to us mainly from ministers of the JfCirk, are some- 
 worn the Scottish Crown when the English succession opened was one of 
 
 
 ORDER OF ST. GEORGE. 
 Belonging to Charles I. From the Royal Collection. 
 
 

 _ 
 
 no King could be less 
 | >ei - - d .) is d im 
 
 . 
 
 1 - . iic- r< 
 
 ancellor of the L n, and m Tied the «■ uame- 
 
 .aofloa'o ,T2 ao Haano 
 
 .aoitoolfoD U^oH sdJ men'*! .1 eshsHD oi gnigaobtl 
 
THU SCOTTISH STUARTS. 
 
 23 
 
 less “Jezebel” of the Calvinistic pulpit, have attained an unenviable no- 
 toriety. The successors of Knox were prodigal of invective; neither King 
 nor courtier was spared ; and it may be admitted that James’s aversion to 
 his spiritual advisers — the Melvilles, the Lawsons, the Blacks, the Gibsons 
 — was not without warrant. It is possible therefore, that the contemporary 
 narratives, which come to us mainly from ministers of the Kirk, are some- 
 what highly coloured; yet after all, there is substantial agreement. That 
 the only Stuart who was a grotesque and undignified pedant should have 
 worn the Scottish Crown when the English succession opened was one of 
 those scurvy tricks which Fortune is apt to play. 
 

 
 in England — Anglican, Puritan, Catholic — wel- 
 
 could have persuaded themselves that with 
 to London was slow; and before he reached 
 
 JAMES I. 
 
 r rora the painting by Janssen, in the Collection of the Earl of Rosebery, at Dalmeny. 
 
CHAPTER THREE. 
 
 KING JAMES AND THE COMMONS. 
 
 t may be said without exaggeration that all parties 
 in England — Anglican, Puritan, Catholic — wel- 
 comed the accession of James. The waning 
 popularity of Elizabeth partly accounts no doubt 
 for the warmth of the greeting extended to her 
 successor; but it is rather difficult to understand 
 now on what grounds intelligent Englishmen 
 could have persuaded themselves that with a 
 Stuart prince the Golden Age was to return. The illusion did not last 
 long. James’s progress to London was slow ; and before he reached 
 the capital, the bubble had hurst. Admiration, we are told, was turned 
 
26 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 into contempt. This stuttering, slovenly, ungainly Scot was not the king 
 that had been looked for. The manners of Royalty are a factor of vital 
 moment; and James’s manners told heavily against him. The masses are 
 not quick to recognise the solid qualities of a Sovereign, and even the 
 classes better fitted to judge were startled by his frivolous tastes and 
 undignified familiarity. lie was in many respects shrewd and capable ; but 
 his foolish confidence in his own infallibility made him habitually indis- 
 creet, and his pedantic learning accentuated his folly. 
 
 James who was born in the summer of 1 566 — a few months after the 
 Rizzio murder — was married to Anne of Denmark in 1589. As we see 
 him now, he is not a romantic figure; and his ardour in pursuit of Anne, 
 who had been driven back by storm when on her way to Scotland, is 
 rather incomprehensible. The romance indeed was short-lived. Anne’s 
 position was difficult from the first; and her judgment was often at fault. 
 The King, to use a phrase that has become familiar, must have been “gey 
 ill to live wi ; and the relations between the ill-matched pair became so 
 strained at one time that separation was imminent, and worse than sepa- 
 ration was dreaded. But wiser counsels prevailed; and before they left 
 Scotland in 1603 two boys were born, — Henry and Charles — Henry at Stirling 
 on 19th February, 1594, Charles at Dunfermline on 16th November, 1600. 
 
 1 here was also a daughter — Elizabeth, who married the Elector Palatine in 
 1613, — an unhappy alliance, fruitful of tragedy. 
 
 1 he Catholic, no less than the Anglican, was entitled to look forward 
 with confidence to the coming of a Scottish Prince. Mary Stuart was held 
 by the Roman Church to have laid down her life for the Faith ; and 
 James had, latterly at least, resented with not unbecoming warmth the 
 insolent innuendoes of preachers and poetasters. The “false Duessa ” 
 of ‘ 1 he Faerie Queen had been identified with Mary ; and her son had 
 insisted that Spenser should be rigorously dealt with. It may be ques- 
 tioned how far his zeal for her good name was prompted by genuine 
 feeling; his sensitiveness on this occasion has been attributed to selfish 
 regard for his own interests, inasmuch as his claim to the English 
 

into contempt. This stuttering, slovenly, ly s not the king 
 
 that hail been looked for. The manners . a factor a vital 
 
 moment ; and James's manners told heavily ig. The masses are 
 
 not quick to recognise the solid qualities of a v w reign, and even the 
 classes ■ better fitted to judge were startled I 
 undignified familiarity. He was in many respt 
 his foolish confidence in his own i nfal libili t v 
 erect, and his pedantic learning accentuated 1 
 Janies who was born in the summer of I 
 Rizzio murder — was married to Anne of Drums 
 him now, he is not a roman i figure; and 
 
 frivolous tastes and 
 d and capable; but 
 him habitually indis- 
 
 i few months after the 
 in 1589. A . we see 
 irdour in pursuit of Anne, 
 
 who had been driven back by storm w! In wav to S. land, is 
 
 rather incomprehensible. The romance was short-lived. Anne’s 
 
 position was difficult from the first; ami 
 The King, to use a phrase that has bei < 
 ill to live wi and the relations bet'" 
 strained at one time thi separation 
 ration was dreaded. But wiser .■ 
 
 Scotland in 1603 two boj ■ born, — • i 
 
 judgment was often at fault, 
 umiliar, must have been “gey 
 he ill-matched pair became so 
 inent, and worse than sepa- 
 ■ availed , and before thev left 
 id 1 ■ rles — Henry at Stirling 
 
 on 19th February, 1595 Cl - at D«. ue on 16th liber, 1660. 
 
 There was also a daughter ibeth, v 1 
 1613, — an • . r *pp‘ alliance, itful of tr 
 The i i. i ■ i le,. than the Amdi 
 
 r> 
 
 with confident coining of a Scott i - 
 
 hv the Roman Church to have' laid down 
 James had, 1 atterli at least, resented with a 
 insolent innuendoes of preachers and poel.i- 
 of “ The Faerie Queen " had been identified a. , ■) 
 
 ried the Rhetor Palatine in 
 
 as entitled to look forward 
 • M iry Stuart was held 
 life for the Faith; and 
 nbecomin warmth the 
 The “ falsi I iu< - " 
 
 usmteil that Spensi r shnnhl b i • - >i ns|y d< -- In may 1» uucs- 
 . . : 89iiileiiiiM Slo ijuo-iO 
 
 aiTi! ' m 
 
 ovtiotisduiil'Mi ioitsn/i)iq ;tr»m*flh -hUio -r .-,n /.'Dr a English 
 
 
 .ullBliO vogbniW III UOTlip ‘nil 7l*sj«M nil 1o noilsalloD nil m n'-l 
 
KING JAMES AND THE COMMONS. 
 
 27 
 
 succession might have been prejudiced if the person through whom it came 
 was publicly defamed. Educated though he had been in the severest 
 school of Protestant theology, James was by nature easy and tolerant ; 
 he was ready to believe that Catholic nobles and gentlemen might be loyal 
 subjects ; and he was eager — unwisely eager, as it proved — to cultivate 
 amicable relations with the great Catholic Powers. No pressure, 1 believe, 
 could have made James a Catholic; he was too sure of his own omniscience 
 to acknowledge any other Pope; but there was, if I may use the expres- 
 sion, a dominant Catholic strain in the Stuart blood, so that few of them 
 could resist the allurements of Rome. Whatever the cause — hereditary 
 bias or a placable temper — it is certain that the fierce animosity of his 
 people to “the Vicar of Christ” was not shared by their King. 
 
 The Anglican parson had even surer grounds for his conviction that 
 the new King would prove an ardent churchman. But the very con- 
 siderations which reassured the Anglican should have warned the Puritan. 
 During the early years of the century the English Puritans favoured pres- 
 bytery (the Independent was of later growth); and James had had a pro- 
 tracted experience of Presbyterian discipline in Scotland ; and, as we know, 
 did not relish it. Elizabeth had used her influence to prejudice him against 
 a faction whose aim, as she declared was twofold, — “to reform the Church 
 and transform the Commonwealth.” “Let me warn you,” she wrote 
 in 1590, “that there is risen both in your realm and mine a sect of 
 perilous consequence.” English sectaries had taken refuge in Scotland, 
 where they were welcomed and entertained by their brothers in Christ. 
 Strong language from Calvinistic pulpits had, she understood, been directed 
 against herself. Would James allow a strange King to receive such in- 
 dignity at caterpillars’ hands? Let him stop their mouths or shorten their 
 tongues; and if he would decline to harbour “the vagabond traitors and 
 seditious inventors” who had fled from justice, she would take care that 
 on their return they were properly handled. James responded with ala- 
 crity ; the amity with England was of inestimable value ; and Elizabeth’s 
 appeal could not be disregarded. The truth was that the arrogant preten- 
 
28 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 sions of the Kirk had already stung him to the quick. The ministers had 
 told him to his face that it was his duty and his privilege to consent to 
 any act they might pass. “And why? Because the acts of the Assembly 
 have sufficient authority from Christ, who has promised that whatever 
 shall be agreed upon on earth by two or three convened in his name shall 
 be ratified in Heaven ; a warrant to which no temporal king or prince can 
 lay claim; and so the acts and constitutions of the Kirk are of higher 
 authority than those of any earthly king; yea, they should command and 
 over-rule kings, whose greatest honour should be to be members, nursing 
 fathers and servants to the King Christ Jesus, and his spouse and queen 
 the Kirk.” James took his revenge in the Basilicon Boron. The sur- 
 reptitious extracts which were made from Sir James Semple’s copy by 
 Andrew Melville roused such a storm of indignation among the clergy 
 that a public fast was proclaimed, which lasted for two days. An apostate 
 king had become the defamer of the Kirk ; and Lhe displeasure of the 
 Almighty could only be averted by public prayer and humiliation. It 
 must be admitted that in the use of truculent language the preachers had 
 met their match. Their Reformation, they were bluntly told, was the 
 offspring of popular tumult and rebellion. Their leaders were fiery and 
 seditious spirits who delighted to rule as Tribuni Plebis. They had brought 
 about the wreck of two queens ; and during a long minority had invariably 
 placed themselves at the head of every faction which weakened and dis- 
 tracted the country. “ Take heed therefore, my son, to such Puritans, 
 very pests in the Church and Commonweal, whom no deserts can oblige, 
 neither oaths nor promises bind ; breathing nothing but sedition and calum- 
 nies, aspiring without measure, railing without reason ; and making their 
 own imaginations (without any warrant of the Word) the square of their 
 conscience. 1 protest before the great God — and since 1 am here as upon 
 my testament it is no place for me to lie in — that ye shall never find with 
 any Highland or Border thieves greater ingratitude, and more lies, and vile 
 perjuries, than with these fanatic spirits.” 
 
 Nor was the Basilicon Boron his unkindest cut at the Kirk. Before he 
 
KING JAMES AND THE COMMONS. 
 
 29 
 
 left for the South, James actually succeeded in persuading the Presbyterian 
 Assembly to accept a modified or qualified form of episcopal rule. A 
 seat in Parliament for each bishop or “ commissioner” was the bait that 
 he used. The proposal was bitterly resented by the leaders of the Church 
 who, through the “ bonnie buskin,” saw, as they thought, “the horns of 
 the mitre.” But the King’s reply was not wanting in force. “I mean not 
 to bring in Papistical or Anglican bishops, but only that the best and wisest 
 of the ministry should be selected by your Assembly to have a place in 
 Council and Parliament, to sit upon their own affairs, and not to stand 
 always at the door like poor suppliants utterly despised and disregarded.” 
 The appeal was successful, and in spite of Ferguson’s emphatic warning, 
 “ Equo tie credite Teucri,” the Trojan horse was brought in. Conditions 
 were attached, to prevent a too arbitrary exercise of prelatic authority, 
 which however were not valued by those who, as Calderwood observes, 
 seeing the danger, “considered it better to hold thieves at the door, 
 (that they steal not) than to have an eye upon them when they have entered 
 within the house;” and which in point of fact the bishops broke “as 
 easily as did Samson the cords wherewith he was bound.” 
 
 It was tolerably clear that from a King who had suffered as James had 
 suffered, the Puritans had little to hope; and so it proved. 
 
 The messengers entrusted with the Millenary petition met the new 
 King on his way to London ; but consideration of its prayer (which 
 was to the effect that uniformity in the public services of the Church 
 should not be required) was meantime delayed. After a decent interval, 
 a Conference, which met at Hampton Court, was summoned. James, 
 who was in his element, presided; bishop and archbishop sat beside him; 
 the area of the hall was reserved for the men — Puritans mainly — who vainly 
 pleaded for relaxation. Whether, had their prayer been granted, peace 
 would have been permanently restored may be doubted; it rather seems 
 to me that any possible truce must have been hollow. Between Prelatist 
 and Puritan there was a radical repugnance which could not have been 
 healed by ceremonial change or ritual revision. 
 
30 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 Possibly James may have been right. “No Bishop, no King,” was his 
 favourite formula. The democratic independence of presbytery was a fact not 
 to be gainsayed ; whereas, episcopacy was aristocratic and monarchical, — the 
 distinction between the different offices, between rulers and ruled, being duly 
 emphasised. Then the King was the head of the English Church, whereas 
 the Presbyterian acknowledged no head but Christ. James had been taught 
 by Elizabeth that Puritanism was seditious as well as schismatical ; with his 
 exalted notions of Kingship, he was ready to believe the worst of a system 
 which in its devotion to republican simplicity showed no respect for dignitaries. 
 
 It is possible that a little tact might have helped to disarm hostility 
 for the moment. But James’s manner was abrupt, his language undignified 
 and indiscreet. “ If you aim at a Scottish presbytery,” he exclaimed in 
 reply to the request that they might be allowed to hold informal meetings 
 for devotional purposes, “it agrees as well with monarchy as God and the 
 Devil. There Jack, and Tom, and Will, and Dick, shall meet and censure 
 me and my council. Wait, I pray you,” he continued, “for seven years; 
 then if I grow pursie and fat 1 may perchance hearken unto you ; for 
 that government will keep me in health, and give me exercise enough.” 
 This was the harangue which the prelates noisily applauded, — the Archbishop 
 being satisfied indeed that “ his Majesty unquestionably spoke by the spe- 
 cial instance of God’s spirit.” 
 
 The Conference was followed by a meeting of convocation at which 
 the canons of 1604 were promulgated. By these, uniformity was enforced. 
 Rather than conform, three hundred clergymen left the Church. The seces- 
 sion, however, was smaller than had been looked for, and is held to 
 indicate that the more extreme and stubborn “ Sectaries” were still nu- 
 merically weak. In a subsequent proclamation, James declared that having 
 determined the matter “ he would neither let any presume that his own 
 judgment should be swayed to alteration by the frivolous suggestion of 
 any light spirit, nor was he ignorant of the inconvenience of admitting 
 innovation in tilings once settled by mature deliberation.” 
 
 It is a pity when history is written in hysterics. The nice shades of 
 
THE SECOND DU,KE OF BUCKINGHAM AND HIS BROTHER. 
 From the painting by Sir Anthony Vandyke, in the Collection of Her Majesty the Queen, 
 
 at Windsor Castle. 
 

 C1IAIU.ES THE FIRST. 
 
 Po Junes may have been right. “No Bis 1 |>, > King,” was his 
 
 uc formula !■. jcmtic indepe leo'ce < ‘ cresbytery v. i> a fact not 
 
 ! i I. “"'isi.' s, episcopacy wn- aristori and monarchical . ■ 
 
 dt-iii el"- •«.••• different offices, between /• I era and ruled, being duly 
 
 >h ised I m u the King was the hi id of tl English Church, whereas 
 il sliv; ian acknowledged no head but Chnst. James had been taught 
 Puritanism was seditious as v I .s schism il with his 
 of Kingship, he was ready to I lieve the won 1 i system 
 devotion to republican simplicity showed no respect for dig:. Paries, 
 iblc that little tact might havi helped to disarm hostility 
 
 ■nt Pu es’s manner was abrupt, his language undignified 
 
 m at a Scottish presbytery,” he exci.. m d in 
 iln- n ipi ’ ey might be allowed to hold informal meetings 
 
 ot purpose- it agrees as well with monarchy as God and the 
 Do\ :. There Jack, and Tom, and Will, and Dick, shall meet and censure 
 me and my council. Wait, I pray you,” he continued, “for seven years; 
 then if I grow pursie and fat I may perchance hearken unto you ; for 
 that government will keep me in health, and give me exercise enough.” 
 This was die harangue which the prelates noisily applauded the Aiehbishop 
 hen - tl indeed that “ his Majesty unquestionably -poke bv the spe- 
 cial insfcanoe of God's spirit.” 
 
 ili ' • was followed by a meeting of convocation at which 
 
 the I'.in i- wore promulgated. By these, uniformity was enforced. 
 
 Hathei than ■ " hi , three hundred clergymen left the Church. The seces- 
 
 than had been looked for, and is held to 
 ind stubborn “Sectaries” were still nu- 
 1 - it proclamation, James declared th.it lining 
 i 1 1 '!’• Id neither let any presume wn 
 
 teration by the frivolous su • -(.ion of 
 of the inconvenience of admitting 
 . I"' 1 by mature deliberation.” 
 
 i* ■ * ilten in hysterics. The nice shades of 
 
 aaHTOfla ct i il ciz/. i/./ n.i/iaaufi no aa.uu azooae sht 
 
 .mooii^) od.» loll lo noilToiln!) nil m Jvbiu ;V ynmlin/. t!S vd ■gnilnir.q odJ cnoil 
 
 loubniV/ li; 
 
NV/J* 
 
KING JAMES AND THE COMMONS. 
 
 31 
 
 character and circumstance are apt to be overlooked. James, whose blus- 
 tering rhetoric was a cloak for constitutional timidity, is accused (with 
 his son) of “conspiring” against the liberties of the English people, of 
 which the House of Commons is taken to have been the sagacious and 
 undaunted guardian. Here as elsewhere, the intemperate partisan draws 
 no fine distinctions — the sheep are on one hand, the goals on the other; 
 the truth being that neither King nor Parliament was blameless. Had 
 James been supremely sagacious, he might have recognised that a new 
 era had come, impatient of precedent and zealous for popular rights ; had 
 the Parliament been wise they would have perceived, on more than one 
 occasion, that, fighting for the shadow, they were letting the substance 
 so. While it must be admitted that there was little true statesmanship 
 in either camp, it seems to me that James adhered most closely to usage, 
 and that on the whole his outlook was shrewder, — his homely Scotch 
 sense indeed sometimes rising to genius. 
 
 There was a leaven of Puritanism in the Commons; and the rapid 
 alienation of King and Parliament was probably due to the presence of 
 men who resented James’s tart treatment of their Nonconformist allies. 
 
 1 am not convinced that his rather crude definitions ol his hereditary 
 title to almost absolute authority, of the divine derivation of his right to 
 rule, had much to do with the alienation. He stated it no doubt with 
 the most unguarded directness, and in the most peremptory terms. Although 
 a good King would frame all his actions to he according to the law, yet 
 was he not bound by it. The absolute prerogative ol the Crown was 
 not to be disputed. “It is atheism and blasphemy to dispute what God 
 can do ; cood Christians content themselves with his will revealed in his 
 word ; so it is presumption and high contempt in a subject to dispute 
 what a King can do, or say that a King cannot do this or that; but rest 
 in that which is the King’s will revealed in his law.” But Parliament, 
 in defining his right, had itself declared that on the death of Elizabeth, 
 “the imperial crown of the realm of England did by inherent birthright, 
 and lawful and undoubted succession , descend and come to his most 
 
32 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 excellent Majesty as being lineally, justly, and lawfully, next and sole 
 heir of the blood royal of this realm.” The reason for the unusual em- 
 phasis of the declaration is obvious. James had no parliamentary title 
 to the throne. The parliamentary title indeed was with the other branch 
 of the house, — the family of his younger sister, Mary, having been pre- 
 ferred by Henry VIII. to the family of the elder sister, Margaret. It was 
 
 necessary in consequence to fall back upon an inviolable hereditary right 
 which no act of Parliament could disappoint. It was quite understood 
 
 moreover, that James’s brave words meant little, — there was no imperious 
 
 and resolute Will behind them, as in the Tudor time. Though he was 
 easy and placable by nature, he was a Stuart; and the Stuart passion 
 sometimes mastered him. But even his passion was not impressive, — it 
 led only to peevish outbreaks of temper which judicious flattery or a 
 new toy could soothe. In one of his choleric moods he went down to 
 the house at Westminster where the Commons sat, and with his own hands 
 tore out of the Journals a “Remonstrance” which he held to be illesral. 
 It was a grotesquely childish proceeding; a few years later it might have 
 led to revolution ; but at the moment it passed almost unnoticed. He was 
 conscious, I think, of his weakness; and there is even a touch of pathos 
 in his comic confession, — ■“ I am your King; I am placed to govern you 
 and shall answer for your errors ; I am a man of flesh and blood, and 
 have my passions and affections as other men ; 1 pray you do not too 
 far move me to do that which my power may tempt me unto.” 
 
 The standing quarrel between James and his Parliaments related to the 
 subsidies which, either in whole or in part, they refused to grant. Eliza- 
 beth s bequest to her successor had been a heavy burden of debt, in- 
 curred during the later years of her reign; and James himself was foolishly 
 profuse. I he ordinary revenue ol the Crown had become inadequate, and 
 the supplies that were voted were niggardly in the extreme. The King was 
 forced to have recourse to impositions, benevolences, lorced loans, increased 
 duties, the sale of offices and honours, and other financial make-shifts, — apt 
 to provoke hostile comment. The contention that any or all of them were 
 
KING JAMES AND THE COMMONS. 
 
 33 
 
 plainly illegal cannot indeed be maintained. They were supported by usage, 
 by precedent, by the decisions of the Courts of law. But the improvident 
 parsimony of the Commons was attended with even graver consequences. 
 The Palatinate was lost for a punctilio. No better illustration of the 
 inconstancy of a popular assembly could be found than their proceedings 
 with regard to the appeal for help from the Elector-Palatine, and the 
 Protestant Princes of Germany. It is true that the King was averse to war. 
 But if an adequate subsidy had been voted, the Commons would have 
 divested themselves of responsibility, and any reason for hesitation on the 
 ground of inability to provide the monies for a campaign would have been 
 removed. It was not that they were indifferent or hostile to the appeal. 
 When they met in spring, they came to a unanimous resolution to spend 
 their lives and fortunes in defence of the Palatinate,- — a resolution “sounded 
 forth with the voices of them all, withal lifting up their hats in their hands 
 so high as they could hold them, as a visible testimony of their unanimous 
 consent, in such sort that the like had scarce ever been seen in Parliament.” 
 But the House was adjourned to the autumn; and by that time their ardour 
 had cooled. The £70,000 that after severe pressure they voted, was a mere 
 drop in the bucket. The loss of the Palatinate to the Protestant States 
 was a sorry prelude to the Thirty Years’ War ; and had the English 
 Commons been wisely generous, it might not have been lost. 
 
 Their temper on other occasions was far from admirable. In the 
 negotiations for union with Scotland they showed inveterate prejudice and 
 the narrowest jealousy. In resenting an unpalatable comment, or, as in 
 Floyd’s case, a trivial flippancy, they were positively savage. Even Hallam, 
 the mildest critic of the lower House, is stirred to indignant protest. “The 
 case of Floyd is an unhappy proof of the disregard that popular assem- 
 blies, when inflamed by passion, are ever apt to show for those prin- 
 ciples of equity and moderation by which, however the sophistic of 
 contemporary factions may set them aside, a calm judging posterity will 
 never fail to measure their proceedings. It has contributed at least, along 
 with several others of the same kind, to inspire me with a jealous distrust 
 
34 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 ot that indefinable, uncontrollable privilege of Parliament, which has some- 
 times been asserted and perhaps with rather too much encouragement from 
 those whose function it is to restrain all exorbitant power.” 
 
 The general charge that James was engaged in a conspiracy against 
 English liberty is rested mainly upon two specific allegations; (1) his 
 decided inclination to rule without the assistance of Parliaments ; and (2) 
 his partiality for a Spanish, or, in other words, for a Catholic alliance. 
 
 Hume has asserted that though the English State had no warmer 
 eulogist than Shakespeare, yet that the great dramatist does not once 
 refer to “civil liberty;” and a later historian observes that the Parliament 
 plays little or no part in the great series of historical dramas. The omis- 
 sion is suggestive. Up to the reign of James, the Kingship was the 
 centre of the national life, and round it all the forces that go to make 
 a Kingdom gathered. No hard and fast line bounded the prerogative, — 
 it was the King who ruled. The meetings of Parliament were rare and 
 uncertain. Years might elapse between the dissolution of one Parliament, 
 and the calling of another. It has been estimated that during Elizabeth’s 
 reign the vacations were twelves times longer than the sittings. The func- 
 tions of such a body were of necessity subject to strict limitations, — its 
 share in the actual work of government could he little more than nominal. 
 Government was a work for experts, for the King and the Councillors 
 who had been bred to the business. A popular assembly, convened at 
 infrequent intervals, was absolutely unfitted to discharge the high and 
 complicated duties of imperial administration, which, even under the most 
 democratic Constitution, must he lodged in a Cabinet or Privy Council. 
 I he English Commons, however, had the power of the purse; and, when 
 a war with France or Spain was imminent, they were summoned to West- 
 minster to vote the necessary supply. This, roughly speaking, was the 
 view that prevailed when James succeeded to the Crown. 
 
 Whether this view may be approved by the doctrinaire is immaterial. 
 The English Constitution was not fashioned by the doctrinaire. It has 
 been a true growth, like the growth of flower or fruit. The laws of the 
 
KING JAMES AND THE COMMONS. 
 
 35 
 
 Medes and Persians were unalterable ; but within the English Constitution 
 there has been a happy power of adaptation. Conditions change ; the 
 imperative creed of one age is the obsolete fiction of the next. Thus the 
 Constitution is not to be found in any written document, — usage, precedent, 
 practice, being stronger than statute. It has had to contend age after age 
 with novel and varied forces, — to protect itself successively against a lawless 
 nobility, against a despotic King, against a turbulent democracy. ft has 
 once, more than once indeed, temporarily succumbed, — one day a mob of 
 fanatics, on another a mob of soldiers, have assailed it with success. But 
 hitherto, it has always recovered from the shock. No vital organ has been 
 incurably hurt. It is extraordinarily tenacious of life; for its roots, oak- 
 like, are deeply embedded in the soil from which it sprang; and thus far 
 it has proved itself invulnerable. 
 
 The Parliaments of James, it must be admitted, would have tried the 
 temper of a less choleric ruler. They were not only penurious in the pro- 
 vision they made for the public service, but they were constantly encroach- 
 ing on the prerogative of the Crown. The power of making war, the right 
 to conclude a treaty or a peace, had by immemorial usage been vested in 
 the Sovereign. So had the disposition of the Royal family in marriage. 
 These privileges — privileges which have never been resigned and which 
 continue to be exercised — were invaded by the Commons. The} 7 proposed 
 in effect to take the governing power into their own hands. It can 
 hardly, one would think, be matter of surprise that the intercourse between 
 James and his faithful Commons should not have been cordial ; and that, as 
 far as possible, he should have been pleased to dispense with their attend- 
 ance at Westminster. There can, I think, be no doubt that the Com- 
 mons were the aggressors, and that James’s attitude substantially accorded 
 with the constitutional practice and popular judgment of the time. 
 
 On the other hand, it cannot be denied that James, who, as a foreigner, 
 had failed to gauge the intense antipathy of the English people to Spain, 
 showed little regard for their most cherished convictions. The Puritan saw 
 in the surplice “the rags of Popery;” the Puritan, and not the Puritan 
 
36 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 only, saw in Spain the most bitter and persistent enemy of the Reforma- 
 tion, — an enemy, as he believed, still powerful for evil. James did not 
 share these prejudices, and it may be that James was right. He may 
 have thought, reasonably enough, that the severe penal laws against 
 recusants, which were needed when the Armada was being provisioned, 
 might now be safely relaxed, as he may have thought, reasonably enough, 
 that republican license was inimical to true liberty, and that Puritan 
 asceticism, in the interest of true culture, should be restrained. It must 
 be said for him that he bore little rancour, and that his temper was tolerant 
 and not ungenerous. After the discovery of the Gunpowder Plot he was 
 almost the only man in high place who kept his head. Even at that 
 moment of extremest panic he was prompt to prefer the plea, “ Do not 
 confound the innocent with the guilty.” But his Spanish policy was unwise 
 and ill-considered. A Spanish marriage for the heir to the throne was 
 more than the nation could stomach. To bring a Catholic Bride to England 
 from the most Catholic house in Europe was to make terms with the 
 Antichrist of Rome. To fancy that by a Catholic alliance the Palatinate 
 might be recovered to Protestantism was folly. To pleasure the Spanish 
 King by the sacrifice of Sir Walter Raleigh, the most famous Englishman 
 of the time, was worse than folly, lie might have suspected that he was 
 being played with by the Court of Spain; and that the concessions to the 
 Papal claims which he was prepared to make would be resented by a 
 Protestant, and would fail to satisfy a Catholic, people. 
 
 Nor was it true that the danger to Protestantism was over. It has 
 always appeared to me that the Reformation might have proceeded on 
 other lines, and under other leaders, with happier results. The temper 
 of the leading reformers was unpliilosophical and unhistorical. They would 
 hold no parley with the past; they had resolved, as Knox declared, to 
 establish the Church of Christ de novo. In a work on the singularly in- 
 teresting William Maitland of Lethington, I ventured to suggest that had 
 his moderate counsels prevailed, had Knox’s fanatical intemperance been 
 effectively curbed, the Scottish Reformation might have proved more fruitful 
 
KING JAMES AND THE COMMONS. 
 
 37 
 
 of good. Mr. Froude replied that but for Knox there might have been no 
 Scottish Reformation— either fruitful or unfruitful; — which is possibly true. 
 “ The passions on both sides lay too deep, in my opinion, to be controlled 
 by reason and moderation. Even now I see that actual work in the world 
 only gets done by intense and narrow people. The water spread over the 
 ground makes a morass ; gathered into a channel, it is a running stream and 
 drives a mill.” Dr. Schaff, in like manner, has said that neither the polished 
 culture of Erasmus, nor the gentle spirit of Melanchthon, nor the cautious 
 measures of Cranmer, could have accomplished the mighty change in Scotland. 
 
 But if we take a wider area than Scotland, if we make Europe the 
 unit, it would certainly seem that the policy of revolutionary violence was a 
 mistake. I cannot help thinking that, had the conduct of the Reformation 
 been entrusted to wiser heads and gentler spirits, the end might have 
 been different. Had a temperate policy of Reform on the lines indicated 
 by Erasmus been carried out, might not the whole of Christendom have 
 been included? might not a religious truce have been concluded, — a truce 
 which by wise guidance could have been turned into a religious peace ? 
 But the lighting men, Luther and Knox and Calvin, were preferred to 
 Erasmus. Throughout Continental Europe the consequences were disastrous. 
 It can hardly be questioned that the Catholic reaction was mainly due to 
 the unreasonableness of the Reformers. 
 
 It was the rapid rally of Catholicism that made the English people 
 uneasy. It seemed to them that the great work in which they had taken 
 a leading part was being undone. The situation, it must be admitted, 
 was sufficiently disquieting. Mr. Green, is, as usual, unduly and extra- 
 vagantly emphatic; but there is substantial truth in his brilliant account 
 of the triumphant recovery of Rome from the malady which for a time 
 had been like to prove mortal. All over the Continent, the advance of 
 Protestantism had been stayed. It had been untrue to its own first 
 principles, and it had failed as it could not but fail. “At the death of 
 Elizabeth, therefore, the temper of every Protestant, whether in England 
 or abroad, was that of a man who after cherishing the hope of a crowning 
 
38 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 victory, is forced to look on at a crushing and irremediable defeat. The 
 dream of a Reformation of the universal Church was utterly at an end. 
 The borders of Protestantism were narrowing every day, nor was there a 
 sign that the triumph of the Papacy was arrested. 
 
 We cannot wonder that in these circumstances the suspicion that the 
 King’s Protestantism was lukewarm, that he was ready to relax the laws 
 against recusants, and enter into an alliance with Spain, should have 
 alarmed the nation. James was persuaded, it may be, that only thus 
 could the Palatinate be saved ; and for the sake of argument we may 
 assume that he had solid grounds for his persuasion. But, whatever policy 
 was adopted, it ought to have been consistently strenuous. Whereas the 
 King wavered from day to day. He was bound in honour and policy to 
 aid his son-in-law; and yet he felt with acute discomfort that the Elector 
 had invited disaster. It is possible to understand, and even to sympathise 
 with his indecision ; but the Protestant Princes were furious, and to the 
 satirists and caricaturists of the time, the King of England was a mine 
 of wealth. A play was acted at Brussels in which a courier brought the 
 news that the Palatinate would he rescued without delay ; powerful aid 
 had been secured ; the King of Denmark had promised to contribute a 
 hundred thousand pickled herrings, the Dutch a hundred thousand butter 
 boxes, the King of England a hundred thousand ambassadors. At other 
 times he was represented with a scabbard, but without a sword, or with 
 a sword which nobody could draw, though many were pulling at it. 
 
 Yet after all is said that can be said, James’s gravest offence was his 
 unwise prodigality to unworthy favourites. All his life he was the victim of 
 their rapacity. The English Ambassadors to the Scottish Court had remarked 
 upon “ the vain youths and proud fools ” on whom the inexperienced 
 Sovereign lavished the scanty resources of his exchequer. Had he a million 
 from England, they said, it would all go the same way. And so it proved. 
 When Carr fell, Villiers rose ; hut extravagant provision was made for both. 
 The finance of the Palace was reorganised under Bacon ; substantial retrench- 
 ments were effected in the household expenditure ; but even in his econo- 
 

 it tKJ.KS THE FIRST. 
 
 ■ • ' - i .■•ii .n hi i crushing and irrc ■ (liable defeat The 
 
 ■ >1 the universal Church • is utterly at . . nd. 
 
 i vero narrowing day, nor was tnoi 
 
 sign . •! . inn njih of the Papacy was arresti I 
 
 ■ . rnder that in these circumst.n > cs the suspicion that the 
 •..I _ s P "Ntantism was lukewarm, that he v. ~ ready to relax the laws 
 „ • . recusants, and enter into an aliinn ■ with S|. u. should have 
 ; ned the nation. James was persuaded t may 1 it only thus 
 
 could the Palatinate he saved; and for tl>. sake of arc , ' we may 
 
 •I'sume that he had solid grounds for his persuasion. Bu* «h . c. 
 was adopted, it ought to have been consistently strenuous. t Ut- 
 
 Kiiig wavered from day to day. lie . was bound in honour and policy to 
 aid his son-in-law; and yet he fell with acute discomfort that the Elector 
 had invited disaster. It is possible to understand, and even to sympathise 
 with his indecision ; but the Protestant Princes were furious, and to the 
 satirists and caricaturists of the time, the King of England was a mine 
 of wealth. A play was acted it Brussels in which a courier brought the 
 news that the Palatinate would he rescued without delay ; powerful aid 
 had been secured; the King of Denmark had promised to contribute a 
 hundred thousand pickled herrings, the Dutch d huh.l-c! thousand butter 
 boxes, the Kii.g of England a hundred thousand uub.tss pi >r». At .-flier 
 times he ■> sented with a scabbard, but without a sword, or with 
 
 a sword win 1 ody could draw, though many were pulling at it. 
 
 Vet after .ii - i d that can be said, James's gravest offence was his 
 
 unwise prodigality ;■> unworthy favourites. All his life he was the victim of 
 their rapacity. The hn-i sh Ambassadors to the Scottish Court had remarked 
 up.nl - L the vain 'youths and proud fools ’’ on whom tin n .'\p., rum-vd 
 
 : shed the • mes of his exchequer Ji d li< .non 
 
 > .in England, they said, it would all go the same way. And so it proved. 
 Win n Carr fell. Villiers rose ; hut extravagant provision was made for Loth. 
 
 tMKHet 1 Bacon; substantial retrench- 
 
 PMP a i'? i 'i s?|ih .-.ware? v &P v is# 
 
 1o aa»JnuoO .flH/.WOH OflllAOHT ''OvilO .1 mill. .miiilgaiJoua 1o 9J lu« 
 
 '( -3 ll ■ . i’fiuinfi ii If to iJuO , I fl A I T3 3 .'1 MAI ;\yiiivwl -isvifO .1 -iujIi: .Isr-isoioS 
 l-mA-.A) RiiiJiioIl .l ioJili ,a/!A.l/I.I A'T nuioosi'/ m\i>V) liiqooO 
 •ilJaiiO -loabni II u, .iioooCt sib (JaapiM -inH In noiloollo:) mil moT"! 
 

 
 
 ■■■ 
 
 
KING JAMES AND THE COMMONS. 
 
 39 
 
 mies, the King was penny wise and pound foolish. Had it not been for the 
 vast sums wasted upon greedy dependants, had he been even moderately 
 provident, James to his dying day might have dispensed with a Parliament. 
 On the other scandals of a dissolute Court it would be unprofitable to 
 enlarge; but, before closing this chapter, one or two social characteristics 
 may be noted. 
 
 There were plenty of fine wits, who could turn a rhyme very prettily, 
 about “the town;” but in public affairs the absence of any saving sense 
 of humour is very noticeable. No sparkle of epigram irradiates the mortal 
 dulness. By the Puritan indeed the most harmless witticism would have 
 been regarded as an indecorum. To him in his intense preoccupation, 
 “life was full o’ sairiousness,” — the seriousness being of the sort which finds 
 satisfaction in forcibly imposing its own uncomfortable convictions on others, 
 — “ he just never can get enuff o’ fechtin.” But except for an occa- 
 sional bout of boisterous horseplay, the other side were quite as poorly 
 provided. Bacon, to be sure, had the light ironical touch, and he some- 
 times used it to advantage. His gay wisdom could mollify even the im- 
 perious and arbitrary Elizabeth, and incline her to milder methods. It 
 was thus that he saved Hayward from the rack. Hayward was one of 
 the misguided people who wrote political tracts, — a practice which the 
 Queen could not abide. “The Queen said to me that she had an opinion 
 that there was treason in it, and asked me if 1 could not find any? 
 Whereto 1 answered : ‘For treason, sure I found none; but for felony 
 very many;’ and when Her Majesty hastily asked me: ‘Wherein?’ ‘I told 
 her, the author had committed very apparent theft ; for he had taken most 
 of the sentences of Cornelius Tacitus, translated them into English, and 
 put them into his text.’ And another time when the Queen could not be 
 persuaded that it was his writing whose name was to it, but that it had 
 some more mischievous author, and said with great indignation that she 
 would have him racked to produce his author ; 1 replied, ‘ Nay, Madam, 
 he is a doctor, never rack his person, but rack his style; let him have 
 pen, ink, and paper, and help of books, and be enjoined to continue 
 
40 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 the story where it breaketh off, and I will undertake, by collating the 
 styles, to judge whether he were the author or no. ' One of James’s 
 
 prelates, loo, — Launcelot Andrewes — could flash out at times, — winging 
 sober counsel with wit. The two bishops, Andrewes and Neile were 
 dining, we are told, with the King. James, with his habitual want of 
 reserve, proposed aloud, so as to be heard by the bye-standers, the ques- 
 tion, 11 Whether he might not take his subjects’ money when he needed 
 it, without the formality of a Parliament?” Neile replied, “God forbid 
 you should not, for you are the breath of our nostrils.” Andrewes declined 
 answering as he was not skilled in parliamentary precedents; but being 
 urged by the King, who would take no evasion, he replied (“ pleasantly ”), 
 “ Why then, 1 think Your Majesty may lawfully take my brother Neile’s 
 money; for he offers it.” But from the whole political record of the 
 lime, it is barely possible to extract another jest that will pass muster. 
 That happy persiflage which does so much, when employed by a Canning, 
 a Disraeli, or a Balfour to lighten the dusty bye-ways of politics, was not 
 yet in vogue; — outside the Club or the Tavern where the wits met, there 
 was neither taste nor opportunity for brilliant trifling. The times were 
 out of joint — not to the Puritan only. It did not need profound acumen 
 to anticipate that the long truce would not last for ever; and even the 
 most light-hearted may have been sobered by presentiments of coming evil. 
 James, when he warned “Baby Charles” and “Steenie” that they would 
 live to get their “ bellyful of impeachments,” must have had a shrewd guess 
 that an age of stress and storm lay ahead. 
 
 It was, moreover, an era of transition, — in letters as in politics. The 
 echoes of the great time were growing faint. Before the accession of 
 Charles, most of the Elizabethans were dead. Ben Jonson (but Ben 
 Jonson’s best work had been done long before) was the one survivor of 
 the Titans. The friend of Shakespeare was the friend of Herrick, who 
 had supped with him at The Triple Tun and the Mermaid. A new genera- 
 tion was coming upon the stage. Few of the future poets were yet in 
 their prime, — it was hard to say what forms the fresh poetic activities 
 
MES AND THE COMM 
 
 might take. > tat> there was the lull that comes be! en one period 
 of hij_ r 1 in inspiration, and'the next. After the i.. < than out- 
 burst led leisure to recruit. 
 
 «• (he so' ,cly to which Charles, when he entered f lie. life. 
 .... . wi 1 which gave him a fairly cordial welcome. II > i.-r 
 
 ,s sincere remained to be seen. There was an intei >1 
 i . o ; but the peace might be rudely, broken. If the crusade In; 
 popular rights were renewed, the Commons, it might be .pprehended, 
 would find plenty of recruits. The Puritan had retired o his tent; but 
 he was deeply displeased, and like Achilles brooded over his wrath, 
 sky overhead was somewhat dull and colourless ; but there was a threat, 
 ing light along the horizon when the 'oud. big with fate, 
 
 • t ..»!t» ii- < ed thunder labouring up." 
 
 HENRY, PRINCE OF WALES, 1596. 
 f Elder Brother of Charles I.) 
 
 From the painting in the Collection of the Earl of Rosebery, at Daloieny. 
 

 I V Rl.ES THF. FIRST. 
 
 . at times, 
 
 Vi ‘'rewcs and Neile • 
 
 U la, with with his habitual want of 
 
 MM - aloud • : i > v the bye-standers, the ques- 
 
 \\ lielher he mi r ut his subjects’ money when he needed 
 
 ut the formality <>t .li.iment?” Neile replied, “God forbid 
 
 i should not, for you ar-- tin breath of our nostrils.” Andrewes declined 
 wering .s he w.i i -- I d in parliamentary precedents; ! 
 u, !■ 1 by the King, who would take no evasion, he replied (“ ph as r ‘ 
 
 ossible to extract another jest lli t mu- r. 
 
 h i! diage which does so much, when empl > by a Canning, 
 
 a Dim." "i‘ a Balfour to lighten the dusty bye-ways of politics, was not 
 
 vet in vogue; — outside the Club or the Tavern where .the. wits met, there 
 w as neither taste nor opportunity for brilliant trifling. The limes were 
 out of joint — not to the Puritan only. It did not need -profound acumen 
 it! that the Long truce would not last f -• ; en the 
 
 si i led may have been sobered by pi - 
 
 warned “ Baby. Charles " and “Steenje” thai il 
 ellyful of impeachments,” muUhavc hat .» • 1 gues 
 
 - ,r« and storm lay. ahead. 
 
 r, an era of transition'— in letters as in politics. The 
 U timic were growing faint. Before the accession of 
 - the Elizabethans were dead. Ben Ion n . n 
 
 onson’s L had been done long before) \mi^ 
 
 * Titans. - it . .1 of Shakespean vaa the ) end 
 
 h id supped with hu l The Triple Tun ind the Mermaid. A new genera- 
 tion was coming upon the stage. Few of the future poets were yet in 
 their prime — it wag^rdg £ 0 ,^ P 6elic activities 
 
 V-\ ”\o vjtacna. T-foYA* 
 
 it; ,/T»ij9f<iH lo h »,3 dill lo uoiloslloD adi ut guiiuifcq ddJ oiot3 
 
 
 
 H 
 
KING JAMES AND THE COMMONS. 
 
 41 
 
 might take. Meantime there was the lull that comes between one period 
 of high imaginative inspiration, and the next. After the Elizabethan out- 
 burst, Nature needed leisure to recruit. 
 
 This was the society to which Charles, when he entered public life, 
 was introduced, and which gave him a fairly cordial welcome. How far 
 the greeting was sincere remained to be seen. There was an interval 
 of peace; but the peace might be rudely broken. If the crusade for 
 popular rights were renewed, the Commons, it might be apprehended, 
 would find plenty of recruits. The Puritan had retired to his tent; but 
 he was deeply displeased, and like Achilles brooded over his wrath. The 
 sky overhead was somewhat dull and colourless ; but there was a threaten- 
 ing light along the horizon where the cloud, big with fate, 
 
 “ Was with its stored thunder labouring up.” 
 

 
 
 
 . 
 
 moral scandal among the hanger — r o ■ 
 
 
 CHARLES I. RETURNING FROM SPAIN. 
 
 From the painting in the Royal Collection, at Hampton Court Palace. 
 
CHAPTER FOUR. 
 
 CHARLES AS PRINCE OF WALES. 
 
 harles was born in 1600 — he succeeded to the 
 Crown in 1625 — lie was beheaded in 1649. Only 
 half a century from first to last. When regard 
 is had to the brief interval between his accession 
 and his execution, we cannot hut ask ourselves 
 how it came about that, in less than five and 
 twenty years, the decent conventions of English 
 public life should have been exchanged for an 
 outbreak of elemental passion, in which the whole edifice went down, — 
 the King himself, after a bloody and embittered conflict, coming to violent 
 death. How did such stress of storm arise? Can it be said that the 
 constitutional friction between King and Commons sufficiently accounts 
 for this tremendous tragedy? Or were other forces at work, under the 
 surface, of which we know comparatively little ? There was no grave 
 moral scandal among the hangers-on of the Court of which complaint 
 could reasonably be made. There were no cruel excesses, such as the 
 
44 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 Tudors had approved. The royal rule was mild and merciful, — the country 
 as a whole, faring prosperously,— most prosperously when the Parliament 
 was in retirement. There were difficulties about taxation, no doubt; 
 but these were of old standing. Ratepayers grumble when a tax pinches ; 
 but a penny in the pound — more or less — does not lead to revolution. 
 Religion is a fertile source of misunderstanding ; but the controversies 
 of the time were about “ trifles and twelve-penny matters;” and the 
 only people who had any real grievance were the Catholics. No martyr 
 had been burned at Smithfield for a generation. Even if the King’s 
 word was not to be trusted, Charles was not the first King who had 
 equivocated when in difficulties; he did not lie as Elizabeth had lied; and 
 the punishment, in any view, was out of all proportion to the offence. 
 How then did this tempest of passion arise, — this tempest in which an 
 ancient monarchy and a powerful Church were wrecked? I do not think 
 that any entirely adequate explanation has been, or can be, found. The 
 secret has been well kept. The great civil strife of the Seventeenth Century, 
 has an air of accident, of impromptu, of unexpectedness, which gives it a 
 character of its own. 
 
 It may indeed be that the nation was not roused. It may he that the 
 revolution was the work of a resolute and disciplined minority. Even 
 under a republic, the majority does not always rule. The majority is 
 commonly apathetic. It was a resolute and disciplined minority that 
 banished the Queen of Scots. It was a resolute and disciplined minority 
 that after the revolution of 1688 kept the Stuarts in exile. More than 
 once by a popular franchise the exiled family would have been restored. 
 And it is by no means impossible that the extremities of the Civil War 
 were due to the fanatical logic of a small body of Utopian dreamers, who, 
 in secret conclaves at home or abroad, had reburnished the weapons of 
 Greek and Roman patriots. 
 
 Up to the day of his accession — saving of course the run to Spain — we 
 hear comparatively little of Charles. What we do hear of him, however, 
 is entirely to his advantage. 
 
CHARLES AS PRINCE OF WALES. 
 
 45 
 
 Charles was a delicate child, — so delicate indeed that he was not expected 
 to live. His ankles were weak — for long he was only able to crawl on 
 hands and knees; and, as he had inherited his father's stammer, it was 
 with difficulty that he could make himself understood. James, who was 
 inclined to experiment freely, in season and out of season, would have 
 tried very drastic remedies; hut, thanks to Lady Carey’s sense and judg- 
 ment, Charles outgre.v his childish ailments. Happily for the young prince, 
 Lady Carey, who had been made his guardian, appears to have had scant 
 faith in doctors’ drugs or the surgeon’s knife; and her confidence in the 
 vis mecLicatrix naturae was abundantly justified. In later life Charles, who 
 was fond of athletics, enjoyed excellent health ; and he could speak on 
 occasion readily enough, though always, 1 fancy, at least when excited, 
 with a slight lisp or stammer. Mr. Gardiner, however, is of opinion that 
 the physical weakness of his childhood left its impress upon “his tena- 
 cious and irresolute mind,” — which is possible no doubt; unless indeed 
 the traits were hereditary, and only accentuated by a backward boyhood. 
 He was five or six years old when Thomas Murray, a Scotsman, who 
 was afterwards Provost of Eton, became his tutor, — from all we know a 
 fortunate appointment. The Murrays were devoutly loyal, — none more 
 devoutly than the daughter Anne, who, for her skilful care of the sick 
 and wounded in the Civil War, has been compared with our Crimean 
 Miss Nightingale. To Anne, as to half the people of England, the execu- 
 tion of Charles was “the greatest murder committed that ever story men- 
 tioned, except the Crucifying of our Saviour.” Yet though quite out of 
 touch with vulgar asceticism, this royalist lady was as grave and pious as 
 any Puritan maiden, — only, as was said bj r one who knew her, “her piety 
 had nothing of moroseness, or affectation, but was free and ingenuous, 
 full of sweetness and gentleness,” while “her gravity had a grace and 
 air so taking, and agreeable, as begot both reverence and love.” A pleasant 
 picture! — serving to remind us of what is sometimes forgotten by partisans, 
 that moral seriousness was not on one side only. 
 
 The royal children were five in number, Henry, Charles, Elizabeth, and 
 
46 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 the two girls who were born in England, and who died in infancy — Mary 
 and Sophia. The three elder were united by strong family affection. The 
 gallant and masterful Henry was very good to his ailing brother, — “I’ll 
 make him Archbishop of Canterbury,” he used to say in jest, — while his 
 devotion to Elizabeth was unbounded. “Where is my dear sister?” were 
 almost the last words he uttered as he lay on his death-bed. He died of 
 typhoid fever ; the fever was held to be infectious ; and Elizabeth was 
 not permitted to enter the sick room. He was not much of a student; he 
 delighted in rough outdoor sports and pastimes, and in these he excelled ; 
 the sea was his passion; as adventurous by nature as Raleigh, he would 
 have made an excellent sailor. Raleigh himself he admired immensely, 
 and he deplored his long and weary captivity. “Why,” he asked, “does 
 my father keep such a bird in the cage?” There is a portrait of Prince 
 Henry at Dalmeny; the boyish face, not untouched by a pleasant humour, 
 is bright and animated; as we try to forecast what might have been , it 
 is still possible to understand why the death of the young Ascanius cast a 
 gloom over England. 
 
 Charles was as loyal to his sister as Henry had been. The sprightly 
 and high-spirited girl had much of her grandmother’s charm, — •“ the 
 enchantment whereby men are bewitched.” She made a miserable marriage; 
 Frederic, the Elector-Palatine, was bound to fail in whatever he undertook; 
 but Elizabeth was as staunch as steel. She was partly responsible no doubt 
 for his evil fortune ; she had urged him apparently to accept the Crown of 
 Bohemia ; but retributive justice was swift, and below the walls of Prague 
 she was bitterly punished for any rash counsel she may have given. 
 
 The parental relations can hardly have been so close or cordial. The 
 pleasure - loving Anne could have had little influence on her son. A 
 thoroughly frivolous woman, she was yet a Catholic at heart, — her craving 
 for excitement finding satisfaction sometimes in the gaieties of the Court, 
 sometimes in the austerities of the Cloister. The contrast between James 
 and Charles was even more marked. The boisterous familiarities of the 
 King must have been very trying to this reserved and stately lad. The 
 
HENRIETTA MARIA 
 
 the picture by Sir A. Vandyke, in the Collection of the Earl of Radnor, 
 at Longford Castle, Wilts 
 

 
 
 
 
 *■ ’ '■ - - * .i ' 
 
 . " 
 
 - 
 
 ' 
 
 loi to I istor as Henry had been. 'lire sprightly 
 
 - 
 
 ' 
 
 lied for ah} |.:»b COI 1 111 . li. 
 
 Th 
 
 A.IHAM ATT3IH/iaH 
 
 /tonla;}! la l-ieS ‘.ill lu i .iImIIoO sdl ni .sjlybiiEV .A ii8 yd aiuloiq oHl nioi'-l 
 nllrW >1 r -!«0 lvio1$noJ h; 
 
CHARLES AS PRINCE OF WALES. 
 
 47 
 
 garrulity of the father accounts in some measure, it may be, for the reticence 
 of the son. Slow of speech and diffident in manner, Charles was no match 
 for the good-natured but vociferous dogmatist, to whose shrewd, sound, 
 Scottish sense he failed to do justice. The vanity of James could not 
 have been flattered by the portraits that have come down to us; in 
 moments of argumentative excitement — if they are at all to be trusted — 
 he must have resembled a clamorous turkey-cock; and it need not sur- 
 prise us if Charles, ashamed of his father’s want of kingly restraint, should 
 have been driven to the other extreme. He sought refuge in silence ; and 
 the habit once acquired remained with him throughout life. Suppressed 
 irritation is like suppressed gout; and it would rather seem that Charles 
 brooded over his wrongs. Then when the cup was full, it overflowed. 
 Relief was found in hasty, ill-considered, and violent action. One would 
 have fancied that the King’s foolish fondness for Buckingham would have 
 been resented by the prince. To hear James gravely warn his Council 
 that “as Christ had his John, so he had his George,” must have tried 
 the patience of the most finished courtier. But the favourite’s ascendency 
 appears to have been absolute throughout the Palace. “ Steenie ” was 
 “Baby Charles’s” closest friend. The political lessons which Charles re- 
 ceived from his father, — “That which concerns the mystery of the King’s 
 power is not lawful to be disputed, for that is to wade into the weak- 
 ness of princes, and to take away the mystical reverence that belongs 
 to them that sit in the throne of God ” — were of doubtful service to him 
 in later life; and, to a lad in his teens, the rash counsels of Buckingham 
 must have been even more hurtful. I do not think that James ever lost 
 his confidence in Buckingham, — though the Spanish escapade tried it sorely. 
 Yet even in Spain, Steenie and Baby Charles were still his “sweet boys 
 and dear venturous knights.” But when the Duke returned from Madrid 
 in angry mood, James began to weary a little of the servitude. His son 
 he declared with petulant vehemence, was as well disposed, before he went 
 to Spain, as any son in Europe; but now he was strangely carried away 
 by rash and youthful counsels, and followed the humour of Buckingham, 
 
48 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 who had, he knew not how many devils within him since that journey. 
 In one respect, if in one only, the Duke s evil example did not influence 
 Charles. The corruption of the Court was notorious. The men were 
 mockers and triflers, who were indifferent to decency, and to whom 
 virtue was a bye-word. The women were as depraved as the men. From 
 the infection of that polluted soil, and that tainted air, Charles was saved 
 by his natural modesty. When unbecoming words were spoken in his 
 presence, “he blushed like a girl.” 
 
 “ Mockers and triflers,”- — yet they must have had some root of noble- 
 ness in them ; for at least they could die well. Even the meaner sort 
 held themselves bravely ; while the great nobles, in the words of a bio- 
 grapher, “went through the trying scene with the grace and gallantry of 
 perfect gentlemen.” Lord Grey of Wilton, who had been concerned in a 
 Raleigh or Catholic plot, when asked if he had anything to say why 
 sentence of death should not be pronounced, replied only, — “ I have nothing 
 to say;’’ there he paused long; “and yet a word of Tacitus comes in my 
 mind , — non eaclcm omnibus decora ; the house of the Wiltons have spent 
 many lives in their prince’s service, and Grey cannot beg his. God send 
 the King a long and prosperous reign, and to your Lordships all honour. 
 And Raleigh’s bearing on the scaffold was fine, — more than atoning for 
 anything that was meretricious in his life. “1 prithee,” said he turning 
 to the executioner and asking to see the axe, “let me see it; dost thou 
 think that I am afraid of it?” He ran his finger down the edge, saying to 
 himself : “This is sharp medicine, but it is a sound cure for all diseases.” 
 lie then knelt down, and laid his head upon the block. Some one objecting 
 that he ought to lay his face towards the east, “What matter,” he replied, 
 “how the head lies, so the heart be right?” 
 
 If Charles was backward as a boy, he must latterly have proved an 
 apt pupil. Some of the little notes that he wrote to his father and brother 
 have been preserved. It cannot be said that they are the letters of a 
 precocious child; but they are prettily expressed; and they have an en- 
 gaging air of sincerity and candour. “ Sweet, sweet brother,” he says in 
 
CHARLES AS PRINCE OF WALES. 
 
 49 
 
 one, “ I thank you for your letter. I will give anything that I have to 
 you ; both my horses, and my hooks, and my pieces, or my crossbows, 
 or anything that you would have. Good brother, love me, and I shall ever 
 love and serve you.” Murray’s office was not a sinecure; but he must 
 have been well pleased with the progress that Charles made. James was 
 very proud of his son’s theological attainments, — which in truth were con- 
 siderable. Though Puritanism was always distasteful to Charles, (and he 
 grew harder as he grew older) he was no bigot; and if organisation, as well 
 as individual liberty, could have been secured by other means, he would 
 have been patient with the Nonconformists. He was not a broad churchman 
 as Bacon was. “It is good,” the great Chancellor wrote, “we return 
 unto the ancient bonds of unity in the Church ol God, which was one 
 faith, one baptism; and not one hierarchy, one discipline ; and that we 
 observe the league of Christians as it is penned by our Saviour Christ, 
 which is in substance of doctrine this : he that is not with us is against 
 us; but in things indifferent and but of circumstance this: he that is not 
 against us, is with us.” But these were heights to which, at that time, 
 few could rise, and Charles was not among the elect. Yet, like his father, 
 he had no faith in persecution ; and he would probably have fared better 
 had he realised that the era of toleration had not arrived, lie wrns not 
 aware that, according to the estimate of Whig historians, it needed two 
 centuries, or thereby, to clear the air. 
 
 Outside theology, his accomplishments were varied. He could speak 
 with ease more than one language. He had an unusual command of 
 French, Spanish, and Italian; and he was a fair classical scholar. He was 
 a jurist, a mathematician. He was devoted to music of a high class, and 
 his picture gallery was perhaps the best in Europe. there can be no 
 question, indeed, that his taste in Art was really excellent. He was the 
 patron of Rubens; and the great Vandykes, in many a royal gallery at 
 home and abroad, were painted for him. The collection was scattered by 
 Cromwell, or at least with his consent; and the nation is so much the 
 poorer. For the great Venetian School, Charles’s admiration was unstinted. 
 
50 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 While he was King, the masterpieces of Titian and Tintoret, of Veronese 
 and Giorgione, might be seen in England. A boorish and improvident 
 vandalism has deprived us of priceless treasures. Yet it is fortunate that 
 the further order of the Parliament, that all such pictures as “ contained 
 a representation of the second person of the Trinity or of the Virgin Mary, 
 should be forthwith burnt,” does not appear to have been carried out. 
 
 Charles was about the middle height. He had, we are told, a brown- 
 ish complexion; his hair was of a chestnut hue; his eyes were grey. His 
 nose was rather large, — unduly prominent, it would seem ; and his 
 forehead, though high was somewhat narrow. Browning has described 
 him as “the man with the mild voice, and mournful eyes.” The air of 
 melancholy may have been a Vandyke convention; for his smile was win- 
 ning, and his address cordial. Opinions differed widely as to his capacity. 
 It was alleged by his enemies that he was at once rash and obstinate, 
 as so many of the Stuarts had been; but Alexander Henderson — a wit- 
 ness whose evidence may be accepted without reserve — was impressed by 
 the quickness of his intelligence, and his solid attainments. “I do declare 
 before God and the World, whether in relation to Kirk or State, I found 
 his Majesty the most intelligent man that ever I spoke with ; as far 
 beyond my expression as expectation. 1 profess that I was oftentimes 
 astonished with the solidity and quickness of his reasons and replies — 
 wondered how he, spending his time in sports and recreations, could 
 have attained to so great knowledge; and must confess that I was con- 
 vinced in conscience, and knew not how to give him any reasonable 
 satisfaction ; yet the, sweetness ol bis disposition is such that whatsoever 
 I said was well taken. 1 must say that 1 never met with any disputant 
 of that mild and calm temper, which convinced me that such resolution 
 and moderation could not be without an extraordinary measure of the Divine 
 grace. I dare say il his advice had been followed, all the blood that is 
 shed, and all the rapine that is committed, should have been prevented.” 
 
 Charles, from early years, appears to have attended the debates in 
 the House of Lords, where the oratory, when Bacon was Chancellor, 
 
 was 
 
CHARLES AS PRINCE OF WALES. 
 
 51 
 
 of a high order; and, even before he had come of age, the good offices 
 of the “Prince of Wales” were constantly in request. He soothed the 
 susceptibilities of the more truculent nobles, to whom Buckingham s mush- 
 room-like rise was a ground of offence. When swords were like to be 
 drawn, he kept the peace. Rutland was restrained, Southampton appeased, 
 by the intervention of Charles. When Arundel had grossly insulted Spencer 
 (he had declared with characteristic rudeness that Spencer s ancestors had 
 kept sheep, while his were at the wars) the Prince persuaded the angry 
 House to adjourn ; and subsequently undertook to effect a reconciliation 
 between the Lords. He subscribed largely to the “benevolence that was 
 raised for the recovery of the Palatinate; and he induced his father to 
 remit the whipping to which the unhappy Floyd had been sentenced. 
 So far as I have noticed, his intervention was always on the side of 
 mercy, and in the cause of order. His judgment was sound, his attitude 
 conciliatory, and the “discretion” of the youthful prince was universally 
 approved. He may have been shy and silent, as we are told ; but there 
 was obviously another side to bis character. 
 
 For the Quixotic expedition to the land of Don Quixote Charles was 
 only partly to blame. What blame there was attached mainly to Gon- 
 domar and Buckingham. The Count of Gondomar was the ablest and 
 wariest of Spanish diplomatists ; yet Charles’s escapade was certainly en- 
 couraged by him. But Buckingham was the moving' spirit. It is said that 
 Charles had been much impressed by a portrait ot the Infanta, which was 
 shown him in 1622. That there was a spice ot romance in the adventure 
 need not be doubted ; yet a match with the sister of Philip would have 
 had solid advantages. The pursuit of a Spanish Infanta, by an English 
 prince, was no doubt a startling innovation in a land where innovations 
 were forbidden. Yet if all went well the audacity of the enterprise would 
 be forgiven. So the duke may have reasoned ; and — otherwise — a holi- 
 day ride across Europe, on an amorous errand, was entirely to his taste. 
 
 “If all went well.” But the duke’s enterprises seldom went well. Nor 
 did this prosper. 
 
52 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 Of the singular personality of Buckingham it is difficult to form any 
 distinct impression. 1 incline to believe, however, that he has received 
 scant justice. It could not well be otherwise. The historian who defends 
 a man so universally detested is guilty of paradox; and paradox in an 
 historian is the unpardonable sin. I do not suppose that Mr. Froude 
 ever entirely recovered from his defence of Henry the Eighth. And there 
 can be no doubt that the great nobles were right when they declared 
 that George Yilliers was “an arrogant upstart.” His head was turned by 
 his rapid rise. The son of a simple squire, he was made a Knight of 
 the Garter before he was live and twenty. And he owed all his success, 
 so they said, to his pretty face. Then his morals were loose — loose even 
 for the time. “ Steenie ” was a sorry St. Stephen. Nor can it be denied 
 that he was ostentatious and vain-glorious, insolent and imperious. His 
 impatience of advice, his overweening self-confidence, led to more than 
 one national disaster. His policy, indeed, was never more than a caprice. 
 Such is the indictment. It is, of course, irrelevant to reply that he was 
 never meanly avaricious, that he had no share in the bribery that pre- 
 vailed, that his disposition was kindly and forgiving, that his instincts 
 were generous. And yet it seems to me that a mistake has been made. 
 It is a mistake to hold that he was fitted to be a royal favourite, and 
 a royal favourite only. So far as I can judge, Buckingham was not merely 
 the Adonis or Antinous of a corrupt Court. His manners were fascinat- 
 ing ; but it was his high spirit that endeared him to Charles. His fail- 
 face was the beginning of his fortunes — it did not keep them. Had it 
 not been for his want of balance, he might have made a great minister. 
 The capacity was there. He was incompetent because he did not choose 
 to learn, because his temper was under no control, because he was reckless 
 and improvident. But that he was a man of great natural parts, and of 
 really commanding ability cannot, I think, be doubted. If he grew giddy 
 in his high place, James was to blame. If his head was turned by his 
 rapid rise, it was the fault of the King. 
 
 Mr. Gardiner is very severe on Charles’s share in the adventure. 
 
CHARLES AS PRINCE OF WALES. 
 
 53 
 
 venture to suggest — with diffidence — that the severity is excessive. Charles, 
 if not passionately in love, was undoubtedly attracted by the Infanta, lie 
 fancied that this devout girl would make an excellent wife. She was 
 a Catholic no doubt; and there must be mutual concessions. On the 
 other hand his sister, to whom he was warmly attached, would reap the 
 benefit of the alliance. She would come to her own again. Philip would 
 insist on the restoration of the Palatinate, and Philip’s word was law. So 
 he would go to Madrid, and urge his suit in person. No one should be 
 able to say that he was a tardy wooer. It was a bit of knight-errantry per- 
 haps; but the risk was not too great. 
 
 The rivalry between Spain and England was of old standing. There 
 can be no doubt that Philip was averse to the match. Whatever his 
 ultimate attitude may have been, Olivarez, too, was for many months 
 persistently hostile. Olivarez was Philip’s most trusted and powerful Mi- 
 nister; and he told Charles, with perfect frankness, that Spain and Austria 
 were ancient allies who would not quarrel over the Palatinate. They had 
 a maxim of State, he said, that the King of Spain must never fight against 
 the Emperor. “We cannot employ our forces against the House of 
 Austria.” “Look to it, sir,” answered the Prince, “for if you hold your- 
 self to that there is an end of all; for without this, you may not rely 
 upon either marriage or friendship.” It was mainly to save the Palatinate 
 (or his sister that Charles had hazarded so much ; and now he knew 
 that the Palatinate was as good as gone. His ardour began to cool. Yet, 
 with the characteristic obstinacy of his race, he persevered in the chase. 
 Marry the Infanta he would. But it could not be ; dispensation or no 
 dispensation, retreat was inevitable. The Infanta’s own sentiments were 
 well known to her friends, and were not concealed from the English 
 envoys. Charles was “the heretic prince whose person she loathed, and 
 whose religion she detested.” These are Mr. Gardiner’s words ; and they 
 supply the best apology for the “ dishonourable desertion ” of which 
 the Prince was subsequently accused. If Charles’s eyes were opened, 
 before it was too late, to the light in which his suit was regarded, was 
 
54 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 he not entitled, nay bound in honour, to withdraw? He had been the 
 dupe of the astute diplomacy of Spain, Philip and Olivarez had played a 
 double game. Moreover he was in a false position, from which it was 
 desirable that he should escape. He had been drawn into making con- 
 cessions which it would have been difficult to keep. The English Com- 
 mons were passionately intolerant; yet he had promised on their behalf 
 to practise toleration. He had been delighted to cross the Bidassoa, and 
 on its Spanish bank he had danced for joy; now, chilled and disenchanted, 
 he was as eager to depart. He welcomed the admiral of the fleet that 
 was to convoy him home as he might have welcomed an angel from 
 Heaven. Buckingham, whose brilliant strategy had met with scant success, 
 was profoundly chagrined. The friend of Spain became her bitterest foe, 
 and used all his art to defame her. When the favourite’s vanity was 
 wounded, truce was impossible. Henceforth it must he war to the knife. 
 
 No time was to he lost. Eligible consorts might be found elsewhere 
 than in Spain. James was resolved that the Prince should he suitably 
 mated; and an embassy was forthwith despatched to Paris. Charles and 
 Buckingham had passed through the French capital on their way to Madrid, 
 and Henrietta Maria had been pointed out to them ; hut they do not appear 
 to have been impressed. The new envoy, however, waxed warm in her 
 praise. The day after his arrival he saw the princess, — a quick, bright- 
 eyed girl in her fifteenth year. “My Lord,” he wrote to Buckingham, 
 “she is a lovely sweet young creature. Her growth is not great yet; 
 but her shape is perfect.” A little later he wrote to Charles that for 
 beauty and goodness she was an angel. Charles was satisfied; and, on her 
 side, Henrietta appears to have been nothing loath. She had seldom, 
 Lord Kensington had been informed, put on a more cheerful countenance 
 than that night he first saw her. “There were some that told me I 
 mi flit guess the cause for it.” And he added that Henrietta, having 
 borrowed a miniature of the Prince that hung about his neck, opened it 
 with such haste as “ showed a true picture of her passion, blushing in the 
 instant of her own guiltiness.” 
 

 
 ELIZABETH, QUEEN OF BOHEMIA. 
 
 (Sister of Charles 1.) 
 
 From the painting by G. Ilonthorst, in the Collection of Her Majesty the Queen, 
 at Windsor Castle. 
 

 
 j 
 
 ►Mraw.i He had been the 
 id i rez had played i 
 
 ion n which it as 
 
 i > ii lo making con- 
 
 • . ' > English Com- 
 
 •>-. i their behalf 
 
 dnssoa, and 
 :ii i : chanted, 
 
 i must he > to the knife. 
 < rts might lound elsewhere 
 
 1 that the Prince should be suitably 
 was t despatcl d lo Paris. Charles and 
 
 M nd .throu way to Madrid, 
 
 prai 
 
 with such haste as 
 
 ' i ■ had been 
 
 it yet; 
 that for 
 
 
 .•id, on her 
 
 ■n nothing i 
 ut on a mr i 
 
 I , having 
 • . k, opened it 
 rr ; . , blushing in the 
 
 instant of her own guiltim- 
 
 ./.IM 3 HOH to ytaauo it r :i a ax i .1 .1 
 
 V-V 
 
 , noouf) yilj v) 89 jr.l t. idil lo noimlloD odl nt . i> ioilliioH .) y«I ^ailuicq orfj tnoi r ‘I 
 
 ofjstr.D It; 
 
 
CHARLES AS PRINCE OF WALES. 
 
 55 
 
 Personal predilections, even in royal weddings, count for something; 
 but the French marriage was mainly a move in the great European game 
 which was then being played. The authority of Spain as a world-wide 
 empire might he on the wane, but she was still a Power of the first 
 magnitude. “The proud flag of Philip waved from the Netherlands in 
 the North over an almost uninterrupted series of fortifications , through 
 the Palatinate, Franche Comte, the Milanese duchy, Naples, Sicily, and Sar- 
 dinia, to the spot where the Pyrenees lower their crests as they sink towards 
 the waters of the Atlantic. Behind this martial barrier was now arising 
 once more the shadowy form of the old Empire, which had been quick- 
 ened into life by the successes of Spinola and Tilly, and which was now 
 in close alliance with the Spanish monarchy.” Thus to France, lying 
 within the monstrous coil, Spain was a constant menace; and the states- 
 men of France were satisfied that danger was imminent. A close alliance 
 with England was most desirable; on what terms could it he obtained? 
 England would have struck at Spain through the Palatinate. France, oil 
 the other hand, would have cut her line of communication with the Empire ; 
 and this could he effected by driving her from the Valteline. James for 
 his part was ready to co-operate, so far as co-operation was practicable. 
 What could be done to ameliorate the lot of the English Catholics, he 
 would willingly do. But he had a Parliament to reckon with. Nor did he 
 scruple to ally himself with a Catholic Power. He had steadily opposed 
 a “war of religion.” The Protestant States, in his view, were not strong 
 enough to stand alone. “Protestantism could only defend itself by ceasing 
 to be aggressive, and by appealing to the political sympathies of Catholic 
 Powers.” This, as Mr. Gardiner has pointed out, was in the main the policy 
 which in after years crowned Richelieu with glory. To the unlucky James 
 it brought only discredit. But Richelieu had no Parliament to reckon with. 
 
 The negotiations were protracted; the veterans of English diplomacy 
 were no match for the great French Minister, then on the threshold of 
 his career; and in one form or other, guarantees were exacted for which 
 no adequate return was obtained. James as usual had the worst of the 
 
56 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 bargain, — one of the last acts of his reign . The marriage treaty was 
 ratified on 12th of December, 1624; the King died on 27th of March, 1625. 
 The burden of empire had grown too heavy for him. 
 
 Here we part with “ the patient, much-enduring man.” The historians 
 who are most noted for the assiduity with which they polish their epi- 
 grams, and round their periods, have found a congenial subject in King 
 James the First. Yet Scott’s unstudied ease defies rivalry. The rapid 
 pen was never at rest; there was no pause for erasure, or correction; yet 
 how close is the texture, how robust and animated the life! “The King 
 was deeply learned, without possessing useful knowledge ; sagacious in 
 many individual cases without having real wisdom ; fond of his power, 
 and desirous to maintain and augment it, yet willing to resign the direc- 
 tion of that, and of himself, to the most unworthy favourites; a big and 
 bold assertor of his rights in words, yet one who tamely saw them 
 trampled on in deeds ; a lover of negotiations in which lie was always 
 outwitted; and one who feared war where conquest might have been easy. 
 He was fond of his dignity, while he was perpetually degrading it by 
 undue familiarity; capable of much public labour, yet often neglecting it 
 for the meanest amusement; a wit, though a pedant; and a scholar, though 
 fond of the conversation of the ignorant and uneducated. Even his timidity 
 of temper was not uniform; and there were moments of his life, and those 
 critical, in which he showed the spirit of his ancestors. He was laborious 
 in trifles, and a trifler where serious labour was required ; devout in his 
 sentiments, and yet too often profane in his language ; just and beneficent 
 by nature, he yet gave way to the iniquities and oppression of others, 
 lie was penurious respecting money which he had to give from his own 
 hand, yet inconsiderately and unboundedly profuse of that which he did 
 not see. In a word, those good qualities which displayed themselves in 
 particular cases and occasions, were not of a nature sufficiently firm and 
 comprehensive to regulate his general conduct ; and showing themselves 
 as they occasionally did, only entitled James to the character bestowed 
 on him by Sully — that he was the wisest fool in Christendom.” 
 
DRESSING-CASE BELONGING TO CHARLES 1. 
 From the Collection of the Earl of Rosebery, at Dalmeny. 
 

 
 
 The- rapid 
 
 . 
 
 ol his dignity, while "he wai- -perpetually degrading it by' 
 
 ill ni i'.-1'.j ill. ■ ■ ir* i -i..' nci' 
 
 , in; .1 ■' y liiclr h 1 1 g.v from i 
 
 i aajflAHa ot oMio/iojaa aeAa-awtgeaaa 
 
 yn-juiluQ 1 l ri idjsoH to I-iisS silllo noilnslIoO sill uio-ia 
 
CHARLES AS PRINCE OF WALES. 
 
 57 
 
 Henrietta Maria became Queen of England. On the 1st of May, 1625, 
 the marriage was celebrated by proxy in front of the great west door 
 of Notre Dame. On the 12th of June, the Queen landed at Dover; on 
 the 16th she arrived in London. It was a dreary day ; but she was warmly 
 welcomed. The great river, which was to become the highway of the 
 commerce of the world, was crowded from bank to bank. In spite of 
 the rain, the omens were regarded as propitious. The rocks ahead, on 
 which, as we know, ihe barque was to founder, were still under water, 
 and invisible to the naked eye. 
 
I 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 i 'i icnl creed* of whi 'i 
 
 - 
 
 MuilV-s. 1 1' e i. (■ . , - 
 
 sc t ! nil i 
 
 CHARLES I. AT GREENWICH. 
 
 From the painting by Janssen, in the Collection of Her Majesty the Queen. 
 
CHAPTER FIVE. 
 
 THE EARLY YEARS OF THE REIC.N. 
 
 cannot but think that the political life of Charles 
 the First, and the political creed of which that 
 life may be said to have been the consistent 
 expression, may be reasonably defended. There 
 is a good deal in the lives of most men and 
 women that does not admit of complete justifica- 
 tion ; and Charles, though a King, xvas not 
 faultless. If we insist, indeed, on regarding his 
 political creed from the point of viexv of the Nineteenth Century, and 
 with the eyes of the modern doctrinaire, Yve must pronounce it an ana- 
 chronism, or worse. But if we try to realise Yvhat Kingship had meant 
 
60 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 up to the day when he came to the throne, and how it was regarded 
 by men like Bacon and Cecil, we may possibly be induced to modify our 
 conclusions. 
 
 Politics is not one of the exact sciences. An institution, a constitu- 
 tion, is not for all time; and the precise form it takes at any one time 
 must depend upon the surroundings. When it is not in harmony with 
 the contemporary necessities, with the contemporary convictions, it will 
 fail. “ It is as much a mistake to depend upon that which is true but 
 impracticable at a certain time,” Bolingbroke wrote, “as to depend on that 
 which is neither true nor practicable at any time.’ The arbitrary rule 
 of the Tudors is defended on the ground that in an age when the pas- 
 sion for change had grown, or had threatened to grow, anarchic, the 
 strong hand of a Henry, or ol an Elizabeth, was needed. But the same 
 writers contend (as I understand the argument) that the authority which 
 during an acute crisis had been lodged wih the Sovereign, might, early 
 in the Seventeenth Century have been taken from him, and restored 
 without loss to the Commons. The royal prerogative, even when it rested 
 on a strictly legal basis, did not require to be maintained, — might at least 
 be safely abridged. Might be, and ought to be; for it was hostile to 
 those popular privileges which during a revolutionary era had been tem- 
 porarily resigned. The answer to this argument is simple, and need not 
 detain us. What evidence is there to show that in the earlier years of 
 the Seventeenth Century the lower House was qualified for imperial rule, 
 or that it was wise to weaken the authority of the Crown ? Had the 
 prerogative been preserved intact in the hands of a capable Sovereign, 
 who had no House of Commons to reckon with, would the Palatinate 
 have been lost? would German Protestantism have been imperilled ? Even 
 had the crisis ceased to be acute, even had the political situation been 
 less strained, it would have been egregious folly to have made the House 
 of Commons, as then constituted, supreme. Mr. Gardiner says of the lower 
 House, that “it was as yet but an incoherent mass, agitated by strong 
 feelings, and moved by a high and sturdy patriotism, ready indeed to offer 
 
THE EARLY YEARS OF THE REIGN. 
 
 61 
 
 a determined resistance to every species of misgovernment, but destitute 
 of that organization which can alone render it possible for a large deli- 
 berative assembly, without assistance from without, to carry on satisfactorily 
 the work of legislation.**** To Bacon, above all men, a change which should 
 make the House of Commons master of the executive government was an 
 object of dread; for such a change would, as he imagined, place the direc- 
 tion of the policy of the country in the hands of an inexperienced and un- 
 disciplined mob.” 
 
 Even to-day — be it said in passing — the political opinions of thinkers 
 like Bacon and Cecil are not to be treated with disrespect. “ Con- 
 fidence,” said Chatham, “is a plant of slow growth in an aged bosom.” 
 It might be well were the modern schools of political thought less con- 
 fident than they are. The claim made by James to be an “ absolute ” 
 ruler rouses a storm of indignant protest ; whereas the claim of the 
 House of Commons to “absolute” rule is freely and cheerfully accorded. 
 But absolute power, wherever lodged, is a grave political danger. Whether 
 the danger is greater when it is lodged with a King than when it is 
 lodged in a popular assembly, is at most only a question of degree. 
 
 There is the risk of hasty and ill-considered action, which may even- 
 tually end in disaster, in either case; but an elective body, unused to 
 
 restraint and the sober traditions of office, is more liable to be moved 
 
 by passion or panic. The danger was foreseen, and more or less guarded 
 against, by the founders of the Swiss and American republics ; but the 
 check of the Referendum is unknown to our Constitution ; and a scratch 
 vote of the House of Commons may at any moment lead to evils that 
 cannot be repaired. 
 
 Nor can it be admitted that under the Tudors there was a virtual sus- 
 pension of the Constitution. The Golden Age, when the prerogative was 
 severely limited, and popular rights were freely recognised, is, it may be 
 feared, an “idol” of the imagination. There could be no dispute about 
 the methods employed by the Tudors ; but the plea that these methods 
 were inconsistent with earlier usage, has seldom been approved by experts. 
 
62 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 The great jurists of the Seventeenth Century, from Bacon onwards, were 
 satisfied that the plea was untenable. Our most recent historians (with 
 the exception of the hysterical) are of a like mind. Mr. Gardiner, for 
 instance, is ready to admit that there was no firm ground on which it 
 could be rested. Discussing the debate on the power of the Crown to 
 
 levy “impositions,” he observes : “It is impossible to read the argu- 
 ments without perceiving that all the speakers agreed in attributing to 
 the constitution of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries far more of a 
 settled character than it in reality possessed . They all seem to have 
 imagined that on important points there was some fixed rule to which 
 all had assented, the contravention of which was known to be a breach 
 of constitutional law. They failed to seize the true character of the epoch 
 as a time of struggle, during which the idea of law was gradually evolv- 
 ing itself in the midst of a conflict of opposing wills.” 
 
 But there is a class of political reasoners who are prepared to hold 
 that politics is an exact science, and that what is good to-day must have 
 been good yesterday and the day before. Charles and his councillors are 
 to be judged by an immutable law, which does not admit of empirical 
 modification, and applies as truly to the Seventeenth Century as to the 
 Nineteenth. It is thus that Mr. Green eulogises the political insight of 
 Pym : “He saw that as an element of constitutional life Parliament was 
 of higher value than the Crown ; he saw, too, that in Parliament itself 
 the one essential part was the House of Commons. On these two facts 
 he based his whole policy in the contest which followed. When Charles 
 refused to act with the Parliament, Pym treated the refusal as a tem- 
 porary abdication on the part of the Sovereign, which vested the executive 
 power in the two Houses, until new arrangements were made. When 
 the Lords obstructed public business, he warned them that obstruction 
 would only force the Commons ‘ to save the Kingdom alone.’ Revolu- 
 tionary as these principles seemed at the time , they have both been 
 recognised as bases of our constitution since the days of Pym. The first 
 principle was established by the Convention and Parliament which followed 
 

 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 of the Seventeenth 1 . from Bacon onward were 
 
 •»t the plea was untenable most recent historians v li 
 
 •i of the hysterical) are <■< 1 i.e mind. Mr. Gardiner, tor 
 - ready to admit that there « . no firm ground on which it 
 ■•ji.l rested. D iissiu the debate on the power the Crown to 
 
 I impositions," he o 1 > erve> : “ It is impossible to id the argu- 
 
 ts without per ing that all the speakers agreed in Luting to 
 tihe -constitution i he thirteenth and fourteenth centuries far more of a 
 settled character than it in rfeality possessed. They all seem to have 
 irn i.ied that i important points there w > :• fixed rule i wbu h 
 
 . 
 
 a "time of sirup n . Juriu which the idea of la" 
 ing it- M in th- "mid- o! conflict of opposing wills 
 
 But there is a class of political reasoners who prepared to hold 
 
 th j lilies is science, and that what aid to-day must have 
 
 been good vesterday and the day before'. Charles and his councillors are 
 to be judged by an immutable law, wl d s ml Imit of empirical 
 modification, arid applies as truly to ilu- tv 
 
 Pym : “He s«v that as an element of eons tilt. ha was 
 
 $f "higher \aluc than the Crown ; he ■ rw ti rliament itself 
 
 the one essential part was the House unn ns. On ' facts 
 
 sed his whole policy in th test which followed. carles 
 
 to act with the Parliament,. Pym treated the refu- t tem- 
 
 — •!;. two .11 cs until , i .! i .iiipciucnts were made 
 
 Id business, he warned them ’ ton 
 
 ' 
 
 i 
 
 .niiuT ./istlsO III Id II ‘t a ill ni .aitybnsV A M v.d sniJaiq sill moi'l 
 
 
THE EARLY YEARS OF THE REIGN. 
 
 63 
 
 on the departure of’ James the Second ; the second by the acknowledg- 
 ment on all sides since the Reform Bill of 1832 that the government of 
 the country is really in the hands of the House of Commons, and can 
 only be carried on by Ministers who represent the majority of that House.” 
 To number the fallacies which such reasoning involves would require a 
 separate treatise ; here it is enough to say that historical justice cannot 
 be administered by men in whom the habit of mind which takes no 
 count of times and seasons has become chronic. The bases of the Con- 
 stitution ! The Constitution had no such bases. Of course when the 
 King abdicates, the executive government, as matter of necessity or expe- 
 diency, is carried on by the other branches of the legislature ; but 
 neither formally nor virtually had Charles abdicated, and no precedent 
 sanctioned the parliamentary usurpation. Nor can it be said that by 
 any maxim of the Constitution, by any statute or usage, had the govern- 
 ment of the country been vested at any time in the House of Com- 
 mons. It is true that since 1S32 we have had a government more or 
 less democratic, a government which through the House of Commons fairly 
 reflects the mood of the majority ; but it is no less true that during 
 nine-tenths of our history the Commons were of no account, and that 
 in point of fact the country was governed by the Sovereign or by the 
 Lords. Lip to 1832, it was only during brief periods of civic strife, 
 when the Constitution was in abeyance, that the Commons could be 
 regarded as more powerful than the King, or as powerful as the Lords. 
 They were in name and fact the lower House, — a subordinate branch of 
 the legislature. 
 
 In weighing the wisdom or want of wisdom of Charles, these are con- 
 siderations which are too frequently neglected. It is right that we should 
 endeavour to understand for what , from their own point of view , the 
 Stuarts were fighting. They were fighting, on the one hand, as they 
 fancied, to preserve the monarchy from democratic invasion ; they were 
 fighting, on the other, to restrain Puritanic excess. It was a defensive 
 war — not a war of aggression . The share in the government of the 
 
64 
 
 CHARLES TIIE FIRST. 
 
 country which had belonged to their predecessors was being taken from 
 them. The needful supplies were refused by the Commons in order to 
 extort concessions from the Sovereign. That was revolution. Then it 
 was impossible to reconcile the claim of a morose and fanatical sect to 
 spiritual independence and the control of the conscience, with the supre- 
 macy of a national Church and the genial traditions of an ancient society. 
 Anything was better than anarchy ; but if the Puritan prevailed, anarchy was 
 imminent. The reasoning may have been faulty — as it no doubt was in a 
 measure. But it was not so unsound as it is sometimes held to have been. 
 The general aim was sound enough — had it been pursued with discretion. 
 As time went on the contest became more embittered ; and then neither 
 side would listen to reason — neither Roundhead nor Cavalier. 
 
 A brilliant and suggestive writer has said that “to recognise a period 
 of transformation when it comes, and to adapt themselves honestly and 
 rationally to its laws, is perhaps the nearest approach to perfection of 
 which men and nations are capable.” Of this recognition, of this adapta- 
 tion, neither Roundhead nor Cavalier was capable. The Cavalier clung 
 with unreflecting tenacity to the past ; the Civitas Dei of the Roundhead 
 was a dream. 
 
 We shall see, as we proceed, how far it can be fairly argued that 
 the popular party was acting only “in defence. I he royalist statesmen 
 and soldiers were of another mind. After his bloody victory over Argyle 
 in Lochaber, Montrose wrote to Charles. The letter was one of many, 
 not wanting in political wisdom, in which he urged the King to make 
 no treaty with the rebels. “Your Majesty may remember how much you 
 said you were convinced I was in the right in my opinion of them. The 
 more Your Majesty grants, the more will be asked ; and I have too much 
 reason to know that they will not rest satisfied with less than making 
 Your Majesty a King of Straw.” A King of Straw! The words are 
 strong ; yet it can hardly be doubted that in the main Montrose was 
 right. From the beginning of the conflict the Kingship, as the true centre 
 of national life, was in peril. Later on there was no disguise. It was 
 
THE EARLY YEARS OF THE REIGN. 
 
 65 
 
 the conviction that there was no half-way house on the road the Parliament 
 was taking — nothing between it and chaos — that made Falkland a Royalist, 
 a tardy and reluctant Royalist. Even Charles was better than military rule 
 and a dictator. 
 
 In his conflict with Puritanism, Charles was worsted. But in Puritan- 
 ism itself there was no element of permanence. Whatever was distinctive, 
 whatever was truly characteristic, in the Puritan theology, in the Puritan 
 rule of conduct, has ceased to be credible to moderately reasonable men. 
 The “ moral seriousness ” of Puritanism is shared by all devout souls to 
 whatever communion they belong. Whenever we get “ purity without 
 excess of rigour,” “gravity without fanaticism,” we are beyond the ring- 
 fence of Puritanism. It was not its moral seriousness, it was its narrow 
 severity, its furious dogmatism, its Judaic exclusiveness, its asperity, its 
 acerbity, its ignorance of the spirit, its bondage to the letter, of Holy 
 Writ, its morose protest against lawful and wholesome mirth, the excessive 
 importance it attached to “trifles and twelve-penny matters,” finding for 
 instance in the innocent lawn sleeves of the bishop “ Romish rags and 
 the mark of the beast” — it was these that gave it an individuality, a life 
 of its own. Consequently it was bound to fail. A system that is to 
 endure must be founded on the radical facts of human nature. But Puri- 
 tanism took no count of a large part of human nature. It dwarfed the 
 imagination ; it cramped the intellect. There could have been no true 
 national development on Puritan lines. 
 
 Yet even to-day Puritanism does not lack defenders. Mr. Green selects 
 Colonel Hutchinson and John Milton, and commends them to us as re- 
 presentative Puritans. He fails to see that in their better moods they 
 were not representative, — that they only become admirable when they 
 cease to be Puritanic. It is when Colonel Hutchinson rises into a finer 
 and sweeter air that his intrinsic charm asserts itself ; Milton would 
 have been an incomparably greater poet had he left his polemics behind 
 him. Take “ Lycidas ” for example, and compare the poet with the 
 Puritan. 
 
60 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 Here is the poet : — 
 
 “ For we were nursed upon the self-same hill, 
 
 Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill. 
 
 Together both, ere the high lawns appear’d 
 Under the opening eyelids of the Morn, 
 
 We drove a-Iield, and both together heard 
 What time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn, 
 
 Battening our flocks with the fresh dews of night, 
 
 Oft till the star that rose at evening bright 
 
 Toward heaven’s descent had sloped his westering wheel.” 
 
 Here is the Puritan : — 
 
 “What recks it them? What need they? They are sped; 
 
 And, when they list, their lean and flashy songs 
 Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw; 
 
 The hungry sheep look up and are not fed, 
 
 But, swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw, 
 
 Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread; 
 
 Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw 
 Daily devours apace, and nothing said.” 
 
 Which is best ? Or take his prose. Do we prefer the strenuous moralist 
 who is not content to cherish “a fugitive and cloistered virtue, un- 
 exercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out and seeks her adversary, 
 hut slinks out of the race where that immortal garland is to be run for, 
 not without dust and heat,” to the envenomed controversialist who, as 
 M. Scherer says, “replied to Moms and Salmasius by reproaching them 
 with the wages they have taken, and with the servant-girls they have 
 debauched?” Both in his poetry and his prose, Milton is only at his best 
 when he forgets that lie is a Puritan. 
 
 Lord Macaulay may have given too keen an edge to his irony when he 
 observed that the Puritan hated bear-baiting not because it gave pain to 
 the bear, but because it gave pleasure to the spectators ; but Charles 
 Kingsley, in the characteristic paper on “Plays and Puritans,” where he 
 essayed to prove that the modern life of England had been profoundly 
 modified by Puritanism, shoots even wider of the mark. How did the 
 Puritan regard the Play? Just as he regarded a Greek statue, a painted 
 
THE EARLY YEARS OF THE REIGN. 
 
 67 
 
 Madonna, a Gothic chapel. They were all vanities of the flesh, coming 
 between the soul and God. Stephen Gosson, denouncing poets, painters, 
 players, sculptors, as “ caterpillars of the Commonwealth,” maintained that 
 there was a graduated scale of declension, — “ from pyping to playing, 
 from playing to pleasure, from pleasure to slouth, from slouth to sleepe, 
 from sleepe to sinne, from sinne to death, from death to the devil ; ” 
 and William Prynne recommended that actors should be sent to the House 
 of Correction, set in stocks, and whipped, “and if they still persist in 
 playing after these corrections, they may be burned with a hot-burning 
 iron, of the bredth of an English shilling, with a great Roman R on 
 the left shoulder, which letter shall remain there as the perpetual mark 
 of a Rogue ; and if this will not reforme them they may be banished, and 
 after, if they return again and persist incorrigible, be executed as felons.” 
 Who would listen to such folly to-day ? 
 
 No, — a creed of this sectarian complexion had no future. It was in- 
 evitable that, on a wider and truer estimate of man’s spiritual life, the 
 characteristic limitations of Puritanism should be discarded. There are 
 episodes no doubt in its annals which still appeal to us — at limes. But 
 if ever the attitude of the Puritan rouses our sympathy, it is when he 
 ceases to he arrogantly egotistical and vindictively virtuous; and becomes, 
 amid the hardships of a prison, or in the loneliness of exile, a pathetically 
 human figure. “So they left that goodly and pleasant city which had been 
 their resting-place near twelve years ; hut they knew they were pilgrims, 
 and looked not much on those things, but lift up their eyes to the heavens, 
 their dearest country, and quieted their spirits.” 
 
 I resume the narrative. 
 
 The twenty-five years following the accession of Charles are crowded 
 with events of first-rate importance both at home and abroad. In a rapid 
 sketch like the present, Continental politics must be treated with the 
 utmost brevity. We know that for thirty miserable years there was con- 
 tinual conflict among the States of Europe. Before the conflict was ended 
 the balance of power had shifted. The authority of Spain had been per- 
 
 10 
 
68 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 sistently on the wane, while France under Richelieu had become the do- 
 minant Power. England had been mainly, if not exclusively, occupied with 
 her own troubles; and her statesmen failed to recognise that in the inter- 
 val the map of Europe had been altered, and that our relations with the 
 different Powers required to he readjusted. Cromwell s vigour in the 
 conduct of foreign affairs has been extravagantly lauded; hut Bolingbroke’s 
 indictment of a policy which encouraged the ambition, and lent itself to 
 the aggrandisement, of France, has been approved by later writers. 
 
 The course of the political conflict in England would be more instruct- 
 ive could it be regarded as proceeding on the normal lines of con- 
 stitutional development. It may be that for some years after the accession 
 of Charles, this character was (or seemed to be) preserved. But, later on, 
 the conflict became abnormal; and becoming abnormal it became — not un- 
 interesting, for the interest never flagged, hut — comparatively uninstructive. 
 It is difficult to say when the orderly flow of the current was interrupted, 
 and turned as a destructive flood into an alien channel. On no chart has 
 the exact point of departure been marked. But from a general survey we 
 may, 1 think, reasonably conclude, that there were three recognisable stages 
 in the progress of the conflict ;— the first, when it was well within the 
 lines of the Constitution; the second, when it had ceased to be conducted 
 with prudent regard for constitutional precedent ; the third, when it in- 
 volved an appeal to arms and the ruthless logic of civil war. Through- 
 out the whole conflict, Charles was the central figure ; and his death 
 marked its close. 
 
 “ I am ready to depart,” the dying Sir Henry Saville is reported to 
 have said, “the rather that having lived in good times, I foresee worse.” 
 And it was thought of evil augury at the time that the Bishop of Carlisle 
 should have selected for the Coronation sermon the text from Revela- 
 tion,— 11 Be thou faithful unto death, and 1 will give thee a crown of 
 life.” But in the shout of welcome with which the nation greeted the new 
 King, any discordant note was drowned. From that welcome even the 
 Popish princess, — “nimble and black-eyed, brown-haired, and, in a word, 
 
THE EARLY YEARS OF THE REIGN. 
 
 69 
 
 a brave lady,” — was not excluded. The amity — unhappily — was short- 
 lived. 
 
 Buckingham, as usual, was the disturbing element. One after the other, 
 his enterprises proved abortive. A succession of brilliant victories was to 
 add lustre to the new reign, and bring the Commons to reason. But they 
 would not come off. Fate, as he held, was perverse. In the Netherlands, 
 before Cadiz, at Rochelle, the bodies of thousands of honest English peasants 
 were left to rot. But it was not the malice of fortune that was to blame; 
 it was the incurable levity of the heaven-born Minister. During four years 
 the Duke was at the helm; and they were four years of disaster for England 
 and for Charles. 
 
 It is fortunate that we need not follow this Will-of-the-wisp in his 
 erratic career. It is enough to say that failure succeeded failure with 
 exasperating monotony. Had the Duke been the only victim, there would 
 have been small cause for regret; but the King himself was gravely com- 
 promised. It is hard to say how many of his subsequent misfortunes are 
 to be traced to his obstinate loyalty to Buckingham. 
 
 The mood of the Commons when they met did not make for peace. 
 The first Parliament of Charles did not differ appreciably from the last 
 Parliament of James. One wonders at times whether these Parliaments 
 accurately reflected the temper of the people. It would rather seem that 
 from defective electoral arrangements the hostile Puritan element was un- 
 duly favoured ; and that a franchise on a wider basis — a franchise which 
 did not largely exclude the agricultural occupier — would have secured a 
 fairer representation. It is not to be denied at least that, on more than 
 one occasion, while the Commons were profoundly stirred, the nation 
 remained not only tranquil, but apathetic. The talking went on at West- 
 minster ; and to Westminster the agitation was confined. Had there 
 been any strong public feeling on the subject of parliamentary privilege, 
 the penal dissolution ol the popular assembly would hardly have been 
 allowed to pass without protest. But, so far as we can judge now, neither 
 prolonged recess nor penal dissolution occasioned the smallest anxiety. 
 
70 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 Bacon’s view of the functions of the lower House had met apparently with 
 ready and general acquiescence. 
 
 The first act of the Commons was distinctly aggressive. The perma- 
 nent revenue of the Crown was mainly derived from a grant known as 
 “tonnage and poundage” which was voted at the beginning of each 
 reio-n The grant had hitherto been made for life ; and — so far — the 
 Sovereign had been rendered independent of Parliament. It was by ton- 
 nage and poundage that the Royal state was maintained; and a resolu- 
 tion to withdraw or reduce the grant would constitute a breach of a solemn 
 parliamentary compact. But the Commons were not to be deterred by 
 modern precedent or ancient usage ; the King must be taught that they 
 had the power of the purse; that no action could be taken without their 
 consent; and that in the event of the prerogative being exercised in a 
 manner of which they disapproved, supply would be refused. So tonnage 
 and poundage was granted for one year only. 
 
 The Bill, limiting the grant to one year, did not pass the Lords; and 
 the duties continued to be levied by the officers of the Crown without 
 serious remonstrance. The conviction that tonnage and poundage formed 
 part of the hereditary revenue, and that the parliamentary vote was a 
 matter of form, was too strong and general to be shaken. A “subsidy,” 
 however, could only be granted by Parliament ; and in view of the 
 obligations contracted by the State (mainly at the instance of the Com- 
 mons) Charles confidently expected that his request for an ample supply 
 would be favourably entertained. He was too sanguine. Only two sub- 
 sidies, amounting in all to about £112,000, were offered. Such an olfer 
 could hardly be regarded as serious ; it was rather, as Hume has observed, 
 “a cruel mockery” of the young King. 
 
 Charles, however, was not discouraged. When the Houses met at 
 Oxford, he instructed his Minister of Finance to renew the application. 
 Ample explanations were given. The King himself, in simple but touching 
 language, added his appeal. His whole revenue had been already exhausted 
 in the public service. He was without means even for the daily subsis- 
 
CHARLES I. AND HIS FAMILY. 
 
 From the painting by Sir Anthony Vandyke, in the Collection of Her Majesty the Queen, 
 
 at Windsor Castle. 
 
Bacoi . »>ad met apparently with 
 
 ,:ntl /'tiBsive. The perma- 
 • u a grant known a.s 
 beginning of each 
 -u tnd — so far — the 
 
 It was by ton- 
 'd a resolu- 
 
 m to willn ; reduce the gt' 
 
 pariian . ■act Hut tin « 
 
 jd poun that the H 
 
 a 
 
 The Bill, iitiiig the grant to one year, did not pass the Lords; and 
 the duties continued to be levied by the officers of the Crown without 
 serious remonstrance. The conviction that tonnage and poundage formed 
 part of the hereditary revenue , and tint the par' •• notary vote » « a 
 matter of form, was to< tro: ! 
 
 i'liwever, could only ba 
 
 is contracted by • 
 
 uufidenll v i an ample apply 
 
 anguine. < twosub- 
 were offered- -h an offer 
 
 ' 
 
 Oxford, l.o 
 Ample expl. s 
 
 , 
 
 in the public s< 8Itl «WA I aajHAHO' »*»•* ’’ ‘y subsis “ 
 
 I.nnp »dt iiH lo noiloslIoO nil ni .od^bnr.V ynodln/. ii8 (d 8 umiin<| nd) moil 
 
THE EARLY YEARS OF THE REIGN. 
 
 71 
 
 tence of himself and his Household. This was the first request he had 
 made; he was young and at the commencement of his reign ; if he now 
 met with kind and dutiful usage it would endear the Parliament to him, 
 and preserve a perfect accord between him and his people. 
 
 But the Commons had hardened their hearts. They remained inexor- 
 able. A Continental conflict conducted by Buckingham was not to their 
 taste; and so long as they disapproved of the policy of the war, no 
 further supply would be granted. If it was true that the King was in 
 pecuniary straits, he would be the readier to listen to reason. They were 
 not unwisely or sordidly parsimonious; they were acting solely for the 
 public interest. So they said. 
 
 If the Commons were prepared to give little, they were ready to take 
 much. Their zeal for Protestantism was tempered by a hearty disrelish 
 for religious liberty. The freedom of the conscience for which they con- 
 tended was the freedom to make others think as they thought. While 
 they were content as yet to conform to the Anglican ritual, they were 
 resolved that only one construction should be placed upon the Anglican 
 articles. No toleration of course could be extended to the Romish Anti- 
 christ. So long as the Papacy was politically dangerous, the law against 
 recusants must continue to be vigorously enforced. But there was as little 
 toleration for the Arminian rector as for the Catholic priest. Calvinism 
 was to be stereotyped. A sound belief in the doctrine of eternal elec- 
 tion was to be made compulsory by statute ; and any deviation from 
 the narrow path which Calvin trod would be punished by fine and im- 
 prisonment. 
 
 It could occasion no surprise that that party in the English Church 
 which was represented by Laud and Montague (and which was favoured by 
 Charles) should have incurred the hostility of the Commons. It was Ar- 
 minian in doctrine; in ceremony it was ritualistic. The mark of the beast 
 was upon it. Human reason, in deference to human frailty, had ventured 
 to modify the Divine decrees. The priest, with symbolic rites borrowed 
 from Paganism, had come between the soul and God. The evidence on 
 
72 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 which these broad propositions were rested was often incredibly trivial. 
 When he writes of the more precise Puritan, it is with difficulty that Hume 
 veils his scorn. “ Some men of the greatest parts and most extensive 
 knowledge that the nation at this time produced could not enjoy any peace 
 of mind, because obliged to hear prayers offered up to the Divinity by a 
 priest covered with a white linen vestment.” It is true that Laud and 
 Montague and Mainwaring were in quite another fashion just as narrow. If 
 the communion-table was not placed by the eastern wall, if the officiating 
 functionary did not wear a surplice, if there was any link wanting in 
 “ the slippery chain of episcopal anointments,” the validity ol the service, 
 through which the grace of God was to he conveyed to the penitent, was 
 seriously imperilled. The secular critic will regard the fanatical intem- 
 perance of either sect with a smile ; but no ridicule will avail to alter 
 human nature; and, till the end of time, men who are in deadly earnest will 
 find a hone of contention in the merest trifle. Laud was in deadly earnest, 
 — as were Pym and Eliot. In the meantime no doubt it was the Calvin- 
 istic Commons who were eager to visit erroneous opinions regarding the 
 mysteries of religion with legislative pains and penalties. Nonconformity in 
 doctrine was denounced by nonconformists. Dissenters insisted that there 
 should he no dissent. 
 
 r fhe abrupt dissolution of a Parliament where such views prevailed could 
 not be regretted. The Commons were in an impracticable mood. They 
 would have rendered all government impossible, except on their own 
 terms. The situation, no doubt, was novel. The line between the executive 
 and legislative functions had not yet been clearly drawn — nor was it drawn 
 till a much later period. Until the uncertainty was resolved, friction was 
 inevitable. 
 
 Charles succeeded to the throne in the spring of 1625 ; and before 
 the close of 1629 three Parliaments had been summoned, and three had 
 been dissolved. Three Parliaments in four years meant — could only mean 
 — that the gulf between the King and Commons had widened. The inci- 
 dents varied; but the spirit was the same. Until grievances were redressed, 
 
THE EARLY YEARS OF THE REIGN. 
 
 73 
 
 the King must wait. The Commons would make no provision for the 
 Crown unless their demands were first complied with. They would extort 
 concessions by refusing supply. That was the policy which, in each of 
 the Parliaments, the popular leaders thought fit to adopt. How far their 
 policy was justifiable depends of course on the nature of the claims that 
 were preferred by them. The question in certain aspects is one of con- 
 stitutional law only; but it will be better to discuss it on broader grounds. 
 Was the conduct of the Commons reasonable or unreasonable? Were their 
 leaders prudent, moderate, conciliatory, just? Did they show any aptitude 
 for rule? If storm arose, could they steer the vessel into port? If the 
 crew proved mutinous, could they restore order ? 
 
 Religion was likely to play the leading part in the years that were 
 coming; and the attitude of the Houses to religion was not reassuring. The 
 proscription of certain theological opinions was not a task that a lay 
 assembly should have been eager to undertake. It may be admitted that 
 they had considerable provocation. Foolish books on the passive obedience 
 due to the King were written, and foolish sermons were preached by the 
 Arminian clergy. The illustrations were often as grotesque as the argument. 
 In one of the earlier homilies it is pointed out that the Virgin Mary obeyed 
 the proclamation of Augustus to go to Bethlehem. “The obedience of this 
 most noble and most virtuous lady to a foreign and pagan prince doth 
 well teach us, who in comparison of her are both base and vile, what 
 ready obedience we do owe to our natural and gracious Sovereign.” Jeru- 
 salem — Laud had told the Parliament in effect — is builded as a city that 
 is compact together only when this ready obedience is secured. The same 
 doctrine had been laboriously inculcated by Montague, Mainwaring, and 
 others of the party which gathered round Laud. The sermons were 
 extremely silly; it was folly to write them; but it was worse than folly 
 to punish the writers by fine and imprisonment. The intolerance of the 
 Commons was possibly in some respects more marked than the into- 
 lerance of the clergy. From one point of view, indeed, Laud and his 
 friends might be regarded as the liberal churchmen of the time; they were 
 
74 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 averse to controversy on the mysteries of religion ; so long as men led 
 blameless lives, discussion was to be avoided rather than encouraged. 
 Though the Commons did not win much credit by their incursions into 
 theological territory, yet symptoms of deeply-seated spiritual disorder 
 (however grotesque) are not to be treated with cynical ridicule ; and Hume 
 reflected only the rather shallow and scoffing mood of his generation when 
 he wrote, — “ To impartial spectators, surely, if any such bad been in 
 England at that time, it must have given great entertainment to see a 
 popular assembly, inflamed with faction and enthusiasm, pretend to discuss 
 questions to which the greatest philosophers, in the tranquillity ot retreat, 
 bad never hitherto been able to find any satisfactory solution.” 
 
 Nor does it appear to me that the action of these Parliaments in 
 delaying to provide adequate supply can be commended. It prevented 
 Charles from carrying out his engagements with the Protestant Powers 
 of the North. The results were disastrous, permanently disastrous, for 
 Protestantism. Gustavus Adolphus was wise in time ; but battle after battle 
 was lost by Christian of Denmark and his allies; and the plains of Northern 
 Germany were overrun, and its cities pillaged, by the mercenaries of 
 Tilly and Wallenstein, because the English Commons — occupied in wring- 
 ing concessions from their young King — had failed to provide him with 
 the sinews of war. 
 
 That the encroachments of the Commons were being pushed too far lor 
 the public safety, is now seldom disputed. The House was seriously dis- 
 pleased when Coke and Carew refused to disclose the confidential com- 
 munications that had passed between them as Councillors of the Crown. 
 No one now dreams of invading the privacy of the Cabinet; for it is 
 well understood that government could not be carried on were State 
 secrets less jealously guarded. The responsibility of Ministers to Parlia- 
 ment was an entirely novel doctrine when Charles came to the throne, — 
 one for which neither King nor people were prepared; and it need occasion 
 little surprise that an extreme application of the doctrine should have been 
 strenuously and successfully resisted. 
 
THE EARLY YEARS OF THE REIGN. 
 
 75 
 
 The Petition of Right was the sole legislative achievement of which 
 these Parliaments could boast. It was in substance a declaratory statute; 
 but it did not take statutory form. Its exact effect as an explanation 
 of the law gave rise to much legal argument. It sought to restrain the 
 prerogative in so far as u arbitrary arrest and lt arbitrary ” taxation were 
 involved; but it may be doubted how far it succeeded. Could the King 
 imprison a subject without stating on the warrant the cause of impri- 
 sonment ? lhe more the question was agitated, the more embarrassing' it 
 became. It was admitted on all sides that there were cases where it 
 was in the public interest that no cause should be assigned. How were 
 such cases to be dealt with? Lord Bristol suggested that the King had 
 a regal as well as a legal power; and a resolution to that effect was 
 adopted by the Lords. But the assertion ol a reserved sovereign power 
 was not agreeable to the Commons. The King was never above the law, 
 — the prerogative when validly exercised was part of the law. The sub- 
 tlety hardly deserved the prolonged discussions to which it gave rise, 
 d he King was not acting outside the law when he exercised a discre- 
 tionary power approved by the law. Wherever a discretionary power 
 has been accorded, the exercise of the discretion is necessarily a legal 
 act; and the only question that may possibly arise is as to the limits 
 within which the disci etion may be validly exercised. The difficulty was 
 ultimately solved or evaded by a declaration, to which both Houses 
 agreed, that the Act was not to be regarded as encroaching on the 
 prerogative. But if the prerogative was left intact, where was the use 
 of the Act? 
 
 It cannot be said that the last scene of the parliamentary play reflected 
 any credit on the performers. Eliot, against the advice of Pym, whose 
 parliamentary tact was unrivalled, had committed the House in Bolle’s 
 case to a line of action which would have conferred an undue privilege 
 upon those of its members who were engaged in trade; and he desired 
 that, before the adjournment, which was imminent, took place, certain 
 resolutions which he had prepared should be read and approved. The 
 
76 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 Speaker refused to put them on the ground that they were not relevant 
 to the question before the House, and rose from the chair. He was 
 promptly seized by Holies and Valentine, and pushed back into his seat, 
 where he was forcibly detained. The tumult that followed was obstinate 
 and prolonged. The authority of Eliot was invoked : he was a consenting 
 party; but the Speaker was firm, and the resolutions were not put from 
 the Chair. They were ultimately read by a member amid approving 
 clamour; and then the door was unlocked, and the members were per- 
 mitted to depart. There is no more shameful incident in our parlia- 
 mentary annals. It is to he regretted that the last day of Eliot’s last 
 
 Parliament should have been stained by such excesses. We must all 
 aoree with Mr. Gardiner that, if the preponderance in the Constitution 
 
 O 
 
 was to pass from the Ring to the House of Commons, many a com- 
 pensating change would be needed before the great alteration could be 
 safely effected. 
 
 With the exception of Sir John Eliot and Sir Thomas Wentworth, none 
 of the leaders of these short-lived Parliaments attained permanent distinc- 
 tion. The true career of the great Yorkshireman belongs to a later period 
 (as does that of Pym) ; here it is enough to say that the contrast between 
 the manly and vigorous common-sense of Wentworth and the some- 
 what frothy vehemence of Eliot can hardly have been appreciated by the 
 members. 
 
 Sir John Eliot was the first parliamentary “martyr.” He was undoubt- 
 edly a man of real distinction— a simple and high-minded English gentle- 
 man ; but the praise lavished on him has been somewhat excessive. He 
 had the temperament of the orator, and it was only as an orator that he 
 excelled. The oratorical temperament does not appear to consist with 
 strict veracity,— consciously or unconsciously, it seeks to mystify and mis- 
 lead. It is always in an extreme of heat or cold ; and its passionate 
 panegyric is as extravagant as its fierce invective. An oration of the 
 first class should have backbone,— eloquence is only consummate when it 
 is reasoned eloquence. Selden hit the nail on the head when he said, 
 
THE EARLY YEARS OF THE REIGN. 
 
 77 
 
 “rhetoric without logic is like a tree with leaves and blossoms, but no 
 root.” So far as it is possible to judge from the fragments that have come 
 down to us, Eliot’s oratory, though impressive at the moment, was crude, 
 laboured, and involved. And he was moreover profoundly unfair. The 
 invective against Buckingham is simply outrageous. The great satirists 
 are careful to introduce redeeming traits ; an air of judicial reserve, while 
 softening the acrimony, adds to the weight of the censure. But there is 
 no light or shade in the hateful “Sejanus” of Eliot’s inflamed imagina- 
 tion. On the other hand, the panegyric is just as immoderate. He had a 
 profound belief in the perfect wisdom of a Parliament which would not 
 tolerate any show of intellectual dissent, which clamoured for persecution, 
 and whose parsimony let loose the dogs of war — Spinola, Tilly and Wallen- 
 stein — on the unoffending Protestants of the North. Of that assembly he 
 spoke with bated breath, — in language from which Dryden might have bor- 
 rowed his eulogy of Rome : — 
 
 “ A milk-white hind, immortal and unchanged, 
 
 Fed on the lawns, and in the forest ranged; 
 
 Without unspotted ; innocent within ; 
 
 She fear’d no danger, for she knew no sin : 
 
 Yet had she oft been chas’d with horns and hounds, 
 
 And Scythian shafts; and many winged wounds 
 Aim’d at her heart; was often forc’d to fly, 
 
 And doom’d to death, though fated not to die.” 
 
 From the denunciation of Buckingham, I might select more than one 
 salient passage. Possibly the most characteristic is that in which the orator 
 compares Charles’s Minister with the Sejanus of Tacitus, who was “ auda.x ; 
 sui obtegeas , in alios criminator ; juxta adulatio et superbia;” but it is 
 too long to quote. One other parallel he drew before he sat down. “I 
 w-dl conclude with a particular censure given on the Bishop of Ely in 
 the time of Richard I. That prelate had the King’s treasures at his com- 
 mand, and had luxuriously abused them. His obscure kindred w r ere married 
 to earls, barons, and others of great rank and place. No man's business 
 could be done without his help. He would not suffer the King’s Council 
 
78 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 to advise in the highest affairs of State. He gave ignolis personis et ob- 
 scuris the custody of castles and great trusts. He ascended to such a height 
 of insolence and pride that he ceased to be fit for characters of mercy. And 
 therefore, says the record of which I now hold the original, per totam in- 
 s ula m publice proclamelur. Pereat qui perdere cuncta festinat ; oppn- 
 matur ne o nines opprimat." 
 
 “If the duke is Sejanus,” Charles is reported to have said, “I must be 
 Tiberius.” And he dissolved the Parliament. 
 
 Nor can it be forgotten that it was the ferocious invective of Eliot and 
 the Commons that turned Felton’s head. They had denounced Buckingham 
 as a public enemy — the enemy of God and man. On the poor, weak, 
 muddled brain of the unhappy fanatic their wild words fell like liquid fire. 
 So he bought a tenpenny knife, went down to Portsmouth, and with one 
 well-directed blow avenged his country’s wrongs, and his own. 
 
 It is a pity that Charles did not comply with Eliot’s last request — to 
 be allowed to die by the Cornish sea. Even his emaciated body might 
 not be moved to where “upon the beached verge of the salt flood” his 
 kindred rest. The denunciation of Buckingham was never forgiven by a 
 King who was not prompt to forget. 
 
 The attitude of Charles to the Parliaments which Eliot led has not been 
 approved by the historians of the time. Their animadversions, it seems to 
 me, are somewhat ungenerous. Charles often acted from impulse ; and the 
 impulse— both in word and deed— was often unwise. So much may be 
 admitted. The Commons, however, tried him severely. On more than 
 one occasion he went down to the House, and lectured them as his father 
 had lectured them. “Mr. Speaker, here is much time spent in inquiring 
 into grievances. 1 would have more time bestowed in preventing and 
 redressing them.” Not that he questioned their right to consider grievances. 
 “ But, for God’s sake, do not hazard the ruin of my prerogative and your 
 liberties by overmuch consideration.” But any schooling was sure to be 
 resented by them— as it was. The arrest of Eliot and Digges, for words 
 spoken in the House, was arrant folly. But the insinuation that Buckingham, 
 
' 
 
 ’ w tju, CftrSCMtS 6 S' *4 1 4. In. 
 
 HENRIETTA, DUCHESS OF ORLEANS. 
 
 (Youngest Daughter of Charles I.) 
 
 From the painting by •Sir- P etor-L^v, in the Collection of Her Majesty the Queen, 
 at Buckingham Palace. 
 

 
 
 78 
 
 CHARLPs THE FIRST 
 
 to advise in the high-.*-* ^ • e Ignolis person) s rt ob- 
 
 scuris them-' scended to such a height 
 
 of insole: i tiara eters of mercy. And 
 
 there*. , * • >• V •••<•* li • original, per totam in- 
 
 • unrta festinat oppri- 
 
 1 marie- t* > ive said. “1 must be 
 
 r ilv d the P; new 
 
 ■ u t c forgotten that it v ■ 
 
 . minions that turned ‘Felton - hca< ! 
 a public enemy— the nf i (• < 
 
 muddled brain • dd words tell like liqiu* 1 lire 
 
 So he li.m.-l ' *•■* went down to Portsmouth *• ' w.th *■« 
 
 well .lire* 1 ■ ■ - country’s wrongs, and his own. 
 
 i .lid not comply with Eliot’s last request — to 
 be .it!- t h* Cornish sea. Even his emaciated body might 
 
 i , moved to where " upon the beached verge of the salt flood ” his 
 kindred rest. The denunciation of Buckingham was never forgiven by a 
 i ng who was not promo’ > I : . 
 
 The attitude of Chaii* - 1 <* ... 
 
 ' 
 
 had 1 . 
 into grievan 
 redressing them. 
 
 “ But, for God’s sake, d< 
 liberties by overmuch • ■*■■ ■ 
 
 may be 
 ■ • more than 
 • w* m - his father 
 
 .... i .Hires, 
 nd your 
 . .<* sure to be 
 * igges, for words 
 
 resented by them— as it was. J * 
 spoken in the House, was arwwil kid. * . • i > " : :ru:h • 
 
 .azAa.iao ho aaancuici , a t t :ii h r a h 
 
 ip.vuiO 91I1 ✓ j > j vAf. igH !•> noiJoalloO erii iii v 4 #d yd $riiJiiij;q oil J nio*!^ 
 
 .9or.f»; f I iriBd^nbbufl J« 
 
 
THE EARLY YEARS OF THE REIGN. 
 
 79 
 
 to please King Charles, had poisoned King James was monstrous ; and 
 Charles’s indignation was natural. The frequent dissolutions did him no 
 good; and his emphatic “Not a minute!” proved that on one occasion 
 at least he would not listen to prudent counsel. All this may be admitted, 
 — Charles was at once impulsive and obstinate. But the graver charges 
 are ill-supported. On what do the persistent accusations of bad faith, of 
 “perfidy,” rest? Mainly on his conduct while the Petition of Right was 
 under consideration. Various incidents in connection with its parliament- 
 ary foi tunes are said to reflect discredit on Charles. A bill avowedly in- 
 troduced to restrain the exercise of the ancient prerogatives of the Crown 
 cannot, it is true, have been regarded with much favour by the King. 
 But there is no proof that he meant to disregard its provisions. 1 have 
 already commented upon the Act in connection with the practice of 
 arbitrary arrest. It was also directed against the practice of arbitrary 
 taxation. Yet, in spite of the Act, export and import duties — “tonnage 
 and poundage”— continued to be levied by the officers of the Crown. This, 
 it is contended, was an evasion of its provisions by Charles and his 
 advisers. But Mr. Gardiner’s argument that these duties — “the King's 
 dues were intentionally, if not expressly, excluded from its operation, 
 is unanswerable *. Then it is contended that the form in which the royal 
 
 “Nor was it only in his resolution to leave the i 
 
 took ground which was at least formally defensible. That the 
 
 *«• lenevolence, lax, or such like ‘charge; without 
 
 iterpretation of the laws to the judges that Charles 
 rds of the Petition of Right, praying that ‘no 
 
 wMch few wonld b oow h f - P r J t J- °“ gh v btlTC COTCred lhe of customs' duties is a proposition from 
 
 k. ? i , d T cnt Yet amon X st the words used, only 'tax' was sufficiently general 
 
 to be supposed for a moment lo cover Ibc case of duties upon imports and exports, and even [hat word though 
 often used loosely to apply to payments of every kind, hod the specific meaning of direct payments and in tin's 
 fhf “* .Whcnble to the dues which were levied at the port! When, E Charles saW 
 
 hnn the Uuth ? He' i ( '°h ' h °J n ° Ve '' ,,,lond ? d “> y'cM this point, he undoubtedly said nothing less 
 
 than the truth He might have sa.d even more than he did. It is as certain as anything can well be that 
 either because they did not wish to enhance the difficulty of obtaining a satisfactory aLve? from the King or 
 miest , inn t <?f C tn eXPeCted ri° 8^“" lhe " object m another way. the Commons never had any intention to includf the 
 n erndv in the TessL T ^ In the Petition of Right. The Tonnage and Poundage Bill lmd been brought 
 noth?™ had*!! . . ; I 7 0m time to time it had been mentioned, but, except a lew words from Phclips, 
 
 nf l nnp g nr h ^ d b said . to S lve ,l any fort ol prominence. What would have been easier than, by the addition 
 HonsrJ Ve? n 'JF 688 ' 0 ” 8 ‘ he petition, to include the levy of these duties amongst the grievances of the 
 „l t h E , ,1 'u d W “ d ° n °' “ mu h' h »h« words of the petition, as was known to* every lawyer, if 
 
 mnn-iue Zd y n H b .IT ere stu ' h “ would be acknowledged bv the King to cover the case of 
 
 w»rS;»et ? fh d g ,' W h al . was still more important was that the Petition of Right, like every other statute, 
 was sub j cct to the interpretation of the judges, and that it was well known that the judges were in the habit of 
 deciding esery doubtful point in favour of the Crown. It was therefore with full knowledge that the ambiguous 
 word tax would not carry with it the consequences which they now wished to derive from it, that the framers 
 Li.C being lawyers of the highest eminence, had abstained from strengthening their work 
 
 Poti’if 1 * WO f 1 k, *. c b would have put an end to all doubt. For these reasons, the insertion of the appeal to 
 , • , lol },° , , ln . ® final Remonstrance can only be regarded as a daring attempt to take up new ground 
 
 xvK pK tK° Ul< K P J a u C - e .u the , r,g-ht ° l 5 e . House above that decision given in the last reign by the Court of Exchequer, 
 which they had hitherto contested in vain.” (Gardiner Vol. VI , p. 326 .) 
 
80 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 consent was originally accorded was unprecedented. So it was; but the 
 form of the Act was unprecedented. It was not an Act; it was a Petition 
 to the King; and the King answered accordingly. “The King wdleth that 
 right be done according to the laws and customs of the realm; and that 
 the Statutes be put in due execution, that his subjects may have no cause 
 to complain of any wrongs or oppressions contrary to their just rights and 
 liberties, to the preservation whereof he holds himself in conscience, as well 
 as obliged of his prerogative.” 
 
 Then it was that the clamour arose. The Commons were in a state 
 of preternatural suspicion. Assent, it was asserted, had not been validly 
 given. The usual words in the old Norman French had been purposely 
 omitted; it can only be said that in view of the form and terms of the 
 Petition their omission was natural, and that the omission, if it was an 
 omission, was rectified without delay, Charles went down to the House 
 next week, and informed the Parliament that the former answer had been 
 duly considered. “But,” be went on, “to avoid all ambiguous inter- 
 pretations, and to show you that there is no doubleness in my meaning, 
 
 I am willing to please you in words as well as in substance. I hen at his 
 request the Petition was read again, aud the Clerk pronounced the old 
 words of approval, — “ Soit droit fait cotume est desire. 
 
 There were shouts of applause, and a few more words from the King. 
 “This I am sure is full; yet no more than I granted on my first answer; 
 for my meaning was to confirm all your liberties ; knowing, according to 
 your own protestations, that you do not mean to hurt my pierogathe. 
 And 1 assure you that my maxim is that the people’s liberties strengthen 
 the King’s prerogative, and that the King s prerogative is to defend the 
 people’s liberties. You see how ready I am to satisfy your demands; so 
 that 1 have done my part ; wherefore if the Parliament have not a happy 
 conclusion, the sin is yours ; I am free from it. 
 
 The Parliament had not a happy conclusion — as we have seen. On 
 whom the blame rested may be matter for argument. The conflict in the 
 meantime was to cease. The situation had grown intolerable. The con- 
 
THE EARLY YEARS OF THE i. ON'. 
 
 slant ft ■ lion }i • ' King and wearied the pen, The tempta- 
 tion ; :..ck '!„ i : c House was irresistible. The e xperiment 
 
 was tried— : Ik cess for a time. The early years >1 personal 
 
 governmer' ui ; coincident with a season of peace and prospem. How 
 lonr the trn ■■ might have lasted, had rati -mil counsels prer . «• 
 
 We are apt to blame Laud for driving the ship on the 
 '■■'ks. i nowing what we know now of the spiritual pain- ' i t cri- 
 men in the prime of manhood had grown old, were to tear Ln dm !cr, 
 
 we may possibly conclude that the force of the hostile - ; ,r 
 
 baffled the most expert pilot. 
 
 CHARLES I. DINING IN PUBLIC. 
 
 Frtmi the painting by Van Bassen, in the Royal Collection, at Hampton Court Palace. 
 

 
 consent 
 
 i So it was ; but the 
 
 w Act; it was a P' 
 
 ! ie King willeth that 
 ho realm ; and that 
 i, i- . : m, tlmt in- sul ti lt n have no cause 
 
 wrongs or oppress ' just rights and 
 
 tr "3 preservation whereof i‘ ience, as well 
 
 .. .fed of his prerogative. 
 
 Then it was that the clamour arose 
 ,f preternatural suspicion. Assent, it w - 1 '>• 
 
 m. The usual words in the old Nornu 
 
 ttc ! ; it can only be said that in view of the i rm an i term* dip 
 >, ition their omission was natural, and that th <• ■> m* 
 omission, was rectified without delay, Charles 1 to the House 
 
 next week, and informed the Parliament t ' at the former answer had been 
 dulv considered. “But,” he went on, “to avoid all ambiguous inter- 
 pretatio; <. and to show you that there is no doubleness in my meaning, 
 im willing to please you in words as well as in substance.” Then at his 
 request the Petition was read again, aud the Clerk pi • ' t 
 
 words of a r i - it droit fait comma est ddsirr. ' 
 
 There w sh I applause, and a few more words from the Ku ; 
 
 T am i re i- lull yet no more than I granted on my first answer; 
 r was to confirm all your liberties; knowing, according to 
 
 . p in - that you do not mean to hurt my prerogative. 
 
 i - maxim is that the people’s liberties strengthen 
 r , h . ii r i the King’s prerogative is to defend th 
 
 , . ready I am to satisfy your demands; so 
 
 •re if the Parliament have not a happy 
 
 W rm ' t. The conflict in the 
 
 .Ltuauq /-I OHI'/nil » <«l J*AH'3>>lerablo The con- 
 
 concln< ‘i 
 
 whom the b ms 
 meantime was i 
 
 ,93eIv 4 MuoO uoJqumH n. uoilasMoO ffifufl jdl ui .iiuaitfl ueV fd guiluitq sdl m»iH 
 
 mm 
 
 
 
THE EARLY YEARS OF THE REIGN. 
 
 81 
 
 stant friction had worried the King and wearied the people. The tempta- 
 tion to lock the doors of the House was irresistible. The experiment 
 was tried — not without success for a time. The early years of personal 
 government were coincident with a season of peace and prosperity. How 
 long the truce might have lasted, had rational counsels prevailed, we 
 cannot tell. We are apt to blame Laud for driving the ship on the 
 rocks. But knowing what we know now of the spiritual pains that, ere 
 men in the prime of manhood had grown old, were to tear England asunder, 
 we may possibly conclude that the force of the hostile current would have 
 baffled the most expert pilbt. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 to them. By them the patrimony of the Crown 
 
 
 
 them responsible ministers were to be refnoved 
 
 L'OHDRE MAN1ERE ET SCEANT DE CHARLES I., 1625. 
 From an old print of the House of Lords. 
 
 
 
CHAPTER SIX. 
 
 PERSONAL RULE. 
 
 here could no longer be any doubt as to the attitude 
 of the Commons. Their claim had been explicitly 
 stated. The powers which had hitherto been 
 vested in the Sovereign were to be transferred 
 to them. By them the patrimony of the Crown 
 was to be administered. By them the policy of 
 the State was to be determined. By them 
 responsible ministers were to he appointed; by 
 them responsible ministers were to he removed. 
 
 Mr. Matthew Arnold, in a passage to which I have adverted in a previous 
 chapter, has observed with characteristic lucidity that to recognise a period 
 of transformation when it comes, and to adapt themselves honestly and 
 
84 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 rationally to its laws, is perhaps the nearest approach to perfection of which 
 men and nations are capable. By “transformation is meant in effect the 
 transfer of power from one body to another, ihe transfer is sometimes 
 peacefully effected. At times indeed it comes “without observation,” so that 
 no formal deed of conveyance is needed. On the other hand the struggle 
 between the two bodies is often protracted and severe. The severity of the 
 conflict will vary according to circumstances. A complete mistake may have 
 been made. The strength of the respective forces may have been miscal- 
 culated. The time may not be ripe. The demands preferred by the one body 
 may be studiously moderate, or extravagant and excessive. True political 
 insight, or wilful and unreasoning obstinacy, may account for the resistance 
 of the other. And so on. There is no general law to which appeal can be 
 made, — except possibly that the party in possession may be presumed to have 
 the better title. Those who assail must show cause; on them the onus rests. 
 
 The Commons in this instance were the assailants. Their case was 
 that the time had come when by a normal law of development the effective 
 power of the State should pass from the Ring to the people. It seems 
 to me that Charles was entitled (possibly bound) to resist. Resistance, 
 however stubborn, could not be regarded as “frivolous or vexatious.” The 
 King had fair ground for holding that he was not bound to divest himself 
 of the ancient rights and attributes of sovereignty. He was entitled at 
 least to try the question. Had he succeeded in repulsing the assault, 
 the natural conclusion would have been that the claim (to say the least) 
 had been preferred prematurely, and that the conditions under which the 
 transfer could be properly effected were not present. It will be admitted 
 that nothing is gained for true progress by premature action. So far as 
 one can judge from the events that followed, the claim of the Commons 
 was not only premature, but excessive. They were not prepared for 
 predominant rule, far less for absolute. When the leap in the dark was 
 taken, it failed. Except as a warning, the revolutionary movement was 
 futile. The Revolution of 1688 proceeded upon other lines. The Utopias 
 of political dreamers were thrust aside. Experience had been gained, and 
 
PERSONAL RULE. 
 
 85 
 
 (then and later) the experience was utilised. The evolution of popular 
 rule was found to be a very gradual process, — a process not to be forced. 
 Freedom broadened slowly down from precedent to precedent. 
 
 The Royalist historian, on the other hand, need not hesitate to admit 
 that the conduct of the defence was often open to observation. Some of 
 the measures to which Charles was compelled to resort were of doubtful 
 legality. The wisdom of patience was not always recognised. The attempt 
 to overawe the House by the arrest of its leaders was as bad a blunder 
 as Flodden. \et a beleaguered force must sometimes take Lhe offensive. 
 They become aggressive in self-defence. The sally is a recognised method 
 of raising a siege. It is occasionally successful. The Royalist was more 
 loyal to the Constitution than the Roundhead ; moderate men of all parties 
 had gathered, were gathering, round the old (lag; and, but for Cromwell 
 and his Ironsides, Charles might have won. A divinity still hedged the 
 King; and there were scores of sturdy yeomen in every county who, had 
 time served, would have taken to heart the warning of Melantius : — 
 
 “Think what thou dost; I dare as much as Valour; 
 
 But ’tis the King, the King, the King, Amintor, 
 
 With whom thou tightest." 
 
 I have ventured to express a doubt whether the nation at large took 
 any lively interest in the feuds between Charles and his Parliaments. 
 The truce that followed the dissolution of 1629, and in which all parties 
 appeared to acquiesce, accentuates the doubt. No Parliament was sum- 
 moned for eleven years. During the first six or seven years we search 
 in vain for any indication of widespread discord or discontent. Wise 
 men ask themselves if there can ever be any adequate cause for revolu- 
 tion; and it is true that in many cases the movement is from the frying- 
 pan to the fire; but even where there is no distinct or palpable grievance, 
 the desire for change sooner or later makes itself felt. “Sooner or later;" 
 and Charles may easily have persuaded himself in 1630 that any agita- 
 tion there had been bad died down; and that the peace that England, 
 alone among the nations, was enjoying would last his time. It was, as 
 
86 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 that these 
 The fine 
 
 it proved, a “devout imagination;” yet we may well believe 
 years — say, from 1629 to 1636 — were the brightest of his life, 
 lines of Dryden on the return of Charles 11 : — 
 
 “ Henceforth a series of new time began, 
 
 The mighty years in long procession ran, 
 
 Once more the God-like David was restored 
 
 And willing nations knew their lawful lord.” — 
 
 might have been applied by sanguine royalists to Charles 1. when he escaped 
 from his parliamentary servitude. Unhappily for the Stuarts, the “long 
 procession ” — in the one case as in the other — came to a premature close. 
 
 His history of this period is, for many pages, headed by Mr. Green, 
 “The Tyranny.” One seeks in vain for anything in Charles’s conduct 
 which justifies the insistent use of so strong a word. The odious acts, — 
 the oppression, the cruelty, the crime — which are associated with the 
 memory of tyrannical rulers are, on this occasion, conspicuous by their 
 absence. The Parliament did not meet, and tonnage and poundage con- 
 tinued to be levied. If liberty consists in the exercise of the electoral 
 franchise, liberty in that sense was crippled. But during the six or seven 
 years to which I refer political prosecutions were well-nigh unknown, 
 and no Puritan was seriously molested on account of his faith. Although, 
 in spite of Milton’s pregnant plea, the liberty of unlicensed printing was 
 not to be conceded for many years, no tribunal sought to interfere with 
 the liberty of private judgment. Much has been made of the proceed- 
 ings against Prynne in the Star Chamber for the publication of “Histrio- 
 mastrix.” But the complaint proves that there was little or nothing in 
 the ordinary administration of the law with which fault could reasonably 
 be found. One swallow does not make a summer ; and even if Prynne’s 
 punishment had been indefensible, it would be ridiculous to base a general 
 charge upon a solitary indiscretion. According to the view of the time, 
 however, the punishment was not indefensible — quite the reverse. Had 
 Prynne written against the Commons as he was held to have written 
 against the Queen, his head — and not his ears only — might have been in 
 peril. Mr. Carlyle admits that the book is entirely unreadable, — densely 
 

 
 
 it proved n “dc ut nv^i nation ; >1 ay well belie. ihese 
 
 -'Henceforth w time began, 
 
 ag have bee s anguine royalists to Chari. - I. when he escaped 
 
 ,10 his • y servitude. Unhappily for the Stuarts, the “long 
 
 processioi i one case as in the other — came to a premature close. 
 Ill ol this period is, for many beaded Ly Mr. Green, 
 
 whi lies the insistent use of so slroi. r 
 
 tli , fusion, the cruelty, the crime — whitb 4>< 
 
 of tyrannical rulers are, on this occasion, conspicuous by their 
 1'he Parliament did not. meet, and tonnage and poundage con- 
 1 to be levi'd. ‘If liberty consists in the exercise of the electoral 
 i,ise, liberty in that sense was crippled. But during the six or seven 
 
 and no hiritan was seriously molested on account 1 |. . r 
 
 in spite <■: n's pregnant plea, the liberty .«i . ' 
 
 V> ty at. Much has been made of the proceed- 
 
 nti which 1.: ult coul.l 'reasonably 
 d< , a Summer ; and even f i’« , : 
 
 against the » bea< < — might haie been in 
 
 peril. Mr. Caii huii 'tin bo< .-n irciy unireadahle, — densely 
 
 . AJHAM ATT3IH wa H Q/.k I 8HJ/IAII3 
 
 .riasiip orfi ^j£9jcM 'i‘i H )o rmiJosIloO sill ni ,ga»t^M lainitQ pi ^niliiinq srfl mo PI 
 .saslu*! iTir.rl^ni^ouO tn 
 
 
 
PERSONAL RULE. 
 
 87 
 
 stupid as well as profoundly foolish. We punish the writer of a silly 
 book by declining to buy it ; but then (as Mr. Carlyle insists) our methods 
 are less “heroic” than those of our ancestors. 
 
 Within the past twenty or thirty years, the materials out of which 
 “history” is composed have enormously increased, and the difficulty of 
 selection is correspondingly enhanced. When we go further back, and 
 examine for instance the authorities on which David Hume relied, we are 
 struck by their apparent, and indeed absolute, paucity. It is impossible 
 to read his History of England in a critical spirit without discovering 
 that there is seldom a page on which „an inaccuracy, more or less trifl- 
 ing, more or less serious, may not be detected. But if we take the 
 narrative as a whole, it is curious how little the general outlook has 
 changed. He belonged to a particular school of political thought, and for that 
 allowance must be made. To him, Puritanism (instead of being as to Carlyle 
 a devout heroism) was simply an eccentricity. But due allowance being made, 
 how bold is the outline, how vigorous the point of view ! This boldness 
 and vigour we have failed to retain. We know so much now that any 
 fearlessness of judgment, any breadth of handling, is simply impossible. The 
 accumulated mass of matter is fairly bewildering. Hume said that Cromwell 
 was “a fanatical hypocrite.” Whoever said so to-day would be ostracised. 
 We pause; we hesitate; our dissent is tentative; our assent provisional. 
 Among a host of conflicting witnesses, we have ceased to be confident. 
 
 These considerations must occur to anyone who, out of the documents 
 recently made public, attempts to construct a reasonable and consistent 
 portrait of Charles the First. The conventional language of blame, no 
 doubt, is still in use; his silence, bis indirect dealing, his bad faith, con- 
 tinue to be denounced. On the other hand the martyr of the thirtieth of 
 January (though the service has been discontinued) is still a prominent figure 
 in the High Church Calendar. Yet it is singular how ill the denunciation 
 fits in, how little the eulogy agrees, with the facts as now ascertained. 
 
 “Treason dothe never prosper. What’s the reason? 
 Why : — if it prosper, none dare call it Treason.” 
 
88 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 Nothing succeeds like success ; whereas failure is heavily handicapped. 
 The documents, for instance, going to show that injustice has been done 
 to the man or woman who has lost, are frequently not forthcoming. 
 There can be no doubt that Mary Stuart’s good name suffered in public 
 estimation for more than a century from the mutilation or suppression 
 of inconvenient papers. Charles has also suffered, — though possibly more 
 from carelessness than from deliberate design. We now know all that 
 is likely to be known ; and it appears that he was neither the saint nor 
 the sinner of popular repute, and that the unreasoning eulogy, the un- 
 reasoning invective, are alike wide of the mark. 
 
 Difficult as the task has become, we must try, before getting into the 
 thick of the political conflict, to figure to ourselves how Charles stood, 
 how England stood, about the year 1630. 
 
 So far as I understand his character, Charles — “the man with the mild 
 voice and mournful eyes ’’—wanted that buoyant and elastic habit of mind 
 which is so useful to public men engaged in great affairs. There is an 
 ebb and flow in the tide of human fortune ; a public man must be prepared 
 for reverses ; but reverses are of two kinds, temporary and permanent. 
 The course of true policy does not always run smooth. A great enter- 
 prise indeed seldom comes to a fortunate issue without a check. If the 
 check is only accidental and superficial, the boat will right itself in time; 
 but it may be vital, and mean total wreck. A really great statesman 
 will in either event preserve his equanimity ; and ever, like the wise 
 Ulysses, “with a frolic welcome take the thunder and the sunshine.” He 
 will not allow himself to be unduly depressed ; but will apply his mind 
 with cheerful alacrity to consider the position in all its bearings. If the 
 obstacles are insuperable he will retire ; if they are not he will press on, 
 and probably win in the end. This was not the spirit in which Charles 
 worked. He was easily moved, and, acting on impulse, did not weigh 
 the difficulties that confronted him till it was too late. Unsustained by a 
 naturally buoyant temperament, he was readily discouraged ; the molehill 
 became a mountain ; and the result in many cases was premature and un- 
 
PERSONAL RULE. 
 
 89 
 
 dignified retreat. The retreat was not unfrequently conducted with an ill 
 grace; he hung back ; then suddenly gave way; and “swearing he would 
 ne’er consent, consented.” But he was not always facile; sometimes he 
 shut his eyes and his ears; would not listen to friendly remonstrance, would 
 not see the gulf before him ; would risk all on a cast of the dice ; in 
 short, was obstinate at the wrong time. 
 
 1 do not think he need be judged by his foreign policy. It is really no 
 disparagement of him to say that he failed to find his way through the laby- 
 rinth of Continental politics. Had it not been for his sister and her children, 
 he would have had no foreign policy ; had it not been for the Palatinate, 
 he would have followed Wentworth’s advice, and devoted himself to internal 
 reform. Upon the whole, seeing that the Commons would vote no sufficient 
 supply, the wiser policy would have been to abstain altogether from intrigues 
 that in the absence of adequate force must necessarily be futile. 
 
 Though rash and impetuous where~his feelings were concerned, his mind 
 worked slowly and laboriously. The quickness and vivacity of intel- 
 lectual movement, so characteristic of many of the Stuarts, had not been 
 included among the gifts which his fairy godmother had bestowed on 
 Charles. He could not adapt himself to unaccustomed conditions; they 
 bewildered him; with leisure he might have recognised the signs of the 
 times; but he had no chart to guide him, and his steering was wild. 
 Ill-at-ease in a great crisis, we need not wonder that the charge of shifty 
 insincerity should have been brought against him. It was not insincerity; 
 it was irresolution — the irresolution of a ruler from whom the rapidly rising 
 tide had hidden the ancient landmarks. 
 
 In his first skirmish with the Commons, the King may be said to have 
 won ; and during the long truce that followed, there was peace at home 
 and abroad. Charles’s conception of kingly duty may have been erroneous ; 
 but at least he tried hard to act up to it. His Court was moral, frugal, 
 abstemious. There were to be found at Whitehall witty and brilliant 
 women, like Lady Carlisle, the friend of Pym, the friend of Strafford; poets 
 and artists and statesmen; but no excess was tolerated; and the social 
 
90 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 life, if possibly a little dull and angular, was dignified and decorous. The 
 King was now happy in his domestic relations. The death of Buckingham 
 had cleared the air. Henrietta Maria belonged to a nation of coquettes ; 
 hut coquetry was her worst fault. She had the piquant charm of the 
 Frenchwoman. Charles, having heard that she was small for her age, was 
 surprised on the day they first met to find her so tall, — “up to his shoulder. 
 Fancying that she might wear high-heeled shoes he glanced at her feet, 
 whereupon drawing her skirt aside she exclaimed, “Oh! c’est hien a moi, 
 je ne porte pas de mules, et ne suis ni plus haute ni plus petite.” She 
 was little more than a child when she was married, and for some years 
 she behaved like a spoilt child. Upon the whole Charles acted wisely 
 and well. He took the right method. The French Catholics who had come 
 with her were the cause of the mischief ; and in spite of treaties and 
 entreaties the French Catholics were dismissed. Until Bassompierre was 
 sent over to counsel her, there were constant bickerings, which did not 
 entirely cease while Buckingham was alive. Then Charles’s patient tender- 
 ness was rewarded. Henrietta became the most loyal and affectionate of 
 wives. She acquired an ascendency which she retained to the end, — not 
 perhaps always to her husband’s advantage. But black-eyed, sprightly, 
 vivacious, frolicsome, she was just the woman to charm away Charles’s 
 darker mood, to soften into graciousness that shy and sensitive reserve. 
 Then children were born to them, — the charming group who live on the 
 canvas of Vandyke. A group for whom strange fortunes were in store ! 
 Charles, Prince of Wales, James, Duke of York, Henrietta, Duchess of 
 Orleans, Mary, Princess of Orange, the Princess Elizabeth, and the young 
 Duke of Gloucester, — quaint little men and women who were to learn that 
 even for princes life is no holiday pastime. 
 
 Charles had very considerable capacity for business, and he was one 
 of the most methodical of men. The minutes of the great departments 
 which he corrected with his own hand (for he was fastidious and even 
 finical in the use of words) have been preserved. For several years, aided 
 by the penurious but indefatigable Weston (latterly Earl of Portland), he 
 

 
 
 
 PREACHING BEFORE THE KING, QUEEN AND PRINCE OF WALES 
 AT ST. PAUL'S CROSS, 1616. 
 
 From the painting in the Collection of the Society of Antiquaries. 
 

 I ; ,niGed and decorous The 
 
 The death of Buck i in 
 nli io a nation, of coquettes 
 
 I i ■ piqv nt charm of if 
 it -tc , i II for her age, was 
 
 to his shoulder. 
 
 ;h-heeled shoe- I nd at her feet, 
 
 ide she exclnime - 1, hien a moi, 
 
 i , et ne suis ni plus f ” She 
 
 a child when she v - m 
 , sp< till chilli i '•..>!! th. 
 i the right method, i . 
 
 t cause of the mischief and 
 
 nsel Iier, there were constant bickerings, which^ did not 
 bile Buckingham was alive. Then Charles’s patient tender- 
 i ' warded. Henrietta became the most loyal and affectionate of 
 
 perhap- always to her husband's advantage. But bl > "c 1 i.y, 
 
 vivacious, frolicsome, - ".is just the woman ID clwm 
 
 I Ire v re born to the he charming group who live on the 
 
 Wiles, Jann Duke of York, Henrietta, Duchess of 
 
 ■ 
 
 « ' r husin; h' .was ot 
 
 For several years, aided 
 
 t ttiy dv.i. Y.-i 1 7 o oki a a nr i Hb'.iSaf' 1 o(*iii:yA%P^)' lie 
 • »tsi aaono a\i'tjv.<i :vs ta 
 
 ssiniupijn A 1o iloiO'iH siljlo uoilaallot) ad) ni ^niininq ad) uioi 
 
 
 
 
 
PERSONAL RULE. 
 
 91 
 
 was his own Minister. But soon after Buckingham’s death, two new men 
 appeared at the Council hoard. The one was Wentworth, the great Earl 
 of Strafford ; the other was Laud, who was to be Archbishop of Canter- 
 bury. They were then, and ever afterwards, the closest allies, the most 
 trusted councillors, of the King. It was a hard fate that brought three 
 such men to the block. Nothing, 1 think, proves more plainly that Par- 
 liament was as yet unfit for the great part it had undertaken to play, 
 than its virulent vindictiveness in shedding innocent blood. 
 
 Wentworth was one ol the men on whom the “ grand air’’ sat as 
 of birthright. In whatever he did there was the note of distinction. He 
 was born to rule. He drew his power to gbvern men from the two 
 qualities that are said to distinguish the poetry of Byron — sincerity and 
 strength. Absolutely destitute of affectation, never thinking of effect, he 
 impressed by his simple directness. His “Thorough” has been wilfully 
 misunderstood; it meant only — ^Vhatever thou doest, do with thy might. 
 The impression that he was violent, that he made his way by sheer force, 
 is due to the same misunderstanding. There is the force of brute rage 
 which is merely destructive. The wild elephant simply crushes the ob- 
 stacles in its path. But though the horn ruler goes as directly to his goal, 
 his progress is due as much to persuasive tact as to strength. In all true 
 rulers, as in Strafford, there is the magnetic force which draws rather 
 than diives. He is reputed to have been stern; he is accused of over- 
 
 bearing imperiousness; there was the Swiftian frown on his brow, his 
 hands were rough as Esau’s. So it was said ; but the grave, austere, 
 masterful man had a flood of tenderness in his heart. When his chil- 
 dren are about him, he is as playful as a boy. “Little Mrs. Ann,"— little 
 Mis. Ann is lour years old — is the most capable of stewards, gravely 
 superintending in papas absence the building of the new house at York; 
 
 she complained to me very much of two rainy days , which , as she 
 said, hindered her from coming down, and the building from going up, 
 because she was enforced to keep her chamber and could not overlook 
 the workmen. Politicians too often use the Church for their own pur- 
 
 13 
 
92 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 poses ; their homage is hollow ; but Wentworth was a sincere and humble 
 believer. His foreign policy was one of peace, — he would have nothing to 
 do with adventures at Cadiz or Rochelle. His domestic policy was one 
 of reform,— the poor were no longer to be ground down by the great ; 
 their miserable hovels were to be repaired, their scanty earnings pro- 
 tected. Had he lived in our time he would possibly have represented 
 the Democratic Tory. But he had no faith in the House of Commons as 
 then constituted. He held with Bacon that it was a mob with no cohesive 
 force or executive capacity. That this mob should pretend to govern was 
 an impertinence ; and he regarded with dismay the irreconcilable and 
 encroaching spirit of the popular leaders. Wentworth in England, Mont- 
 rose in Scotland — and the sentiment of romantic and chivalrous loyalty 
 was strong in both — used the same language. “They will never rest till 
 they have made you a King of Straw! ” So Montrose wrote to Charles; 
 and Wentworth wrote to Carlisle, — “You best know, my Lord, how much 
 the regal power has become infirm by the easy way such have found who 
 with rough hands have laid hold upon the flowers of it, and with un- 
 equal and swaggering paces have trampled upon the rights of the Crown, 
 and how necessary examples are (as well for the subject as the Sovereign) 
 to retain licentious spirits within the bounds of sober humility and fear. In 
 the meantime,” he adds, “none of those clamours or other apprehensions 
 shall shake me, or cause me to decline my master’s honour and service, 
 thereby to soothe these popular frantic humours; and if I miscarry this way, 
 1 shall not even be found either so indulgent to myself, or so narrow- 
 hearted towards my master, as to think myself too good to die for him.” 
 From servitude to the Commons Wentworth would have saved the 
 King, by adhering unreservedly to a policy which made him financially 
 independent of parliamentary aid. There was to be no revolution ; recent 
 Parliaments had been intractable ; but the mood would pass. When they 
 had ceased to sulk, a fresh Parliament might be called. But it must be 
 wisely guided, as his own Irish Parliaments had been guided. There must 
 be the velvet glove as well as the iron hand. It really seemed at one 
 
PERSONAL RULE. 
 
 93 
 
 time as if his sanguine augury had been sound. The Parliament that met 
 in 1640 was substantially loyal, — willing and anxious, indeed, for amity 
 with the King. But — as we shall see — the treachery of Vane spoilt all. 
 
 Wherever Wentworth was invested with large powers, his determined 
 and dauntless spirit made itself felt. His administrative genius, moreover, 
 was of the highest order. He was President of the Northern Council at 
 York, and Lord Deputy of Ireland. The great Yorkshire families were 
 still mainly Catholic, and the recusants were numerous and powerful. 
 Then, as ever, Ireland was “ the house of misrule.” In either case a 
 keen intellect and a strong will were needed. Both were found in Went- 
 worth ; and while the disaffected Yorkshiremen were kept in due order, 
 a season of firm and fearless rule in Ireland changed the face of the 
 island. 
 
 As sincere as Wentworth, but far less discreet, William Laud was an 
 eminently dangerous adviser, especially to a man like Charles. The King 
 had a passion for orderly conformity to formal law, and Laud ministered 
 to this passion. The rich diversity of individual temperament — so charac- 
 teristic of Shakespeare’s countrymen — was viewed by both with cold dis- 
 favour. The erratic was to be religiously avoided. Within the National 
 Church (and no other was to be tolerated) the strictest discipline must be 
 maintained. Laud did not become Archbishop till 1633; and while Abbot 
 was alive Laud’s authority was confined to his own diocese, and his in- 
 sistence on ceremonial unity was not seriously or widely resented. It was 
 not indeed until the suspicion that he was at heart a Papist became general 
 that the Puritan public took alarm. No suspicion could be more unfounded. 
 It was not to the doctrine or ritual of Rome that he inclined, — it was 
 to the doctrine and ritual of the primitive Church. But the Puritan 
 theologian could not be brought to see the difference, which in truth is 
 somewhat microscopical. The imprudence of exciting such a suspicion in 
 the England ot the Seventeenth Century ought to have been obvious. Even 
 to-day the Nonconformist is satisfied that the High Church is a station on 
 the road to Rome. If such suspicion is still possible, we need not wonder 
 
94 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 that the precise Puritan of 1633, who looked on the Pope as Antichrist 
 and Rome as a more corrupt Babylon, should have felt uneasy. 
 
 Abbot died on August 4th, 1633, and two days afterwards Charles greeted 
 the Bishop of London with the words : “My Lord Grace of Canterbury, you 
 are very welcome.” “The little meddling hocus-pocus,” as Williams called 
 him, was henceforth to work (profoundly confident that he was doing God 
 service) irreparable mischief. His judgment on Charles that he was a 
 
 “ mild and gracious prince, who knows not how to be, or to be made, great,” 
 has so far stood the test of time. But it may be safely added that, had it 
 not been for Laud, the mild and gracious prince might have died in his bed. 
 
 But neither Wentworth nor Laud could be held to represent the highest 
 culture of the time. It was in the society that gathered round Lord 
 Falkland at Great Tew near Oxford that the wisest and most moderate 
 thinkers of the Seventeenth Century were to be found. That open house 
 looked like the University itself, — so many scholars coming thither “ to 
 study in a better air.” Falkland himself was the ideal gentleman, — 
 “wearing the white flower of a blameless life” through an age of stress 
 and storm, lie was dear to England, and to him England was dear; and 
 when in a well-nigh unaccountable paroxysm the fertile English fields were 
 deluged with English blood, it broke his heart. “ From the entrance 
 into this unnatural war, his natural cheerfulness and vivacity grew clouded 
 and a kind of sadness and dejection of spirit stole upon him, which he 
 had never been used to.” Later on “ those indispositions which had before 
 touched him grew into a perfect habit of uncheerfulness; and he who had 
 been so exactly easy and affable to all men, became on a sudden less com- 
 municable ; and thence very sad, pale, and exceedingly affected with the 
 spleen. When there was any overture or hope of peace, he would be more 
 erect and vigorous, and exceedingly solicitous to press anything which he 
 thought would promote it; and sitting among his friends often after a deep 
 silence and frequent sighs would, with a shrill and sad accent, ingeminate 
 the word, Peace, Peace ; and would passionately profess that the very agony 
 of the war, and the view of the calamities the kingdom did and must 
 
PERSONAL RULE. 
 
 95 
 
 endure, look his sleep from him, and would shortly break his heart.” 
 Yet, like the Apostle of the Gentiles, Falkland had few natural advant- 
 ages, — his bodily presence was weak, and his speech contemptible. But 
 the unclouded soul irradiated the body; and to the inner ear of scholar, 
 philosopher or poet the harsh voice was musical as is Apollo’s lute. “That 
 little person and small stature was quickly found to contain a great heart, 
 a courage so keen and a nature so fearless that no composition of the 
 strongest limbs and most harmonious and proportioned presence and 
 strength ever more disposed any man to the greatest enterprise ; it being 
 his greatest weakness to be too solicitous for such adventures. And that 
 untuned tongue and voice easily discovered itself to' be supplied and go- 
 verned by a mind and understanding so excellent, that the wit and weight of 
 all he said carried another kind of admiration in it, and even another kind 
 of acceptation from the persons present, than any ornament of delivery could 
 reasonably promise itself, or is usually attended with. And his disposition 
 and nature was so gentle and obliging, so much delighted in courtesy, kind- 
 ness, and generosity, that all mankind could not but admire and love him.” 
 These are the words of Lord Clarendon, who never writes of his early 
 friend without rising into an “ampler ether.” “The Lord Falkland,” he 
 says elsewhere, “was wonderfully beloved by all who knew him, as a 
 man of Excellent Parts, of a Wit so Sharp, and a Nature so Sincere, 
 that nothing could be more Lovely." Recent writers — Principal Tulloch, 
 Mr. Matthew Arnold — have been hardly less tenderly appreciative. The 
 
 reader who desires to join the notable company who met at Great Tew 
 must turn to Principal Tulloch’s line and animated work on rational theo- 
 logy in England in the Seventeenth Century — a book that ought to have 
 many readers; but the close of Mr. Arnold’s eloge on “the martyr of 
 sweetness and light, of lucidity of mind and largeness of temper ” — is 
 too characteristic to he omitted. “Let us bid him farewell, not with com- 
 passion for him and not with excuses, but in confidence and pride. Slowly, 
 very slowly, his ideal of lucidity of mind and largeness of temper con- 
 quers; but it conquers. In the end it will prevail; only we must have 
 
96 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 patience. The day will come when this nation shall he renewed by it. 
 But, 0 lime-trees of Tew, and quiet Oxfordshire lield-hanks where the 
 first violets are even now raising their heads! — how often, ere that day 
 arrive for Englishmen, shall your renewal be seen!” 
 
 We hear little of the leaders of the Opposition during these years. 
 Pym, the great parliamentary strategist, by whom the defection of Went- 
 worth had been bitterly resented, was biding his time. Eliot was dying 
 in prison, — a fine, rash, impulsive, magnanimous man. The prison life 
 does not appear to have been severe ; one is glad to know that he saw 
 his friends, and that he could “take the air” when so inclined. But the 
 spring months of 1632 were ungenial ; he felt the cold ; and preferred to 
 remain indoors. Though a few of the rank and fde may have nursed their 
 wrath to keep it warm, the numbers of the disaffected rapidly fell. The 
 royalist camp was crowded, while the rebel army melted away. The mer- 
 cantile class was quickly conciliated, — trade was brisk, and, in spite of 
 tonnage and poundage, fortunes were to be made. Then the lawyers came 
 in, — as was natural, — the claim of the House of Commons to over-ride the 
 Courts of Law being regarded by them with disfavour. To the cursory 
 observer — and not to the cursory observer only — it might well have seemed 
 that the pacification was complete. 
 
 During these years — 1631-1635 — a member of the last Parliament, who 
 as yet had taken little part in public affairs, but who was to become widely 
 notable, was farming or brewing at St. Ives. Of Oliver Cromwell at his 
 grazing farm on the Slepe Hall estate, Mr. Carlyle writes : — “A studious 
 imagination may sufficiently construct the figure of his equable life in those 
 years. Diligent grass-farming; mowing, milking, cattle-marketing; add 
 ‘hypochondria;’ fits of the blackness of darkness, with glances of the 
 brightness of very Heaven; prayer, religious reading and meditation; house- 
 hold epochs, joys and cares: — we have a solid substantial inoffensive 
 Farmer of St. Ives, hoping to walk with integrity and humble devout dili- 
 gence through this world; and, by his Maker’s infinite mercy, to escape 
 destruction, and find eternal salvation, in wider Divine Worlds.” A good 
 
PERSONAL RULE. 
 
 97 
 
 many other men in those South-Eastern counties, where Puritanism was 
 always strong, must have been leading in 1631 a somewhat similar life. 
 Sturdy drovers and graziers of a not uncommon type ; hut with something 
 stirring within them peculiar to the time. To that special spiritual fer- 
 mentation the name of “ hypochondria” appears to have been given by the 
 neighbours who escaped the infection. Of the hypochondria in Oliver’s 
 case all that we hear of the symptoms is that he often thought he was 
 at death’s door, sending for Dr Simcott at midnight, — the ailment however 
 being complicated by spleen, and “ fancies about the Town Cross. Seeing 
 what was to come of the hypochondria from which Oliver and others suffered, 
 there must have been more in it than “ fancies about the Town Cross.” 
 An adequate diagnosis of the disease might perhaps help to explain a 
 good deal that is rather inexplicable. Within a few years of this midsummer 
 calm, the strangest, wildest, most subversive, theories of government were 
 to be put in practice; were at least to become the subject of heated dis- 
 cussion in hall and hamlet, in the synod and in the senate. There was a 
 common bond no doubt which gave a certain unity to the discordant 
 voices. The Fifth Monarchy Men, for instance, were only Puritans run 
 mad. The governing idea appears to have been that in some way or other 
 (the mode was the occasion of infinite controversy) the temporal power 
 should be made subject to the spiritual. It was (under divers disguises) 
 the old claim of Thomas Cartwright, that the civil magistrate should “lick 
 the dust off the feet of the Church;” of the Scottish General Assemblies, 
 that the “acts and constitutions of the Kirk are of higher authority than 
 
 those of any earthly King.” The State was the Givitas Dei. Of a per- 
 
 fectly ordered commonwealth, the King was God. The Presbyterian would 
 have been content had the power to bind and to loose, in this world 
 
 and the next, been entrusted to the Courts of the Church. The Inde- 
 
 pendent was prepared to go further, — between the individual believer, or 
 the individual congregation, and the God whose counsels they shared, no 
 Court, temporal or ecclesiastical, should come. Cromwell was of this 
 persuasion, — latterly at least, — driven thereto, it may be, by what he 
 
98 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 had seen of arrogant folly and ineptitude in the ministers of the Kirk. 
 
 When such ideas were abroad, it was natural that the men who shared 
 them should believe that there was a close union between the seen and 
 the unseen. The miraculous element in life had not been withdrawn, 
 though its special manifestation depended of course upon the mood of 
 the believer. Even a free-thinking philosopher, like Lord Herbert of Cher- 
 bury, looked for confirmation from Heaven before he ventured to publish 
 a philosophical treatise. “Being thus doubtful in my chamber, one fair 
 day in the summer, my casement being open towards the South, the sun 
 shining clear and no wind stirring, I took my book ‘ De Veritate’ in my 
 hand, and kneeling on my knees, devoutly said these words : — ‘ 0 Thou 
 eternal God, author of the light which now shines upon me, and giver 
 of all inward illuminations, I do beseech Thee, of Thy infinite goodness, 
 to pardon a greater request than a sinner ought to make; 1 am not satis- 
 fied whether I shall publish this book ‘De Veritate;’ if it be for Thy 
 glory, I beseech Thee give me some sign from Heaven ; if not, I shall 
 suppress it.’ 1 had no sooner spoken these words, but a loud though 
 yet gentle noise came from the heavens (for it was like nothing on earth), 
 which did so comfort and cheer me, that 1 took my petition as granted, 
 and that I had the sign I demanded, whereupon also I resolved to print 
 my book.” The author of the ‘ De Veritate’ was a literary man to whom 
 the gift of articulate speech had been given. But what precisely was fer- 
 menting in the hearts of the unlettered men around him could not well 
 be guessed. The mood of many was, it may be presumed, more or less 
 morbid. The Apostles wearied while waiting for the return of their Lord. 
 Gloom settled upon the soul of the English Puritan when it appeared 
 that the building of the Civitas Dei had been indefinitely delayed. The 
 inward spiritual turmoil, however, was sternly repressed. Like Oliver, 
 they continued to farm and brew. The gloomy apprehensions of coming 
 wrath and judgment did not find voice till later. The sea when agitated 
 by a ground swell may be shaken to its centre; but the wave does not 
 break on the surface. So it may have been during these years of appa- 
 
\ 
 
 CHARLES I. 
 
 [Three Heads, painted to assist the sculptor Bernini , to execute a Bust since lost.) 
 
 From the painting by Sir Anthony Vandyke, in the Collection of Her Majesty the Queen, 
 
 at Windsor Castle. 
 
 L 
 
had seen of arrogant 
 When such i< 
 them should 
 
 the ministers of ihe Kirk. 
 ■1 ! Iiat the men who shared 
 ' between the seen and 
 not been withdrawn, 
 upon the mood of 
 
 turod to publish 
 sber, one fair 
 •s >i h. he sun 
 
 . 
 
 •er i pi' t il , sinnei ought tt make; i am not satis- 
 1 shall publish this book ‘De Veritate if it be for Thy 
 glory. 1 i t - i ch Thee give me some sign from Heaven ; if not, I shall 
 suppress it.’ I had no sooner spoken these words, but a loud though 
 yet gentle noise came from the heavens (for it was like nothing on earth), 
 which did so comfort and cheer me, that I took my petition as granted, 
 
 . ' that I had the sign 1 demanded, whereupon' also I resolved to print 
 The author of the ‘ De Veritate’ was a lih ar man to whom 
 a date speech had been given. But what ;> re- : ■ !y was fer- 
 > Tis of the unlettered men around him could not well 
 I many was, it may be presumed, more or less 
 while waiting for the return of their Lord. 
 
 1 English Puritan when it appeared 
 n indefinitely delayed. The 
 
 .1 83JHAHD when agitated 
 
 ’ " k aUrivts (k .mWsaW -'al^Attav. a\\l ,?A}ka\t'v4aiYY does nOt 
 
 v.ll to II i milvI.iH.V vnoilliiA liA y.l j'SiSnik'ij* j|!s uiofTappa- 
 
 .MIrbD •lofcboiV/ li. 
 

PERSONAL RULE. 
 
 09 
 
 ren tly unbroken calm. We are assured that, in each class of society, 
 men and women were to he lound by whom (as it were the sough of 
 the wind) the breath of the Lord had passed. The chosen vessels might 
 he few as yet,— comparatively few even for years to come, though as the 
 cause prospered the number rapidly increased, as was natural. The note 
 of an intense and high-strung enthusiasm is easily imitated by pretenders, 
 especially when the expression (as too olten happened in Cromwell's expe- 
 rience) is grotesque and eccentric. Cromwell for his part worked off a 
 dangerous excess by riotous irony and fervent prayer; how much was 
 genuine, especially towards the end when he was racked by ambition 
 as well as hypochondria, it is hard to say. We may well believe that 
 the language of religious emotion, — the use of Puritanic shibboleths, — was 
 natural at first; as he mounted step by step to an undreamt-of eminence, 
 it became partly habit, partly art. The weapon which had served him so 
 well could not be laid aside, although the mood in which it was first 
 
 used had passed not to return. He may have deceived himself at times as 
 
 he deceived others; he may have striven to repent in dust and ashes, and 
 with sobs and groans audible in the silence of night to those who watched, 
 sought other than priestly absolution; but temporal policy had been his bane; 
 and the dying soldier had ceased to be sustained by the early conviction 
 that he was engaged in a Holy War, and held a Divine Commission. 
 
 Of Cromwell I shall have more to say in the sequel. He is to me 
 (in spite of his success, nay because of his success) in some respects a 
 tragic figure. All his life, even when in camp and Court, he was a 
 
 solitary man. The men he led, the men he lived with, would gladly have 
 
 stamped out the heresies of High Church do. tors and prelates as we stamp 
 out rinderpest. But lor Cromwell, the reign of the Saints would have 
 been harsher than it was, — an English Inquisition hardly less severe than 
 the Spanish. He would have liked well to work with other instruments ; 
 civil and military servants swayed by irregular and visionary impulses 
 were really not to his taste; but his evil Fate was too strong for him. 
 lie had estranged, unwillingly it may have been, all the forces of English 
 
100 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 society whose co-operation he desired, on which he would fain have rested 
 his rule. lie complained bitterly of their hostility, ignorant apparently 
 that he himself had made the gulf impassable. His bodily health must 
 have improved before the Civil War began; but there were discords in 
 his nature which were never healed. He was “possessed” by a great 
 passion which quickened and exalted his faculties into fierce ecstasy and 
 a fever of devotion ; yet he had a cool head and a grim humour. He 
 was austere; but he was fervid. A fire burned beneath that plain garb 
 and that uncomely visage. Frost blisters, and every nerve of Cromwell’s 
 iron frame thrilled with sensitive life. On one side — immense coolness, 
 profound calculation ; on the other — the hysterica passio of Lear. 
 
 But on the whole, as he lay on his deathbed, he must have felt that 
 his life had been a failure. He had built on the sand, and he knew it. 
 Nor had he built with entire integrity. Clarendon, who did not love him, 
 admits that the Huntingdon brewer or drover acquitted himself on his 
 elevation with perfect tact. Even in the highest place his manner was 
 faultless. “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 when he was to act the part of a great man, he did it 
 without any indecency, notwithstanding the want of custom.” But, all the 
 same, his inner nature had deteriorated. He had not adhered to his high 
 ideals. He had put Charles to death because he was a “tyrant” who 
 had shed “the blood of the Saints,” but his own rule was ten times 
 more arbitrary and autocratic, a hundred times more unconstitutional, lie 
 was to establish, as Milton fondly anticipated, the Civitas Dei. A military 
 dictatorship was a poor reflection of the City of God. That is the pathos of it. 
 He had been forced to take the path which he knew was the lower and less 
 noble, — the less excellent way. Possibly he was not altogether to blame; 
 it might be that (whatever the cause) he could only choose the second best. 
 
 “ Men must endure 
 
 His going hence, even as their coming hither ; 
 
 Ripeness is all.” 
 

 character. Th 
 
 VVh.it discontent there might be did not i< eh 
 
 . 
 
 by ! : - : ' tin! use of Laud's prayer-book in St. Giles’s w o . 
 
 JOHN MILTON. 
 
 From a Miniature by Alexander Cooper, in the South Kensington Museum. 
 
. v jE to 
 
 
 
 
 i ii r, i ibs 
 
 * cl, .in • it la- would fjiin li. rested 
 
 bodily health mi 
 
 ( | ■ of d ' » humour. He 
 
 and that unco . vi i •. Fn t h! • very f Cromwell’s 
 
 iron frame u. 
 
 admits that the Huntingdon brewer or drover acquitted, himself on his 
 1 uiltless. “ Ab he grew into place and authority, his parts seemed to 
 
 He i to death beta 
 
 
 HOTJIM KHOl 
 
 cuifdiuM noJ^nian9yI dJiioS sdJ ai , !9qooP 'i^bnsxelA aioisiniM a tnoi’i 
 
PERSONAL RULE. 
 
 101 
 
 Ripeness is all. But Cromwell’s work had not ripened, nor had his 
 character. The fields were not yellow unto harvest. He had triumphed 
 over all his enemies, and many of his friends ; yet the conviction of de- 
 feat must have been always present, and, to a man of his temperament, 
 always galling. The sense of irretrievable loss, of a loss that can never be 
 quite repaired in this world, is, as it seems to me, the supremest tragedy. 
 
 Until the early autumn of 1636, the midsummer calm remained unbroken. 
 What discontent there might be did not reach the surface. But un- 
 doubtedly, as subsequent events proved, there were not a few ready to 
 take advantage of any indiscretion on the part of the King. For nearly ten 
 years, warned by Wentworth, he had walked warily. But the good time was 
 nearly over. The legality of the levy of ship-money was about to be tested 
 by Hampden ; and the use of Laud’s prayer-book in St. Giles’s was to drive 
 the Scots, ever till then loyal to the Stuarts, into flat rebellion. When the 
 spark once fell, there was no saying how far the conflagration might spread. 
 
< ICY'T; Year.-. ! ! ' - Mj -• t ll < • Kn^'li-h i'a'l: 
 
 'rperous. It was a period. of j j c i ■ s * ■ i : 
 
 ' I any acute or wide-spread dispirit re. How is the tranq 
 
 see in tlie prolong:; lion I 1 : p.i >1 :;i mnuL . . V, 1 ■ 
 
 LOUIS XIV. AT MARLY. 
 
 rom the painting by Van der Meulen, in the Collection of Her Majesty the Queen 
 
CHAPTER SEVEN. 
 
 THE EVE OF THE CONFLICT. 
 
 or eleven years— 1629-1640 — the English Parliament 
 did not meet. It is admitted on all hands that 
 until 1637 — when the Scottish troubles broke out 
 — these years were quite exceptionally peaceful and 
 prosperous. It was a period of personal rule; but 
 even the writers who are most averse to personal 
 rule are constrained to allow that the suspension 
 of sittings at Westminster does not appear to have 
 occasioned any acute or wide-spread displeasure. How is the tranquillity 
 to be accounted for ? Why did the nation calmly and even cheerfully 
 acquiesce in the prolongation of the parliamentary recess ? Why was the 
 peace not broken? These questions merit further consideration. 
 
104 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 Medieval devotion or ambition turned Europe into a huge spiritual 
 camp. The State might then not inaptly have been represented with a 
 sword in one hand and a Bible in the other, like a fighting bishop. The 
 Old and New Testaments formed, in a sense, the statute-law of Christ- 
 endom. Every citizen was, or ought to be, a soldier in this army. The 
 heretic was a deserter, and desertion was punished with military rigour. 
 The idea of a righteous dissent was unfamiliar and unwelcome. Freedom 
 of belief, liberty of discussion, were incompatible with military discipline. 
 So that a religious test naturally became the test of civil capacity. Unless 
 a man believed in the Apostles’ Creed he was not qualified to serve — still 
 less to command. In fact it was difficult to find any place for him in this 
 world; he was untrue to the colours, and should be dealt with accordingly. 
 
 In such a State there could be only one Church tolerated by law. It 
 would have been as logical to tolerate treason as to tolerate dissent. 
 
 It might have been thought that the Reformation would have favoured 
 liberty. But it was not so. The reformed communities were as intolerant 
 as the unreformed. In the England of 1630, the one Church that had 
 recognised legal existence was the Anglican. The Catholic Chapel was 
 proscribed — so was the Conventicle. Every loyal citizen was bound to 
 attend the services of the Church established by law, — recusants, Popish or 
 Puritan, being liable to punishment. This was Laud’s creed; but Laud was 
 not singular; the creed was common to all the Churches. Had the Puritan 
 been in power there would have been a Puritan Church, and a Puritan 
 Church only. No rival communion would have been tolerated by Rome. 
 
 In 1630 the sectaries were in a minority. For some time they had 
 apparently been losing ground. Puritanism was not popular at the mo- 
 ment ; and the austere rule of the Saints would not have been heartily 
 welcomed by any class of Englishmen. Laud was fussy no doubt, and his 
 passion for ceremonial conformity was excessive ; but it was generally 
 recognised that the Church of which Charles was the head would be less 
 oppressive and illiberal than the Church of the Commons. The Commons 
 were insisting on uniformity of belief, whereas Laud would be satisfied 
 
THE EVE OF THE CONFLICT. 
 
 105 
 
 with uniformity of ritual. Compared with Eliot or Pym, Laud was a Broad 
 Churchman . 
 
 When the indictment against Laud is carefully scrutinised, the unpre- 
 judiced inquirer is surprised to find that so many of the charges are frivolous. 
 It must be admitted that he was indiscreet ; and once at least the indis- 
 cretion was gross, and was followed by fatal disaster. Yet many of the 
 changes which he advocated were harmless, and some of them were dis- 
 tinctly in the right direction. Even of these however it must be said that 
 the majority were ill-advised. They were ill-advised in respect that the 
 effect they were likely to produce upon the public mind had not been 
 sufficiently considered. No statesman can afford to disregard the element 
 of Discontent. If in a distempered state of public feeling, a certain 
 course of action (not intrinsically objectionable) is certain to excite sus- 
 picion and distrust, a wise ruler will hold bis hand. 
 
 Laud restored and purified the great metropolitan Cathedral which had 
 literally been turned into a den of thieves. That , popular or unpopular, 
 
 (and it was unpopular with the faction which held that it was “ more 
 agreeable to the rules of piety to demolish such old monuments of super- 
 stition and idolatry than to keep them standing”) was probably an impe- 
 rative duty which the Bishop of London was bound to discharge ; but not 
 a few of his reforms were unseasonable, were the cause of bitter strife, 
 and might with advantage have been delayed. Laud had, in short, an 
 unhappy habit of rubbing his flock the wrong way. The annoyances that 
 he inflicted upon numbers of prosperous law-abiding citizens, who were 
 perfectly willing to remain good Churchmen if let alone, were trivial no 
 doubt ; but the constant buzzing of a fly about one’s ears is sometimes 
 more irritating than a serious mishap. 
 
 Even during the wonderfully tranquil years of “ the tyranny,” the 
 ecclesiastical calm had not been quite unbroken. There was an occasional 
 ripple on the water. The Declaration that there should be no wrangling 
 over the mysteries of religion had provoked considerable controversy. The 
 Declaration that after service on Sundays the people might continue to 
 
CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 10(1 
 
 enjoy their holiday in the orthodox old English fashion was gall and worm- 
 wood to the austere sectary. The austere sectary was doubly aggrieved. 
 He delighted in theological discussion. The insoluble problems which 
 surround us in this inscrutable universe were, so to speak, his meat and 
 drink. On the other hand the Sabbath, as he called it, was a day of 
 gloom which the sinner should spend on his knees. Heine’s wild jest, 
 that a beadle got up on a long ladder and took down the sun, was barely 
 an exaggeration of the Puritanic sentiment about the first day of the 
 week. (The contemporary joke was hardly so good, — it was alleged that 
 the men ol Banbury, where the sectaries were rampant, hanged their cats 
 on Monday for catching mice on Sunday.) To exhort people who were 
 already prone to mirth to pass the afternoon of “the Lord’s day” in 
 idle games was an oflence which Heaven would not readily forgive. For 
 those who recommended abstention from serious debate, and participation 
 in carnal sports, a day ot reckoning was surely at hand. 
 
 Both Declarations are in their way curious — curious and suggestive. The 
 Declaration on uniformity may still be read in the English Prayer-Book; 
 and, offering as it does copious matter for meditation, may have proved 
 serviceable when a prosy discourse by a prosy parson was being unseason- 
 ably prolonged. The voice is the voice of Charles; but Laud, it may be 
 presumed, was the author. “Being by God’s Ordinance,” the King is 
 made to say, “according to Our just Title, Defender of the Faith, and 
 Supreme Governour ol the Church, within these Our Dominions, We hold it 
 most agreeable to this Our Kingly Office, and Our own religious Zeal, to 
 conserve and maintain the Church committed to Our Charge in the Unity 
 ol true Religion and in the Bond of Peace; and not to suffer unnecessary 
 Disputations, Altercations, or Questions to be raised which may nourish Fac- 
 tion both in the Church and Commonwealth. 
 
 On this Preamble, the Declaration proceeds : — “We have therefore upon 
 mature Deliberation, and with the Advice of so many of Our Bishops as 
 might conveniently be called together, thought fit to make this Declara- 
 tion lollowing : — That for the present, though some differences have been 
 
Group of 5 Miniatures : 
 
 CHARLES II. WHEN A YOUTH [above), PRINCE RU P ERT (left), LORD STRAP 
 FORD after Sir A. Vandyke (centre); CHARLES LOL IS, Count 1 alatine. Biotin t of 
 Prince Rupert, after P. Oliver (rightf, MARQUIS OF MONTROSE, after S. Cooper 
 f below). 
 
 In the Collection of the Duke of Buccleuch, at Montague House, London. 
 
•Jti a — jg ^.1,1- 
 
 
 
 
 • 1 . 
 
 lion was gall and •...-■! ai- 
 i was doubly . grieved. 
 
 
 ■ '" >n r < linou . -curious and suggestive. The 
 
 mil v may still be .read in the English Prayer-Book : 
 eg as it does, copious matter for meditation, may have proved 
 
 d The voire is. the voice of Charles; l;;it I i 
 
 Our just Title, Defender . . ,ii, and 
 
 ithin these Our Dominions, We hold it 
 
 
 
THE EVE OF THE CONFLICT. 
 
 107 
 
 ill raised, yet We lake comfort in this that all Clergymen within Our Realm 
 have always most willingly subscribed to the Articles established ; which 
 is an Argument to Us that they all agree in the true, usual, literal meaning 
 of the said Articles : and that even in those curious points, in which the 
 present differences lie, men of all sorts take the Articles of the Church 
 of England to be for them : which is an argument again that none of 
 them intend any desertion of the Articles established. That therefore in 
 these both curious and unhappy differences, which have for so many hun- 
 dred years, in different times and places, exercised the Church of Christ, 
 We will that all further curious search be laid aside, and these disputes 
 shut up in God’s promises as they be generally set forth to us in the 
 holy Scriptures and the general meaning of the Articles of the Church 
 of England according to them; and that no man hereafter shall either 
 print, or preach, to draw the Article aside any way, but shall submit to it 
 in the plain and full meaning thereof, and shall not put his own sense or 
 comment to be the meaning of the Article, but shall take it in the literal 
 and grammatical sense.” 
 
 Grata gruies. From the dawn of history man had been accustomed to 
 speculate upon his Destiny. How? Whence? Whither? But there was 
 to be no more indulgence of an inconvenient and unsanctified curiosity. All 
 further curious search was to be laid aside. The notion that a primitive 
 and ineradicable instinct of human nature could be erased by a Royal Pro- 
 hibition was very characteristic of Laud. 
 
 But lus motives in recommending the issue of the Declaration have, I 
 think, been misunderstood. His contemporaries fancied that his Protest- 
 antism was half-hearted. It would have been truer to say that the in- 
 discreet fervour of his Protestant zeal accounts for many of his indiscre- 
 tions. The Catholic, who boasted that he belonged to an infallible Church, 
 taunted Protestantism with its divisions. Laud, who held that Canterbury 
 was in no way inferior to Rome, may have asked himself, Is it not pos- 
 sible to present an undivided front to the enemy ? Why should he be 
 advised that there are divisions in the camp? If we cannot heal the strife, 
 
108 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 do not at least let us noise our contentions abroad. The religion of Pro- 
 testants may be defended on the broadest rational grounds ; but till the 
 defence is ready (Laud was aiding Chillingworth in the preparation of his 
 great work) controversy among ourselves is suicidal. 
 
 There would have been much in such a plea, though the Puritan might 
 not have found it convincing. It is to be apprehended, indeed, that by 
 this time the more extreme section of the sectaries would have retorted 
 that Laud if not a Catholic was an Anglican, and that loyalty to Anglican- 
 ism was not loyalty to truth. 
 
 The republication in 1633 of the “Declaration of Sports,” which had 
 been originally issued in the previous reign, might have passed without 
 observation, had Laud not required that it should be read in churches. 
 He held apparently that the parson was an officer of the State, and bound 
 to read official documents for the information of the people. But the con- 
 forming Puritans (that is to say the Puritan clergy within the Church) 
 were naturally indignant. On the other hand the “Sunday Meetings” were 
 still popular with the farmers and labourers in the outlying counties, who 
 if these customary gatherings were taken from them would, it was said, 
 “have no recreations at all to refresh their spirits,” except tippling in 
 the publicdiouses, and talking politics over their ale. So it was declared 
 that as soon as the service was over, “the King’s good people” of each 
 parish were “not to be disturbed, letted, or discouraged from any lawful 
 recreation such as dancing, either men or women, archery for men, leaping, 
 vaulting, or any other such harmless recreation, nor from having of May- 
 games, Whit-ales, and Morris dances, and the setting up of May-poles, 
 and other sports therewith used, so as the games be had in due and con- 
 venient time, without impediment or neglect of Divine service.” 
 
 There were others besides the Puritans who held that Sabbath sports 
 and pastimes did not tend to edification. Though many of the clergy 
 approved , the contemporary evidence is rather conflicting. On the whole 
 it rather consists with modern experience. The words of the “Book of 
 Sports ” must recall to some of us the pleasant Sundays we have spent 
 
THE EVE OF THE CONFLICT. 
 
 109 
 
 in the Bavarian or Austrian Tyrol. There the old English fashion of 
 
 turning the afternoon of the first day of the week into a friendly festival 
 is still observed, and, so far as one can judge, the wholesome and robust 
 life of the mountaineer does not suffer from his Sunday gaiety. The 
 morals of the Irish cottars and crofters are unimpeachable, — contrasting 
 favourably with the morals of their more Puritanic neighbours in England 
 and Scotland — but all over the island, and especially in remote Kerry and 
 Connemara, the Sunday dance on the green outside the chapel — seldom 
 missed by lad or lass — is the great event of the week. 
 
 Though it cannot be asserted that at any time of his life Milton 
 would have taken part in a dance on the green , there was yet an 
 element in his nature which had no tincture of Puritanism, It was really 
 against manifestations of this Puritan austerity, that he protested in more 
 than one fine passage of the “ Areopagitica.” “If we think to regulate 
 printing, thereby to rectify manners, we must regulate all recreations and 
 pastimes, all that is delightful to man. No music must be heard, no 
 song be set or sung, but what is grave and Doric. There must be licensing 
 dancers, that no gesture, motion, or deportment be taught our youth, but 
 what by their allowance shall be thought honest : for such Plato was 
 
 provided of. It will ask more than the work of twenty licensers to exa- 
 mine all the lutes, the violins, and the guitars in every house ; they 
 
 must not be suffered to prattle as they do, but must be licensed what 
 
 they may say. And who shall silence all the airs and madrigals that 
 whisper softness in chambers? The windows also, and the balconies, must 
 be thought on ; there are shrewd books, with dangerous frontispieces, set 
 to sale : who shall prohibit them, shall twenty licensers? The villages 
 also must have their visitors to inquire what lectures the bagpipe and the 
 rebec reads, even to the ballatry and the gamut of every municipal 
 fiddler ; for these are the countryman’s Arcadias, and his Montemayors.” 
 
 There was thus no particular reason why the nation should be anxious 
 that Laud should be removed from the conduct of ecclesiastical affairs. 
 Men like Falkland and Chillingworth and Hales were nearer akin to him than 
 
110 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 to the intemperate fanatics who would have taken his place; while to men on 
 a lower level than the great latitudinarians, the gloomy asceticism of 
 Puritanism had as yet failed to commend itself as a desirable rule of life. 
 
 Nor as yet were the sober majority of Englishmen convinced that the 
 State would he more prosperous or better governed if power was taken 
 from King and Lords, and vested in the Commons. Hitherto it had been 
 a contest between King and Commons ; and, on the whole, they were in- 
 clined to side with the King. The King's position was in accordance with 
 precedent. The pretensions of the Commons were unprecedented. In the 
 King, not in the Commons, the executive power had been vested by the 
 Constitution. Their experience of recent Parliaments, moreover, had tended 
 to confirm the views of eminent statesmen like Bacon and Cecil. Bacon 
 and Cecil had held that the Commons were not yet capable of governing 
 wisely or well. The more thoughtful constitutionalists could not but agree 
 with them. It seemed to them that, even in its own interest, unlimited 
 authority ought not to be entrusted to a single assembly. An assembly 
 which is a law to itself is constantly tempted to listen to rash and impru- 
 dent counsel. Where there is no Court of Appeal to moderate and restrain, 
 a Court of First Instance is not to he trusted; — experience having shown 
 that it will go persistently astray. When a legislative assembly, presum- 
 ing on its omnipotence, indulges in fads and freaks, in action which must 
 necessarily lead to national disaster, the public confidence is shaken, the 
 patience of the people is exhausted. A single House, so powerful as to 
 he irresponsible, is moreover an anomaly in a system which claims to he 
 representative. Some such reasoning made Falkland a royalist. He saw 
 the Commons becoming more and more violent. The country was already 
 on the brink of the abyss; and the lower House had lost, or was losing, 
 all command of itself. 
 
 Whatever the cause of the general content, it is admitted that as late 
 as 1637 or 1638 Charles’s fortunes were still unclouded. Mr. Gardiner is 
 pleased to qualify his admissions; but their general purport cannot be 
 mistaken. Here are a few sentences culled at random from his pages. 
 
THE EVE OF THE CONFLICT. 
 
 Ill 
 
 1630, “Those who still continued to resist payment were no longer assured 
 of the support of their fellow-merchants. Before the year 1630 came to 
 an end a treaty of peace was signed with Spain. Trade revived with 
 
 the cessation of hostilities, and the mass of persons engaged in commerce 
 
 were indisposed to hold back from the pursuit of wealth for the sake of 
 a political principle.” 1632, “ At home all things appeared tame and 
 quiet. English life seems to be unruffled by any breeze of discontent.” 
 “One great advantage Charles had. The lawyers began to rally to his 
 side." “It is not strange if many lawyers preferred the silken chains of 
 the Court to the iron yoke of a popular assembly, not yet conscious of 
 
 the necessity of submitting to those restraints which it was one day to 
 
 impose upon itself.” 1633, “Never in spite of all that had occurred had 
 civil war appeared further off than in the spring of 1633. Never did 
 there seem to be a fairer prospect of overcoming the irritation that had 
 prevailed four years before.” 1636, “To all outward appearances Charles’s 
 authority had never been stronger than in the summer of 1636.” “We 
 sit here,” said Secretary Coke,” “thankful in true devotion for this 
 wonderful favour towards us ; we enjoy peace and plenty ; we are like 
 to those who, resting in a calm haven, behold the shipwreck of others 
 wherein we have no part, save only in compassion to help them with 
 our prayers.” 1637, “Never to the inexperienced had Charles’s affairs ap- 
 peared in a more prosperous condition. Opposition at home seemed to 
 have been silenced by the declaration of the judges.” “ In the summer 
 of 1637, more than eight years had passed away since Parliament had 
 met at Westminster. During those years, in spite of threats of war, which 
 Charles had neither the nerve nor the means to carry out, peace had 
 been maintained, and with the maintenance of peace the material pros- 
 perity of the country had been largely on the increase.” 1638, “ Never 
 since the accession of the Stuart dynasty had the finances been in so 
 flourishing a condition as in the spring of 1638. The great customs which 
 had for some years been farmed for £150,000 were let for £165,000.” After 
 reading testimony like this (and much more to the same effect might be 
 
112 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 quoted) one is tempted to say to Mr. Green and his following as Sidney 
 Smith said to his colleagues of the early Edinburgh Review , — “Lay aside 
 your Whiggish delusions of ruin ; learn to look the prosperity of the 
 country in the face, and bear it as well as you can.” 
 
 There was of course the initial difficulty of providing a sufficient re- 
 venue, hut the national prosperity was advancing by leaps and bounds ; 
 as late as 1638 there had been no relapse or abatement ; and only finan- 
 cial purists were inclined to make the continued collection of tonnage 
 and poundage, and other dues, an occasion for heated invective. The 
 King’s government needed to be carried on ; and there was probably a 
 general impression that the Commons in withholding the customary sup- 
 plies had failed to act with perfect fairness to Charles. The people were 
 not going to quarrel with their Sovereign although, in spite of the most 
 frugal living, he might have failed to make both ends meet. 
 
 The truce is said to have been broken when Charles resolved to add 
 to the public revenue by the levy of ship-money. It might possibly be 
 more correct to say that the levy occasioned little agitation until Hampden 
 and others declined to pay their share of the assessment. Hampden, after 
 Falkland, is the most gracious and attractive figure that the civil strife 
 produced; but his fame is rested, surely imprudently, on a somewhat 
 narrow basis. For his heroic conduct in resisting payment of a county rate 
 no words of eulogy, it would appear, can be excessive. One does not 
 exactly see where the heroism comes in. Many worthy people have gone 
 into Court about their taxes without attaining immortality. It was by a 
 mere accident indeed that Hampden’s case was selected for trial by the 
 Crown. Any fame there was to be gained should rather have accrued to 
 his counsel ; and in fact St. John’s speech for the defence was luminous 
 and masterly. 
 
 The sea-board counties had been bound to aid the Sovereign in the 
 protection of the Narrow Seas by providing a certain number of ships for 
 the navy. Charles intimated that in lieu of the ships he would accept a 
 money payment. Thereafter the payment was extended to the inland 
 
THE EVE OE THE CONFLICT. 
 
 113 
 
 counties. It was contended, probably with justice, that the obligation could 
 not he altered or extended except by legislation , and that the exaction 
 even in the maritime counties was of doubtful legality. The majority of 
 the judges, however, took a different view. 
 
 Much has been written on the vexed question of ship-money. The 
 question of technical legal right may fairly be left to the judgment of 
 the Court. It is easy to assert that the judges were corrupt, or that they 
 were prejudiced and narrow-minded. The litigant who fails is always apt 
 to lay the blame on the Court. But the judges listened with close atten- 
 tion ; there was no attempt to browbeat counsel ; and the argument of 
 the majority is not wanting in force. When we leave technicalities, and 
 consider the claim on its merits, it can hardly be denied that Charles’s 
 plea was substantially sound. There is no doubt that England needed a 
 navy. The times were out of joint; the great Continental Powers were far 
 from friendly ; and without an adequate naval force there might have been 
 national disaster. It was an opponent of the government who wrote : “His 
 Majesty has directed new writs of an old edition to the ports and ma- 
 ritime counties, to maintain a proportion of shipping for the safeguard of 
 the Narrow Seas, according to the law and custom of England, which is 
 very needful, for the French have prepared a fleet, and challenge a do- 
 minion in the seas where anciently they durst not fish for gurnets without 
 license.” To confine the contribution to the maritime counties was ob- 
 viously unfair. The navy is a national concern in which all citizens are 
 interested. We are members one of another ; we must bear one another’s 
 burdens. This was the equitable plea preferred by the King, the Privy 
 Council, and the judges. In the writs themselves the demands were jus- 
 tified on the ground “ that as all are concerned in the mutual defence 
 of one another so all might set to their helping hands for the making of 
 such preparations as, by the blessing of God, may secure this realm 
 against the dangers and extremities which have distressed other nations, 
 and are the common effects of war whenever it taketh a people unpre- 
 pared.” And the opinions of the judges were to the same effect. 
 
114 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST 
 
 It was not denied, indeed, that in a case of urgent necessity, of immi- 
 nent danger to the Commonwealth, the reserved power of the Sovereign 
 might be properly exercised. It cannot be said perhaps, without a touch 
 of exaggeration, that in 1636 the urgency was extreme ; but St. John 
 admitted that on the matter of urgency the Sovereign’s determination 
 was final ; and that no valid distinction could be drawn between the rate- 
 payers in inland and maritime counties. It would have been better, no 
 doubt, had Parliament been consulted. But Charles had good reason to 
 fear that, if Parliament met, no supply whatever would be voted. So 
 lar as he could judge from recent experience, considerations affecting 
 the public safety would not weigh with the Commons. The pretensions 
 ol the lower House to uncontrolled authority had of late years been pe- 
 rilously pressed. Unless the Sovereign were to become a cypher, these pre- 
 tensions could not be recognised. Were Parliament summoned, the im- 
 pending conflict would be precipitated; and anything was better than the 
 prolonged anarchy which such a conflict would probably involve. Charles, 
 in his defence of the prerogative, might be unduly obstinate; but a time 
 must have come when the most pacific ruler could yield no more. 
 
 Whatever these arguments may be worth, there is always this to be 
 said for Charles — that the produce of the light burdens that he laid upon 
 his people were used exclusively in their interest. Not a penny was di- 
 verted from the public service. The expenditure was national. The tyrant 
 who impoverishes his people that he may live in selfish luxury is a 
 hateful object. But Charles was the most frugal of monarchs. His house- 
 hold expenses were severely limited. It was said that even the palace linen 
 was in rags. Henrietta Maria had to direct that her bedroom shutters should 
 be closed before a foreign visitor was admitted. Were the light obscured, 
 the ragged coverlet might escape observation ! 
 
 The exaction of ship-money was no doubt unpopular in many of the 
 counties. Ratepayers always grumble when a new rate is imposed ; but in 
 the course of a year or two the grievance is forgotten. There is no reason 
 to believe that the agitation caused by the levy of ship-money would have 
 
CHARLES I., QUEEN HENRIETTA MARIA. AND PRINCE HENRY 
 From the painting by Daniel Mytens, in the Collection of Her Majesty the Queen, 
 at Buckingham Palace. 
 

 ■1^ R 
 
 
 
 *1* CHARLKs THE' FIRST 
 
 ' ■ li rus' ol iint necessity, of immi- 
 
 •'*••***'• 1 he reserve power of the Sovereign 
 
 l( ot lie saivi ps; without a touch 
 
 « ■ i ’ was me ; but St. John 
 
 re* the Sum ■ -urn's determination 
 i ■ dr >etween the rate- 
 « hav -n better, no 
 had g reason to 
 I be v.». ■!. So 
 rations affecting 
 
 ued, the im- 
 i was better than the 
 
 «chy v 1 , . Hi. would probably involve. Charles, 
 
 iefence of w might be unduly obstinate; but a time 
 
 have come when the most pacific ruler could yield no more, 
 
 i; 
 
 i Charles — that tlx produce of the light burdens that he laid upon 
 ■1-d« u ly in their interest. Not a penny was di- 
 
 ne expenditure was national. The tyrant 
 pi he may live in selfish luxury is a 
 
 In I ol monarchs. His house- 
 liniitci ii M 81 . 1 that eveu the palace linen 
 
 ! u Maria had to direct that her bedroom shun. ; i 
 
 i »• visitor ws lilted. Were the light obscured, 
 
 was no doubt unpopular in many of the 
 I ' when a imposed; but in 
 
 the course :i r here is no reason 
 
 ■ believe that the cause, ny the lev money would have 
 
 nmnu aDtmn asu ai/iam ATTaianaii ^aaut) . i 8 hjhah3 
 
 MnO adi v;l«aj *; I/I iaH lo noiloalloO adt ni <.?na1/M ! niu.G vd $nijnii;<| odl uioi^ 
 
 iiicdgntdouS in 
 
THE EVE OF THE CONFLICT. 
 
 115 
 
 led to revolutionary excess. Unless a Parliament had been summoned 
 the decision of the judges would probably have been accepted as con- 
 clusive ; and but for the Scottish troubles it is improbable that Parlia- 
 ment would have been summoned until the irritation had died out. To the 
 troubles in Scotland the English revolution was indirectly due ; indirectly 
 only, however; for, without combustible material of some kind within Eno-land 
 
 O 
 
 itself, such a sudden flame, such a widespread conflagration, could hardly 
 have risen. 
 
 But the Scottish trouble was undoubtedly very serious. For that trouble 
 Charles as King, and Laud as Archbishop, were jointly responsible. It is 
 lamentably true that from the day of the tumult in St. Giles’s Church, Charles's 
 course was steadily downward. 
 
 Scottish Churchmen, however, have been barely fair either to Charles 
 or his father. Mr. Carlyle appeared to think that the “ Tulchan Bishop” 
 was invented by James. The ‘'Tulchan Bishop” was, in fact, invented 
 by Morton ; and the milk, ! suspect, had ceased to flow before Morton’s 
 death. The truth is that both James and Charles had done much to 
 restrain the rapacity of the nobles, and to provide a more adequate living 
 for the ministers. The mistakes they made must have appeared com- 
 paratively trivial to men of broad intelligence. They seem to have been 
 ignorant of the importance attached to the Geneva gown and a simple 
 service by zealous Calvinists. They said in effect : We shall see that you 
 are fairly treated by the laity; that the meagre revenues of the Kirk are 
 substantially increased ; on the other hand you will not object to adopt cer- 
 tain seemly forms which will tend towards uniformity of worship through- 
 out the kingdom. The plea was reasonable enough; and those who pre- 
 ferred it were no doubt surprised at the hostility which it provoked. The 
 Kirk of Knox had not been without a ritual of a kind ; the bald and 
 unimpressive service — nude to indecency — which we are used to associate 
 with Scottish Presbyterianism was of later growth. For it the West- 
 minster Puritans are responsible; and it is not impossible that the fierce 
 agitation which Laud’s innovations roused may have been due to the fact 
 
 16 
 
116 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 that Puritanism, suppressed in England, had crossed the Border, and that 
 the more ardent spirits in the Kirk were already ripe for revolt. 
 
 But why Charles, when he found not only the Church and the nobles 
 but the people as one man against him, should have persisted in inviting 
 a conflict which, in any view, would strain his scanty resources to the 
 utmost, and which might end (as it did) in irretrievable disaster, has never 
 been explained. Laud no doubt was bis adviser, and Laud was notoriously 
 indiscreet; but only madness — the madness with which the gods afflict 
 those who are bound to perish — can altogether account for such pro- 
 digious folly. 
 
 In 1633 Charles had returned for the first time to the land of his 
 birth. His coronation as King of Scots took place during that year. 
 “ Clouds of suspicion touching religion ” were already hanging about ; 
 and the ecclesiastical ceremonial at llolyrood was not entirely approved. 
 Laud was with the King to perform the service, — “ Show them how an 
 Artist could do it,” as Mr. Carlyle sarcastically observes. In spite of 
 smouldering animosities Charles was well received ; even in their darkest 
 hours, the Stuarts could count on many a loyal Scot. But it was a changed 
 world when his next visit was paid. 
 
 It would be difficult to explain precisely to others than Scottish lawyers 
 how James and Charles succeeded in making ampler provision for the ill 
 paid clergy of Scotland. The Church lands had been seized at the Re- 
 formation by the “lean and hungry nobles,” who were not prepared to 
 resign the revenues, or any share of the revenues, without a struggle. But 
 Charles insisted that the miserable “stipends” must be augmented out 
 of the “teinds,” and after an angry conflict the nobles gave way. But 
 they were ill-pleased; their resentment at what they regarded as confisca- 
 tion was never appeased, and led to divers “tragedies.” Since 1633 there 
 has been little change in the law, which fills many tedious pages in the 
 legal manuals. For my present purpose, a brief extract from Erskine’s 
 “Institute” will suffice. “ Besides the other powers granted to the Com- 
 mission of Tithes by the Act of 1633 they were authorised to modify reason 
 
THE EVE OF THE CONFLICT. 
 
 117 
 
 able stipends to the parochial clergy out of the tithes. By a former 
 commission which had been appointed by Parliament for the same pur- 
 pose in 1617 the lowest rate of stipend that was to be modified to any 
 minister was 500 merks Scots, or five chalders of victual, unless when the 
 whole fruits of the benefice fell short of that quantity; and the highest 
 was 1,000 merks or ten chalders of victual. By the Act of 1633, cap. 8, 
 the minimum was raised to eight chalders of victual, where victual-rent 
 was paid, or proportionally in money; which proportion is, by a posterior 
 clause in the statute declared to be 800 merks unless where there shall 
 be a reasonable cause for giving less. But neither that nor any sub- 
 sequent commissions of tithes were limited, as to their powers of altering 
 the old maximum fixed by the act of 1617. And therefore now that the 
 expense of living is so much heightened, the commission-court exercise 
 a discretionary power of augmenting stipends considerably above that 
 maximum where there is enough of free tithes in the parish. The reasons 
 which chiefly move the court to grant augmentations are that the parish 
 is a place of more than ordinary resort, or that the cure is burdensome, 
 or that the necessaries of life give a high price in that part of the 
 
 country, or that the scanty allowance of stipend in that parish bears too 
 
 small a proportion to the weight of the charge.” 
 
 It cannot be said that the clergy were grateful. Rome was still the 
 mystical Babylon, and the rumour that a “popish” prayer-book was in 
 preparation had been assiduously circulated and widely credited. Some 
 of the ceremonies that James had introduced, such as kneeling at Com- 
 munion, were viewed with disrelish . The nobles were jealous of the 
 
 bishops, who, indeed, were nowhere popular. In these circumstances it 
 
 was clear that a Crusade against episcopal government might be readily 
 organised. A cause in which the great nobles, the parochial clergy, and 
 the commonalty, were united could hardly fail to win. From the days of 
 Knox, “the Congregation of Jesus Christ” had been fiercely fanatical; 
 Scotland was not a school where toleration was taught; and any spark 
 would serve to light the flame of revolt. 
 
118 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 Charles was crowned in 1633; but it was not till July, 1637, that the 
 “popish” prayer-book was introduced at St. Giles’s. Jenny Geddes has 
 been relegated to the region of myth ; but there can be no doubt that 
 within and without the Church an angry riot took place; that dangerous 
 missiles were thrown at surpliced dignitaries ; and that the offence of 
 “saying Mass at one’s lug” was followed by swift retribution. Had 
 Charles been well advised, a place of repentance might even then have 
 been found. But his pride was wounded, and the opportunity was allowed 
 to pass. James or Charles might threaten the “stubborn Kirk;” but, 
 do what they might, it would not “ stoop more to the English pat- 
 tern.” The agitation went on, gathering in force and volume, until it 
 culminated in Glasgow Assemblies, Solemn Covenants, and the Lowlands 
 in arms. 
 
 The Solemn League and Covenant signed in the Greyfriars churchyard, 
 under the shadow of the Castle rock, has supplied the text for many a 
 picturesque discourse. That there were many honest Covenanters need 
 not be doubted. That they were profoundly intolerant goes without saying. 
 Whoever “came not to the help of the Lord against the mighty,” was 
 thundered against, as hopelessly malignant, from Calvinistic pulpits. Under 
 pain of excommunication, every man and woman in the Lowland counties 
 was required to sign the Covenant; and ministers who refused to sign 
 were silenced, maltreated, and driven from their manses. The liberal 
 Aberdeen divines, indeed, until they were forcibly ejected, stood reso- 
 lutely aloof. “The danger which they foresaw was that which is inse- 
 parable from every popular excitement, and especially from every popular 
 religious excitement. They feared for their quiet studies, for their right 
 to draw unmolested their own conclusions from the data before them. 
 They were Royalists ; not as Laud and Wren were Royalists, but after 
 the fashion of Chillingworth and Hales. Under the name of authority 
 they upheld the noble banner of intellectual freedom. Under Charles they 
 had such liberty as they needed ; under the Covenant they were not likely 
 to have any liberty at all.” 
 
LOUIS XIV. 
 
 From a miniature in the South Kensington Museum 
 

 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 . . ! hat the offence of 
 
 llowr lion. Had 
 
 . 
 
 U Veil! 
 
 The Solemn' 
 
 
 thm 1 : st, as hopch - sly malignant, from Calvinistic pulpits. Under 
 
 pain nr ini< ttion, eve .1 . ! woman in the Lowland counties 
 
 •!. and dr ■■ . n (nun their manse'-. The liberal 
 - til they we>. ejected , stood reso- 
 
 ■ h they foresav at which is inse- 
 
 i.beii j n ie studies, for then right 
 
 tc ve any lil.i ; 1 71/ eiJoJ 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 I 
 
 uiuosuM nof^nisno/I dtuo8 9ffl ni aiuJ^inim r. uioi'l 
 
I 
 
 THE EVE OF THE CONFLICT. 119 
 
 But not a few signed the Covenant who were not honest ; whose 
 motives, on the contrary, were base and mercenary. Many of the nobles, 
 at least, were Covenanters, not for the protection of religion but for 
 the protection of their estates. Unless the nation was roused to revolt 
 there might be, they fancied, further “ confiscation.” So they buckled on 
 their armour, called out their retainers, and, For Christ's Crown and 
 Covenant embroidered on their flags, enlisted under Lesley. Hardly seventy 
 years had passed since those of their order who had been concerned in 
 the murder of Darnley had flaunted a banner in the face of Heaven, on 
 
 which the murdered prince was represented in pathetic appeal : Judge 
 
 and avenge my cause, 0 Lord. Hypocrisy, however it masquerades, is 
 never lovely ; and but for the greedy and unscrupulous nobles of Scotland 
 the Covenant would have left a purer record. 
 
\ PTER EIGHT. 
 
 THE POLITICAL CONFLICT. 
 
 
 t may be admitted that it is nece • . a J - 
 
 to look above and beyond the mere lets- 
 law. When an impracticable Parliament, im 
 instance, refuses to vote any adequate sum for 
 national defence, the King may be entitled to 
 recourse to those exceptional powers which 
 have been reserved to him by the Constitution 
 which under any form of government n >• 
 be exercised by the executive. But it is a dangerous path to tree ■ 
 er who takes it must be prepared (if h- has misjudge ti 
 on either sid- for political conflict or civil v. r. 
 
 Unless the Scottish trouble could be composed, it ♦- 
 the political conflict in England would rapidly be. e 
 
CHAPTER EIGHT. 
 
 THE POLITICAL CONFLICT. 
 
 t may be admitted that it is necessary sometimes 
 to look above and beyond the mere letter of the 
 law. When an impracticable Parliament, for 
 instance, refuses to vote any adequate sum for 
 national defence, the King may be entitled to 
 have recourse to those exceptional powers which 
 have been reserved to him by the Constitution, 
 and which under any form of government must 
 be exercised by the executive. But it is a dangerous path to tread; and 
 the ruler who takes it must be prepared (if he has misjudged the forces 
 on either side) for political conflict or civil war. 
 
 Unless the Scottish trouble could be composed, it was now plain that 
 the political conflict in England would rapidly become acute. 
 
122 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 The Scottish trouble, however, was not easily composed. There had 
 never been much love lost between the turbulent nobles of Scotland and 
 the Stuarts; and now religion had come to add a new complication. The 
 authority of the Crown had been virtually disowned; government at Edin- 
 burgh was being carried on provisionally by informal Committees of the 
 Estates; and a large military force drawn mainly from the Lowland counties, 
 and officered by men who, like Dugald Dalgetty , had been in the wars 
 of Gustavus Adolphus, was ready at any moment to cross the Border, and 
 try conclusions with the “ Auld enemy.” Charles, with his raw and dis- 
 pirited levies, could make no head against an army of twenty or thirty 
 thousand men, whose discipline was strict, and whose zeal for “Christ's 
 Crown and Covenant ” had been fanned by unscrupulous appeal into 
 feverish activity. Twice he was worsted — the first “Bishop’s War” was 
 in 1639, the second in 1640; and of both wars the consequences were 
 disheartening, if not disastrous. This angry crowd of fanatical Calvinists, 
 lying like a thunder cloud across the Northern counties, was an emphatic 
 menace. While it emphasized the weakness of Charles’s position, it added 
 strength, directly and indirectly, to the position of the disaffected in 
 England. Had he won, had he returned from Scotland in a blaze of 
 triumph, he might have faced Pym and the Parliament with a good cour- 
 age. But he had failed to win; it might be said indeed that he had 
 been badly beaten : for the Treaty of Ripon had discredited and dis- 
 couraged the Royalists, and was in fact a certificate of defeat. By that 
 treaty, until its provisions were executed, the two Northern counties were 
 to remain in possession of the Scots army, whose disinterested services 
 were meantime recompensed at the rate of twenty-five thousand pounds 
 a month. A Scots war of religion was seldom conducted at a loss. On 
 this occasion, the English Commissioners were consoled by the assurance 
 that “it is more blessed to give than to receive.” 
 
 The Royal cause in Scotland was not perhaps so hopeless as it seemed 
 to be when the Treaty of Ripon was signed. North of the Tay the clans 
 were loyal; and should a capable leader hereafter appear the disaster 
 

 LETTER OF CHARLES I. TO THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. 
 Fac-simile of the original in the British Museum. 
 

 
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THE POLITICAL CONFLICT. 
 
 123 
 
 might be repaired. The Covenanters had already discovered that the 
 young Montrose was “very sair to be guided;” James Graham had little in 
 common with the zealots who were eager to precipitate a fratricidal war; and 
 it was not impossible that their impolitic violence might drive him sooner 
 or later into the camp of the enemy. Even in the Lowlands there was a 
 latent force of Royalism which would make itself felt when the more 
 moderate Churchmen, who had been persuaded to sign the Covenant, began 
 to realise the gravity of the issues that were involved in the conflict. 
 
 But (whatever of good or evil fortune the future might have in store 
 for Scotland) it had become imperatively necessary to summon an English 
 Parliament. Charles’s finances were exhausted. Strafford was convinced 
 that further delay would be ruinous, and Strafford was now Charles’s 
 most trusted adviser. The “Short Parliament” met on April 13th, 1640. 
 Its career was brief and troubled. It was dissolved on May 5th. 
 
 It is still doubtful how far Charles was responsible for its dissolution. 
 Compared with the preceding and succeeding Parliaments, it might be 
 regarded as well affected to the King. It contained a large and influen- 
 tial body of Royalists. There would have been considerable friction, no 
 doubt ; it could hardly have approved the war with Scotland ; but its 
 mood was not bitterly implacable; and by address and management, by 
 patience and forbearance, the preliminaries of a permanent peace might 
 have been settled. Whoever was responsible for the dissolution of a com- 
 paratively friendly assembly incurred a heavy responsibility. 
 
 The burden of blame, according to Clarendon, falls on Sir Harry Vane. 
 'I'he elder Vane was the Secretary of State ; but he was hardly loyal to 
 the King, his master. Wentworth, who at Charles’s request had come over 
 from Ireland, was urgent that a Parliament should be called, and his 
 advice had been reluctantly accepted by the King and his Council. Vane, 
 who was jealous of Wentworth, (now Earl of Strafford) was the friend 
 of Pym and the parliamentary leaders ; and he did what he could to stir 
 up strife, and to make concord impossible. Charles had been averse to 
 taking less than twelve subsidies in exchange for the abandonment of 
 
 17 
 
124 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 ship-money ; but after hearing Strafford’s earnest plea for moderation, he 
 had instructed Vane to inform the Commons that he would be satisfied 
 with eight. Vane went down to the House, and assured the members 
 that il the supply were not in “the proportion and manner” proposed 
 by the Ring, it would not be accepted by him. He then, with the Solicitor- 
 General St. John, returned to Whitehall, and reported so unfavourably 
 of the humour and temper of the House, that they induced the King to 
 believe that a hostile motion would be moved and carried. Hence the 
 precipitate dissolution. This is Clarendon’s version of the incident. Cla- 
 rendon was a member of the House and took a leading part in the dis- 
 cussion; but his narrative is, so far, discredited by Mr. Gardiner; and, 
 though 1 incline to accept it as accurate in the main, it is no doubt 
 open to observation. However this may be, it is admitted that throughout 
 the negotiations, Wentworth was in favour of a conciliatory policy; and 
 there is reason to believe that he bitterly regretted the rupture, and held 
 that the dissolution was mischievous and ill-advised. 
 
 But Wentworth was not a man whose loyalty was skin deep. To him 
 more than to most men the poet’s lines applied : — 
 
 “For loyalty is still the same 
 Whether it win or lose the game; 
 
 True as the dial to the sun, 
 
 Although it be not shin’d upon." 
 
 lie had come from Ireland sorely against his inclination, leaving the fair 
 edifice of law and order, that his strong and resolute will had raised, to 
 crumble within a few months into utter ruin. He had come to help the King 
 through his English and Scottish troubles; and, though his own scheme of 
 accommodation had been wrecked by temper or treachery he did his best 
 to heal the breach. Charles’s means were exhausted ; Strafford headed a 
 voluntary contribution with £20,000 ; but the maintenance of a large force, 
 however raw and undisciplined, is costly; and ere long it was found that 
 another Parliament must be summoned. The public mind had been agitated 
 by the ill success of the Scottish wars; the writs were issued amid a storm 
 
THE POLITICAL CONFLICT. 
 
 125 
 
 of angry invective; and the fears of those who held that the new Parliament 
 would be less compliant than the old were more than justified. It was on 
 November 3rd, 1640, that the “ Long Parliament” commenced its sittings. 
 
 The dissolution of the Short Parliament was fertile of evil to King and 
 people. To it the Iliad of woes that followed may be directly traced In 
 view of its momentous consequences, it is fair that (he reader should have 
 the words of an eye-witness before him. This is Clarendon’s narrative — 
 he was then Edward Hyde “ Both Sir Henry Vane, and the Solicitor- 
 General (whose opinion was of more weight with the King than the 
 others) had made a worse representation of the humour and affection of the 
 House than it deserved, and undertook to know, that if they came together 
 again, they would pass such a Vote against Ship-money, as would blast 
 that Revenue and other branches of the Receipt ; which Others believed 
 they would not have had the confidence to have Attempted ; and very 
 Few, that they would have had the credit to have Compassed. What 
 followed in the next Parliament, within less than a Year, made it believed, 
 that Sir Henry Vane acted that part Maliciously, and to bring all into 
 Confusion; he being known to have an implacable hatred against the Earl 
 of Sti afford, Lieutenant of Ireland, whose destruction was then upon the 
 Anvil. But what transported the Solicitor, who had none of the ends of 
 the other, could not be imagined, except it was his pride and peevish- 
 ness, when he found that he was like to be of less Authority there, 
 than he looked to be; and yet he was heard with great attention, though 
 his Parts were most prevalent in puzzling and perplexing that discourse 
 he meant to cross. Let their Motives be what they would, they Two 
 and they only, wrought so far with the King, that, without so much De- 
 liberation as the affair was worthy of, His Majesty the next morning, 
 which was on the Fifth of May, near a month after their first meeting, 
 sent for the Speaker to attend him, and took care that he should go 
 directly to the House of Peers, upon some apprehension that if he had 
 gone to the House of Commons, that House would have entered upon 
 some ingrateful discourse ; which they were not inclined to do : and then 
 
126 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 sending for that House to attend him, the Keeper, by His Majesty’s Com- 
 mand, Dissolved the Parliament 
 
 “There could not a greater damp have seized upon the Spirits of the 
 whole Nation, than this Dissolution caused ; and men had much of the 
 Misery in view, which shortly after fell out. It could never he hoped 
 that more sober and dispassionate men would ever meet together in that 
 place, or fewer who brought ill purposes with them ; nor could any man 
 imagine what Offence they had given, which put the King upon that re- 
 solution. But it was observed, that in the countenances of Those who 
 had most opposed all that was desired by His Majesty, there was a mar- 
 vellous Serenity; nor could they conceal the Joy of their hearts: for they 
 knew enough of what was to come, to conclude that the King would be 
 shortly compelled to call another Parliament; and they were as sure, that 
 so many so unbiassed men, would never be elected again. 
 
 “Within an hour after the Dissolving, Mr. Hyde met Mr. St. John, 
 who had naturally a great cloud in his Face, and very seldom was known 
 to smile, hut Then had a most cheerful aspect, and seeing the other 
 melancholic, as in truth he was from his heart, asked him : ‘What troubled 
 him?’ who answered : ‘That the same that troubled him, he believed 
 troubled most Good men ; that in such a time of Confusion, so wise a 
 Parliament, which alone could have found Remedy for it, was so un- 
 seasonably dismissed,’ the other answered with a little warmth : ‘That all 
 was well; and that it must be Worse, before it could be Better; and that 
 this Parliament could never have done what was necessary to be done ; ’ 
 as indeed it would not, what lie and II is friends thought necessary. 
 
 “The Iving, when he had better reflected upon what was like to fall 
 out, and was better informed of the temper and duty of the House of 
 Commons, and that they had voted a Supply, if Sir Henry Vane had not 
 hindered it by so positive a declaration that His Majesty would refuse it, 
 was heartily Sorry for what he had done ; declared with great anger, 
 
 ‘ That he had never given him such Authority ; and that he knew well that 
 the giving him any Supply would have been welcome to him, because the 
 
THE POLITICAL CONFLICT. 
 
 127 
 
 reputation ot his Subjects assisting him in that conjuncture was all that 
 he looked for and considered ! ’ ” 
 
 Before the Long Parliament began its sittings the more astute leaders 
 on either side must have been calculating the chances of the coming con- 
 flict. The issue was extremely uncertain — any confident forecast being out 
 ol the question ; so long as the conflict remained political the Commons 
 occupied the more commanding position ; but should it come to civil war 
 it was probable that the majority of the nation — all those indeed who did 
 not belong to the political class — would rally round the King. That the 
 people as a whole were profoundly conservative does not admit of doubt. 
 
 Two forces, whose opposition was vital, were already virtually in the 
 field, — the Royalists, who were mainly Episcopalians, the Parliament men 
 who were largely recruited from the Presbyterians. A third party, com- 
 posed of moderates, included men like Falkland, Chillingworth, and Hales. 
 In the meantime, alarmed by what they considered an oppressive exercise 
 ol the prerogative, the “ latitudinarians ” inclined to the Parliament; but 
 its political intemperance and its religious intolerance were profoundly 
 distasteful to them; and it was morally certain that sooner or later they 
 would be driven to desert their uncongenial allies and to join the Royalists. 
 These were what might be called the purely English parties; but there 
 were others — of foreign growth or importation — whose principles of action 
 were to some extent incalculable. 
 
 With the goodly prospect of civil and religious strife before them, the 
 sterner sectaries, who had gone to the Continent or to America, were 
 flocking home. Democratic in their political principles, it was improbable 
 that they would side with the King; on the other hand, an inquisitorial 
 House of Commons, with a fondness for Presbyterian methods, was even 
 more obnoxious to Independents than Monarchy itself. They did not all 
 come from abroad ; they had left friends and relatives behind them, 
 among whom during the intervening years the infection had slowly spread ; 
 while among the Puritans of the Eastern counties they found zealous allies. 
 Then there was the Scottish army, permanently encamped, as it seemed, 
 
128 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 in Durham anc! Northumberland, and perfectly willing to remain while supplies 
 were plentiful and pay remunerative The Scots in the meantime favoured 
 the Parliament; but there could be no real union, they frankly declared, 
 until the English, persuaded that presbytery was of divine origin, had 
 turned their bishops adrift, and proscribed the exercise of prelatic worship. 
 The Scots were still, moreover, in spite of surplice and prayer-book, attached 
 to their native Princes ; and any proposal to treat a Stuart King with 
 scriptural severity would be keenly resented by the whole nation. 
 
 The sympathies of the modern world are with Falkland and his friends. 
 They were reluctant to take any part in a conflict between a King whom 
 they distrusted, and a Parliament which had embarked recklessly, as they 
 held, on a policy of adventure. “On one side Scribes and Pharisees,” 
 said Chillingworth, “ on the other Publicans and Sinners.” The Com- 
 mons represented the Scribes and Pharisees ; and an alliance with the 
 Commons would be actively mischievous. The more ardent spirits among 
 them would take the lead ; and where would they stop ? They might be 
 willing to use the drag; but when once fairly started, where was any 
 adequate resistance to come from ? Facilis descensus Averni. Revolu- 
 tionary pressure would bring about the total collapse and ruin of the 
 State; whereas, even if Charles were worse than he was painted, there 
 were official ties, hereditary traditions, constitutional limitations, which he 
 could not wholly disregard. 
 
 The latitudinarians were probably well advised ; they were the ap- 
 pointed guardians of the spiritual and intellectual liberty that was in 
 peril; yet it may be said with confidence that, when the Long Parlia- 
 ment met, no man in England had clearly divined by whose hand the 
 blow at liberty would be struck. No one at least could dream that in the 
 Independents, even when drilled and organized by a competent captain, 
 there was the making of an irresistible force. 
 
 Upon the whole it may be said that the chances at starting were 
 pretty evenly balanced — though the better fighting men were with the 
 King. The Commons forthwith set themselves to redress the balance. 
 
THE POLITICAL CONFLICT. 
 
 129 
 
 Within eight days of their meeting, Strafford was impeached. Were 
 Strafford gone, the King’s first line of defence would be broken. They 
 were not mistaken, — though they erred in holding that Strafford’s aims 
 were inconsistent with the existence of a representative assembly. 
 
 I do not feel sure that Wentworth’s views on government have been 
 anywhere defined with perfect precision. It is quite possible that no 
 exact definition had occurred to himself, and that he would have found 
 difficulty in stating them categorically. He favoured Parliaments; and he 
 favoured personal rule. These propositions may appear to be mutually 
 destructive. But if we accept Montesquieu’s theory of the absolute divi- 
 sion of the executive from the legislative authority, so that each power 
 is independent of the other, the main difficulty disappears. It then 
 becomes a question of personal rule against the rule of a collective body. 
 The rooted distrust of representative bodies when they exceed their proper 
 function of initiating and promoting legislation is not confined to men 
 like Bacon, Cecil, or Wentworth. That the tendency of the American 
 democracy at the present moment, for instance, is towards a kind of 
 “one man rule” has been very confidently asserted. The ruler no doubt 
 is to he elected; but once elected the whole executive authority is handed 
 over to him, and he becomes while in office almost as absolute as Czar 
 or Kaiser. “Select the best man, put him in office, give him a free 
 hand, and you will secure better government than if the executive author- 
 ity were vested in and exercised by a representative assembly. The repre- 
 sentative assembly cannot be dispensed with ; it is in the public interest that 
 certain public functions should be discharged by a body of men represent- 
 ing the people, as it is in the public interest that certain other functions 
 should be discharged by a single individual. In the Seventeenth Century 
 the ruler was the hereditary Sovereign ; in the Nineteenth he is an elected 
 magistrate; but there is no difference in principle.” That substantially is 
 the argument, and it is not without force ; even among ourselves there are 
 not a few who hold that the authority of the Lower House is on the wane ; 
 that the Cabinet is superseding the Commons ; and that the Prime Mi- 
 
 
130 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 nister (when a dominating personality) is superseding the Cabinet. English 
 government is daily becoming more and more a “one man rule.” 
 
 Strafford’s trial is an incident which the apologist of royalty, no less 
 than the parliamentary apologist, would willingly forget. It was one of those 
 high-handed acts of a popular assembly which are not readily forgiven. 
 But the guilt is shared by others. Strafford’s execution is the blot on 
 Charles’s escutcheon. The King. never forgave himself. The bitterness of 
 the surrender hurt him to the end. He held indeed that his own sentence 
 was not altogether unjust, seeing that he had consented to Strafford’s death. 
 
 Wentworth’s main work had been done in Ireland ; and what he had 
 been to Ireland is best told in his own words. An admirable summary 
 of his famous defence, — the defence of his Irish government which he sub- 
 mitted to the Privy Council, — has been given by Mr. Gardiner; and of 
 it I gladly avail myself: — “Wentworth’s defence was a splendid narrative 
 of triumphs achieved. The Church, he said, was relieved from its poverty, 
 and united in doctrine and discipline with the Church of England. The 
 Irish exchequer had been saved from ruin. When he landed there was 
 a yearly deficit of £24,000, and an enormous debt. In a few months the 
 debt would be paid, whilst a sum of £40,000 had been set aside to buy 
 up sources of revenue which had been mortgaged , and which , when 
 recovered, would bring in £9,450 a year. There was an increase of 
 £18,000 in the revenue, and thus as soon as the mortgages were paid 
 off the deficit would be converted into a surplus. Other sources of income 
 might easily be opened, and a considerable saving in the expenditure 
 effected. There would soon be a surplus of £60,000. 
 
 “ Such an exposition of financial success offered a sore temptation to the 
 hungry English courtiers. Wentworth pleaded earnestly with the Council 
 to support him in his efforts to save the money for the public service. 
 
 “He then proceeded to show that he had not sacrificed the interests 
 of the State to those of the Treasury. The soldiers, he said, were well 
 paid and well disciplined. Every man who served in the army had passed 
 in review under his own eyes. When the troops were on the march they 
 
CHARLES I. ON HORSEBACK, WITH GENTLEM AN-ATTENDANT 
 From the painting in the Collection of Her Majesty the Queen, at Windsor. 
 

 
 1 ne man Pule." 
 
 ii i is tbe (>lot on 
 
 aultl be <■ i\( to surplus * Otl -urces 'of income 
 
 aid id dine • ma a n md passed 
 
 .tzaok axiA - KAua JT'Kao it t i v/ ,>iD/.aagHOH no .i aajflAH:) 
 
 nroubni // tfi .naeup 91I1 vjgaj r.\f. -isHlo noil.oglloO aril ni ^niluiiiq eri) moil 
 
THE POLITICAL CONFLICT. 
 
 131 
 
 paid fairly for everything they took, no longer satisfying their wants by 
 force, as if they had been in an enemy’s country. They were now wel- 
 come in every place, where before they were an abomination to the in- 
 habitants. The King was well served at the same time. Never had an army 
 been so completely master of Ireland. 
 
 “A full treasury and a strong military force may easily be compatible 
 with the direst misgovernment. Wentworth insisted that he was not liable 
 to this reproach. Justice was dispensed to all without acceptance of per- 
 sons; ‘that the poor knew where to seek and to have his relief without 
 being afraid to appeal to his Majesty’s catholic justice against the greatest 
 subject;’ that ‘the great men’ were ‘contented with reason, because they 
 knew not how to help themselves, or fill their greedy appetites, where 
 otherwise they were as sharp set upon their own wills as any people in 
 the world.’ The Commission of defective titles was doing its work, and now 
 that men could call their lands their own without fear of question they were 
 able to devote themselves to the improvement of their estates. The acts of 
 the last Parliament were a boon to the whole people, and ‘ there was a 
 general and steadfast belief on that side in the uprightness of his Majesty’s 
 justice, the people were satisfied, his Majesty by them honoured and 
 blessed, in contemplation of the great and princely benefits and graces 
 they participate of, through his Majesty’s wisdom and goodness.’ 
 
 “Trade flourished no less than agriculture. Two years before pirates 
 had swarmed in the Irish seas. Now the coasts were guarded, and the 
 pirates were no longer heard of Commerce was rapidly on the increase. 
 Manufactures had been encouraged. The best flax seed had been imported 
 from Holland. Workmen had been brought over from France and the 
 Netherlands. Six or seven looms were already set up, and the foundation 
 of a great industry in the future had been surely laid. 
 
 “Wentworth at last turned to the subject which was in the minds of 
 all his hearers. It had been said that in his treatment of offenders he 
 ‘was a severe and an austere hard-conditioned man; rather, indeed, a 
 Basha of Buda than the minister of a pious and Christian king.’ lie ear- 
 
 18 
 
132 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 nestly declared that it was not so, that in private life no one could charge 
 him with harshness, and that it was ‘the necessity of his Majesty’s service’ 
 which had forced him to act as he had done.” 
 
 After such a record of unbroken success, one inclines to agree with 
 Mr. Gardiner that even if Wentworth be taken at his worst, it is hardly 
 possible to doubt that Ireland would have been better off if his sway 
 had been prolonged for twenty years longer than it was. Constitutional 
 pedantry may be carried to mischievous extremes ; and after a flood of 
 political commonplace, the vigorous extravagances of Samuel Johnson are 
 sometimes welcome. “Sir,” said the lexicographer, “I would not give 
 half a guinea to live under one form of government rather than another.” 
 He meant, 1 presume, that he agreed with Pope : — 
 
 “For forms of government let fools contest, 
 
 Whate’er is best administered is best.” 
 
 It was obvious from the day it met that the temper of this Parliament 
 was very different from that of the last. To use a phrase then current 
 it was “a root-and-branch” Parliament. Moreover it was Pym’s Parlia- 
 ment, — Pym, a relentless enemy as well as an adroit tactician. Hampden’s 
 name is usually associated with Pym’s; but as matter of fact Hampden 
 seldom took any conspicuous part in debate, and it must have been his 
 high character rather than his intellectual resources that impressed the 
 House. Pym was the real leader ; and Pym had an old score to settle 
 with Strafford. Wentworth had been allied with the popular party when 
 the contest with Buckingham was in progress; and Pym, who had failed 
 to understand that Wentworth cared mainly for good government, and 
 regarded the form with comparative indifference, had been furious with 
 his old friend when he found that he had gone over to the Court. The 
 story runs that before Wentworth left London for York in [628, he 
 chanced to fall in with Pym. “You are going to leave us, I see,” said Pym, 
 
 “ but we will never leave you while your head is on your shoulders.” 
 
 It was almost inevitable that a House led by Pym and which was bent 
 on making Strafford’s motto — “Thorough!” — its own, should fall foul of 
 
THE POLITICAL CONFLICT. 
 
 133 
 
 the haughty and imperious Yorkshireman. While knocking to pieces the 
 whole political and ecclesiastical edifice that Charles and his predecessors 
 had raised, it devoted itself with the keenest zest to the impeachment of 
 the Royalist leaders. Strafford and Laud were both sent to the Tower. 
 
 Strafford had been in wretched health for many months. Disease had 
 wasted his powerful frame, and in this crisis of Charles’s fortunes he was 
 helplessly crippled. Ilis masterful temper had made him many enemies, 
 — English, Scottish, Irish; — even the courtiers at Whitehall did not relish 
 his simple directness, and his unswerving devotion to public duty. Lucy, 
 Lady Carlisle, appears to have been almost his only confidant at Court, 
 and curiously enough, the reigning beauty was also the friend of Pym. 
 Lady Carlisle was no doubt proud to be the ally of both ; and though her 
 political ideas may have been crude, she was obviously of considerable 
 social force and of great attractiveness. Whether she played a part, 
 whether she made a dishonest use of her confidential relations with the 
 Queen, may be matter of controversy: but she was bright and winning, and 
 her charm has been extolled by more than one poet. 
 
 Strafford was unwilling to come to town. He was Lord Lieutenant 
 of Ireland, and in Ireland, with the Irish army at his back, he would be 
 safe. He was living at his pleasant home on the Yorkshire moorland ; 
 and so long as he remained among his own people Pym was power- 
 less. But he felt instinctively that in the immediate neighbourhood of 
 merciless foes and hostile assemblies his life would be in peril. Charles 
 however was eager to have his most trusted counsellor at his side; and he 
 positively assured the Earl that, if he came, not a hair of his head should be 
 touched. Relying on what he held to be a most solemn engagement, the 
 stricken man went up to Westminster. He would be loyal to the last; — as 
 he had said long before, he would not spare his life for his King. 
 
 The Parliamentary leaders may have been spurred into unbecoming 
 activity by apprehensions for their own safety. They were going to accuse 
 Strafford of treason; in their confidential communications with the Scottish 
 insurgents they had committed the crime with which they charged him 
 
134 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 There is a Scottish proverb to the effect that it is well to have the 
 “first word of flyting;" and Pym wisely determined to take the initiative. 
 He and his colleagues (unprepared as yet with any evidence) went straight 
 to the Lords and impeached the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland of high treason. 
 Strafford with his hands free might do them an evil turn ; Strafford in the 
 Tower would be helpless. 
 
 In these last months of his life Strafford behaved very simply and 
 very nobly,— with no undue arrogance, with no undue humility. He had 
 looked for justice, and he hardly expected to die. The word of a King 
 had been given that he should not suffer in his person, honour, or for- 
 tune. Ihe charges against him were comparatively frivolous, — the most 
 hostile assembly, he thought, could not extract high treason from a policy 
 which had been approved by the Sovereign, and which in the public 
 interest had been eminently successful. 
 
 But as the trial proceeded, it became more and more obvious that 
 his enemies were implacable and unscrupulous and that every art of inti- 
 midation would be employed to secure a hostile verdict. Both King and 
 Queen in their anxiety to save a devoted servant acted with doubtful 
 prudence. A lying spirit was abroad. Every evil rumour was accepted 
 
 with avidity. A panic of Irish armies and Popish plots was skilfully 
 fomented. The turbulent London mob was in its ugliest mood. So long 
 as the Lords were required to act as judges they acted with conspicuous 
 fairness. But when the Commons, finding that for lack of evidence im- 
 peachment must fail, resorted to an Act of Attainder, they lost heart, 
 and by a small majority gave reluctant consent. It was a harder matter 
 to wring consent from Charles ; but he could find no door of escape ; 
 bishops and judges plied him with legal and doctrinal casuistry; and in 
 an agony of doubt and bewilderment the fatal words were spoken. 
 
 Strafford had left Wentworth, his place in Yorkshire, on the 6th of 
 November, and he arrived in London on the evening of the 9th. He 
 knew that there was a severe struggle before him , and that he must 
 brace himself for the conflict. “ I am to-morrow to London,” he wrote, 
 
THE POLITICAL CONFLICT. 
 
 135 
 
 “with more dangers beset, I believe, than ever any man went with out 
 of Yorkshire; yet my heart is good and I find nothing cold in me. It 
 is not to be believed how great the malice is, and how intent they are 
 about it. Little less care there is taken to ruin me than to save their 
 own souls.’’ Before he reached London “grievances” were being keenly 
 debated by the Commons. Their name was Legion. The judges, it was 
 declared with epigrammatic bitterness, had overthrown the law and the 
 bishops the gospels. By the 11th, certain Articles of Impeachment had 
 been laid by Pym and his colleagues before the Lords . They were 
 generally to the effect that in England as in Ireland “Thomas, Earl of 
 Strafford, had traitorously endeavoured to subvert the fundamental laws 
 and government of the realm, and instead thereof to introduce an arbi- 
 trary and tyrannical government against law, which he had declared by 
 traitorous words, counsels and actions, and by giving His Majesty advice 
 by force of arms to compel his loyal subjects to submit thereto.” There 
 were grosser charges — public moneys had been appropriated by him for 
 his own use, and so forth — which no one believed and which it is unne- 
 cessary to repeat. Pym’s acrimony was so manifest that Strafford was 
 justified in believing that no court — least of all a court of independent Peers — 
 would listen to his partial pleading. He wrote hopefully to his wife: — 
 “As to myself albeit all be done against me that art and malice can devise, 
 yet I am in great inward quietness, and a strong belief God will deliver me 
 out of all these troubles. The more I look into my case the more hope I 
 
 have, and sure if there is any honour and justice left, my life will not be 
 
 in danger; and for anything else, time I trust, will salve any hurt which can 
 be done me. Therefore hold up your heart, look to the children and your 
 house, let me have your prayers, and at last by God’s good pleasure we shall 
 have our deliverance when we may as little look for it as we did for this 
 
 blow of misfortune which I trust will make us better to God and man.” 
 
 The revised indictment was not ready till the end of January. Then 
 two or three weeks elapsed before Strafford’s answers were prepared, and 
 the impatient Commons became clamorous at the delay. Their anxiety to 
 
136 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 see the fallen statesman was extreme. One morning it was rumoured 
 that the Earl was in the barge then passing the House ; business was 
 interrupted ; and the members flocked to door and window. On the 24th of 
 February Strafford’s answers were read to the Lords; but it was not till 
 
 the 22nd of March that the actual trial began. Pym took the lead, 
 
 starting with Irish misgovernment. Of the true condition of Ireland he 
 knew nothing — its chronic misery and anarchy; nor of the vast reforma- 
 tion that Strafford s rule had worked ; but inasmuch as Strafford had 
 not adhered closely enough to certain constitutional forms, Strafford, he 
 argued, had been guilty of treason. The only evidence of any value that 
 was adduced were notes of a discussion in the Privy Council which the 
 elder Vane had made, — not the original notes, but copies surreptitiously 
 taken by his son. Vane was Strafford’s bitter enemy, and as no Lord of 
 the Council other than Vane had heard the words, it is a fair presump- 
 tion that they were never uttered. Two witnesses were required to 
 support a charge of treason ; and it was gravely argued that Vane was 
 one witness, and his notes or rather the copies of his notes, another ! 
 Strafford’s answer was conclusive. He denied that he had used the words ; 
 but, if he had, they were used in the privacy of the Council Chamber; 
 and if its secrecy was to be invaded he did not think that “any wise 
 or noble person” would hereafter venture to become a Councillor of the 
 King. Nor indeed when fairly weighed did the words convey any treason- 
 able design. “In case of absolute necessity, and upon a foreign inva- 
 sion of an enemy, when the enemy is either actually entered, or ready 
 to enter, and when all other ordinary means fail, in this case there is a 
 trust left by Almighty God in the King to employ the best and utter- 
 most of his means for the preserving of himself and his people which, 
 under favour, he cannot take away from himself.” 
 
 In spite of his feeble health, and the strain of acrimonious discussions 
 often protracted from morning till night, Strafford triumphantly asserted 
 his innate superiority. Pym spoke closely from notes, — which occasion- 
 ally, we are told, went astray, and then the orator faltered and stam- 
 
THE POLITICAL CONFLICT. 
 
 137 
 
 mered; Strafford used neither note nor memorandum, but spoke right out 
 with natural ease and felicity, and a force of logic that carried instant 
 conviction. It was not till April 13th, that his great speech was made. 
 The Lords were his judges, he said, and to them he would confidently 
 appeal. If every syllable of the most familiar discourse were to be used 
 hereafter as evidence in a criminal cause, “it will be a silent world, 
 and a city will become a hermitage.” Where was the statute or common 
 law that had declared the endeavouring to subvert the fundamental laws 
 to be high treason? “We find that in the primitive time, on the sound 
 and plain doctrine ol the blessed apostles, men brought in their books 
 of curious art and burnt them. My Lords, it will be likewise, as 1 humbly 
 conceive, wisdom and providence in your Lordships to cast from you into 
 the lire these bloody and mysterious volumes of constructive and arbitrary 
 measures, and betake yourselves to the plain letter of the Statute that tells 
 you where the crime is, so that you may avoid it. And let us not, my 
 Lords, be ambitious to be more learned in those killing arts than our 
 forefathers were before us.” A speech worthy of a great logician closed 
 with a passage worthy of a great orator: — “My Lords, 1 have now troubled 
 your Lordships a great deal longer than I should have done. Were it 
 not for the interest of the pledges, that a saint in Heaven left me, I 
 should be loth, my Lords.... (here he paused for a moment overcome 
 by his emotion, and then leaving the sentence unfinished continued).... 
 What 1 forfeit for myself, it is nothing. But I confess that what I for- 
 feit for them, it wounds me very deeply. You will be pleased to pardon 
 my infirmity; something I should have said, but I see I shall not be able, 
 and therefore I will leave it. And now, my Lords, 1 thank God, I have 
 been by his good blessing towards me taught that the afflictions of the 
 present life are not to be compared to that eternal weight of glory that 
 shall be revealed hereafter. And so, my Lords, even so, with all humility 
 and with tranquillity of mind, I do submit clearly and freely unto your 
 judgment, whether that righteous judgment shall be to life or death, Te 
 Deum laudamus, te Dominum confitemur.” 
 
' 
 
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 ' ■ I most humbly, beseech your Majesty 
 
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THE POLITICAL CONFLICT. 
 
 139 
 
 The end was near. Strafford had made his peace with the world He 
 had been anxious to say farewell to the venerable primate who was lodged 
 close by, but permission was refused by the Lieutenant of the Tower. He 
 might however petition the Commons. “No,” said Strafford, “I have 
 gotten my dispatch from them and will trouble them no more. I am now 
 petitioning a higher court, where neither partiality can be expected nor 
 error feared.” Laud however had been informed of Strafford’s desire ; 
 and from the window of his cell, as the melancholy procession went by 
 to Tower Hill in the early morning, the aged prelate lifted up his hands 
 and blessed his friend, On the scaffold Strafford sent a few last words 
 of greeting to wife and child. “ 1 thank God,” he added, as he took 
 oil his upper garment, “ I am not afraid of death nor daunted with any 
 discouragement rising from my fears, but do as cheerfully put off my 
 doublet at this time as ever I did when I went to bed.” The executioner 
 would have covered his eyes. “Thou shalt not bind my eyes,” said 
 Strafford, “for I shall see it done.” The blow fell, and the wasted body 
 and wearied spirit were at rest , — if it be rest that rounds this little life. 
 
 Strafford was executed on May 12th, 1641; Charles’s standard was raised 
 at Nottingham on August 22nd, 1642. During these fifteen months the 
 political conflict between King Charles and “King Pym” was carried on 
 with ever growing acrimony. By the summer of 1642 the tension had 
 become so acute that it was probably a relief to all public men, except 
 the small hand of Moderates led by Falkland, when Civil War was at 
 length formally declared. There could now, it was too clear, be no real 
 peace until blood had been spilt. Whether the exasperation was due to 
 the action of the King, or to the action of the Commons, it is hard to 
 say; possibly to both ; but that the time had come when the quarrel must 
 be settled, not by argument in the Senate House, but by cold steel on 
 the field of battle, could no longer be doubted. 
 
 Within a few weeks of Strafford’s death Charles had satisfied himself 
 that the aim of Pym and the Parliament was to deprive him of the rights 
 which law and usage had vested in the King of England. On the other 
 
 19 
 
140 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 hand Pym insisted that whatever was done by the Parliament was done 
 in self-defence. Charles was a despotic ruler, who was engaged in a 
 dangerous conspiracy against true religion and the ancient liberties of 
 Engl ishmen. The times were out of joint, and men’s minds were jaundiced; 
 yet it is hard to believe that Pym was serious. His new version of the 
 old fable — the old fable of wolf and lamb — reads like a burlesque. 
 
 It is hardly to be denied that Pym himself was straining the Con- 
 stitution. He was bent on securing the supremacy of the House of Com- 
 mons. The object may have been laudable ; that is matter of opinion ; 
 1 am dealing with matter of fact. But if Pym had his way the Constitu- 
 tion would unquestionably be cast into the melting pot ; when it reap- 
 peared (if it reappeared at all) it might be vastly improved, but it would 
 be an altogether different article. The King, and those who stood by 
 him, were entitled to say that they saw no sufficient reason for so icon- 
 oclastic an experiment. 
 
 The Commons started with a bill which provided that without their 
 own consent they could not be dissolved. But for an accident, the Long 
 Parliament might be still sitting! The bill went to Charles along with 
 the Strafford Bill of Attainder. He failed to recognise its importance ; 
 his mind was absorbed and distracted at the moment, — Strafford’s fate 
 hanging in the balance; and it passed almost without remark. Yet it was 
 the hardest blow that had yet been dealt at the prerogative. 
 
 The race was maintained at the same pace till the finish. Before the 
 political conflict closed, the King had been deprived of most of the attri- 
 butes of Sovereignty — in so far as he could be deprived of them by resolu- 
 tions or ordinances of a House which had ceased to be representative. 
 
 It is on Pym’s pre-eminence in parliamentary tactics and counsel dur- 
 ing the early years of the Long Parliament that his fame is mainly rested. 
 He was no doubt animated and persuasive in debate ; but can it be 
 truly said that as a leader he played his cards with sagacity, or that as 
 a patriot he deserves well of his country? It appears to be admitted by 
 his warmest admirers that his intellect was not constructive, and that he 
 
THE POLITICAL CONFLICT. 
 
 141 
 
 had no grasp of principle. There were occasions when an able parlia- 
 mentary leader might have conciliated the Church of England, united the 
 warring sects, and possibly averted Civil War. But Pym had not the 
 faintest apprehension of the doctrine of toleration ; and any remonstrance 
 against the fanatical intemperance of his allies was regarded by him as a 
 high crime and misdemeanour. The Kentish petitioners received no 
 mercy. To his treatment of their complaints the Civil War has been 
 attributed by more than one historian. Without the Church of England, 
 Charles would have been comparatively powerless ; and it was Pym’s 
 policy that rallied the Church of England round Charles. Pym, besides, 
 was more or less directly responsible for the unspeakable miseries of the 
 Irish rebellion. Had he been a true statesman he would have under- 
 stood that without Strafford the Irish Anarchy would revive; that if the 
 cage were opened, and the keeper discharged, the wild beast would escape. 
 But he had never studied the Irish problem, and he fancied that by 
 pedantic adherence to constitutional commonplaces a mortal malady — 
 the sore of centuries — might he healed. So he sacrificed Strafford to popular 
 clamour and personal animosity; and within six months of Strafford’s death 
 Ireland was in convulsions. 
 
 “Oh for one hour of Dundee!” was the cry of the old Highlander 
 who remembered the charge at Ivilliecrankie. Similar words must have 
 risen to the lips of many an Irish loyalist, when he saw the smoke of 
 burning dwellings, and heard the cries of homeless women and children, 
 going up to Heaven. “Oh for one hour of Wentworth!” But — thanks to 
 Pym — the strong hand and the powerful brain were no longer available. 
 
 The House of Commons was acting on the defensive. So Pym alleged. 
 It is difficult to understand in what sense he could have used the words. 
 Charles, when his ablest minister had been taken from him, had con- 
 sented to relinquish many of the powers which had been hitherto exercised 
 by the Sovereign. The Court of Star Chamber as well as the Court of 
 High Commission had been abolished. So had the Council of the North. 
 The levy of ship-money had been made illegal, and the revenue derived 
 
142 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 by the Crown from tonnage and poundage was to cease. It is hardly 
 an exaggeration to say that in less than two years the prerogative had 
 been stript bare. But the Commons craved for more — much more; absolute 
 authority, both legislative and executive. They claimed to control the 
 militia, the trained bands, the navy. The fortresses must be garrisoned 
 by men whose fidelity to Parliament had been approved. That Grand Re- 
 monstrance, as has been said, was in substance an appeal to the people 
 rather than an address to the Crown. It was a supplement or appendix 
 to the “ root-and-Branch ’ bill, — the bill by which the bishops were to be 
 turned adrift. “We confess our intention is, and our endeavours have 
 been, to reduce within bounds that exorbitant power which the prelates 
 have assumed unto themselves, so contrary both to the Word of God 
 and the laws of the land, to which end we passed the Bill for the 
 removing them from their temporal power and employments; that so the 
 better they might with meekness apply themselves to the discharge of 
 their functions, which Bill themselves opposed, and were the principal 
 instruments of crossing.” But there was to be no toleration. “And we do 
 here declare that it is far from our purpose or desire to let loose the 
 golden reins of discipline and government in the Church, to leave private 
 persons or particular congregations to take up what form of Divine ser- 
 vice they please; for we hold it requisite that there should he throughout 
 the whole realm a conformity to that order which the laws enjoin ac- 
 cording to the Word of God. And we desire to unburden the consciences 
 of men of needless and superstitious ceremonies, suppress innovations, and 
 take away the monuments of idolatry. And the better to effect the in- 
 tended reformation, we desire there may be a general synod of the most 
 grave, pious, learned, and judicious divines of this island, assisted with 
 some from foreign parts professing the same religion with us ; who may 
 consider of all things necessary for the peace and good government of the 
 Church, and represent the results of their consultations unto the Parlia- 
 ment, to be there allowed and confirmed, and receive the stamp of au- 
 thority, thereby to find passage and obedience throughout the kingdom.” 
 
ANNE HYDE, DUCHESS OF YORK. 
 
 From the painting by Sir Peter Lely, in the Collection of Her Majesty the Queen, 
 at Hampton Court Palace. 
 
142 
 
 CHARLES THE IRST. 
 
 by the Crown from tonnnp no • ■ di e was to cease. It h - i i y 
 an ration to say that in two van the prerogative !. 
 
 been -tript bare. But the Con • » • <>• >r —much more; absolute 
 
 authority, both legislative and Th. raed to control the 
 
 ■ - must be garrisoned 
 
 by men w hose fidelity )•« < a ppn That Grand Re- 
 
 - trance, said, .ino in a; to the people 
 
 rathe than an Idiess to the Crow . It was -u| ilemen or appendix 
 to thi i-llranch bill, — the bill by whir -bops v to be 
 
 turned -ift. “We confess our intention is, endeavour ne 
 
 ■ within bounds that exorbitant |.< vfi h the prtduti - 
 
 h r nt into themselves, so contrary both to the Word of God 
 
 »«< of the land, to which end we passed the Bio f. the 
 
 aiug them from their temporal power and employments; that so the 
 ette (bey might with meekness apply themselves to the discharge of 
 their functions, which Bill themselv- opposed, and were the principal 
 instruments of crossing.” But there was to be no toleration. “And we do 
 re declare that it is far from our purpose or desire to let loose the 
 .den reins of discipline and government in the Church, to leave private 
 persons or particular congregations to take up wl form - 
 
 vice they pleas i;; for we hold it requi that th th uighout 
 
 the realm a conformity to that order winch the laws enjoin ac- 
 
 ,cor • Word of God. And we desire to unburden the consciences 
 
 ol ui dh s and superstitious cerenn nies. suppress innovations, and 
 
 take away the monuments of idolatry. \ml tin- betlei to effect ihe in- 
 tended reformation, we desire there may be a general i nod of the most 
 g. .. pious, learned, and judn i ies “I ;hi - ml -isted with 
 
 consider of all things necessary for the pe i •; vemment of the 
 
 Church, and represent the results of their . ions unto the Parlia- 
 
 ment, to he there allowed and confirmed, and receive the stamp of au- 
 ■ rity, thereby to find pas - ige and obedienct throughout the kingdom.” 
 
 . ft h o y to eaaHoua .siatu aviwA 
 
 .nssup sriJ flrojaM uH 1o noiloolloO ortt m /l»J « J9 q n& vd gailnieq adl inoit 
 
 I'iboO iioJqimiH ti 
 
THE POLITICAL CONFLICT. 
 
 143 
 
 A Puritan Synod was to be convened, and the Episcopal Church was to 
 taste of its tender mercies. Both in England and Ireland the Catholic 
 religion was to be suppressed. When they would not join in demanding 
 the control of the fortresses and the militia, the Lords were warned, “that 
 this House being the representative body of the whole kingdom, and their 
 Lordships being but as particular persons, and coming to Parliament in 
 a particular capacity, that, if they should not be pleased to consent to 
 the passing of those Acts and others necessary to the preservation and 
 safety of the kingdom, that then this House together with such of the 
 Lords that are more sensible of the safety of the kingdom, may join to- 
 gether and represent the same to His Majesty.” Later on the Lords were 
 informed that the Commons would be glad of their help and would be 
 sorry if the story of the present Parliament should tell posterity that in 
 so great a danger and extremity the House of Commons should be en- 
 forced to save the kingdom alone, and that the House of Peers should 
 have no part in the honour of the preservation of it. Finally the policy 
 of Pym was formulated in nineteen propositions which on June 3rd were 
 sent to the Ring. In these the claim of Parliament to absolute sove- 
 reignty was stated with the utmost precision. The King’s Council, the 
 King’s officials, the King’s Guard, the judges of the Supreme Court, the 
 officers of the militia, were to be selected by the Commons; the for- 
 tresses were to be placed in the hands of persons approved by Parlia- 
 ment. The laws against recusancy were to be resolutely executed. The 
 children of Roman Catholic parents were to be educated as Protestants. 
 The Church was to be reformed according to Puritan methods, and no new 
 Peers were to be allowed to sit in the House of Lords without the consent of 
 the Commons. The written remonstrance was rapidly emphasised by decisive 
 action. Long before the Royal Standard was raised at Nottingham, a force 
 had been despatched to Hull to overawe the loyal inhabitants, and to secure 
 the munitions that had been collected by Charles for his Scottish expedition. 
 Then the fleet was seized ; and on the 18th of August a declaration was 
 issued denouncing as traitors all who gave assistance to the King. 
 
144 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 It is vain to contend that this policy, even in its earliest stage, was 
 defensive only. It was the policy of men who had deliberately resolved 
 to diminish the power of the Crown and to increase the power of the 
 Commons. For the future, the King was to be “ a King of Straw.” That 
 Charles s resistance was occasionally ill-advised may be frankly admitted. 
 1 hough courtiers and diplomatists praised his singular self-restraint, his 
 tempei was sometimes ruffled. Soon after Strafford’s execution, acting on 
 the advice of Montrose, he went to Scotland. lie was well received and 
 hospitably entertained in the ancient capital of the Stuarts; hut, from 
 the political point of view, the visit could not be reckoned a success. 
 Nor need it be denied that the attempt to arrest the leaders of the House 
 (though its importance as an incident in the conflict has been unduly mag- 
 nified) was a deplorable indiscretion. On the other hand Charles’s fealty 
 to the Church of England proved of infinite service to the Royal cause. 
 
 I lieai, he wrote from Scotland, “it is reported that at my return I 
 intend to alter the government of the Church of England and to bring it 
 to the foim that is here. 1 herefore I command you to assure all my 
 servants that I am constant to the discipline and doctrine of the Church 
 of England established by Queen Elizabeth and my father, and that I 
 resolve by the grace of God to die in the maintenance of it.” Once 
 and again he had given way; but his concessions had failed to conciliate 
 the irreconcilable Commons. “How am I to take away the bishops,” 
 he remarked to the Dutch Envoy, “ having sworn at my coronation to 
 maintain them in their privileges and pre-eminences ? At the beginning 
 I was told that all would go well if I would allow the execution of the 
 Loid Lieutenant of Ireland; then it was if I would grant a triennial Par- 
 liament; then it was il I would allow the present Parliament to remain 
 sitting as long as it wished; now it is if 1 place the ports, the Tower, 
 and the mditia in their hands; and scarcely has that request been pre- 
 sented when they ask me to remove the bishops. You see how far their 
 intentions go.” His constancy to the Church was duly rewarded,— as it 
 deserved to be, for it was entirely genuine; though the conversion of the 
 
THE POLITICAL CONFLICT. 
 
 145 
 
 Episcopal party into a Royalist party may have been partly due to the 
 disfavour with which the irreverent practices of the fanatical sects began 
 to be regarded. One half of the English people at least were still loyal 
 to the Communion of their fathers, — were still proud of the stately and 
 venerable Church, to which they were bound by a thousand ties. To 
 them the “reign of the Saints” held out no prospect of peace, — it was 
 the euphuistic equivalent for spiritual tyranny and spiritual anarchy. The 
 Puritan divine, were he to get the upper hand, would, it was to be feared, 
 prove no less truculent than Brownist or Familist, than Adamist or Ana- 
 baptist, than Praise-God-Bare-Bone or Prophet Hunt. The scene at Chi 1- 
 lingworth’s death-bed, at Chillingworth’s grave, bore eloquent testimony to 
 the evil fortune that was in store for England should Puritanism prevail. 
 Chillingworth, like Falkland, had taken refuge in the King’s camp ; but was 
 captured at Arundel by the Parliamentary forces. As he lay sick to death 
 at Chichester he was visited by Francis Cheynell, one ol the rigid, zealous 
 Presbyterians “who were very unwilling that any should be suffered to 
 go to Heaven but in the right way.” This member of the Westminster 
 Assembly gave the great latitudinarian no rest. Acting upon the words 
 of the Apostle — “Rebuke them sharply, that they may be sound in the 
 faith” — he plied the dying man with questions about his opinions. “I 
 desired him,” he says, “to tell me whether he conceived that a man living 
 or dying a Turk, Papist or Socinian could be saved? All the answer I 
 could gain from him was that he did not absolve them and would not 
 condemn.” The Westminster divine was shocked. “Sir,” he said, “it 
 is confessed that you have been very excessive in your charity. You 
 have lavished so much charity upon Turks, Socinians, Papists, that I am 
 afraid you have very little to spare for a truly reformed Protestant. 
 Cheynell attended the funeral that he might throw into the open grave 
 the great Protestant apology. “If they please” (so Cheynell proceeds) “ to 
 undertake the burial of his corpse, I shall undertake to bury his errors 
 which are published in this so much admired yet unworthy book ; and 
 happy would it be for the Kingdom if this book and all its fellows could 
 
146 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 be so buried. Get thee gone,” (he continued, throwing the volume into 
 the open grave), “thou cursed book which has seduced so many precious 
 souls! Get thee gone thou corrupt, rotten book! Earth to earth, and dust 
 to dust! Get thee out into this place of rottenness, that thou mayest rot 
 with the author, and see corruption!” 
 
 Henrietta Maria was no doubt an indiscreet adviser; she was mainly respon- 
 sible for the attempt to arrest the members, as she was mainly responsible 
 for its failure ; but it is obvious that the attitude of the Long Parliament, 
 before the outburst of the war, was offensive as well as defensive, and that 
 it preferred claims which at whatever peril a constitutional monarch was bound 
 to resist. On the other hand the attempt to arrest the members was the 
 sole illegality of which Charles could be reasonably accused. He was goaded 
 into it. What he did was done with ill-concealed reluctance. His air of sad 
 abstraction was visible to all. He studiously avoided any show of violence. 
 He accepted Lenthall’s apology, — “ May it please Your Majesty,” the Speaker 
 replied, when Charles inquired if the five members were present, “ I have 
 neither eye to see nor tongue to speak in this place but as this House is 
 pleased to direct me,” — without a word of anger or remonstrance. “Well, 
 well, Charles answered, “ ’tis no matter. I think my eyes are as good as 
 another’s.” Again he looked along the benches. “Well,” he said, “all 
 the birds are flown. 1 do expect that you will send them to me as soon as 
 they return hither. But 1 assure you on the word of a King I shall proceed 
 against them in a fair and legal way for I never did intend any force. 
 And now since I see I cannot do what 1 came for, I think this no unfit 
 occasion to repeat what 1 have formerly said that whatsoever 1 have done 
 for the good of my subjects I mean to maintain it.” 
 
 Here again was Nemesis — the Nemesis from which the unhappy King 
 could not escape. Lady Carlisle, shocked by Charles’s betrayal of his 
 great Minister, had gone over to the enemy. It was through her that 
 Pym was warned in time. Before Charles had reached Westminster, 
 the Parliamentary leaders were in the City, where among the stout ap- 
 prentices of the crafts they were beyond reach of harm. 
 
THE i : CAL CONFLICT 
 
 It m y be n < t • ! 1 , bt -im-.- the peace was broken, no secular 
 
 griev: ce of a ■ e re mined unredressed ; and that the Civil 
 
 W r, so Phi - •; > a « between social forces — between the 
 
 aristocr d-er and the den: • indhead — must be regarded, 
 
 r, ' 1 Late. Killigrew , c 1, 4 ,' 
 
 temained at Westminster, spoke out i»d 
 
 rode off to join' the King. “If there be occasion,’ lie - 
 
 vide a good horse, and a good sword, and I make no it t 1 
 
 shall find a good cause.” 
 
 THE HOUSE OF COMMONS 
 From an old print, 1648. 
 
U6 
 
 CHARM S IRST. 
 
 t tied, throwing the v<»; to 
 
 ,! " '.“thou ■ .. Ma has seduced so many pro. 
 
 ' ook! Earth to earth, and dust 
 « lenness, that thou mayest rot 
 
 Hcm : no doubt >4 im 'vi*er; she w h mainly respon- 
 
 mber* as -iir was i !v responsible 
 for ils i > t .f the Long Parliament, 
 
 k®* 1 °l it' nsive as well as defensive, and that 
 
 11 "!■ ■ peril a cot * anarch ' 
 
 v of which Charles could be reasonably accused. He was goaded 
 W bat he did was done with ill-concealed reluctain II, , . 
 
 He accepted Lenthall’s apology, — “ May it |.!< ><■ \our Majesty,” the Speaker 
 replied, when Charles inquired if th< five members were present, “ 1 have 
 neither eye to see nor tongue to speak in this place but as this House is 
 pleased to direct me, — without a word. of anger or remonstrance. “Well, 
 w !l, < iiarles answered, “ tis ho matter. 1 think my eyes are as good as 
 
 Again he looked along the benches. “Well,” he said, “all 
 
 the birds are llo'v.-n 1 do e'pect that you will send ii:om to on as 
 
 they return hit ut 1 • n on'thc word ... Kir: • i all proceed 
 
 again t 1 - . , Mr I never did intend any force. 
 
 1 nuot I f I think this no unfit- 
 
 “ 1 • 1 b-v.- !• •• n>. ■■ - ,,! il .1 • i, 1 have ,i one 
 
 n to maintain it.' 
 
 I : > f of his 
 
 Pym was v, in . ! , time. Before Cl: W estminster, 
 
 ll>e Parliamentary •• ■ 1 in the Cl I the stout ap- 
 
 prentices of the crafts tin were beyond reach ..l bar. . 
 
 8W0MM0D 10 38UOH 3 H T 
 
THE POLITICAL CONFLICT. 
 
 147 
 
 It may be added that, before the peace was broken, no secular 
 grievance of any consequence remained unredressed ; and that the Civil 
 War, so far as it was not a conflict between social forces — between the 
 aristocratic Cavalier and the democratic Roundhead — must be regarded, 
 mainly if not exclusively, as “a war of religion.” 
 
 So at last in grim earnest, the War had come. There was no more 
 room for debate. Ivilligrew , one of the last Royalist members who 
 remained at Westminster, spoke out his mind quite frankly before he 
 rode off to join the King. “If there be occasion,” he said, “I will pro- 
 vide a good horse, and a good sword, and I make no question but I 
 shall find a good cause.” 
 
 20 
 
^ 
 

 
CHAPTER NINE. 
 
 THE CIVIL WAH. 
 
 HAVE said in a previous chapter that the crucial 
 question when we come to weigh the relative 
 culpability of King and Commons is, — Who was 
 directly responsible for the outbreak of civil 
 war ? Who was truly the aggressor ? I am glad 
 to find, on turning again to Hallam, who seldom 
 favours the King, that his view is substantially 
 identical with that at which I had arrived. The 
 plea that the Commons were fighting for liberty is brushed aside with 
 scant ceremony. “How little there was of such liberty as a wise man 
 would hold dear ! ” The claim of the Parliament for the control of the 
 
150 
 
 chari.es the first. 
 
 militia was in his judgment a claim that could not possibly be enter- 
 tained by a constitutional monarch. “ The notion that either, or both, 
 Houses of Parliament, who possess no portion of executive authority, could 
 take on themselves one of its most peculiar and important functions, was 
 so preposterous that we can scarcely give credit to the sincerity of 
 any reasonable person who advanced it. It is vain to deny,” he con- 
 tinues, “ that Charles had made the most valuable concessions, and such 
 as had cost him very dear. He had succeeded, according to the judg- 
 ment of many real friends of the Constitution, in putting the House of 
 Commons in the wrong... Law, justice, moderation, once ranged against 
 him, had gone over to his banner. His arms might reasonably be called 
 defensive, if he had no other means of preserving himself from the con- 
 dition, far worse than captivity, of a sovereign compelled to a sort of 
 suicide upon his own honour and authority.” In short Charles could not 
 go further if he were to retain even titular authority. Hallam linds in 
 the action of the Commons “a series of glaring violations, not only of 
 positive and constitutional law, but of those higher principles which are 
 paramount to all immediate policy... These great abuses of power, becom- 
 ing daily more frequent as they became less excusable, would make a 
 sober man hesitate to support them in a civil war wherein their success 
 must not only consummate the destruction of the Crown, the Church, and 
 the peerage, but expose all who had dissented from their proceedings, as 
 it ultimately happened, to an oppression less severe perhaps, but far more 
 sweeping, than that which had rendered the Star Chamber odious.” And 
 on the general charge of having caused the bloodshed of the war, upon 
 which and not on any form of misgovernment Charles’s condemnation was 
 grounded, the historian concludes that it was as ill-established as it would 
 have been insufficient. ’ 1 Well might the Earl ol Northumberland say, 
 
 when the ordinance for the King’s trial was before the Lords, that the 
 greatest part of the people of England were not yet satisfied whether the 
 King levied war first against the Houses, or the Houses against him. The 
 fact, in my opinion, was entirely otherwise. It is quite another question 
 
OLIVER CROMWELL. 
 
 'rom the painting in the Collection of the Earl of Buckinghamshire, at Hampden House. 
 
 j 
 
nilit i n i - judgment a da 'U i • co • I 'not' possibly !••• enter- 
 
 t it iv a constitutional monarr • tie i >n that either, or 
 
 li - of Parliament, wl i i y on ■ eutive authority, could 
 
 on them:- *. ■ >st '■'< •■riant functions, was 
 
 a :■• • C ■ 1 • ; lie si ni'crity -ol 
 
 any reasonable per- ; olvanced it. It • o deny,” he con- 
 tinues, tli.i! C 1 s i made the most vab. • «■ -ioBS, and Such 
 
 as loar. He had succeed the judg- 
 
 Ir icnds pf the (Constitution, «: ■ * ose of 
 
 ; ... Law, justice, inodci i 
 • to his banner. His arms might (•-.. 
 
 r tlian 1 |,l. tty, ol a -ov. e ; gtl CC-mp. :t 1 to a sort of 
 
 . his own honour and ; ith h" • Charles could not 
 
 go further if he were >-i mthority. Hallam linds in 
 
 • 
 
 positive and institutional law. but of those higher principles which are 
 paramount t > all immediate policy... These great abuses of power, becom- 
 ing dad more frequent as they became less excusable, would make a 
 sober man hesitate to support them in a civil war whercii their success 
 must not !y consummate the destruction of the Crown, the Church, and 
 
 '••• peer • t expose all who had dissented from their -proceedings, as 
 
 m oppression less severe perhaps, but far more 
 i l rende J ur Star Chamber odious.” And 
 
 niment Charles s u * is 
 
 as ill-established as it would 
 
 to 'o l <. that the 
 
 greatest part <•> Ingland wm . i. ether- the 
 
 b ug levied war In - ,.| jav/KOflO iMUkJo t i , . >; him. The 
 
 .ofc'oH^-ibrpuiiiiTiiiofiiWrnwtlsiudaiia 1<> l-u.51 '''hPfcHd'W 1 ! 0 '-’ # !“ W " -‘'“l question 
 

THE CIVIL WAR. 
 
 151 
 
 whether the Parliament were justified in their resistance to the King’s 
 legal authority. But we may contend that when Hotham by their com- 
 mand shut the gates of Hull against his Sovereign, when the militia was 
 called out in different counties by an ordinance of the two Houses, both 
 of which preceded by several weeks any levying of forces for the King, the 
 bonds of our constitutional law were by them and their servants snapped 
 asunder ; and it would be the mere pedantry and chicane of political ca- 
 suistry to enquire, even if the fact could be better ascertained, whether 
 at Edgehill, or in the minor skirmishes that preceded, the first carbine was 
 discharged by a Cavalier or a Roundhead. The aggressor in a war is not 
 the first who uses force, but the first who renders force necessary.” 
 
 This is as weighty an indictment as could well be penned, — especially 
 when we consider that it was penned by an historian whose impartiality 
 is unimpeachable. It is clear that one of the writers who up to the 
 meeting of the Long Parliament had been well affected to the Commons, 
 had at length found their conduct incapable of further defence. The guilt 
 of the Civil War was theirs; they were truly responsible for the subversion 
 of the Constitution anti the prolonged anarchy that followed; the only plea 
 that can be preferred on their behalf is that they could not trust the 
 King. Hume in an elaborate argument has shown that the incidents on 
 which the plea is based admit of a construction consistent with Charles’s 
 good faith; even if Hume’s argument be unsound, it would not follow that 
 the action of the Commons was justifiable, or that any grave culpability 
 attached to the King. He had been forced sorely against his inclination into 
 a mortal combat. It is not true that all is fair in war; but much may be 
 forgiven to the man who is fighting for his life. We do not seriously 
 blame the drowning sailor who clutches at any spar — however rotten. 
 
 The first Civil War began when the Standard was raised at Nottingham 
 on August 22nd, 1642; it virtually ended at Naseby on June 14th, 1645, 
 — though there were desultory engagements till the end of the year. We 
 may call it therefore a three years’ war. The tide of battle ebbed and 
 
152 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 flowed during these years within certain tolerably well-defined limits. Before 
 the fighting began the Parliament men believed, or professed to believe, 
 that one short campaign — a single battle — would convince Charles of their 
 overwhelming superiority. Probably there were men with the King who 
 were hardly less confident. Both were profoundly mistaken. The hostile 
 forces, so far as we can judge, were not unequally matched. Before 
 
 many weeks had passed it was found that the main strength of the 
 Puritans lay in the Eastern and South-Eastern counties, the main strength 
 of the King in the Northern, the South-Western and the Welsh. At one 
 time a line drawn from Berwick-on-Tweed to the Isle of Wight would 
 have roughly separated the districts friendly or hostile to Charles ; as 
 the Royalists waxed strong the line might have been drawn from Brid- 
 lington Bay to the Solent; as their strength waned, from Chester to Exeter 
 along the borders of Wales. But even when the fortunes of the Puritans 
 were at their darkest a narrow band of Parliamentary counties — Lancaster, 
 Cheshire, Stafford, Warwick — divided the Royalist NorLh from the Royalist 
 South. The separation was always a grave misfortune for Charles — he was 
 strong at York, he was strong at Oxford; but, going from one to the 
 other, he had to pass through an enemy’s country. London was the 
 Parliamentary capital, Oxford the Royalist; but soon after the commence- 
 ment of the war the great cities of Bristol, York, and Exeter declared 
 for, or were captured by, the King; and each became a separate base 
 of operations for the Royalists’ generals. It may be said with confidence 
 that without London the Parliament would have been powerless; and it 
 was only on its democratic handicraftsmen and truculent apprentices that 
 they could count with confidence. The moneyed men were mostly for 
 the King. 
 
 Charles when he left Westminster had a scanty following. He was 
 forced back upon the Welsh Border. But his small force was rapidly re- 
 cruited and he turned upon Essex, the Parliamentary general ; and the first 
 battle of the war was fought at Edgehill on October 23rd, — an indecisive 
 engagement owing to the impetuosity of Prince Rupert. Rupert was a 
 
THE CIVIL WAR. 
 
 153 
 
 younger son of the Elector Palatine, and in many ways a fit leader for the 
 Cavaliers of England. He made a dashing captain of horse, — his cavalry 
 charge was well nigh irresistible; but really fine military qualities were 
 spoiled by an incurable rashness. Had he kept his men in hand, Edgehill 
 would probably have been won, and London would have fallen at the first 
 blow. Marston Moor was in like manner lost. So possibly was Naseby. 
 Yet Charles could hardly have done much without Rupert to lead the way. 
 Rupert was the inspiring spirit of the army, and in spite of his want of 
 restraint on the battle-field he had sound sense and a keen intelligence. 
 He was content to leave the general conduct of the campaigns to the old 
 Scotsman, Lord Brentford, who was Charles’s trusted adviser from the 
 beginning, and whose offensive and defensive strategy had been approved 
 by the Prince of Orange. The other great Royalist general was Hopton ; 
 and it was mainly by Hopton that the whole West of England, from 
 the Land’s End to Exeter, was recovered. Charles himself was a fairly 
 competent soldier ; and his success in the earlier campaigns was due as 
 much to superior strategy as to the better quality of his men. It must 
 be admitted, 1 think, that he bore himself well and becomingly through- 
 out the war. He was always ready to welcome any overture for peace. 
 He made the first advances; he would in his own words “take the honey 
 out of the gall.” Historians insist that he was unduly obstinate, and 
 would not listen to reason. But the pretensions of the Parliament, as we 
 have seen, were exorbitant, and it cannot be truly said that they were 
 abated by disaster. Their claims, when battle after battle had been lost, 
 did not differ in substance from the claims they had made before the war 
 began. No basis for pacification could be found in such an attitude. 
 
 The propositions submitted on various occasions by the Parliament to 
 a King, with a victorious army and a clear half of England behind him, 
 were simply preposterous. When the tide began to turn in their favour 
 they became more and more intolerable. Take for instance the settlement 
 formulated in the eight propositions of November 20th, 1644. It was an 
 ecclesiastical settlement on the basis of an intolerant Presbyterianism. 
 
154 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 The King as well as every subject was to swear to the Covenant. It was 
 a political settlement on the basis of a general proscription. All Papists 
 were absolutely excluded from pardon, and fifty-seven of the noblemen 
 and gentlemen (with the Princes Rupert and Maurice), whose loyalty 
 had been most marked, were placed on the list of the proscribed. In 
 short from every man who had served his King some penalty was to be 
 exacted. 
 
 The arrogance of the Commons had no doubt its effect upon the 
 King. “There are three things,” Charles said, “I will not part with 
 — the Church, my crown, and my friends ; and you will have much ado 
 to get them from me.” And as the clouds gathered and the gloom deepened 
 his tone and his attitude became more resolute. There is already the 
 accent of the “ martyr ” in the letter I am about to quote, and in 
 another in which he had warned his son to make no ignominious conces- 
 sions even to save his father’s life. “If I had any other quarrel but the 
 defence of my religion, crown and friends, you had full reason for your 
 advice; for I confess that speaking as a mere soldier or statesman, I must 
 say there is no probability but of my ruin : yet, as a Christian, I must 
 tell you that God will not suffer rebels and traitors to prosper, nor this 
 cause to be overthrown; and whatever personal punishment it shall please 
 Him to inflict upon me, must not make me repine, much less give over 
 this quarrel ; and there is as little question that a composition with them 
 at this time is nothing else but a submission, which, by the grace of God, 
 I am resolved against, whatever it cost me; for 1 know my obligation to 
 be both in conscience and honour, neither to abandon God’s cause, injure 
 my successors, nor forsake my friends. Indeed I cannot flatter myself with 
 expectation of good success more than this, to end my days with honour 
 and a good conscience; which obliges me to continue my endeavours, as 
 not despairing that God may yet in due time avenge His own cause ; 
 though I must aver to all my friends that he that will stay with me at 
 this time must expect and resolve either to die for a good cause, or — 
 which is worse — to live as miserable in maintaining it as the violence 
 
THE CIVIL WAR. 
 
 155 
 
 ol insulting rebels can make him.” At the same time there was to be no 
 more persecution; the rights of conscience were to be respected; freedom 
 was to be left to all persons “of what opinions soever in matters of 
 ceremony ; and the penalties on nonconformity were to be suspended or 
 removed. 
 
 1 cannot make this a complete chronicle of the war ; a bald enu- 
 meration of dates and names would be uninteresting and uninstructive ; 
 yet some of the more characteristic incidents must be briefly noted. 
 
 Mr. Gardiner has duly appreciated the superiority of the Royalist 
 strategy in the earlier campaigns. He cannot understand indeed why it 
 had not been attended with an even greater measure of success. “What 
 was, in fact, really wonderful was not that Charles had accomplished 
 so much, but that he had not accomplished more. During the three 
 campaigns over which the war had lasted strategical superiority had been 
 entirely on the King’s side. Not only had the movements of the Royalist 
 forces been directed in accordance with a well-conceived plan, but the 
 plan had been varied from time to time as circumstances required. In 
 the first short campaign, which ended at Turnham Green, the object of 
 the person, whoever it may have been, who directed the Royal armies 
 was to drive right at the heart of the enemy, and to deal him a mortal 
 wound. When this proved impracticable, recourse was had in that second 
 campaign which opened with the siege of Reading and closed with the 
 battle of Cheriton, to a scheme in acccordance with which combat was 
 to be refused in the centre, whilst the two wings in Yorkshire and Corn- 
 wall pushed on to smother the weaker enemy between them. After this 
 scheme, too, had been tried in vain, and when the balance of numbers 
 had turned against Charles, the very opposite plan was tried. Abandoning 
 the attempt to act from the circumference upon the centre, Charles resolved 
 to act from the centre upon the circumference. Adopting the principle 
 which was afterwards to be stamped with the mint-mark of Napoleon, he 
 was to fling his forces first upon the Scots and their allies in Yorkshire, 
 and then alternately upon the divided armies of the southern generals in 
 
156 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 Oxfordshire and in Cornwall. When this was done he was to regain his 
 position of vantage at Oxford, to wait safely there till the divisions of 
 his adversaries gave him another opportunity.” 
 
 How did it happen then that in spite of superior strategy the Royalists 
 failed to win ? 
 
 Mr. Gardiner constantly insists that Charles had no real sympathy with 
 his people, and that to this radical defect most of the mistakes and con- 
 sequently most of the disasters of his reign in peace and war were due. 
 
 1 am not sure that I exactly follow the argument; the evidence that there 
 was any such gulf between the King and his subjects is certainly not con- 
 vincing ; in so far at least as Charles failed in the Civil War a simpler 
 explanation will suffice. 
 
 Any comparison between the military capacity of Charles and the mili- 
 tary capacity of Cromwell would be out of place. The materials on which 
 to form a judgment do not perhaps exist. It would he extremely interest- 
 ing to obtain the opinion of an expert like Lord Roberts or Lord Wol- 
 seley on the soldierly qualities of Oliver. Was he a great captain in 
 the sense that Marlborough and Napoleon were great captains? Was he a 
 master of strategy? Was he a master of tactics? Intellectual suppleness, 
 responding readily to any emergency however unexpected, is as necessary 
 to the leader of an army as to the leader of a senate. Was Cromwell 
 from this point of view fitted for supreme command? These are questions 
 which have been left unanswered. There can, I suppose, be no doubt that 
 as a captain of cavalry he had few rivals. Rupert’s headlong rush was 
 irresistible for the moment, — even more so than Cromwell’s; but then 
 Cromwell was always able to keep his men in hand. Rupert’s impetuosity 
 invited disaster, whereas Cromwell even in the thick of battle was invariably 
 cool and wary. But if Cromwell was not a master of the art of war, if he 
 was neither strategist nor tactician, but only an exceptionally brilliant 
 cavalry officer, how did he win his battles ? 
 
 In the first eighteen months of the war fortune inclined to the Royalists. 
 When Arundel surrendered on December 9th, 1643, they had been win- 
 
THE CIVIL WAR. 
 
 157 
 
 ning all along the line. After that they began to decline (Marston Moor 
 was fought on July 2nd, 1644, Naseby on June 14th, 1645). For eighteen 
 months the superiority of the Royalists as fighting men had been main- 
 tained. Had the conditions remained unchanged to the end, Charles must 
 have won. But their reverses had not been thrown away on the leaders 
 of the Parliamentary forces; they wisely resolved to remodel the army. 
 The Cavaliers, though sturdy swordsmen, were self-willed and insubordinate ; 
 and they were not happy when discipline was severe. But against the 
 unorganised rabble of the City they were strong. Cromwell and Waller 
 had little faith in the military prowess of idle apprentices and the waifs 
 and strays of the streets. There must be order and there must be god- 
 liness. A regiment of disciplined enthusiasts would be of more service 
 than a battalion of disorganised and dissolute mercenaries. There was 
 abundance of spiritual fervour and visionary exaltation in the South-Eastern 
 counties, which a drill sergeant who understood his business might mould 
 into an “army of the Lord.” A secular war must be turned into a 
 Crusade; and the Crusaders must be men who not only feared God, but 
 kept their powder dry. 
 
 It is easy to understand how irresistible an argument on a battle-field 
 such a force must have proved. It was hard as granite, keen as steel. 
 Into the gallant but disorderly ranks of the Cavaliers a solid wedge was 
 driven. The zealot who is fighting his way to Heaven has nothing to 
 fear. If he kills his man, as poor young Walton said, when he was dying- 
 on Marston Moor, he is “the executioner of God upon his enemies” (to 
 such bitterness between brothers life in a model Puritan household had 
 grown); if he is killed “ the brief minute’s fierce annoy” cannot com- 
 pare with “God’s eternity of Joy." Wilh such a weapon in his hand, 
 even had his enemy been a trained and experienced veteran — a Tilly or 
 Spinola — Cromwell could hardly have failed to win. But he fought against 
 simple rustics led by country gentlemen to whom the art of war was a 
 mystery. Since Cromwell’s time we have had constant wars in Asia and 
 Africa; and everywhere handfuls of highly disciplined British soldiers have 
 
158 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 held their own against hosts of savage foes. Mighty waves have broken 
 upon it ; but the British square has stood firm. The fact that Cromwell 
 was on the winning side at Marston Moor and Naseby and Worcester 
 and Drogheda cannot therefore be held to prove that he was a great 
 general. The marvel indeed would have been had he failed to win. I 
 confess that to my ear more than one of the despatches which after vic- 
 tory he wrote from the battle-field, and which by Mr. Carlyle’s magic 
 have been translated into martial melodies, do not ring true. “This is the 
 Lord’s doing ; it is marvellous in our eyes ! ” That is the refrain ; but 
 the writer is careful to show that no one except the Lord — no meaner 
 ally — had any share in the victory of the Ironsides. Douce David Lesley 
 and his canny Scots, after their hard fight on the Moor at Marston, are 
 studiously slighted. “Truly England and the Church of God have had a 
 great favour from the Lord in this great victory given unto us, such as the 
 like never was since this war began. It had all the evidences of an absolute 
 victory obtained by the Lord’s blessing upon the godly party princi- 
 pally. We never charged hut we routed the enemy. The left wing which 
 I commanded, being our own horse, saving a few Scots in our rear, beat 
 all the Prince’s horse. God made them as stubble to our swords. We 
 charged their regiments of foot with our horse, and routed all we charged.” 
 Again it is difficult to listen with patience to his language after Naseby. “I 
 can say this of Naseby that when 1 saw the enemy draw up and march 
 
 in gallant order towards us, and we a company of poor ignorant men, 
 
 to seek how to order our battle, the general having commanded me to 
 order all the horse, 1 could not — riding alone about my business — but 
 smile out to God in praises in assurance of victory, because God would 
 by things that are not bring to nought things that are of which 1 had 
 great assurance — and God did it.” Mr. Gardiner has made a careful cal- 
 culation of the numbers on either side, from which it appears that Fairfax 
 
 had 14,000 men on the field as against Rupert’s 7,500 ; and he adds : 
 
 “After all, a victory in which 14,000 men defeated 7,500, and that loo 
 not without difficulty , cannot he reckoned amongst the great examples 
 
THE CIVIL WAR. 
 
 159 
 
 of military efficiency.” In these circumstances, however, it had been 
 made clear to Cromwell that God would by things that are not (Fairfax’s 
 14,000) bring to nought things that are (Rupert’s 7,500). If this is not 
 cant, what is it? No one now denies that Carlyle sometimes mistook a 
 sham heroism, a sham godliness, for the genuine article. 
 
 Cromwell was undoubtedly a highly efficient drill sergeant as well as 
 a competent cavalry officer, — though it has been asserted that to Waller 
 the credit of re-organising the parliamentary army was really due, and 
 that Rupert was the author of the system of cavalry tactics which has been 
 commonly associated with Cromwell’s name. It was from Waller no doubt 
 that the first suggestion of the New Model came; and, if Waller’s de- 
 scription of the army which he had been leading is not extravagantly 
 overcharged, it was certainly time that a change were made. “Such 
 men,” he concludes emphatically, “are only lit for a gallows here, and a 
 hell hereafter.” But Cromwell probably had spoken quite as plainly to 
 Hampden. “ Your troops are most of them old decayed serving-men and 
 tapsters and such kind of fellows, and their troops are gentlemen’s sons 
 and persons of quality. Do you think that the spirits of such base and 
 mean fellows will ever be able to encounter gentlemen that have honour, 
 and courage, and resolution in them?” By whomsoever brought about, 
 however, the transformation was notable. The “Ironsides” were a peculiar 
 people. Rupert with his touch of genius invented the name, — alter his 
 defeat at Marston Moor he applied it to Cromwell. But it came to mean 
 much more than it meant to Rupert. It meant a political as well as a 
 military force, — a vast social confederacy where martial law was severely 
 enforced; a noisy debating club where any infraction of military discipline 
 was instantly punished. Nothing exactly like it had been known before. 
 The presbyterian Richard Baxter, who was an army chaplain, has left a 
 vivid record of his experiences. These illiterate mechanics were framing 
 for themselves a new heaven and a new earth. The wildest political spe- 
 culations were freely ventilated. The grossest religious delusions were 
 frankly tolerated, if not openly encouraged. Military saints who had “seen 
 
160 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 visions and revelations" mounted the pulpits, and “godly precious men, 
 who had filled dung carts before they were captains,” expounded the Word. 
 In the eyes of these men no sacredness attached to the person of King 
 or Priest. “1 perceived,” says Baxter, “they took the King for a tyrant 
 and an enemy, and really intended to master him or to ruin him, and 
 they thought if they might fight against him they might kill or conquer 
 him. They plainly showed me,” he continues, “ that they thought God’s 
 providence would cast the trust of religion and the kingdom upon them 
 as conquerors; they made nothing of all the most wise and godly in the 
 armies and garrisons that were not of their way.” A thoroughly dis- 
 ciplined army with a distinct sectarian impress could not but prove 
 dangerous to the independence of laymen ; and Cromwell had never dis- 
 guised that he was forging an instrument which he meant to use for 
 political ends. “ 1 will not deny,” he said to Manchester, “ hut that I 
 desire to have none in my army but such as are of the Independent 
 judgment.” Manchester asked his reason for so unusual a resolution. 
 “That in case,” replied Cromwell, “there should be propositions for 
 peace, or any other conclusion of a peace, such as might not stand with 
 the ends that honest men should aim at, this army might prevent such a 
 mischief." He was trying a dangerous experiment. It has been truly said 
 that no solid political edifice can be raised upon a merely military found- 
 ation ; and in this case the military foundation was composed of bigoted 
 zealots who were ignorant of the first principles of government. What 
 kind of Civitas Dei were such men competent to rear? Cromwell might 
 call himself their master ; hut he would be at their mercy. He could 
 not help himself ; their policy must be his. And a policy that would 
 last could not be moulded by illiterate craftsmen. It was a grave disaster 
 that the attempt should have been made; for it had all to be undone — 
 all at least that was not on the sure lines of constitutional development. 
 The “transcendent, extraordinary, miraculous light” to which they trusted 
 was a Will-o’-the-wisp. 
 
 “This brave army is our violets and primroses, the first fruits of the 
 
THE CIVIL WAR. 
 
 161 
 
 spring, which the Parliament sends forth this year for the growth of our 
 religion, and the re-implanting of this kingdom in the garden of peace 
 and truth.” So a Puritan writes ; and the Puritans were justly proud of 
 their New Model — the army which Cromwell and Waller had reorganised, 
 and by which the local militia and trained bands had been replaced. But 
 it may fairly he doubted whether, even when purged of its baser elements, 
 the Parliamentary army by itself could have effectually arrested the Royalist 
 advance. Without the co-operation of the Scots they could hardly hare 
 won. Before the Scots were called in, even the capital was in revolt. 
 More than once the cry for peace could not be silenced. “ Peace and 
 truth ! ” called out some one who took the unpopular side, at a tumult 
 in the market-place. “ Hang truth ! let us have peace at any price ! ” 
 was the reply. There had always been a large Royalist minority among 
 the substantial citizens ; and even the enforced subscription ot the Co- 
 venant had only secured outward conformity. “ Scarce one man in a 
 hundred,” a shrewd observer wrote, “throughout all London but hath 
 subscribed to it. 1 find notwithstanding by discourse that the greatest 
 part of the people are little weaned from the present Service-Book, and 
 wish better to Episcopacy a little reformed rather than Presbyterial or 
 any other Church government whatsoever.” The moderate Puritans were 
 very averse to appeal for aid to the Scots (and their disinclination was 
 shared, then and later, by Cromwell); but, the absolute necessity for 
 Scottish succour becoming apparent, scruples were discarded, and the Scots 
 army which crossed the Tweed on January 19th, 1644, became an impor- 
 tant factor in the subsequent conflict. 
 
 It cannot be said that any of the battles of the campaign are par- 
 ticularly interesting. No fight stands out from the rest with special dis- 
 tinctness or distinction. There is a good deal of luck, good or bad 
 as the case may be, on either side ; one half of a battle is won, one 
 half is lost, and the combatants are as they were. Several conflicts are 
 memorable mainly for the men who fell at them — Hampden at Chalgrove, 
 Falkland at Newbury, Sir Bevil Grenvile at Lansdowne. Hampden riding 
 
162 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 awa y- bowed over liis saddle in mortal agony, from the fatal field; Falk- 
 land spurring his horse through the murderous gap in the hedge to 
 meet the rain of bullets and the death he coveted; Sir Bevil struck down 
 in the moment ot victory with his hardy Cornishmen round him on the 
 slippery ledge they had won; are striking figures. These were the men 
 who on either side gave a distinction to this miserable contest. It was 
 because men like Sir Bevil were true to the King that the Royalist cause 
 prospered as it did. The Roundheads when they counted on an easy 
 victory had failed to reckon with these country gentlemen. No discourage- 
 ment could shake a loyalty which was bred in the bone. “I cannot 
 contain myself within doors,” the famous Cornishman wrote, “when the 
 King ol England s standard waves in the field upon so just an occasion ; 
 the cause being such as must make all those that die in it little inferior 
 to martyrs. 1 am not without consideration, as you lovingly advise, of 
 my wife and family; and as lor her, must acknowledge that she hath ever 
 drawn so evenly in the yoke with me as she hath never pressed before, 
 nor hung behind me, nor ever opposed nor resisted my will; and yet 
 truly I have not in this or anything else endeavoured to walk in any way 
 ol power with her but of reason; and though her love will submit to 
 either , yet truly my respect will not suffer me to urge my power unless 
 I can convince by reason. Sir Bevil is one of the few historical figures 
 which still evoke a passionate local regard, — a regard which has found 
 fit expression in the Vicar of Morwenstow’s stirring lines : — 
 
 “Ride ! Ride! with red spur, there is death in delay, 
 
 ’Tis a race for dear life with the devil ; 
 
 If dark Cromwell prevail and the King must give way 
 This earth is no place for Sir Beville. 
 
 “So at Stamford he fought, and at Lansdoune he fell, 
 
 But vain were the visions he cherished : 
 
 For the great Cornish heart, that the King loved so well, 
 
 In the grave of the Granville it perished.” 
 
 Saving Cromwell and Waller in the Parliamentary camp, Rupert and 
 Ilopton in the Royalist, few of the leaders were men of mark. Essex 
 
DEATH WARRANT OF CHARLES I. 
 
 From the original document, in the Library of the House of Lords. 
 
CHAM.' i FIRST. 
 
 t<52 
 
 away, bov J over Ins ., , ony, from the fatal field; i .ill, 
 
 *•• • i «•! .ieroiis gap in the hi to 
 
 •> : he b coveted ; Sir Bevil struck d< n 
 
 >t y with : i- . dimen round him on the 
 
 v ul won: are r figure's. These were the men 
 gave a dn in. !ion to this miserable contest. It was 
 ^ >e< ‘"' u like. Sir Bevil were true to the King that' the (loyalist cause 
 
 pi red as it did.. The Roundheads when they counted on an easy 
 victory had failed to . reckon' with .these country gentlemen. No discourage- 
 ment could shake-a .loyally' which wa~ bred in* the' bone. “1 cannot 
 contain mysell withii 'oors, ' the-fatnous Corrtishnia* aa : “whi n the 
 
 Kir,, of England- standard waves in -the field n • 
 
 the cause being such as must nak-c all th'<* . it little inferior 
 
 to man I ani not wil consult ..as vou lovingly advise, of 
 
 my ' ;fc and family; and - for he >st acknowledge that she hath ever 
 drawn so evenly in the yoke with me as ‘she hath -never pressed before, 
 nor hung behind me, nor_ever ppposed nor resisted, my will; and yet 
 truly I have not iri this or anything .else endeavoured to walk in any way 
 ol power with her drat of- reason and though her love will submit to 
 eilh r, yet truly my respect will not suffer me to urge my power unless 
 1 can convince by reason Sir Bevil is one ol the few historical figures 
 which still i passionate: local regard, — a regard which has found 
 
 i d or wen Stow’ s stirring lines:— 
 
 . 
 
 great Cornish )) 
 grave of the Granv 
 
 Saving Cromwell ■ Waller in the ) ra ry camp. Rupert and 
 
 llopton in the Royalist, !■ - of the leaden vwse nen ul mark. Essex 
 
 i ea.iHAHO ao tkahhaw ht a a ci 
 
 .ebioillo saiioli silt 1 o ^*i£idiJ odj ni .tnomi/oob Isnigiio srft moT? 
 
THE CIVIL WAR. 
 
 163 
 
 and Manchester and Newcastle are singularly colourless lay figures, en- 
 tirely out of place in such a desperate struggle. Hopton, so far as I 
 can judge, was the strongest of all the Royalist captains, — a man of 
 military genius and powerful character. On the other side, Sir William 
 Waller was the ablest strategist. Waller attracts as Falkland attracts. 
 Though a consummate soldier he was urgent for peace; “I am so heartily 
 weary of this war,” he wrote, “that I shall submit to anything that may 
 conduce to the despatch of it ; ” and his letters are those of a high- 
 minded and scrupulous gentleman. Here is the one in which he declines 
 Hopton’s proposal for a private interview. “Certainly my affections to 
 you are so unchangeable that hostility itself cannot violate my friendship 
 to your person. But 1 must be true to the cause wherein 1 serve. The 
 old limitation, usque ad aras, holds still, and where my conscience is 
 interested all other obligations are swallowed up. I should most gladly 
 wait upon you, according to your desire, but I look upon you as 
 engaged in that party beyond the possibility of a retreat, and conse- 
 quently incapable of being wrought upon by any persuasions. And I 
 know the conference could never be so close between us but that it 
 would take wind, and receive a construction to my dishonour. That 
 great God who is the searcher of my heart knows with what a sad sense 
 I go on upon this service, and with what a perfect hatred I detest this 
 war without an enemy ; but I look upon it as sent from God, and that is 
 enough to silence all passion in me. The God of Heaven in His good 
 
 time send us the blessing of peace, and in the meantime assist us to 
 receive it! We are both upon the stage, and must act such parts as are 
 assigned us in this tragedy. Let us do it in a way of honour and without 
 personal animosities.” How fine this is! — hardly to be surpassed by any 
 letter in the language — the modest expression of the humane and culti- 
 vated intelligence — Puritan it may be, but with no twang of the con- 
 venticle ! 
 
 In these earlier battles Cromwell took little part. Complaint was made 
 of his inaction at the second battle of Newbury ; but at Marston Moor and 
 
164 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 Naseby he was in the thick of the fight. What we see and hear of him 
 otherwise is not uncharacteristic. It must be said for Cromwell that he 
 had no pedantic regard for consistency. To maintain a reputation for 
 consistency, for instance, at the cost of a capable recruit, was not to be 
 thought of! A military dictator is in one sense the most absolute of rulers; 
 but he has to study and reflect the moods of the men who have raised him to 
 power. Oliver was the spokesman of the army to England and to Europe ; 
 and, though the convictions of the Ironsides were tolerably steady, great 
 masses ol men are apt to be moved, as the sea is moved, by any breath 
 of wind. In Oliver we find the same curious union of speculative toler- 
 ance and practical intolerance which we find in the army which he formed. 
 On March 10th, 1645, he wrote to Major-General Crawford, in the language 
 of a statesman: “Surely you are not well advised thus to turn off one 
 so faithful to the cause and so able to serve you as this man is. Sir, 
 the State in choosing men to serve it, takes no notice of their opinions; 
 it they be willing faithfully to serve it— that satisfies. 1 advised you 
 formerly to bear with men of different minds from yourself. If you had 
 done it when I advised you to it, you would not have had so many 
 stumbling blocks in your way. Take heed of being sharp, or too easily 
 sharpened by others, against whom you can object little, but that they 
 square not with you in every matter concerning matters of religion.” On 
 January 10th of the same year he had given passionate expression, on 
 the other hand, to his own private repugnances. Entering Ely Cathedral 
 he ordered a clergyman who persisted in using the “choir service” to 
 desist from so “unedifying and offensive” a practice. The clergyman 
 refused; and Cromwell, who was governor of the Isle of Ely, went out 
 and returned presently with a guard of soldiers. “Leave off your fooling 
 and come down,” was the peremptory order, and the service was there- 
 upon brought to an end. 
 
 More than one of the Royalist ladies are still visible to us through 
 the smoke of battle and oblivion ; — stout, and spirited, and worthy of the 
 absent lords who have left the great houses in their keeping — Charlotte de 
 
THE CIVIL WAR 
 
 165 
 
 la Tremouille, Countess of Derby, who held Latham for three months 
 (till relieved by Rupert) against an overwhelming force of Roundheads ; 
 Lady Sophia Murray, who when brought up for examination before the 
 Committee of Safety, told them flatly : “ I do not mean to give any account 
 to such fellows as you are.” But the Queen herself took the foremost 
 place in every service of peril. A woman of supreme energy, she was 
 never idle. On land or on water, she was equally in her element. Under 
 the hottest fire of the enemy, or in the wildest winter weather, she 
 proved herself the daughter of Henry of Navarre. On one occasion, we 
 are told, she lay tossing for nine days on the boisterous North Sea. Never 
 losing the high spirits which accompanied her in every position in which 
 she was placed, she laughed heartily at the fears of her attendant ladies. 
 “Comfort yourselves, my dears,” she said, “Queens of England are never 
 drowned.” The Commons were furious ; they framed a Bill of Attainder; 
 had they caught her, she would have gone the way that Strafford and 
 Laud had "'one. He must be a churl, indeed, who refuses to recognise the 
 heroic and untiring energy of Henrietta. 
 
 In this first Civil War there is indeed one brilliant soldier who never 
 fails to acquit himself with distinction. Montrose was the Scottish Falkland. 
 When he entered public life he felt that the popular liberties were in 
 
 peril ; and like Falkland and Strafford he took the popular side. But as 
 
 soon as the suspicion crossed his mind that Argyle and the confederates 
 were playing the King false, that they were aiming at political change 
 rather than religious liberty, he quitted them at once and finally. 
 
 The Scottish campaign of 1644-1645 is an episode complete in itself; 
 and may easily be detached from the rest of this rather sombre epic. It 
 throws a sunset radiance over Charles’s sinking fortunes ; it is the sole 
 gleam of light in what is thereafter one of those “sad stories of the death 
 of Kings,” which are monotonously tragic, and on which the historian is 
 
 loath to linger. Though it came too late sensibly to affect the issue of 
 
 the war, it was the Loyalist’s most romantic and picturesque adventure, 
 and it was conducted by one in whose career Drummond of Hawthorden 
 
166 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 welcomed “the return of the Golden Age,” and of whom it was said by 
 De Retz that he was the only man “who has ever realized to me the idea 
 of certain ancient heroes 
 
 It is difficult to keep pace with Montrose through that brief and bril- 
 liant campaign, — his marches are so swift and silent, his victories so rapid 
 and dazzling. He has vowed to bring Scotland back to the King, and 
 he begins the enterprise with a single follower. Beset on every side, 
 he turns, and doubles, and beats back; and then, when least looked for, 
 falls on his prey with a hawk-like swoop. He routs the solid burghers 
 of Perth at Tippermuir ; a day or two thereafter he enters the good town 
 of Aberdeen ; then, having enticed Argyle to the Spey, he plunges amid 
 the wilds ol Badenoch into outer darkness, as Mr. Carlyle would say. 
 He is gaining time, — time to marshal the forces of the Royalists who are 
 everywhere scattered and disheartened, and to make victory, though marvel- 
 lous, not a miracle. So he reappears in Athol; reappears in Aberdeen; seats 
 himself with consummate skill and coolness among the woods of Fyvie, where 
 the Covenanting armies surge against him in vain. But the Gordons are 
 sulky and will not rise; it is hopeless to wait longer in Buchan; so shak- 
 ing his unwieldy enemy easily off, he once more, in the dead of winter, 
 startles with the tread of armed men the eyries of Badenoch, and the 
 stony watershed of the Spe}'. 
 
 That autumn and winter were certainly not propitious to the Puritans. 
 At no time was there greater need for the prayer which Principal Baillie 
 put up, that “the Almighty might be pleased to blink in mercy upon Scot- 
 land.” What between the Papistical Highlanders of “ James Graeme, 
 sometime Marquis of Montrose,” and the great storm of snow which then 
 covered the country, the members of the Northern Presbyteries are sorely 
 beset. But worse fortune is in store for their leaders. Argyle, much 
 perplexed in mind by the unaccountable eccentricities of this Will-o’-the- 
 wisp enemy, is on his way to Perth, when he learns that his rival is at 
 his back. Seized with sudden panic, he disbands his army, and makes 
 for the metropolis. Even there he does not feel that he is safe ; so he 
 
THE CIVIL WAR. 
 
 167 
 
 renders up liis commission to the rebel government, and flies to his in- 
 accessible stronghold on Loch Fyne. “It’s a far cry to Lochow;” and 
 Gillespie Grumach may at length breathe freely; for his antagonist, wiry 
 and virulent though he be, cannot follow him here. But he does not 
 know his man. Montrose is inexorable; through the wildest passes in 
 the bleak December storms — and it is a bitter winter — he forces his way ; 
 and on the hill-sides above his own castle Argyle again beholds the watch- 
 fires of his foe. Craven always, and now utterly unnerved, he flies shame- 
 fully, and leaves the ruthless hunter to harry. his lair. 
 
 Having sacked the country of the Campbells, Montrose plunges into 
 Lochaber, and prepares to winter upon the desolate shores of Loch Ness. 
 This is the critical moment, the turning-point in the campaign. He is 
 deserted by a large proportion of his men, and on all sides surrounded 
 by the enemy. Seaforth is in the north at Inverness; Baillie at Perth ; 
 Argyle, recovering from his panic, raises his clan, and writes to his friends 
 in Edinburgh that he has “overtook the rogues at Lochaber.” A daring 
 blow is required. Montrose doubles back; leads his men right across the 
 precipitous spurs of Ben Nevis; and, with startling suddenness, closes in 
 on Macallum More and his men, who are camped round their castle of 
 Inverlochy on the shore of Loch Eil. Argyle again, like a hunted stag, takes 
 to the water, but he cannot take his army with him ; and Auchinleck, “a 
 stout soldier, but a very vicious man,” as his Covenanting allies describe 
 him, is left in command. The winter morning dawns, still, clear, and 
 
 frosty; the Campbells can hear distinctly the flourish of trumpets that 
 salutes the Royal standard on the mountain, and the wild war-tune of the 
 Camerons as they quit their cover : “Come to me and 1 will give you 
 flesh;” a promise that day duly kept. It was a splendid charge — a 
 handful upon a host ; it must have come back, one may guess, on Charles 
 Napier’s memory, the morning of Meeanee. 
 
 Inverlochy was the most terribly complete of Montrose’s victories, — the 
 Campbells being literally driven into the sea, — and its effect was instan- 
 taneous. The prestige of Argyle is destroyed. The Gordon cavalry, headed 
 
168 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 by the noblest gentleman of their race, join the Royal standard. The army 
 of the Northern rebels melts away in a night. Montrose marches through 
 Aberdeenshire and Moray into the Mearns without seeing a foe. Neither 
 Baillie nor Hurry will fight, and “the Graeme” with masterly rapidity 
 pushes past them to sack Dundee, from which town he effects a still more 
 rapid and masterly retreat upon Glen Esk. The hills form a citadel where 
 he knows that he is safe. These sterile regions are his arsenals. The 
 Lowland cavalry dare not follow him through the passes. Thenceforth 
 for weeks and months he becomes obscure, impalpable, veiled in darkness, 
 a sort ot terrible myth. Rumours may reach the Covenanting generals 
 from Athol, from Loch Katrine, from Ben Lomond; not to be relied on, 
 however, for the Puritan spies are baffled and at fault. So Hurry marches 
 towards Inverness to join the Northmen, who are again in the field ; but 
 Montrose is forthwith upon his trail, and at Alderne, in a stiff and well- 
 contested fight, the veteran army perishes. Baillie, advancing cautiously 
 along the southern bank of the Spey, keeps the Royal force in sight for 
 several days, till the Marquis again eludes him, and the scent is lost 
 amid the woods of Abernethy. At length at Alford, in Strathdon, the 
 two generals finally encounter; and although young Lord Gordon is slain, 
 — a heavy and distressful blow, — Baillie is utterly routed. Of all the 
 Covenanting armies only one now remains to be dealt with ; and amone 
 the thickets of Kilsyth, Montrose wins his last, perhaps his most memor- 
 able victory. He has fulfilled his promise. From Inverness to the Border 
 the Royal authority is re-established, — he has brought Scotland back to 
 the King. 
 
 To do what Montrose did, to win successive victories over seven or 
 eight trained armies, each of them superior in numbers, discipline, and 
 organisation to that which he led, must be counted no small achievement ; 
 but the peculiar difficulty which he had to meet, and which none but a 
 really great man could have met with success, resulted from the peculiar 
 constitution of his own army. The Highlander was brave, and he liked 
 fighting. But he liked plunder better, and he liked to secure his plunder. 
 
THE CIVIL WAR. 
 
 169 
 
 So that the general was placed in a singular dilemma. Whenever he gained 
 a battle, he lost his army. The victor, in the hour of victory, was left at 
 the mercy of the vanquished. It is assuredly not the least remarkable fact 
 in Montrose’s career, that he contrived to secure permanent and enduring 
 results, in effect, to subdue and reclaim the whole of Scotland, with an 
 army that continually melted away, and to which victory for the day was, 
 in truth, more destructive than defeat. Any energetic Celtic robber could 
 issue from the passes, harry the plain, reive the black cattle of his Lowland 
 neighbours, and then retire swiftly with the spoil into his mountain 
 lair. He could do this; it was all that he could do. Montrose, through 
 the felicity and daring of his genius, contrived to make these fickle and 
 inconstant instruments work out a great scheme of national liberation. 
 For though the body dissolved like the snow, the spirit, the man , re- 
 mained, — a man who acted as a magnet, who drew soldiers out of every 
 valley through which he passed, at whose war-cry the red-shanks gathered 
 together from their remotest hills. Such a man was a nucleus, a centre, a 
 rallying-point; and so long as their dreaded enemy lived, the rebel govern- 
 ment felt that its supremacy in Scotland was not secure. 
 
 When, on his way to England, he is at last worsted, forced to quit 
 his own country, and take refuge at a foreign Court, he is not cast 
 down nor depressed. He is still fertile in expedients; still prompt, resolute 
 and hopeful ; still gentle, true, and of a good conscience. The elastic 
 vigour of his mind is as noticeable in adversity as in victory. Charles’s 
 death indeed stung him very sorely; he felt it keenly; perhaps he was 
 never quite the old man after it ; probably it prompted that wild descent 
 from the Orkneys, when he came back with the King’s standard in black, 
 and nil medium upon his own. 
 
 During the war the Parliament continued to sit; hut its authority was 
 on the wane. Even before the close of the first Civil War, the “ Rump,” 
 in the opinion of the army, was beginning to lag, to wax faint, to weary 
 in well doing. The members still occupied themselves with the suppres- 
 sion of “erroneous opinions, ruinating schism, and damnable heresies;” 
 
170 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 but the sword of the Lord and of Gideon was no longer wielded with the 
 same vigour and relish. They might issue orders for the destruction of the 
 marvels of medieval art ; and the pictures of great masters might be torn 
 from their frames, and cast into the river; but the salt had lost its savour. 
 Even the execution of the aged Archbishop was not a marked success. 
 Why after keeping him secluded in the Tower for so many months, where 
 he did and could do no harm, they should have thought it necessary to 
 cut off the old man’s head, does not clearly appear. It looks to us now 
 like the merest wantonness, — a Puck-like vindictiveness. There were sternly 
 logical sectaries indeed who argued that Heaven had been defrauded when 
 Laud’s life was spared and Strafford’s taken. “Certainly the sparing of 
 him hath been a great provocation to Heaven, for it is a sign that we 
 have not been so careful to give the Church a sacrifice as the State. 
 We could soon avenge our own injuries upon Strafford, hut we have 
 been slow and behind in revenging the cause of God upon Canterbury.” 
 Charles, for his part, trusted that his share in the shedding of innocent 
 blood would now be forgiven. “Nothing,” he wrote to Henrietta, “can 
 be more evident than that Strafford’s innocent blood hath been one of 
 the great causes of God’s just judgment upon this nation by a furious 
 civil war, both sides hitherto being almost equally guilty; but now this 
 last crying blood being totally theirs, I believe it is no presumption 
 hereafter to hope that the hand of justice must be heavier upon them and 
 lighter upon us.” 
 
 But it was not to be. The hope was futile. When Charles, on the 
 night of April 27th, 1646, stole away from Oxford, the game had been 
 played out. More than one bloody battle indeed in yet another ill- 
 omened campaign was to be fought ; but the Civil War had virtually 
 closed. The King had lost. Yet though the King had lost, the Com- 
 mons had failed to win. They were responsible for the wreck of the 
 Constitution; hut the fruits of victory were to be reaped by others. 
 The “ godly party,” with Oliver at its head, had come between them 
 and the prize. 
 
THE CIVIL WAR. 
 
 171 
 
 The rest ol the story need not detain us for any time. Abortive in- 
 trigues and futile diplomacies have ceased to interest the modern reader. 
 1 need only indicate the general lines on which they proceeded. When he 
 rode away from Oxford, Charles might have tried to leave the country. He 
 might possibly have got across the Channel. There would have been 
 imminent risk of capture; hut he had numerous friends on the coast, and 
 there were those among his opponents who lor various reasons would have 
 been well pleased to facilitate his escape. II he elected to remain, he 
 might approach the Parliament, the Army, or the Scots. There was a 
 general sense of puzzle and bewilderment ; men did not know what to 
 make of the new order of things ; as representing the ancient monarchy 
 Charles was still a power in the State. I!is alliance was, or might be, 
 valuable. 1 he Army had become, or was becoming, the controlling au- 
 thority; but the Parliament was not altogether powerless as yet; and the 
 Scots had views of their own which they were indisposed to surrender. 
 It would have been the business of an energetic diplomatic agent to have 
 taken advantage of the political discord to promote the progress of the 
 party for which he acted, — to play the Independent against the Presby- 
 terian, and the Scot against one or other, or both. The charge against 
 Charles is, 1 presume, that being the national Sovereign he had no right 
 to play the part of the partisan diplomatist. The purist is probably in 
 the right. It would have been far better had the King acted openly 
 throughout the negotiations. Had he said frankly that whatever he did 
 must be approved by the nation, and not by a faction only, he might 
 have made the best terms, the best bargain, for the Crown within his 
 power. 
 
 Charles elected to go to the Scots camp which was then before Newark. 
 
 1 he Scots had informally intimated their desire to come to terms with 
 him ; but he might have known that the question of religion would present 
 an insuperable barrier. They were fanatical Presbyterians — far more fana- 
 tical than the English; and Charles’s obstinate loyalty to the Anglican 
 Church never wavered. Even as a fugitive he would consent to no com- 
 
172 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 promise that would permanently disable her. “ IIow can I keep my 
 innocency which you, with so much reason oft and earnestly persuade me 
 to preserve, if I should abandon the Church? Believe it, religion is the 
 only firm foundation of all power; that cast loose or depraved, no govern- 
 ment can be stable; for when was there ever obedience where religion 
 did not teach it? But, which is most of all, how can we expect God’s 
 blessing if we relinquish His Church ? And 1 am most confident that 
 religion will much sooner regain the militia than the militia will religion.” 
 He would probably have fared better had he trusted himself to one or 
 other of the English parties. The continued presence of a Scots Army 
 in England (when the war had ceased) was on all hands viewed with dis- 
 favour ; and when it was found that the King was in their camp the desire 
 to be rid of this flock of locusts naturally grew. Nor were the Scots un- 
 willing to go. They had eaten up the Northern counties. If they could get 
 their bill settled, there was no reason why they should remain. But what 
 was to be done with Charles? Mr. Gardiner argues that it cannot he 
 justly charged against the Scots that they sold their King for £400,000. 
 It is certainly not correct to say that the Scots sold Charles as Judas sold 
 Jesus; it would be nearer the mark to sav that they held him as a “ma- 
 terial guarantee” for payment of the debt due to them by the English 
 Parliament. It does not admit of doubt that the possession of Charles’s 
 person tended, to say the least, to a prompt settlement of accounts. 
 Unless they had got paid the Scots would not have retired ; unless they 
 had got Charles the English would not have paid, — at least till later. 
 
 On the retirement of the Scots Charles was sent by the Parliament 
 to Ilolmby House, in Northamptonshire. But the controversy between Par- 
 liament and Army becoming acute, the Independent leaders deemed it 
 wiser that Charles should be in their own hands, and Lieutenant Joyce 
 with a troop of Ironsides authorized by Cromwell, carried him off to New- 
 market. Thereafter, while the differences became more and more accen- 
 tuated, he was mainly in the custody of the Independents. 
 
 What was to come of it all? In whom, now that the -Constitution had 
 
THE CIVIL WAR. 
 
 173 
 
 been wrecked, was authority to be vested anew? No basis of intellectual 
 compromise had as yet been found, — no basis of intellectual compromise, 
 nor indeed of simplest modus vivendi ! There was no possible makeshift 
 
 the ruts were too deep. The anarchy had come, which only the strong- 
 
 hand of a military dictator could compose. When the strong hand was 
 removed, it was to be hoped that the nation would drift back into the 
 old paths — realizing at the same time that the old paths required periodical 
 renewal and repair. 
 
 In the meantime the virtue mainly required from Royalists, and from 
 others than Royalists, was patience. Premature action would be pernicious. 
 Hence it was an enormous mistake when the civil conflict was renewed 
 by the Scots. Charles and his allies should have learned to wait. Time 
 was on their side. It would have been seen more and more clearly when 
 the heated brains began to cool that any real progress towards a per- 
 manent settlement must be on monarchical lines. The second Civil War, 
 imprudently and impatiently entered upon, was thus a fiasco. The Scots 
 at Preston were as sheep in the hands of the butcher. Moreover it gave 
 the “godly party” in the Army the pretext that it desired. What was 
 the good of negotiating with a faithless King? Better be done, once 
 and for all, with sham conventions. While the war infuriated the Puritan 
 army, it estranged their leader, who could lose his temper on provoca- 
 tion, or without provocation when it appeared desirable. That “ man 
 of blood Charles Stuart ” must go ad patres. So before the close of 
 
 January, ^ , a warrant in these terms, signed by Cromwell and others 
 was issued. 
 
 “To Colonel Francis Hacker, Colonel Huncks, and Lieutenant-Colonel Piiayr, 
 
 AND TO EVERY OF THEM. 
 
 “At the High Court of Justice for the Trying 
 and Judging of Charles Stuart, King of England, 
 29th January, 1648. 
 
 tk W hereas Charles Stuart, King ol England, is and standeth convicted, 
 attainted and condemned of High Treason and other high Crimes; and Sentence 
 upon Saturday last Avas pronounced against him by this Court, lo be put to 
 
CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 174 
 
 death by the severing of his head from his body; of which Sentence execution 
 yet remaineth to be done : 
 
 These are therefore to will and require you to see the said Sentence 
 executed, in the open Street before Whitehall, upon the morrow, being the 
 Thirtieth day of this instant month of January, between the hours of Ten in 
 the morning and Five in the afternoon, with full effect. And for so doing, 
 this shall be your warrant. 
 
 ■ And these are to require all Officers and Soldiers, and others the good 
 People of this Nation of England, to be assisting unto yon in this service. 
 
 “Given under our hands and seals, 
 
 “John Bradshaw, 
 
 I homas Grey ‘Lord Groby,’ 
 “Oliver Cromwell.” 
 
 (and Fifty-six others.) 
 
 All the incidents ol the scene at Whitehall have been scanned with 
 untiring industry. Even within our own time, we have made closer ac- 
 quaintance with some not unimportant details; but to repeat for the hun- 
 dredth time the story of an outrage which shocked the world, and for 
 which no apology can be offered, would be unprofitable. Charles died 
 as the Stuarts died, — as gentle and simple had learned to die in those 
 days of block and scaffold. 
 
 “ He nothing common did or mean 
 Upon that memorable scene, 
 
 But with his keener eye 
 The axe’s edge did try; 
 
 Xor called the gods with vulgar spite 
 To \ indicate his helpless right, 
 
 But bowed his comely head 
 Down, as upon a bed.” 
 
 A bird s-eye view is often convenient and I venture to recapitulate 
 with extreme brevity the argument for the English Kings of the Royal 
 House ol Stuart which in this volume, and in earlier volumes, I have 
 ventured to submit for consideration. Any argument that does not 
 affirm the divine right of the democracy to govern is now derided ; 
 yet as Mr. Traill says “ the time that has passed since the revolution 
 

 
 
 
 I7 ‘ CHAI)L ■- THE FIRST. 
 
 * • >dy: of which Sentence c\ n 
 
 yet remainclh to hr 
 
 ‘ 1 ! ' ari •'*! require you to see the said Sentence 
 
 executed, in ■ • . ■ before Whitehall, upon the morrow, being the 
 
 •' ‘" ,l l r ive ■ Me afternoon with In I ) : And for so doing, 
 
 \nd til are to require all Officers ami Soldiers, and others the good 
 1‘eopli his Nation of England, to he assisting unto you in this service. 
 “Given under our hands and seals, 
 
 . I on n bn* n 
 
 " 
 
 All the incidei , of the scene at \\ hitch ill havi been scanned with 
 untiring industry. Even within our own time, we have made closer ac- 
 quaintance with some not unimportant details; but to repeat for the hun- 
 dredth time the story of an outrage which shocked the world, and for 
 which no apology can be offered, would be 'unprofitable. Charles died 
 as the Stuarls died, — as gentle and simple had learned to die in those 
 days of block and scaffold. 
 
 * He nothing common did or mean 
 Upon that memorable scene. 
 
 But with This keener eye 
 The '’s edge did try 
 
 called the gods with vulgar spite 
 
 with extrenn the arguim . ,t f {, >yal 
 
 House of Stuart wi n this volume, .n ,!umes f- have 
 
 ventured to submit ft ■> -onsideration. Any argument l' i does not 
 
 affirm the divine "right ml I he democracy to govern iow derided ; 
 vet as Mr. Traill -savs -the ; ime that lias passed the revolution 
 
 i aajH/.uo -to r.oiTvoa/.it 
 
 -viisinliiO in , t 'i !)(!■) so H to Ini3 oil) to uoiJo-illoD sill ni .qdaoiW ^ti 8 iii| n i,i<[ oil; moiH 
 
 
 
THE CIVIL WAR. 
 
 175 
 
 of 1688 is short indeed in comparison with the antecedent period during 
 which our own and other European nations had been growing steadily 
 in strength and cohesion under systems which, with whatever admix- 
 ture of the popular element, were in the main systems of personal 
 rule.” 
 
 When a Scottish prince ascended the English throne, Scotland was 
 jubilant. The stubborn determination to remain free had never been over- 
 come, and had now won its reward. The ancient prophecies had come 
 true. The War of Independence had not been fought in vain. Under 
 no other conditions, indeed, so far as one can judge, could Union have 
 been peacefully brought about. The jealous susceptibilities of the weaker 
 people were allayed. A Stuart King took the place of Tudor and Planta- 
 genel ; and through good and evil fortune Scotland as a whole had been 
 true to the Stuarts. A resolute and disciplined minority, indeed, had 
 driven Mary into exile; but, even in her lowest estate, she had failed to 
 alienate the affectionate fidelity of two-thirds of her people. The nation 
 at large, it is now generally admitted, was at no time hostile to her. As 
 it was a small band of Independents with Cromwell at their head who 
 put Charles 1 . to death, so it was a small band of Calvinists with Knox 
 at their head who banished Mary. And even when Mary was banished, 
 the rights of her infant son had been scrupulously protected. It seemed 
 a wonderful stroke of luck that made the ruler of a petty province and 
 an impoverished people the sovereign of a rich and prosperous empire; hut 
 the seeming gain was possibly a real loss. In spite of his personal 
 eccentricities, James VI. had been fairly popular with the Scots ; but when 
 he crossed the Border, the frivolous pedantry and clownish gait of the 
 wisest fool in Christendom could not fail to excite the ridicule of a po- 
 lished society. Under the fierce light that beat about the English throne 
 the womanish weaknesses of the modern Solomon — “Solomon the Son 
 of David ” — were sharply and grotesquely accentuated. The initial mis- 
 understanding was never entirely healed. It is possible that the English 
 people did not understand the Stuarts; it is certain that the Stuarts did 
 
176 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 not understand the English people. In Scotland no steady popular pres- 
 sure had been brought to hear upon the sovereign. He enjoyed, as a rule, 
 complete freedom of action, — doing what was right in his own eyes, until the 
 nobles were gravely displeased, when they rose in arms and put him to death. 
 Parliamentary opposition was practically unknown, — what resistance there 
 was, though violent, being intermittent and spasmodic. But in England, 
 from an almost unknown antiquity and by an almost unbroken tradition, the 
 people had been taught to shelter their political liberties and their civic 
 privileges behind the forms of the Constitution. No tax could be levied 
 except with the consent of the Commons; no citizen could be punished except 
 by legal process. The most imperious of the Tudors did not venture to 
 cross the line that inveterate and immemorial usage had drawn ; and he 
 knew by an inherited instinct how far he could safely go. On the other 
 hand, the whole domain of English constitutional law was a terra incognita 
 to James and to his son. It might be said for them (were it any excuse) 
 that they knew not what they did. The principles which were most deeply 
 rooted in the convictions of Englishmen were unintelligible to rulers who 
 had been educated abroad. So Charles entered upon a hopeless contest 
 with a light heart. It is possible that the wisest ruler could not ulti- 
 mately have averted the conflict. There were theories in the air which 
 made all government impossible. Religion had reacted upon politics ; 
 and the Puritan had become the Republican. The sharp antagonism 
 between the men who declared that they would live as their fathers had 
 lived, would believe as their fathers had believed, would worship as 
 their fathers had worshipped, and the men who hated the Church and 
 detested the Monarchy, was certain sooner or later to bring Cavalier and 
 Roundhead into deadly conflict. But although sooner or later an appeal 
 to arms might have been inevitable, it was the character of the King 
 that precipitated the crisis. In so far as he did not himself lead, he 
 was led by Laud and Strafford. Laud appears to have been insensate 
 and mole-like; but Wentworth was a man of quick intelligence and pro- 
 found policy. It is foolish to condemn such a man without a hearing — as 
 
THE CIVIL WAR. 
 
 177 
 
 most historians have been inclined to do. We may be tolerably sure that 
 he saw more than we are able to see now. He may have felt, and felt 
 truly, that the revolution in men’s minds which had taken place, which 
 was taking place, must lead to anarchy. He may have felt, and felt truly, 
 that the revolutionary forces could only be kept in check by rapid and 
 decisive action, and that procrastination would be fatal to the monarchy. 
 Had he succeeded in crushing the Revolution he might possibly have been 
 reckoned a far-seeing English statesman; but he failed, and in such circum- 
 stances failure cannot be condoned. 
 
 To attribute the failure of the Royalists, however, to the bad faith of 
 the King is to confound cause and effect. Charles was placed in a posi- 
 tion in which, try as he might, he could not be consistent, lie was in the 
 centre of irresistible forces. We do not blame the cork which is tossed 
 to and fro in the whirlpool for inconsistency; and Charles was virtually 
 as little of a free agent. lie was fighting with both hands for dear 
 life; and if he made concessions the one day, and retracted them the next, 
 he possibly could not help himself. So far as we can judge now, the 
 most perfect candour, the most scrupulous rectitude, would have led to 
 the same conclusion. The stars in their courses were fighting against the 
 King; and neither courage nor virtue could have effectively resisted the 
 military genius of Cromwell. 
 
 In patient courage, indeed, Charles was not deficient; and his kingly 
 bearing upon the scaffold at Whitehall may possibly have saved the mon- 
 archy. The Stuarts at least could die well. They might be as weak and 
 vicious in their lives as their enemies held them to be ; but when they 
 came to the end the strain of nobleness in their blood asserted itself nobly. 
 It may be true that the execution of Charles was regretted by Cromwell; 
 the deed which struck Europe dumb may have been forced upon him by 
 the austere zealots whom he led ; but in any view, it was a grievous 
 blunder — an immense mistake. The impression it made was indelible. 
 The Usurper was a wise and just and vigorous ruler; but he was forced, 
 willingly or unwillingly, to rule by the sword. The bloody stain on his 
 
178 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 escutcheon could not be wiped out. It isolated him; it alienated the 
 moderate men in either camp ; the great mass of his countrymen were 
 scandalised by this unprecedented, this tremendous departure from con- 
 stitutional methods; and, except for the army, he stood alone. Had the 
 
 Royal martyr been permitted to die in his bed, Cromwell might have 
 been the first of a long line of Kings, or, if not of Kings, of Chief Ma- 
 gistrates, exercising with greater freedom and elasticity all the functions 
 of Kings ; but from the day that Charles the First was beheaded the 
 restoration of Charles the Second became merely a question of Lime. How- 
 ever dignified by prudence, moderation, and sagacity, Cromwell’s government 
 was essentially a military despotism ; and among a free people military 
 despotisms are short-lived. 
 
 1 he solution of the constitutional problems which were involved in 
 the contest between Charles and his Parliament was, by the shock to 
 public feeling, delayed for a generation. The delay, however, was not 
 perhaps to be regretted. The violent men on either side died out. The 
 heroes of the Commonwealth, the fanatics whose spiritual pains and mental 
 needs had torn England asunder, passed away. The passion of the Puritan 
 would have been as prejudicial to a wise and prudent settlement as the 
 passion of the Cavalier. Under an easy and somewhat cynical sovereign 
 passion had time to cool. The mental balance was restored. And though 
 the wave fell back, the tide did not turn. What might have been done 
 in 1649 was done better in 1689. The conditions altogether were more 
 favourable. The tropical had been exchanged for the temperate zone ; 
 the explosion had cleared the air. 
 
 The new race of reformers, indeed, were as different as men could be 
 from the old ; not better possibly, but better suited for the time. It is 
 impossible to imagine a Halifax or a Somers sharing the spiritual exalta- 
 tion, the mystical and visionary rapture, of a Lambert or a Vane. “Did’st 
 thou stand forth by my worthy friend, and bear him company ? Did thy 
 soul suffer with him and rejoice with him, riding in his chariot of triumph 
 to the block, to the axe, to the crown, to the banner, to the bed and 
 
THE CIVIL WAR. 
 
 179 
 
 ivory throne of the Lord God, thy Redeemer?” The constitutional Whig, 
 steady, sagacious, moderate, never unselfishly imprudent, never finely in- 
 temperate, — is the creation of the last thirty or forty years of the Seven- 
 teenth Century. 
 
 Charles II., if the worst of Kings, was certainly the pleasantest of 
 companions. Perfectly unaffected and perfectly fearless, he did not hesitate 
 to mix with his subjects in the most familiar manner. And he had a 
 
 shrewd eye both for men and books. He had acquired his experience, 
 
 indeed, in a school which had aged him before his time. He was an 
 old man at the Restoration. “1 never till this day observed that the King 
 was mighty gray,” Pepys writes about 1662. In his careless brilliancies 
 we see a mind of great natural parts that had been permitted to run to 
 seed. Good-humoured, if somewhat cynical, toleration was his habitual 
 
 mood. His courtiers might quiz him : he only laughed. When he heard 
 of Rochester’s famous epigram, he observed : “Quite true; my sayings 
 are my own, my doings are those of my ministers.” Shaftesbury, with 
 his usual felicity, said that under King Charles the unfortunate fell lightly; 
 and had Charles consulted his own feelings he would never have sent 
 anything sharper than a jest or an epigram after his bitterest enemies. 
 Of certain conspicuous but prudent conspirators of his reign he was con- 
 tent to observe with admirable neatness that they “committed treason by 
 advice of counsel.” Rut though habits of indulgence had weakened the 
 spring of his mind, it still retained a fine edge. If it be true that 
 Shirley’s memorable lines were greatly admired by him, he must clearly 
 have possessed a capacity lor appreciating poetry of the highest class. 
 Charles, it is true, starved his poets ; but so long as they did not weary 
 him with importunities, he was pleased to meet them and have them 
 about him. He was frankly intimate with Waller and Dryden. He told 
 the former, it is said, that his ode on Cromwell was superior to that 
 on himself. “Poets, sire,” was the witty apology, “succeed better m 
 fiction than in truth.” Not unfrequently, of a morning, the King might 
 be seen with Dryden in St. James’s Park, conversing familiarly about the 
 
180 
 
 CHARLES THE FIRST. 
 
 last rhyming play or the new book of poems. Charles appears to have 
 had a real regard for Dryden ; he was always ready to defend him when 
 assailed, telling those critics, for instance, who charged the laureate with 
 theft, that he only wished they would steal him plays like Dryden’s ; and 
 Dryden, on his side, who loved the great, was intoxicated by this flat- 
 tering intimacy with Royalty. 
 
 1 he Revolution of 1689 was made inevitable by the stupid perversity 
 and sour fanaticism of James. He invited disaster. By the exercise of 
 ordinary tact and prudence the crisis might have been delayed — for ten, 
 oi twenty, or thirty years. But James had neither tact nor prudence; 
 and he rushed blindly upon his fate. The people did not love him; the 
 nobles distrusted him; even the clergy, whose loyalty was proverbial, had 
 been alienated and alarmed. He contrived with singular infelicity in less 
 than four years to make himself impossible. The march of William of 
 Orange from Torbay to London was a triumphal pageant; and when 
 James fled from his palace he did not leave a friend behind him. 
 
 The hundred years which followed the revolution of 1689 were those 
 during which England was ruled by what Mr. Disraeli was pleased to call 
 the Venetian Oligarchy, — in other words the great Whig houses. It was 
 not the Whig nobles only who ruled, — the Tories had their frugal share 
 of power; but the general proposition that the House of Lords was rela- 
 tively powerful for the whole of the eighteenth century can hardly be 
 controverted. Thus the transfer of authority from one body in the State 
 to another has been gradually effected. Only once in our Parliamentary 
 history have we had to retrace our steps. Iving — Lords — Commons : from 
 Elizabeth to Victoria there has been no such passionate or spasmodic 
 action as violently to shake the springs of the Constitution — except when 
 Eliot and Pym and Cromwell held the reins. The powers that they 
 sought to exercise have been gradually acquired by the Commons; and 
 even to-day the prerogatives of the Sovereign and the privileges of 
 the Church are wider all round than the Roundheads would have left 
 them . 
 

 THE CIVIL WAR. 
 
 Thrc iughout ti ’ t.glican Church for two hund’?d years a special * i 
 was offered o ■ day that Charles Stuart was executed. It besougi 
 \lmighty God, “ who l’liy heavy displeasure didst er the life of 
 our Gra< :• - '’reign King Charles the First to be (as i d.iv) taken 
 
 away by tin hands of cruel and bloody men,” not to lay, “the guilt of 
 this innocent blood to the charge of the people of this land nor let • 
 fixer be required of us or our posterity.” • may not h a' • a 
 
 “ mart v: but those . who brought him to i (dock were i 
 
 the servi ?, as a measure ol their lack of w ~ >m, might ha i ft 
 
 lered to remain. It was to say the least an interesting historical n erne 
 and the destruction of . interesting historical memorials, which thro w 
 upon the life of a nation, is not in be commended. And if Chat 
 deser\i~ to be remembered 1, r * . e, ji j a by ; nd within the Church, 
 which he adhered with md singular fidelity. 
 
180 
 
 
 CHARLES 11 FIRST. 
 
 last rhyming play or the m >ol ‘ poems. Charles appears to 
 
 aad a rea! regan lor Dryden ; he ' Iways ready to defend him when 
 assailed, t hose critics, f.. oistait . who < liarged the laureate with 
 
 1 d him ; . like Dryden ’s; and 
 
 Dryden. on In- sale, who j> great, was into ated by this flat- 
 
 tering intimaev it! Rovall\ 
 
 . 
 
 or twenty, or thirty years. Bu J. . had pruden 
 
 nobles distrusted him; even tin 1 (>r , . r . 
 
 been alienated and alarmed. He nt d . 
 
 Orange from I t London- v as i triumphal pageant; and when 
 
 leave a friend behind him; 
 
 I l,e hundred years which followed the revolution of 1689 were those 
 ug which England was .ruled by what Mr. Disraeli was pleased to call 
 Venetian Oligarchy,— in .other -words the great Whig • hoowv. It 
 
 power; but .the general proposition that the House of J.ords v, ! . 
 ti powerful for the whole of the eighteenth « - ..ardly be 
 
 I I ted. i hi .! transfer of authority from one body il.f the State 
 
 bee “ - ' a| sir. ' ted. Only onee in our Parliamentary 
 
 ' to retrace out steps. - King Lords Cdmncll • Lorn 
 on no such ’. passionate mm 
 
 action as violeuti; 
 
 Eliot nd Pym and Ore < 
 
 the. Church are wider all round th ,:i the I. ads would' have left 
 
 them .■ 
 
 jAaaM ft ox o t anr 
 
 
THE CIVIL WAR. 
 
 181 
 
 Throughout the Anglican Church for two hundred years a special prayer 
 was offered on the day that Charles Stuart was executed. It besought 
 Almighty God, “ who in Thy heavy displeasure didst suffer the life of 
 our Gracious Sovereign King Charles the First to be (as this day) taken 
 away by the hands of cruel and bloody men,” not to lay, “the guilt of 
 this innocent blood to the charge of the people of this land nor let it 
 ever be required of us or our posterity.” Charles may not have been a 
 “martyr;” but those who brought him to the block were not wise; and 
 the service, as a measure of their lack of wisdom, might have been suf- 
 fered to remain. It was to say the least an interesting historical memorial; 
 and the destruction of interesting historical memorials, which throw light 
 upon the life of a nation, is not to be commended. And if Charles 
 deserves to be remembered anywhere, it is by and within the Church, to 
 which he adhered with constant and singular fidelity. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 TEXT. 
 
 PACK . 
 
 PRELUDE I 
 
 CHAPTER ONE. — The English Constitution under the Tudors .... I 
 
 CHAPTER TWO. — The Scottish Stuarts 15 
 
 CHAPTER THREE. — King James and the Commons 25 
 
 CHAPTER FOUR. — Charles as Prince of Wales 43 
 
 CHAPTER FIVE. — The Early Years of the Reign 59 
 
 CHAPTER SIX.— Personal Rule 83 
 
 CHAPTER SEVEN. — The Eve of the Conflict 103 
 
 CHAPTER EIGHT. — The Political Conflict 121 
 
 CHAPTER NINE.— The Civil War 149 
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Charles I.; fac-simile in colours from the painting by Sir Anthony Vandyke, in 
 
 the Louvre Frontispiece. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 I. — “ Sovereign of the Seas,” from an old print by J. Payne 1 
 
 Chari.es I. (with Ermine Robe), from the painting by Sir Anthony Vandyke in the 
 
 Collection of Her Majesty the Queen, at Windsor Castle 6 
 
 Henrietta Maria, from the painting in the Collection of the Earl of Buckingham- 
 shire, at Hampden House 10 
 
 Westminster from the River, from an old print by Hollar 13 
 
 II. — Wood Carving in Dunfermline, the Birthplace of Charles 1 15 
 
 Marriage Contract of Charles I., from the original document in the Collection 
 
 of Her Majesty the Queen, at Windsor Castle 18 
 
 Order of St. George, belonging to Charles I., from the Royal Collection .... 23 
 
184 
 
 LIST OF II, LUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 III. — James I., from the painting by Janssen in the Collection of the Earl of Rosebery, 
 
 at D.almeny 25 
 
 Anne of Denmark, Henrietta Maria, Charles I., Henrietta Maria, and Henry, 
 Prince of Wales, a set of live miniatures, from the Collection of Her 
 
 Majesty the Queen, at Windsor Castle 26 
 
 The Second Duke of Buckingham and his Brother, from the painting by Sir 
 Anthony Vandyke in the Collection of Her Majesty the Queen, at Windsor 
 
 Castle 30 
 
 Robert Carr, Earl of Somerset; George Villiers, First Duke of Buckingham; 
 Tromiro Howard, Countess of Somerset; James Stuart, Duke of Richmond, 
 and Viscount Falkland, a set of five miniatures, from the Collection of Her 
 
 Majesty the Queen, at Windsor Castle 38 
 
 Henry, Prince of Wales (Elder Brother of Charles I.), 1596, from the painting 
 
 in the Collection of the Earl of Rosebery, at Dalmeny 41 
 
 IV. — Charles I. returning from Spain, from the painting in the Royal Collection, 
 
 at Hampton Court 43 
 
 Henrietta Maria, from the painting by Sir Anthony Vandyke in the Collection 
 
 of the Earl of Radnor, at Longford Castle, Wilts 46 
 
 Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia (Sister of Charles I.), from the painting hy G. 
 
 Honthorst in the Collection of Her Majesty the Queen, at Windsor Castle. . . 54 
 
 Dressing-Case, belonging to Charles I., from the Collection of the Earl of 
 
 Rosebery, at Dalmeny 57 
 
 V. — Charles I. at Greenwich, from the painting by Janssen in the Collection of Her 
 
 Majesty the Queen ’ 59 
 
 The Children of Charles I., from the painting by Sir Anthony Vandyke in the 
 
 Public Gallery, Turin 52 
 
 Charles I. and his Family, from the painting by Sir Anthony Vandyke in the 
 
 Collection of Her Majesty the Queen, at Windsor Castle 70 
 
 Henrietta, Duchess of Orleans (Youngest Daughter of Charles I.), from the 
 painting by Sir Peter Lely in the Collection of Her Majesty the Queen, at 
 
 Buckingham Palace 78 
 
 Charles I. dining in Public, from the painting by Van Bassen in the Royal 
 
 Collection, at Hampton Court 81 
 
 VI.— L’Ordre Manierf. et Sceant de Charles I., 1625, from an old print of the House 
 
 of Lords 83 
 
 Charles I. and Henrietta Maria, from the painting by Daniel Mytens in the 
 
 Collection of Her Majesty the Queen, at Buckingham Palace 86 
 
 Preaching before the King, Queen, and the Prince of Wales at St. Paul’s 
 
 Cross, 1616, from the painting in the Collection of the Society of Antiquaries. 90 
 
 Charles I. ( three Heads, painted to assist the sculptor Bernini to execute a Bust since 
 lost), from the painting by Sir Anthony Vandyke in the Collection of Her 
 Majesty the Queen, at Windsor Castle 98 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 185 
 
 PAOE. 
 
 John Milton, from a miniature by Alexander Cooper in the South Kensington 
 
 Museum 101 
 
 VII. — Louis XIV. at Marly, from the painting by Van der Meulen in the Collection of 
 
 Her Majesty the Queen 103 
 
 Charles II. when a Youth, Prince Rupert, Lord Strafford, Charles Louis, 
 
 Count Palatine, and Marquis of Montrose, a set of live miniatures, from 
 
 the Collection of the Duke of Buccleuch, at Montague House, London 106 
 
 Charles I., Henrietta Maria, and Prince Henry, from the painting by Daniel 
 
 Mytens in the Collection of Her Majesty the Queen, at Buckingham Palace. . 114 
 
 Louis XIV., from a miniature in the South Kensington Museum 119 
 
 VIII. — Execution of the Earl of Strafford (12th May, 1641), from a print by Hollar . 121 
 
 Letter of Charles I. to the Duke of Buckingham, fac-simile of the original, in 
 
 the British Museum 122 
 
 Charles I. on Horseback, with gentleman-attendant, from the painting by Sir 
 Anthony Vandyke in the Collection of Her Majesty the Queen, at Windsor 
 
 Castle 130 
 
 Henrietta Maria, from the painting by Sir Anthony Vandyke in the Collection of 
 
 Her Majesty the Queen, at Windsor Castle 138 
 
 Anne Hyde, Duchess of York, from the painting by Sir Peter Lely in the 
 
 Collection of Her Majesty the Queen, at Hampton Court 142 
 
 The House of Commons, from an old print, 1648 147 
 
 IX. — Execution of Charles I., from an old print 149 
 
 Oliver Cromwell, from the painting in the Collection of the Earl of Buckingham- 
 shire, at Hampden House 150 
 
 Death Warrant of Charles I., from the original document, in the Library of the 
 
 House of Lords 162 
 
 Execution of Charles I., from the painting by Weesop in the Collection of the 
 
 Earl of Rosebery, at Dalmeny 174 
 
 The Juxon Medal 181 
 

THIS EDITION 
 
 CHARLES I., 
 
 BY 
 
 SIR JOHN SKELTON, K.C.B., 
 
 HAS BEEN PRINTED AND THE PLATES HAVE BEEN ENGRAVED 
 
 By JEAN BOUSSOD, MANZI, JOYANT & CO., 
 
 At Asnieres-sur-Scinc, 
 near Paris. 
 
 18'J8. 
 

 

Charles I. 
 
 By Sir JOHN SKELTON, K.C.B. 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 From Contemporary IVorks of Art. 
 
CHARLES I. 
 
 BY 
 
 Sir JOHN SKELTON. K.C.B. 
 
 GOUPIL & CO., 
 
 FINE ART PUBLISHERS. 
 
 JEAN BOUSSOD, MANZI, JOYANT & GO., 
 
 SUCCESSORS, 
 
 FINE ART PUBLISHERS TO HER MAJESTY. 
 
 LONDON : PARIS : 
 
 25 , BEDFORD STREET, STRAND. 24 , BOULEVARD DES CAPUCINES. 
 
 EDINBURGH : 
 
 W. BROWN, 26 , PRINCES STREET. 
 
 1898 . 
 


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