Volume Iii Part 40 (1/2)

Eliot, after expatiating on the favourite's ambition in procuring and getting into his hands the greatest offices of strength and power in the kingdom, and the means by which he had obtained them, drew a picture of ”the inward character of the duke's mind.” The duke's plurality of offices reminded him ”of a chimerical beast called by the ancients _Stellionatus_, so blurred, so spotted, so full of foul lines that they knew not what to make of it! In setting up himself he hath set upon the kingdom's revenues, the fountain of supply, and the nerves of the land.

He intercepts, consumes, and exhausts the revenues of the crown; and, by emptying the veins the blood should run in, he hath cast the kingdom into a high consumption.” He descends to criminate the duke's magnificent tastes; he who had something of a congenial nature; for Eliot was a man of fine literature. ”Infinite sums of money, and ma.s.s of land exceeding the value of money, contributions in parliament have been heaped upon him; and how have they been employed? Upon costly furniture, sumptuous feasting, and magnificent building, _the visible evidence of the express exhausting of the state_!”

Eliot eloquently closes--

Your lords.h.i.+ps have an _idea_ of the man, what he is in himself, what in his affections! You have seen his power, and some, I fear, have felt it. You have known his practice, and have heard the effects.

Being such, what is he in reference to king and state; how compatible or incompatible with either? In reference to the king, he must be styled the canker in his treasure; in reference to the state the moth of all goodness. I can hardly find him a parallel; but none were so like him as Seja.n.u.s, who is described by Tacitus, _Audax; sui obtegens, in alios criminator; juxta adulatio et superbia_. Seja.n.u.s's pride was so excessive, as Tacitus saith, that he neglected all councils, mixed his business and service with the prince, seeming to confound their actions, and was often styled _Imperatoris laborum socius_. Doth not this man the like? Ask England, Scotland, and Ireland--and they will tell you! How lately and how often hath this man commixed his actions in discourses with actions of the king's! My lords! I have done--you see the man!

The parallel of the duke with Seja.n.u.s electrified the house; and, as we shall see, touched Charles on a convulsive nerve.

The king's conduct on this speech was the beginning of his troubles, and the first of his more open attempts to crush the popular party. In the House of Lords the king defended the duke, and informed them, ”I have thought fit to take order for the _punis.h.i.+ng some insolent speeches_ lately spoken.” I find a piece of secret history enclosed in a letter, with a solemn injunction that it might be burnt. ”The king this morning complained of Sir John Eliot for comparing the duke to _Seja.n.u.s_, in which he said implicitly he must intend _me_ for _Tiberius_!” On that day the prologue and the epilogue orators--Sir Dudley Digges, who had opened the impeachment against the duke, and Sir John Eliot, who had closed it--were called out of the house by two messengers, who showed their warrants for committing them to the Tower.[289]

On this memorable day a philosophical politician might have presciently marked the seed-plots of events, which not many years afterwards were apparent to all men. The pa.s.sions of kings are often expatiated on; but, in the present anti-monarchical period, the pa.s.sions of parliaments are not imaginable! The democratic party in our const.i.tution, from the meanest of motives, from their egotism, their vanity, and their audacity, hate kings; they would have an abstract being, a chimerical sovereign on the throne--like a statue, the mere ornament of the place it fills,--and insensible, like a statue, to the invectives they would heap on its pedestal!

The commons, with a fierce spirit of reaction for the king's ”punis.h.i.+ng some insolent speeches,” at once sent up to the lords for the commitment of the duke![290] But when they learnt the fate of the patriots, they instantaneously broke up! In the afternoon they a.s.sembled in Westminster-hall, to interchange their private sentiments on the fate of the two imprisoned members, in sadness and indignation.[291]

The following day the commons met in their own house. When the speaker reminded them of the usual business, they all cried out, ”Sit down! sit down!” They would touch on no business till they were ”righted in their liberties!”[292] An open committee of the whole house was formed, and no member suffered to quit the house; but either they were at a loss how to commence this solemn conference, or expressed their indignation by a sullen silence. To soothe and subdue ”the bold speakers” was the unfortunate attempt of the vice-chamberlain, Sir Dudley Carleton, who had long been one of our foreign amba.s.sadors; and who, having witnessed the despotic governments on the continent, imagined that there was no deficiency of liberty at home. ”I find,” said the vice-chamberlain, ”by the great silence in this house, that it is a fit time to be heard, if you will grant me the patience.” Alluding to one of the king's messages, where it was hinted that, if there was ”no correspondency between him and the parliament, he should be forced to _use new counsels_,” ”I pray you consider what these new counsels are, and may be: I fear to declare those I conceive!” However, Sir Dudley plainly hinted at them, when he went on observing, that ”when monarchs began to know their own strength, and saw the turbulent spirit of their _parliaments_, they had overthrown them in all Europe, except here only with us.” Our old amba.s.sador drew an amusing picture of the effects of despotic governments, in that of France--”If you knew the subjects in foreign countries as well as myself, to see them look, not like our nation, with store of flesh on their backs, but like so many ghosts and not men, being nothing but skin and bones, with some thin cover to their nakedness, and wearing only wooden shoes on their feet, so that they cannot eat meat, or wear good clothes, but they must pay the king for it; this is a misery beyond expression, and that which we are yet free from!” A long residence abroad had deprived Sir Dudley Carleton of any sympathy with the high tone of freedom, and the proud jealousy of their privileges, which, though yet unascertained, undefined, and still often contested, was breaking forth among the commons of England. It was fated that the celestial spirit of our national freedom should not descend among us in the form of the mystical dove!

Hume observes on this speech, that ”these imprudent suggestions rather gave warning than struck terror.” It was evident that the event, which implied ”new counsels,” meant what subsequently was practised--the king governing without a parliament! As for ”the ghosts who wore wooden shoes,” to which the house was congratulated that they had not _yet_ been reduced, they would infer that it was the more necessary to provide against the possibility of such strange apparitions! Hume truly observes, ”The king reaped no further benefit from this attempt than to exasperate the house still further.” Some words, which the duke persisted in a.s.serting had dropped from Digges, were explained away, Digges declaring that they had not been used by him; and it seems probable that he was suffered to eat his words. Eliot was made of ”sterner stuff;” he abated not a jot of whatever he had spoken of ”that man,” as he affected to call Buckingham.

The commons, whatever might be their patriotism, seem at first to have been chiefly moved by a personal hatred of the favourite;[293] and their real charges against him amounted to little more than pretences and aggravations. The king, whose personal affections were always strong, considered his friend innocent; and there was a warm, romantic feature in the character of the youthful monarch, which scorned to sacrifice his faithful companion to his own interests, and to immolate the minister to the clamours of the commons. Subsequently, when the king did this in the memorable case of the guiltless Strafford, it was the only circ.u.mstance which weighed on his mind at the hour of his own sacrifice! Sir Robert Cotton told a friend, on the day on which the king went down to the house of lords, and committed the two patriots, that ”he had of late been often sent for to the king and duke, and that the king's affection towards him was very admirable, and no whit lessened. Certainly,” he added, ”the king will never yield to the duke's fall, being a young man, resolute, magnanimous, and tenderly and firmly affectionate where he takes.”[294] This authentic character of Charles the First, by that intelligent and learned man, to whom the nation owes the treasures of its antiquities, is remarkable. Sir Robert Cotton, though holding no rank at court, and in no respect of the duke's party, was often consulted by the king, and much in his secrets. How the king valued the judgment of this acute and able adviser, acting on it in direct contradiction and to the mortification of the favourite, I shall probably have occasion to show.

The commons did not decline in the subtle spirit with which they had begun; they covertly aimed at once to subjugate the sovereign, and to expel the minister! A remonstrance was prepared against the levying of tonnage and poundage, which const.i.tuted half of the crown revenues; and a pet.i.tion, ”equivalent to a command,” for removing Buckingham from his majesty's person and councils.[295] The remonstrance is wrought up with a high spirit of invective against ”the unbridled ambition of the duke,”

whom they cla.s.s ”among those vipers and pests to their king and commonwealth, as so expressly styled by your most royal father.” They request that ”he would be pleased to remove this person from access to his sacred presence, and that he would not balance this one man with all these things, and with the affairs of the Christian world.”

The king hastily dissolved this _second_ parliament; and when the lords pet.i.tioned for its continuance, he warmly and angrily exclaimed, ”Not a moment longer!” It was dissolved in June, 1626.

The patriots abandoned their sovereign to his fate, and retreated home sullen, indignant, and ready to conspire among themselves for the a.s.sumption of their disputed or their defrauded liberties. They industriously dispersed their remonstrance, and the king replied by a declaration; but an attack is always more vigorous than a defence. The declaration is spiritless, and evidently composed under suppressed feelings, which, perhaps, knew not how to shape themselves. The ”Remonstrance” was commanded everywhere to be burnt; and the effect which it produced on the people we shall shortly witness.

The king was left amidst the most pressing exigencies. At the dissolution of the first parliament he had been compelled to practise a humiliating economy. Hume has alluded to the numerous wants of the young monarch; but he certainly was not acquainted with the king's extreme necessities. His coronation seemed rather a private than a public ceremony. To save the expenses of the procession from the Tower through the city to Whitehall, that customary pomp was omitted; and the reason alleged was ”to save the charge for more n.o.ble undertakings!” that is, for means to carry on the Spanish war without supplies! But now the most extraordinary changes appeared at court. The king mortgaged his lands in Cornwall to the aldermen and companies of London. A rumour spread that the small pension list must be revoked; and the royal distress was carried so far, that all the tables at court were laid down, and the courtiers put on board-wages! I have seen a letter which gives an account of ”the funeral supper at Whitehall, whereat twenty-three tables were buried, being from henceforth converted to board-wages;” and there I learn, that ”since this dissolving of house-keeping, his majesty is but slenderly attended.” Another writer, who describes himself to be only a looker-on, regrets, that while the men of the law spent ten thousand pounds on a single masque, they did not rather make the king rich; and adds, ”I see a rich commonwealth, a rich people, and the crown poor!” This strange poverty of the court of Charles seems to have escaped the notice of our general historians. Charles was now to victual his fleet with the savings of the board-wages! for this ”surplusage” was taken into account!

The fatal descent on the Isle of Rhe sent home Buckingham discomfited, and spread dismay through the nation. The best blood had been shed from the wanton bravery of an unskilful and romantic commander, who, forced to retreat, would march, but not fly, and was the very last man to quit the ground which he could not occupy. In the eagerness of his hopes, Buckingham had once dropped, as I learn, that ”before Midsummer he should be more honoured and beloved by the commons than ever was the Earl of Ess.e.x:” and thus he rocked his own and his master's imagination in cradling fancies. This volatile hero, who had felt the capriciousness of popularity, thought that it was as easily regained as it was easily lost; and that a chivalric adventure would return to him that favour which at this moment might have been denied to all the wisdom, the policy, and the arts of an experienced statesman.

The king was now involved in more intricate and desperate measures; and the nation was thrown into a state of agitation, of which the page of popular history yields but a faint impression.

The spirit of insurrection was stalking forth in the metropolis and in the country. The scenes which I am about to describe occurred at the close of 1626: an inattentive reader might easily mistake them for the revolutionary scenes of 1640. It was an unarmed rebellion.

An army and a navy had returned unpaid, and sore with defeat. The town was scoured by mutinous seamen and soldiers, roving even into the palace of the sovereign. Soldiers without pay form a society without laws. A band of captains rushed into the duke's apartment as he sat at dinner; and when reminded by the duke of a late proclamation, forbidding all soldiers coming to court in troops, on pain of hanging, they replied, that ”Whole companies were ready to be hanged with them! that the king might do as he pleased with their lives; for that their reputation was lost, and their honour forfeited, for want of their salary to pay their debts.” When a pet.i.tion was once presented, and it was inquired who was the composer of it, a vast body tremendously shouted ”All! all!” A mult.i.tude, composed of seamen, met at Tower-hill, and set a lad on a scaffold, who, with an ”O yes!” proclaimed that King Charles had promised their pay, or the duke had been on the scaffold himself! These, at least, were grievances more apparent to the sovereign than those vague ones so perpetually repeated by his unfaithful commons. But what remained to be done? It was only a choice of difficulties between the disorder and the remedy. At the moment, the duke got up what he called ”The council of the sea;” was punctual at its first meeting, and appointed three days in a week to sit--but broke his appointment the second day--they found him always otherwise engaged; and ”the council of the sea” turned out to be one of those shadowy expedients which only lasts while it acts on the imagination. It is said that thirty thousand pounds would have quieted these disorganised troops; but the exchequer could not supply so mean a sum. Buckingham in despair, and profuse of life, was planning a fresh expedition for the siege of Roch.e.l.le; a new army was required. He swore, ”if there was money in the kingdom it should be had!”

Now began that series of contrivances, and artifices, and persecutions to levy money. Forced loans, or pretended free-gifts, kindled a resisting spirit. It was urged by the court party, that the sums required were, in fact, much less in amount than the usual grants of subsidies; but the cry, in return for ”a subsidy,” was always ”a Parliament!” Many were heavily fined for declaring that ”they knew no law, besides that of Parliament, to compel men to give away their own goods.” The king ordered that those who would not subscribe to the loans should not be forced; but it seems there were orders in council to specify those householders' names who would not subscribe; and it further appears that those who would not pay in purse should in person.

Those who were pressed were sent to the _depot_; but either the soldiers would not receive these good citizens, or they found easy means to return. Every mode which the government invented seems to have been easily frustrated, either by the intrepidity of the parties themselves, or by that general understanding which enabled the people to play into one another's hands. When the common council had consented that an imposition should be laid, the citizens called the Guildhall the _Yield-all_! And whenever they levied a distress, in consequence of a refusal to pay it, nothing was to be found but ”Old ends, such as n.o.body cared for.” Or if a severer officer seized on commodities, it was in vain to offer pennyworths where no customer was to be had. A wealthy merchant, who had formerly been a cheesemonger, was summoned to appear before the privy council, and required to lend the king two hundred pounds, or else to go himself to the army, and serve it with cheese. It was not supposed that a merchant, so aged and wealthy, would submit to resume his former mean trade; but the old man, in the spirit of the times, preferred the hard alternative, and balked the new project of finance, by s.h.i.+pping himself with his cheese. At Hicks's Hall the duke and the Earl of Dorset sat to receive the loans; but the duke threatened, and the earl affected to treat with levity, men who came before them with all the suppressed feelings of popular indignation. The Earl of Dorset asking a fellow who pleaded inability to lend money, of what trade he was, and being answered ”a tailor,” said: ”Put down your name for such a sum; one snip will make amends for all!” The tailor quoted scripture abundantly, and shook the bench with laughter or with rage by his anathemas, till he was put fast into a messenger's hands.

This was one Ball, renowned through the parish of St. Clement's; and not only a tailor, but a prophet. Twenty years after, tailors and prophets employed messengers themselves![296]

These are instances drawn from the inferior cla.s.ses of society; but the same spirit actuated the country gentlemen: one instance represents many. George Gatesby, of Northamptons.h.i.+re, being committed to prison as a loan-recusant, alleged, among other reasons for his non-compliance, that ”he considered that this loan might become a precedent; and that every precedent, he was told by the lord president, was a flower of the prerogative.” The lord president told him that ”he lied!” Gatesby shook his head, observing, ”I come not here to contend with your lords.h.i.+p, but to suffer!” Lord Suffolk then interposing, entreated the lord president would not too far urge his kinsman, Mr. Gatesby. This country gentleman waived any kindness he might owe to kindred, declaring, that ”he would remain master of his own purse.” The prisons were crowded with these loan-recusants, as well as with those who had sinned in the freedom of their opinions. The country gentlemen insured their popularity by their committals; and many stout resistors of the loans were returned in the following parliament against their own wishes.[297] The friends of these knights and country gentlemen flocked to their prisons; and when they pet.i.tioned for more liberty and air during the summer, it was policy to grant their request. But it was also policy that they should not reside in their own counties: this relaxation was only granted to those who, living in the south, consented to sojourn in the north; while the dwellers in the north were to be lodged in the south!

In the country the disturbed scenes a.s.sumed even a more alarming appearance than in London. They not only would not provide money, but when money was offered by government, the men refused to serve; a conscription was not then known: and it became a question, long debated in the privy council, whether those who would not accept press-money should not be tried by martial law. I preserve in the note a curious piece of secret information.[298] The great novelty and symptom of the times was the scattering of letters. Sealed letters, addressed to the leading men of the country, were found hanging on bushes; anonymous letters were dropped in shops and streets, which gave notice that the day was fast approaching when ”Such a work was to be wrought in England as never was the like, which will be for our good.” Addresses multiplied ”To all true-hearted Englishmen!” A groom detected in spreading such seditious papers, and brought into the inexorable Star-chamber, was fined three thousand pounds! The leniency of the punishment was rather regretted by two bishops; if it was ever carried into execution, the unhappy man must have remained a groom who never after crossed a horse!

There is one difficult duty of an historian, which is too often pa.s.sed over by the party-writer; it is to pause whenever he feels himself warming with the pa.s.sions of the mult.i.tude, or becoming the blind apologist of arbitrary power. An historian must transform himself into the characters which he is representing, and throw himself back into the times which he is opening; possessing himself of their feelings and tracing their actions, he may then at least hope to discover truths which may equally interest the honourable men of all parties.

This reflection has occurred from the very difficulty into which I am now brought. Shall we at once condemn the king for these arbitrary measures? It is, however, very possible that they were never in his contemplation! Involved in inextricable difficulties, according to his feelings, he was betrayed by parliament; and he scorned to barter their favour by that vulgar traffic of treachery--the immolation of the single victim who had long attached his personal affections; a man at least as much envied as hated! that hard lesson had not yet been inculcated on a British sovereign, that his bosom must be a blank for all private affection; and had that lesson been taught, the character of Charles was dest.i.tute of all apt.i.tude for it. To reign without a refractory parliament, and to find among the people themselves subjects more loyal than their representatives, was an experiment--and a fatal one! Under Charles, the liberty of the subject, when the necessities of the state pressed on the sovereign, was matter of discussion, disputed as often as a.s.sumed; the divines were proclaiming as rebellious those who refused their contributions to aid the government;[299] and the law-sages alleged precedents for raising supplies in the manner which Charles had adopted. Selden, whose learned industry was as vast as the amplitude of his mind, had to seek for the freedom of the subject in the dust of the records of the Tower--and the omnipotence of parliaments, if any human a.s.sembly may be invested with such supernatural greatness, had not yet awakened the h.o.a.r antiquity of popular liberty.

A general spirit of insurrection, rather than insurrection itself, had suddenly raised some strange appearances through the kingdom. ”The remonstrance” of parliament had unquestionably quickened the feelings of the people; but yet the lovers of peace and the reverencers of royalty were not a few; money and men were procured to send out the army and the fleet. More concealed causes may be suspected to have been at work. Many of the heads of the opposition were pursuing some secret machinations; about this time I find many mysterious stories--indications of secret societies--and other evidences of the intrigues of the popular party.