The commissioners, finding that they could establish no real case

against him of sufficient gravity to implicate his life, resorted to

the usual stratagem of Government in those times, as well as in times

long after--and set a spy upon him under the colour of a friend. The

individual who accepted this dirty office--such villains are always

plentifully at hand--was one Sir Thomas Wilson, Keeper of the State Paper

Office. He appeared to be hit upon because he had as much learning and

ingenuity as he had little principle, and could therefore easily draw

out Raleigh to talk by assuming a kindly interest in him. Sir Walter

appeared to talk freely, and related his adventures, and also what daily

took place before the commission; yet this government pump could bring up

nothing very criminating. Raleigh declared that had he fallen in with one

of the Spanish galleons, he would have seized it with the same freedom

that Drake had done; but his mere intention to do what had won so much

fame and favour for other commanders, was not a charge likely to go down

with the public. Raleigh remarked that when he made that avowal before

the commission, Bacon said, "Why, you would have been a pirate!" and that

he had replied, "Oh, my lord, did you ever know of any that were pirates

for millions? They that work for small things are pirates."

Finding that there was nothing in Raleigh's proceedings on this occasion

which had not been done, and far more than done, with high public

approbation, by the greatest commanders of the British Navy, they dared

not attempt to condemn him on that score, and therefore James demanded

of his Council what other mode they could suggest to take his life. Coke

and Bacon proposed that they should fall back simply on the plea of his

old sentence, and the king sent to the Tower an order for his execution.

The judges, therefore, received an order to issue a warrant for his

immediate beheading, but they wisely shrank from such a responsibility,

declaring that after such a lapse of time neither a writ of privy seal

nor a warrant under the Great Seal would be legal without calling on the

party to show cause against it. They accordingly summoned him before

them by _habeas corpus_, and Raleigh, who was suffering from fever and

ague, real enough this time, was the next day brought before them at the

King's Bench, Westminster. Yelverton, the Attorney General, reminded the

Court that Sir Walter had been sentenced to death for high treason,

fifteen years before; that the king, in his clemency, had deferred the

execution of the prisoner, but now deemed it necessary to call for it.

He observed that Sir Walter had been a statesman, and a man who, in

respect to his talents, was to be pitied, and that he had been as a star

at which the world had gazed; but "stars," he continued, "may fall; nay,

they must fall when they trouble the spheres wherein they abide." He

called, therefore, at the command of his majesty, for their order for his

execution. On being asked what he had to say against it, Raleigh replied

that the judgment given against him so many years ago could not with any

reason be brought against him then, for he had since borne his majesty's

commission, which was equivalent to a pardon; and that no other charge

was made against him. The Chief Justice told him that this pleading would

not avail him; that in cases of treason nothing but a pardon in express

words was sufficient. Raleigh then said, if that were the case, he could

only throw himself on the king's mercy; but that he was certain that, had

the king not been afresh exasperated against him, he might have lived a

thousand years, if nature enabled him, without hearing anything more of

the old sentence.

Montague, the Chief Justice, admitted this by saying that "new offences

had stirred up his majesty's justice to revive what the law had formerly

decreed;" and he ended with the fatal words--"Execution is granted."

Thus Raleigh was put to death to oblige the King of Spain, with whom

James was anxious to form an alliance by his son's marriage to the

Infanta. The old sentence was but the stalking-horse for the occasion,

the Court not daring to allege as the true offence that he died for

having invaded the territories of the King of Spain. The public having

a strong repugnance to both Spain and any matrimonial alliance with it,

which must introduce a Popish queen, would have gloried in the real

chastisement of that nation and the capture of its treasure-ships. Sir

Walter was executed on the 29th of October, 1618.

Hitherto James had contrived to avoid war for sixteen years. He now saw

himself dragged into a hopeless contest by the folly of his son-in-law,

Frederick, the Elector of the Palatinate. Frederick was a Calvinistic

Protestant, and the Protestants of Bohemia, anxious to prevent the

Catholic Emperor of Austria from acquiring their Crown, offered it to

him, and the Elector was imprudent enough to accept it. James was

thunderstruck by the news, and instantly avowed that the Elector had

entered on an enterprise which would involve him in utter ruin. To enable

the reader, however, to understand the question, we must take a brief

review of the antecedents of the case. Bohemia, a country inhabited by

a branch of the great Sclavonic race called Czechs, had early imbibed

the doctrines of Protestantism. The people resisted the imposition of

the Papal yoke by the Austrian princes, and insurrection and carnage

were the consequences. At length the Emperor Rudolph was obliged to

cede to the sturdy Bohemians the right of enjoying their own religious

faith, and it was stipulated that they should be at liberty to erect

churches on the Crown lands. The Calvinists, the most resolute sect of

the Bohemian Protestants--for they were divided into Calvinists and

Lutherans--declared the Church lands were in fact Crown lands, and began

to build churches on estates belonging to the Archbishop of Prague and

the Abbot of Braunau. These prelates appealed to the Emperor Matthias,

who decided against the Protestants; and an order was issued to pull down

again the churches both at Prague and Braunau. At Braunau the people

made resistance, and some of their leaders were thrown into prison. This

created a great excitement, and Count Thurm, the head of the Evangelical

Church, called an assembly of the Protestants at Prague, on the 6th of

March, 1618, to take measures for the maintenance of their privileges;

but the enthusiasm with which this step was attended, from all parts of

the country, much alarming the Austrians, menaces of punishment were

issued by Imperial brief against those who took part in it. This roused

the wrath of the people, who, headed by Count Thurm, on the 23rd of May,

1618, marched to the royal palace, seized two obnoxious councillors,

and hurled them out of the window of the council chamber, which was

eighty feet from the ground. These men had been the servile tools of the

Austrian Court, and had thereby excited the hatred of the people. They

refused the rites of marriage, baptism, and burial to all who would not

consent to become Catholics; they were accused of having drawn up the

threatening letter which came signed by the Emperor, and of hunting the

Protestants into the Catholic churches with dogs. Luckily for them there

was plenty of mud in the palace ditch, and they escaped with their lives

to scourge the people at a later date.

This bold deed kindled a flame throughout all Bohemia, Moravia, Lusatia,

and Silesia. Thurm sent forth a proclamation assuring the Protestants

that the die was cast; that they had nothing but vengeance and oppression

to expect from Austria; and therefore the time was come to throw off the

Austrian yoke, to resume the independence of Bohemia, and make common

cause with the Protestants of Germany and the Netherlands. The people

flocked to Prague; the palace was occupied by the troops of the different

provinces; an oath was taken from the magistrates and officials to

obey the States alone; the taxes were ordered to be paid only to those

appointed by them; the Jesuits were chased from the country; a council of

thirty members was elected to assume the government, and Thurm placed at

their head. All this passed with lightning rapidity and caused the utmost

consternation in Vienna.

Matthias was sickly and feeble both in body and mind, but his cousin

Ferdinand--who had already assumed the title of King of Bohemia, a bigot

of the very first water, and whose name soon became the rallying cry of

all bigotry in Europe--caught at the opportunity as one sent by Heaven,

to enable him to exterminate Protestantism in Austria. He sent off to

the Spanish Court in the Netherlands demands for co-operation in this

great work, and armies were prepared in Austria; whilst Thurm and the

Bohemians, on their part, mustered with all eagerness their forces.

Matthias proposed to settle the difference by arbitration, but Ferdinand

rejected any such means, seized Cardinal Klesel the Emperor's adviser,

and sent him prisoner into the Tyrol, so that the poor invalid Matthias

remained a puppet in their hands. He died in March, 1619. Ferdinand, the

prince of bigots, to whom whole nations of lives were only as so much

dust in comparison with the sacredness of his dogmas, mounted the throne,

being elected emperor in August of that year. Now all Europe stood in

expectation of the bloody decision of this quarrel,--a quarrel which

was destined to spread over all Germany, draw into its vortex Sweden,

Denmark, Holland, France, and England, and to be for ever remembered in

the world as the most terrible of contests, the "Thirty Years' War."

At this moment, when the Protestants of Germany were joined in a Union

for the maintenance of their principles, but were opposed by the far

more powerful League of the Catholic princes; when Ferdinand, Emperor of

Austria, supported by the Elector Maximilian of Bavaria, the head of

the League in Germany, was promised the co-operation of Spain; at this

moment the Crown of Bohemia was offered to Frederick, the palsgrave,

and he foolishly accepted it. He was a mere youth of twenty, with more

ambition than ability; but he was spurred on by his wife, Elizabeth of

England, who told him he had courage enough to aspire to the hand of a

king's daughter, but not to grasp a crown when offered, and who, when

reminded by him of the electoral province which they possessed in safety,

exclaimed, "Better a crown with a crust, than a petty electorate with

abundance."

This fatal crown, which Elizabeth came to wear, and to have the crust

speedily afterwards, had been already offered to John George, Elector

of Saxony, who was too shrewd to accept it. Count Thurm had for a time

carried all before him, and had even marched into Austria and besieged

the Emperor in Vienna; but this success was soon over. The Catholic

princes had armed in defence of the Emperor; the students of Vienna and

fifteen hundred citizens volunteered in his cause; the distinguished

Spanish General Spinola was already on his march to invade the

palsgrave's hereditary State, so despised by the Princess Elizabeth; and

Count Mansfeld, the general of the German Protestants, was defeated on

the Bohemian soil, when Frederick the Elector was crowned king of that

country in Prague, on the 25th of October, 1619. He reigned only till

the 8th of November of the following year, when he was expelled from his

capital by the Austrian and Bavarian forces under Maximilian and General

Bucquoi. They had defeated the Protestant generals in Upper Austria and

Bohemia, while Frederick--who obtained the name of the "Winter King,"

because he only reigned one winter--had lost the confidence of his

subjects by his luxurious effeminacy, his inattention to government, his

impolitic treatment of the native nobles and generals, and his bigoted

partiality to the Calvinistic party. Even the Protestant Elector of

Saxony, who had refused the crown, allied himself to the Catholic Emperor

against him. He was roused from table only by the news of the battle

before his walls, rushed out only to see his army scattered, and fled.

The Counts Thurm and Hohenlohe counselled him still to make a stand in

Glatz, but he was no hero to fight, even for a kingdom; he continued his

flight to Breslau, thence to Berlin, and did not stop till he reached

Holland. Elizabeth, his queen, now reduced to the crust, far advanced

in pregnancy, and deeply pitied by all generous and chivalric minds,

accompanied him in his ignominious flight.

Meanwhile, James had been a prey to the most conflicting interests. His

Protestant subjects, as ill informed of the state of parties on the

Continent as the unfortunate Frederick himself, had received with an

outburst of joy the news of the palsgrave being crowned King of Bohemia;

and Archbishop Abbot gave the very text from the Apocalypse in which

this event, so favourable to the Reformed faith, was predicted. James

was urged to send an army to his son-in-law's support, but he saw no

chance of keeping him on the Bohemian throne. The Bohemians were divided

into three violent parties--Calvinists, Lutherans, and Catholics.

The Protestants of Germany were equally divided; some of them had

voluntarily offered their aid to the Emperor, and others had submitted

to his victorious generals. Spinola was marching on the Palatinate, and

James was distracted by the fear of his daughter and son-in-law being

reduced to beggary. Yet if he attempted to prop the King of Bohemia on

his tottering throne, he should offend the Catholic King of Spain, the

sworn ally of the Emperor, and with whom he was at this very time seeking

an alliance. Without being able to save his Protestant son-in-law, he

should thus lose a Catholic daughter-in-law. If he lay still, all men

would call him an unnatural father, all Protestants would declare him

an apostate to his religion. Never was man in such a strait. One moment

he declared to the Spanish ambassador that the Elector was a fool and a

villain, and that he would abandon him to his fate; at another he assured

the Protestant envoys from Germany that he would support him to the

utmost. At length he hit upon the only rational course; which was, not to

attempt an impossibility--the support of Frederick on the baseless throne

of Bohemia--but to send a force to defend his patrimonial territories

from the Spaniards. The first enterprise was, in fact, soon out of the

question: Prague had fallen, his son-in-law and daughter were fugitives;

but the second object was still possible, and more necessary than ever.

He sent an army of four thousand men under the Earls of Oxford and Essex

to the rescue of the Palatinate. This force was altogether inadequate

to cope with the numerous army of the able Spinola; and yet James had

exhausted all his means and all his efforts in raising it. Money he had

none, and had been compelled to seek a loan and a voluntary subscription.

By the autumn the Lower Palatinate was overrun by the Spaniards, and

Bohemia had sought and received pardon from the Imperial Court. James's

real hope was that Spain would join him in mediating a peace.

[Illustration: THE FRANZENSRING, VIENNA.]

In this state of affairs James was compelled to summon a Parliament. It

assembled on the 30th of January, 1621, the king having used all the

unconstitutional means in his power to influence the return of members.

In his opening speech he now admitted what he had so stoutly denied

before, the presence of Undertakers in the last Parliament, "a strange

kind of beasts which had done mischief." In that shallow, wheedling

tone, that rather showed the hollowness of the man than conciliated,

as it was meant to do, he even enlarged his confessions and admitted

that he had been swayed by evil counsellors. He then demanded liberal

supplies to carry on the war in the Palatinate, for which the people

had indeed loudly called. The Commons expressed their readiness, but

first demanded that the king should enforce the penalties against the

Papists with additional rigour, observing that they were the Papists in

Germany who had deprived the Elector Palatine of his crown, and were

now seeking to deprive him of his hereditary domains. They recommended

that no recusants should be allowed to come within ten miles of London,

that they should not be permitted to attend Mass in their own houses or

in the chapels of ambassadors; and they offered to pass a Bill, giving

to the Crown two-thirds of the property of recusants. They then granted

him two subsidies, but no tenths or fifteenths--a sum wholly inadequate

to the necessities of the war, much less of his expenditure in general.

Yet James, to keep them in good humour--hoping to obtain more before the

close of the Session--professed to be more satisfied with it than if it

had been millions, because it was so freely granted.

The Commons showed more alacrity in complaining of the breach of their

privileges. They reminded the king of the four members of their House

whom he had imprisoned after the last Session of Parliament, and insisted

that such a practice rendered the liberty of speech amongst them a mere

fiction. As it was James's policy to remain on good terms with them,

he made a solemn assurance that he would respect their freedom in that

matter. Yet, the next day, the House, as if to show that they themselves

were ready to destroy the liberty within, which they so warmly contended

against being infringed from without, expelled one of their members named

Shepherd, for declaring, in a speech against a Bill for restraining the

abuses of the Sabbath, that the Sabbath was Saturday, and not Sunday;

that the Scriptures recommended dancing on the Sabbath day; and that this

Bill was in direct opposition to the king's ordinances for the keeping of

Sunday.

From their own members they next extended their prosecutions to public

officers. They had appointed a committee of inquiry into public abuses,

and now summoned witnesses. The conduct of public officers, judges,

and their dependents, was subjected to a severe scrutiny. They first

examined into the abuses of patents, and three of these incurred

particular censure: the one for the licensing of ale-houses, another for

the inspection of inns and hostelries, and the third for the exclusive

manufacture of gold and silver thread. Patents, to secure to inventors

the fruits of their discoveries in arts and manufactures, are beneficial,

stimulating to improvement and extending traffic. But these patents were

of a directly contrary nature, being grants, for money or through Court

favour, to individuals to monopolise some particular business; thus

checking competition, and defrauding the fair trader of his legitimate

profits. The inquiry laid open a scene of the most extraordinary fraud,

corruption, and oppression. The three patents just mentioned were

denounced as national injuries, and Sir Giles Mompesson and Sir Francis

Michell, a justice of the peace, his partner in them, were arrested

as offenders. The culprits sought protection from the Government,

Buckingham having sold them the patents and divided the profits with his

half-brother, Sir Edward Villiers. The Court was in great tremor, and it

was proposed to dissolve Parliament to save the patentees. But Williams,

Dean of Westminster, represented this as a very imprudent measure, and

another course was adopted at his recommendation. Buckingham affected

a patriotic air, as if he himself had been no way concerned in it, and

said if his brother had shared the emolument, let him also share the

punishment. But this was safely said, for Villiers was already abroad

out of the reach of Parliament; and means were not long wanting to let

Mompesson escape out of the custody of the Serjeant-at-Arms. Michell was

not so fortunate; he was secured and lodged in the Tower.

In these prosecutions Coke was extremely active, for he saw a prospect

of taking a signal revenge on Bacon, who had not only supplanted him,

but insulted him in his fall. Bacon was notoriously mixed up with the

corruptions of the Court of Chancery; and Coke informed the Commons that

it was not within their jurisdiction to punish offenders not of their

own House, but that they could punish all offences against the State in

co-operation with the Lords. Accordingly they invited the Upper House to

take cognisance of these offences, with which they readily complied, and

sentenced Mompesson and Michell to be degraded from their knighthood,

fined, and imprisoned. James, who had done his best to screen the

offenders, then in a fit of affected patriotism expressed his indignation

at having had his credulity imposed on by these men, and by an illegal

stretch of prerogative converted Mompesson's sentence into perpetual

banishment. Buckingham, the guiltiest party of all, did not quite

escape observation. Yelverton, the Attorney-General, who was accused of

participation in these illegal practices, and who was condemned to severe

fines and imprisonment for life, boldly accused Buckingham, before the

House of Lords, of his master share in them. But that favourite was too

strongly fortified by the royal favour, and by those who must have fallen

with him, to be seriously endangered. But lesser men did not escape so

well. Sir John Bennet, Judge of the Prerogative Court, was impeached,

as well as Dr. Field, Bishop of Llandaff, for bribery and corruption.

Bennet was charged with having granted administration of wills for money,

contrary to law; but he escaped his punishment by obtaining time to

prepare his defence, during which Parliament was prorogued; but he was

afterwards fined twenty thousand pounds in the Star Chamber, for which,

however, he obtained a pardon. Field of Llandaff had bound a suitor in

Chancery to pay him over six thousand pounds, if he obtained his suit

for him, through Buckingham. At the entreaty of the archbishop, however,

he, too, escaped, under the pretence of being left to the dealing of the

Church.

But the great offender, at whom Coke and others were directing their main

efforts, was the Lord Chancellor Bacon. Bacon had managed to make his way

from a moderate position to the highest honours of the State. He was

not only Lord Chancellor of the kingdom, and a baron, but in January,

1621, became Viscount St. Albans. Besides this elevation, he possessed

a far higher one in the fame of his philosophical works; and had he

possessed as much real greatness of mind as talent, might have stood in

the admiration of posterity as Milton does--poor, but glorious beyond

the tinsel glory of Courts; and it might have been said of him as of the

great poet--

"His soul was like a star and dwelt apart."

But Bacon, who had placed his name high on the scroll of immortality by

his genius, was destined, like Lucifer, to become more notorious by his

fall than by his standing. Brilliant as were his powers, superb as were

his accomplishments, he had not hesitated to trail his finest qualities

through the mire of Courts and corruption, in the eager quest of worldly

distinction. He had risen, perhaps, more by his base flatteries, and his

calumnious envy of his contemporaries, than by his abilities; and he had

continued, whilst rising, to make enemies on all sides. The king and

Buckingham had both conceived a deep dislike to him. James hated all men

of genius with the jealousy of a pedant, and was only rendered tolerant

of Bacon by his abject adulation, and his services in punishing Coke and

carrying out relentlessly the fiats of prerogative. Buckingham probably

never forgot what he had done in the matter of Coke's daughter. The Lords

hated him for his upstart vanity and ostentation, and the Commons for his

desertion of the public cause for that of the despotic king. But perhaps

not all these causes together would have availed to pull him down, if

Buckingham had not wanted the Great Seal for his creature Williams, now

Bishop of Lincoln.

The Parliamentary Committee inquiring into the abuses of office,

recommended the House of Commons to impeach the Lord Chancellor for

bribery and corruption in the court over which he presided; and the

Commons accordingly presented to the Upper House a Bill of Impeachment

against him, consisting of two-and-twenty instances of bribery and

corruption in his own person, and of allowing the same in his officers.

The corruption of the Chancellor was notorious; and out of doors it

was asserted that he had received in presents no less than one hundred

thousand pounds in the three years of his Chancellorship. This he denied

in a letter to Buckingham; but the charges brought against him by the

Commons, who were prepared to support them, were so formidable that they

completely struck down the guilty man. He felt that his ruin was at hand,

and either feeling or feigning sickness, he took to his bed. If he had

not perceived sufficient indications of his impending fate from other

quarters, the conduct of the king left him in no doubt. James informed

the Lords that he trusted the Chancellor might clear himself, but that if

he did not, he would punish him with the utmost severity.

It must not be supposed, however, that Bacon was the first to introduce

bribery into the Court of Chancery; it was an old and well-known

practice, which had been both familiar to Elizabeth and sanctioned by

her. But Bacon ought to have had a soul above it, whereas he had indulged

in the villainous custom the more profusely because his mode of living

was so extravagant and ostentatious, that he saved not a penny of his

enormous gain, but was always in need.

Bacon, on the presentation of the Bill of Impeachment, on the 21st of

March, prayed for time to prepare his defence, and this was granted him,

the House adjourning till the 17th of April. On the 24th of that month,

the humbled statesman drew up a general confession of his guilt, which

was presented by Prince Charles. In this letter he threw himself on the

mercy of the House and the king, and pleaded, with a strange mixture

of humility and ingenuity, his very crimes as meritorious, since their

punishment would deter others from them. He represented his spirit as

broken, his mind as overwhelmed by his calamities; but he added that he

found a certain gladness in the fact that "hereafter the greatness of a

judge or magistrate shall be no sanctuary or protection to him against

guiltiness; which is the beginning of a golden work--the purgation of

the courts of justice. And," he added, "in these two points, God is my

witness, though it be my fortune to be the anvil upon which these two

effects are broken and wrought, I take no small comfort." After this

edifying spectacle of exhibiting his punishment as a public benefit, he

proceeded to apply that unctuous adulation to the Sovereign and to the

Peers in which he was so unabashed a master. He implored mercy at the

hands of the king--"a king of incomparable clemency, whose heart was

inscrutable for wisdom and goodness--a prince whose like had not been

seen these hundred years!" And then the Lords were equally bepraised,

"compassion ever beating in the veins of noble blood;" nor were the

bishops forgotten, "the servants of Him who would not break the bruised

reed, nor quench the smoking flax."

[Illustration: INTERVIEW BETWEEN BACON AND THE DEPUTATION FROM THE LORDS.

(_See p._ 484.)]

But all this cringing to the Crown, the coronet, and the mitre, did not

serve him: he was required by the Peers to make a separate and distinct

answer to each charge. He complied fully with the demand, confessing

everything; and when a deputation from the Lords waited on him to

know whether this was his own voluntary act--for they excused him the

humiliation of appearing at the bar of the House--he replied with tears,

"It is my act--my hand--my heart. Oh, my lords, spare a broken reed!"

This full and explicit confession being read in the House, on the 3rd of

May the Commons, headed by their Speaker, attended to demand judgment,

which the Lord Chief Justice, acting as Speaker of the Upper House,

declared to this effect:--That the Lord Chancellor being found guilty of

many acts of bribery and corruption, both by his own confession and the

evidence of witnesses, he was condemned to pay a fine of forty thousand

pounds, to be imprisoned in the Tower during the king's pleasure, to be

dismissed from all his offices, and deemed incapable of either holding

office again or sitting in Parliament, and to be prohibited from coming

within twelve miles of the seat of Parliament.

The king remitted the fine, for the best of reasons--that Bacon had

nothing to pay it with; he also liberated him from the Tower after a mere

_pro formâ_ imprisonment of a few days, and Bacon retired to hide his

dishonour at his house at Gorhambury, near St. Albans. Nor had his fall

extinguished all admiration for him as a great lawyer and philosopher.

Even in the House Sir Robert Philips, Sir Edward Sackville, and others,

reminded the public of the Lord Chancellor's wonderful genius and

acquirements; and as Prince Charles returned from hunting one day, he

beheld "a coach accompanied by a goodly troop of horsemen," escorting the

ex-Lord Chancellor to his house at Gorhambury.

In that beautiful retreat, it was in Bacon's power to have so lived and

so written, that his disgrace as a statesman would have been soon lost

in the splendour of his genius and the dignified wisdom of his latter

years. But unfortunately Bacon was steeped to the core in the love of

worldly greatness, and the five years that he lived were rendered still

more miserable and still more contemptible by his incessant hankering

after restoration to place and honour, and his persevering and cringing

importunities to the king and Buckingham for these objects. To such a

length did the wretched man proceed, that his letters became actually

impious. He told the prince that as the king, his father, had been his

creator, he had hoped that he would be his redeemer. The works which

he completed after his disgrace were only such as could result from

so miserable a condition of mind. They were suggested to him by the

king, but were not executed with the zest of his own inclination. They

consisted chiefly of a life of Henry VII., a revision of his former

works, and the superintendence of a Latin translation of them. At length,

finding all his efforts vain to move the king towards his restoration,

his health and temper gave way, and he died on the 9th of April, 1626,

the melancholy victim of an unworthy ambition.

[Illustration: GEORGE VILLIERS, DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM.

(_After the Portrait by Van Dyck._)]

The Commons had rendered a very valuable service by these impeachments

of public men, and one which has since then operated as a precedent

in the hands of Parliament to check and punish on a large scale the

too daring and unprincipled servants of the Crown. But, as if carried

beyond themselves by their success, they now fell into a grievous error,

and displayed a spirit as aggressive in themselves, as it was cruel,

bigoted, and unconstitutional. One Edward Floyd, a Catholic barrister,

a prisoner in the Fleet, was reported to have exulted in the success of

the Catholics in Germany over the Elector Palatine. This being mentioned

in the Commons, that august body took immediately such violent offence,

that it was proposed by members to nail him by the ears, bore him through

the tongue, set him in the pillory, and so forth. On inquiry, all that

could be substantiated against him was, that he had said "that goodman

Palsgrave and goodwife Palsgrave had been driven from Prague."

For this paltry offence--which would not now attract a passing notice in

a newspaper--the Commons adjudged Floyd to pay a fine of one thousand

pounds, to stand in the pillory in three different places, and to be

carried from place to place on a horse without a saddle, and with

his face to the tail. The Commons had clearly stepped out of their

jurisdiction to adjudge a man who was no member of their House, and Floyd

instantly appealed to the king against the proceeding. James, who had so

often been checked in his prerogative by the Commons, did not neglect

this grand opportunity of rebuking their error. He sent the very next

morning to demand by what authority they condemned one who did not belong

to them, nor had committed any breach of their privileges; and still

more, by what right they sentenced him without evidence taken on oath?

This was a posing inquiry. The House was greatly disconcerted, for they

were clearly in the wrong, and the king in the right. It was a hard

matter, however, to confess their fault: the case was debated warmly for

several days; but at length it was agreed to confer with the Peers, who

asserted that the Commons had invaded their privilege of pronouncing

judgment in such cases. The Commons still contended that they had a right

to administer an oath, and therefore to pass judgment. But the Lords

would not admit this, and it was agreed that the Lords should sentence

Floyd, which they proceeded to do, as exercising their own exclusive

right, the Commons contending that the Lords now judged him by a similar

right by which they had already judged him. The sentence was severe

enough to satisfy the Commons. The fine was increased from one to five

thousand pounds, Floyd was to be flogged at the cart's tail from the

Fleet to Westminster Hall, to sit in the pillory, to be degraded from the

rank of a gentleman, to be held infamous, and to be imprisoned in Newgate

for life.

Perhaps so atrocious a sentence was never pronounced for so trivial an

offence. It showed how little either the Lords or Commons were yet to be

trusted with the lives and liberties of the subject, and how ill-defined

were still their functions. The public expressed its abhorrence of the

barbarous proceeding, and Prince Charles exerted himself to procure a

mitigation of the punishment, but could only succeed in obtaining the

remission of the flogging. The Commons having executed so much justice

and so much injustice, but making no approach to a vote of further

supplies, James adjourned Parliament on the 4th of June to November.

Vehement as had been the wrath of the Commons against a disrespectful

allusion to the Palsgrave, they had done nothing towards the defence of

his territory. As the public were by no means so indifferent on this

point, the fear of their constituents suddenly flashed on the Commons,

and they then made a declaration that if nothing effectual was done

during the recess for the restoration of the Elector Palatine and the

Protestant religion, they would sacrifice their lives and fortunes in the

cause. This was not only carried by acclamation, but Coke, falling on his

knees, with many tears and signs of deep emotion, read aloud the collect

for the king and royal family from the Book of Common Prayer.

Parliament being adjourned, James proceeded to appoint a new Lord

Chancellor in the place of Bacon. There were three public candidates for

the office--Ley and Hobart, the two Chief Justices, and Lord Cranfield,

the Treasurer, who had been originally a city merchant, but had risen

by marrying a relative of Buckingham's. But there was another and still

more extraordinary competitor determined on by Buckingham and James for

the Chancellorship--no other than a clergyman--Williams, late Dean of

Westminster, now Bishop of Lincoln. That a clergyman should be placed

at the head of the Court of Chancery instead of a lawyer, was enough to

astonish not only the members of the legal profession, but the whole

public. Williams himself was openly professing to support the claims of

Cranfield, and expressed astonishment when the post was offered to him.

He declared so strongly his sense of his incapacity for the office, being

inexperienced in matters of law, that he would only accept of it on trial

for eighteen months, and on condition that two judges should sit with

him to assist him. Yet this truly scandalous appointment was actually

made, the real cause out of doors being assigned that "his too grate

familiarity with Buckingham's mother procured him these grate favours and

preferments one a suddaine." It was some time ere the barristers would

plead before him.

But not the less did another event confound the dignitaries of the

Church. Abbot, the Archbishop of Canterbury, hunting with Lord Zouch in

Bramshill Park, in Hampshire, accidentally shot the keeper of the Park in

aiming at a buck. The verdict of the coroner's inquest was unintentional

homicide; but still the clergy contended that by the canon law the

shedding of blood had disqualified him for discharging any ecclesiastical

functions. Much censure was also expressed on his engaging in hunting

at all; and as there were just then four bishops-elect who awaited

consecration, they refused to receive it at his hands. Amongst these were

Williams, the Lord Keeper, and Laud, Bishop of St. David's, who were

supposed to be partly influenced by a hope of securing the primacy, if

Abbot were pronounced disqualified. A commission, however, of prelates

and canonists proposed that the archbishop should be absolved from all

irregularity, and James, as head of the Church, granted him a pardon

and appointed eight bishops to give him absolution; but from this time

forward he seldom appeared at Court.

During the recess the king performed an act calculated to conciliate the

Commons. By the advice, as it was said, of Williams, the Lord Keeper,

he had abolished thirty-seven of the most oppressive of the patents and

monopolies, of which the Commons had so long complained. But the effect

of this was totally neutralised by other measures of a contrary tendency.

Complaints had been made of the growing audacity of the Algerine

pirates, who had not only seized several English merchant ships in the

Mediterranean, but even on the British coast. James requested Spain,

which also was a sufferer from these robbers, to join in an expedition

to burn all their ships and destroy Algiers itself. Sir Robert Monsell

was sent with a squadron for this purpose, but the Spaniards did not join

him, and he was said to have a royal order not to risk his ships. Under

such circumstances, nothing very vigorous was to be expected, yet on

the 24th of May Monsell sailed up to the fort, and the sailors set fire

to the ships and then retired. No attack was made on the town, and the

firing of the vessels was so imperfectly done, that the Algerines soon

put out the flames, and threw booms across the harbour to prevent the

re-entrance of the English. Only two of the pirate vessels were consumed,

and the Algerines, like a swarm of hornets irritated in their nest but

not injured, rushed forth soon afterwards in such force and fury, that

they speedily captured no less than five-and-thirty English merchantmen.

Loud and bitter were the complaints in the country of this worse than

useless proceeding.

To add to the ill-humour generated by this imbecile transaction,

the public had been greatly incensed by the arrest of a number of

liberal-minded men--the Earls of Oxford and Southampton, Sutcliffe, Dean

of Exeter, Brise, a Puritan preacher, Sir Christopher Neville, Sir Edward

Sandys, and Selden, the great lawyer and antiquary; and a prosecution had

been commenced against Sir Edward Coke, on no less than eleven charges of

misdemeanour during the time that he was a judge. Coke, unlike Bacon, had

amassed great wealth during his official life, and it was understood that

these charges of peculation and bribery had been got up at the suggestion

of Bacon and Coke's own wife, Lady Hatton.

The Commons took up zealously the cause of their members, Sandys and

Coke. Sandys had been examined on some secret charge before the Council,

and after a month's detention was discharged. Being confined to his bed

at the commencement of the Session, two members were appointed to wait on

him and learn the cause of his arrest, notwithstanding the assurance of

the Secretary of State that it had no connection with his conduct in the

House. They also ordered the Serjeant-at-Arms to take into custody the

accusers of Coke, and appointed a committee to examine witnesses. They

felt assured that the proceedings against these gentlemen originated with

their popular conduct in Parliament.

At the same time, Coke, in the Commons, proposed a petition to the king

against the increase of Popery and the marriage of the Prince of Wales

to a Catholic. It represented that the success in Germany against the

Elector Palatine had so encouraged the Papists, that they flocked in

crowds to the chapels of the foreign ambassadors; sent their children

abroad for education, and were treated with so much lenity that, if

not prevented, they would soon again be in the ascendant. Spain was

represented, without directly naming it, as the worst enemy of England,

and the king was implored to recall all the children of Catholic noblemen

and gentlemen from abroad, to marry his son to a Protestant princess, and

to enforce the laws with rigour against the Papists.

James received a private copy of this petition, and was thrown into a

paroxysm of rage at its perusal. To dictate to him how he should marry

his son; to recommend that he should invade the territories of Spain, and

to reflect on the honour of his ally, the Spanish king, were examples of

intolerable interference with his dearly valued prerogative. He wrote at

once to the Speaker, denouncing certain "fiery, popular, and turbulent

spirits" in the House, and desiring them not to concern themselves about

such matters as were included in the petition. Adverting to Sandys, he

denied that his offence was connected with the House of Commons, but

at the same time declared that the Crown possessed a right to punish

subjects, whether members of Parliament or not, and would not fail to

exercise it.

The House received this missive with much dissatisfaction, but with

dignity, and vindicated their right of liberty of speech in a firm

memorial. James replied that though their privileges were no undoubted

right, but were derived from the grace of his ancestors on the throne,

yet so long as they kept them within the limits of duty, he should

not exercise his prerogative and withdraw those privileges. The House

declared its high resentment at this language, which reduced their

right into mere matter of royal favour, and the expression of feeling

ran so high that James became alarmed, and wrote to Secretary Calvert,

instructing him to qualify his assertions a little. But the House was

not thus to be satisfied where the question of its privileges was

directly raised, and on the 18th of December it drew up the following

protest:--"That the liberties and jurisdictions of Parliament are the

most ancient and undoubted birthright and inheritance of the subjects of

England; that arduous and urgent affairs concerning the king, the State,

and defence of the realm, and the Church of England, the making and

maintenance of laws, and the redress of grievances, are proper subjects

of counsel and debate in Parliament; that in the handling of these

businesses every member hath and ought to have freedom of speech; that

the Commons in Parliament have like liberty to treat of these matters in

such order as they think proper; that every member hath like freedom from

all impeachment, imprisonment, and molestation, other than by the censure

of the House itself, concerning any Bill, speaking or reasoning touching

Parliament matters; and that if any be complained of for anything said or

done in Parliament, the same is to be showed to the king by assent of the

Commons before the king give evidence to any private information."

This was speaking out; the Parliament threw down the gage and James, in

his wrath, took it up. Forgetting that he was represented as ill, he rode

up to London in a fury and ordered the clerk of the Commons to bring

him the Journals of the House. According to Rushworth, he tore out the

obnoxious protest with his own hands, in full Council, and in presence of

the judges; at all events he cancelled it; had what he had done entered

in the Council-book; and on the 6th of January, 1622, by an insulting

proclamation, dissolved Parliament, assuring the public that it was on

account of its evil temper that he had dissolved the House of Commons,

and not with any intention of doing without one; that he should soon call

another; and in the meantime the country might rest assured that he would

endeavour to govern well.

The first proof of his notions of governing well was the summoning of

the Earls of Oxford and Southampton from the House of Peers, of Coke,

Philip, Pym, and Mallory from the Commons, and of Sir John Selden, to

appear before the Council. Some were committed to the Tower, some to the

Fleet, and others to the custody of private individuals. Though nothing

in either House could have occasioned these arrests, various reasons were

assigned for them. Moreover, Selden was not a member of the Commons, and

he therefore could have incurred no blame there. But he was the legal

adviser of Sandys and others, who had made themselves prominent in the

popular cause, and he was known as one of the ablest legal advocates of

Parliamentary and public rights. The two Peers were also at the head of

a popular party which had sprung up in the Lords, and the whole matter

was too palpable for mistake. Nothing could, however, be fixed on any

of the prisoners which the Government dared to charge as a crime, and

after a sharp rebuke they were liberated. There were still other members

whose conduct had excited the anger of the Court, but against whom no

specific charge could be established. These were Sir Dudley Digges, Sir

James Parrott, Sir Nathaniel Rich, and Sir Thomas Carew. To punish them a

singular mode was devised. They were appointed to a commission in Ireland

to inquire into the state of the army and navy, into the condition of

the Church and of public schools, into the abuses in the collection of

revenue and in the settlement of the plantations, and into the existence

of illegal and mischievous patents. As it was extremely inconvenient for

these gentlemen to absent themselves on such business, they protested

decidedly against it; but they were told that the king had a right to the

services of his subjects, in any way that he pleased; and though these

gentlemen had stood boldly with their fellows in a collective capacity

for the rights of the subject, they were not sufficiently screwed up to

the pitch of martyrdom to stand upon their individual freedom, and refuse

at all costs. Coke, who had now taken the lead in the popular cause,

because the Court had repelled and dismissed him, offered to accompany

them, and assist them with his legal advice and experience, but his offer

was declined. The subjects of inquiry, of themselves, were of a nature

to furnish much strength and information to the reformers, and the mode

of punishing these men was as short-sighted as it was arbitrary. But the

great contest was now fully begun, in which the blindness and tyranny of

the Stuarts, and the firm intelligence of the people, were to fight out

the grand question of constitutional government. Those who regard this as

a matter only of Charles I.'s reign have strangely overlooked the doings

and doctrines of James, who was the real author of the conflict, and

opened it himself with all the dogmatism which distinguished the royal

side to the end. This very session Prince Charles had been a diligent

attender of the House of Lords, but seems to have had no perception

whatever of the spirit which was dominant in the House of Commons, and

rapidly diffusing its electric fire through the nation. The names of Pym,

Coke, Wentworth, and Laud, were already in men's mouths, the heralds

of that mighty host, which, for good or for evil, was soon to engage

in terrible combat; the issue of which was to be the morning-star of

governmental science to the nations, determining the true powers, uses,

and limitations of governments, as well as the liberty of the people

protected, by its own popular safeguards, from licence and anarchy.

[Illustration: THE FLEET PRISON.]

In foreign affairs James was placed in particular difficulties. The two

objects which he had more than all others at heart, were the marriage

of his son, the Prince of Wales, to the Infanta of Spain, and the

restoration of the Elector Palatine to his hereditary possessions. He

had tried too late to secure the Princess Christine of France. She was

already affianced to Philip of Spain. He had since negotiated for the

hand of Donna Maria of Spain. If he could accomplish this marriage,

he should be at once able to secure by it his other grand desire--the

restoration of the Palsgrave,--for Spain would then be induced to

withdraw its forces from the assistance of the Emperor against the

Palatinate, and to add its earnest co-operation in arranging for the

Palsgrave's re-instatement.

But against this project of marriage--the stepping-stone to these

measures in Germany--stood the aversion of the people in England to a

match with so pronouncedly Catholic a country as Spain, and so bigoted

a family as that of its Sovereign. Just as adverse were the Spaniards,

and especially the priests, to the young Infanta coming into a heretical

country, and to any impediment thrown in the way of the Emperor of

Germany exterminating the Protestants there. During the life of Philip

III., the father of Donna Maria, little progress was made in these

negotiations, but on the accession of his son Philip IV., in 1621, the

prospect brightened. Both James and Charles wrote to the new king and his

favourite Olivarez. In England Gondomar, the Spanish minister, was warmly

in favour of the alliance, seeing in it a guarantee for the relief of

the Catholics and of increased strength against France. Lord Digby, now

Earl of Bristol, late ambassador at Madrid, was equally zealous for the

marriage; and James was the more eager for it as he saw no hope of aid in

his German project from France. There the feeble monarch, Louis XIII.,

was wholly in the hands of a despicable favourite, De Luynes, who was

insolently opposed to the English interests, though the French people,

from the hereditary hatred of the house of Austria, would have gladly

marched against the invaders of the Palatinate.

The affairs of Frederick, the Elector Palatine, were desperate. The

Palatinate, in fact, was already lost. Count Mansfeldt--the ablest

general who had fought for the Elector's interests--and the Prince

Christian of Brunswick, had evacuated the Palatinate; Heidelberg and

Mannheim were in the hands of the enemy; and these generals had entered

the service of the Dutch. The Emperor, in reward for the successful

services of Maximilian of Bavaria, had conferred on him the Electorate of

the Palatinate with the greater part of the territory.

James himself, to get rid of the maintenance of the garrison, had given

up Frankenthal to the Spaniards, on condition that if, within eighteen

months, a satisfactory peace were not made, it should be returned.

Everything, therefore, was lost, and James fondly hoped that the Spanish

match might yet recover everything.

Circumstances appeared to favour his hopes. The young King of Spain and

his minister, Olivarez, responded cordially to James's proposal; Gondomar

hastened on to Madrid to promote the object, and was soon followed by the

Earl of Bristol, equally earnest for the accomplishment of the marriage.

It was, however, necessary to procure a dispensation for this union from

the Pope, and this the King of Spain undertook to procure through his

ambassador at Rome. James was not to appear at all in the affair, but

with the unconquerable propensity to be meddling personally in every

negotiation, he could not help despatching George Gage, a Catholic,

with letters to the Pontiff, as well as to the Cardinals Ludovisio and

Bandini; and Buckingham, to complete the intercession, sent Bennet, a

Catholic priest, on the same errand.

The Pope was not likely to grant the favour to James without a _quid

pro quo_, and therefore, as might have been expected, replied that the

canons of the Church could only be suspended for the benefit of the

Church; that the King of England had been very liberal of his promises

to the late King of Spain, but had performed nothing; he must now give

proof of his sincerity by relieving the English Catholics from the

pressure of his penal laws, and the request would be accorded. This was

a demand _in limine_ which would have shown to any prudent monarch the

dangerous path he was entering upon; but James trusted to his tortuous

art of king-craft, and rashly set to work to undo all that he had done

throughout his reign against the Catholics. He caused an order under the

Great Seal to be issued, granting pardons to all recusants who should

apply for them within five years; and the judges were commanded to

discharge from prison those who gave security for their compliance with

these terms.

There was a glad and universal acceptance of the proffered lenity by

the Catholics. The doors of the prisons were opened, and the astonished

Puritans saw thousands on thousands of the dreaded Papists once more

coming abroad. There was instantly a cry of terror and indignation

from John O'Groat's to the Land's End. The pulpits resounded with the

execrations of enthusiastic preachers on the traitorous dealing of the

Court, and the depicted horrors of Catholic and Spanish ascendency. James

trembled, but ordered the Lord Keeper Williams and the Bishop of London

to assure the public that he was only seeking to gain better treatment

for the Protestants abroad, whom the Continental princes declared they

would punish with the same rigour as James had punished the Catholics in

England, unless the British severity was somewhat mitigated; and that,

moreover, there was no danger; for the recusants, though out of prison,

had still the shackles about their heels, and could at any moment be

remanded. This, without satisfying the Puritans, undid all confidence

amongst the Catholics. They recalled the habitual duplicity of James and

felt no longer any security; and when Gondomar boasted in Spain that four

thousand Catholics had been released in England, those Catholics only

remarked, "Yes; but we have still the shackles about our heels, and may

at any moment be thrust again into our dungeons."

His only consolation was that the Spanish match now seemed really to

progress. On the 5th of January, 1623, the twenty articles securing

the freedom of her worship to the Infanta in England, the cessation of

persecution of the Catholics, and the exercise of their religious rites

in their own houses, were signed by James and Prince Charles. The dower

of the princess was to be two millions of ducats. The espousals were to

take place at Madrid by proxy, within forty days from the receipt of the

dispensation; and the princess was to set out for England within three

weeks. The time for the final consummation of the marriage, and the

intervals between the several payments of the dower, were all fixed, and

Gondomar and Bristol congratulated themselves on the completion of their

arduous negotiation.

At this crisis, however, arrived two Englishmen at the Earl of Bristol's

residence at Madrid, under the names of John and Thomas Smith. To the

ambassador's astonishment and chagrin, on appearing before him, they

turned out to be no other than the Prince of Wales and Buckingham, who

had arrived in disguise, and with only three attendants. But how this

extraordinary and imprudent journey had come about requires to be told

with some detail. It was said to have originated with Gondomar; it had

been planned on his visit to London the preceding summer, and had since

been stimulated by his letters. He is declared to have represented to the

prince, who complained of delay, that all obstacles would vanish at once

if he were to suddenly appear and press his own suit. The idea caught

the imagination of the prince, and was warmly seconded by Buckingham, who

not only longed to seek adventures among the beauties of Madrid, but also

hoped to snatch the achievement of the match out of the hands of Bristol,

whom he hated. If it were really the scheme of the wily Spaniard, he must

have prided himself greatly on its success; a success, however, which

produced its own ruin.

When the plan was first opened to James by Charles and Buckingham,

he gave in to them without hesitation so much did he desire to have

the affair settled. But on thinking it over alone, he was immediately

sensible of the danger and the impolitic character of the enterprise. He

therefore begged the prince and the favourite to give it up, pointing

out, with great justice, how much they would put themselves in the power

of the Spaniards, what advantages they would give them over them, and

what a storm of anger and alarm would break out at home as soon as it

became known. The two knights-errant bade him dismiss his fears, saying

that all would go well and that they had selected Sir Francis Cottington

and Sir Endymion Porter to attend them. James approved their choice,

but commanded Cottington to tell him plainly what he thought of the

project. Cottington, who did not seem yet to have been let into the

secret, on hearing it, was much agitated and declared that it was a rash

and perilous adventure; whereupon James threw himself upon his bed in an

agony, crying--"I told you so; I told you so before. I shall be undone,

and lose baby Charles." The prince and Buckingham were furious at the

behaviour of Cottington, and handled him severely; but after all, James,

with his usual weakness, gave his consent, and the travellers set forward

on the 17th of February, 1623, and after an adventurous journey arrived

at their destination.

Lord Bristol had despatched a messenger immediately on the prince

reaching his house, informing the king that his son and friend were

safe in Madrid, after a journey of sixteen days. Meanwhile, strange

rumours began to run about the Spanish capital that some great man from

England had arrived, supposed to be the king himself; and it was deemed

best to make the fact known to the Court. Accordingly they sent for

Gondomar, who hurried off to Court with the welcome news. There were

first private but stately interviews, and then a public reception. The

prince was first privately conducted to the Monastery of St. Jerome,

from which the Spanish kings proceed to their coronation, and was then

brought back publicly by the king, his two brothers, and the _élite_

of the Spanish nobility. Charles rode at the king's right hand through

the whole city to the palace, when he was conducted to the apartments

appropriated to him. He had then a formal introduction to the queen and

Infanta. Charles had two keys of gold given him, by which he could pass

into the royal apartments at all hours, yet Spanish etiquette did not

allow him to converse with the Infanta except in public. Tired of this

restraint, Charles determined to break through the Court formality, and

speak unceremoniously with his proposed wife; wherefore, hearing that

Donna Maria used to go to the Casa de Campo on the other side of the

river to gather Maydew, he rose early and went thither also. He passed

through the house and garden, but found that the princess was in the

orchard, and between him and her a high wall, and the door strongly

bolted. Without further ceremony he got over the wall, dropped down,

and seeing the princess at a distance, hastened towards her. But the

princess, on perceiving him, gave a shriek and ran off; and the old

marquis, her guardian, falling on his knees before the prince, entreated

him to retire, as he should lose his head if he permitted the interview.

Accordingly he let him out and rebolted the door.

Great were the public rejoicings, however, on account of this chivalric

visit. The king professed to feel himself much complimented by the

reliance of the English prince on the Spanish honour, on the earnestness

it evinced in the prosecution of his suit; and the people as firmly

calculated on his conversion to the Catholic faith. The prisons were

thrown open; presents and favours were heaped upon him, the king insisted

on his taking precedence of himself, and assured him that any petition

which he presented to him for a whole month should be granted. There

were bull-fights, tournaments, fencing matches, feasts, and religious

processions, held in his honour and for his amusement.

But at home, dire was the consternation when it was known that Charles

had gone off with slight attendance to Spain. It was stoutly declared

that he would never escape alive from amongst the inquisitions and

monks of that priest-ridden country, or if he did, it would only be as

a Papist. The freedom of comment on the occasion in the pulpits caused

James to issue an order through the Bishop of London that the clergy

should not in their prayers "prejudicate the prince's journey, but only

pray to God to return him home in safety again to us, and no more."

Whereupon a preacher, with an air of great simplicity, prayed that the

prince might return in safety again, and _no more_--that is, as it was

understood, without a Catholic wife. Yet to pacify his subjects, the

king informed them that he had sent after them two Protestant chaplains,

together with all the stuff and ornaments fit for the service of God. And

he added, "I have fully instructed them, so as all their behaviour and

service shall, I hope, prove decent and agreeable to the purity of the

primitive Church, and yet so near the Roman form as can lawfully be done.

For," says this stern persecutor of Catholicism, "it hath ever been my

way to go with the Church of Rome _usque ad aras_."

In so very complying a mood was James at this moment, that when these

chaplains asked him what they were to do if they met the Host in the

streets, he replied they must avoid meeting it whenever they could; when

they could not, they must do as the people did there. And poor James soon

found that he had need of all his moral pliability. The Spanish Court,

as might have been foreseen, once having the prince in their power,

resolved to benefit by it. They soon let the prince and Buckingham know

that the Pope made grave difficulty about the dispensation, and the

Papal nuncio was sternly set against it, and it was inquired how far the

prince could go in concession. Buckingham wrote, therefore, to the king

in these ominous words:--"We would gladly have your directions how far we

may engage you in the acknowledgment of the Pope's special power, for we

almost find, if you will be contented to acknowledge the Pope chief head

under Christ, that the match will be made without him."

This was asking everything and James was brought to a stand. He wrote in

reply that he did not know what they meant by acknowledging the Pope's

spiritual supremacy. He was sure they would not have him renounce his

religion for all the world. "Perhaps," he wrote, "you allude to a passage

in my book against Cardinal Bellarmine, where I say that if the Pope

would quit his godhead and usurping over kings, I would acknowledge him

for chief bishop, to whom all appeals of Churchmen ought to lie _en

dernier ressort_. That is the farthest my conscience would permit me to

go; for I am not a monsieur who can shift his religion as easily as he

can shift his shirt when he cometh from tennis."

[Illustration: PUBLIC RECEPTION OF PRINCE CHARLES IN MADRID. (_See p._

492.)]

That Buckingham would have advised Charles to abandon his religion for

the achievement of his object, had he dared, there is little question,

for his mother was an avowed Papist and was his constant prompter in

his policy. Before leaving London, the two adventurers had obtained the

king's solemn promise in writing, that whatever they agreed to with the

Spanish monarch he would ratify; so that James might well be alarmed

at their suggestion. Charles, in fact, did not hesitate, in reply to

a letter from the Pope, to pledge himself to abstain from every act

hostile to the Catholic religion, and to seek every opportunity of

accomplishing the reunion of the Church of England with that of Rome.

The letter--which, Lord Clarendon truly says, "is, by your favour,

more than a compliment"--may be seen in the Hardwicke papers. Charles

afterwards said that it was only a promise that he never meant to keep;

we may therefore see that already his father's notions of king-craft

had taken full possession of him, which, with his large self-esteem

and a persevering disposition, produced in him that fatal mixture of

determination and unscrupulous insincerity which ruined him. Instead of

a firm resistance to the palpable schemes of the Pope and the Spaniard,

and a truthful candour which would have convinced them that they had

no chance of moving him, he led them by his apparent acquiescence to

believe that they could win him over; and when they had carried him

beyond the bounds of prudence, and much beyond those of honesty, he had

no alternative but to steal away and repudiate his own solemn words and

acts. Is it at all to be wondered at that neither foreign nations nor

his own could ever after put faith in him? The sophistry and absolutism

of the father had already destroyed the son, by perverting his moral

constitution. It is probable that Charles also acquired a strong taste

for ecclesiastical pomp and circumstance during this visit and its

religious shows and ceremonies, which falling in afterwards with the

ambitious taste of Laud, also tended to direct him towards the same

"_facilis descensus Averni_."

James had despatched after the prince a great number of people, to form

a becoming attendance on the heir of England. Others flocked thither of

their own accord and especially Catholic refugees, who swarmed in the

prince's court, and particularly about Buckingham. The Jesuits did their

best to convert them, and were encouraged by every appearance of success.

Though James had sent what he called the "stuff and ornaments" for

public Protestant worship, we are informed that these were never used;

for though the Prince had the Earl of Carlisle, and the Lords Mountjoy,

Holland, Rochfort, Andover, Denbigh, Vaughan, and Kensington, besides

a number of other courtiers and their dependents around him, they had

no public worship, as if they were ashamed of their heretical faith,

or feared to offend their Catholic friends. Charles contented himself

with bed-chamber prayers. The consequence was, as Howell, who was there,

wrote, that the Spaniards, hardly believing the English Christians and

seeing no evidence of worship, set them down as little better than

infidels. This occasioned great discontent amongst the more conscientious

of the retinue, and they did not hesitate to avow their religious belief,

and their contempt of the mummery which they saw around them, which led

to much scandal and anger. Archie, or Archibald, Armstrong, the famous

Court fool, whom oddly enough James had sent as well as the Church plate

and vestments, seemed to think himself privileged by his office to say

what he pleased, and he did not hesitate to laugh at the religious

ceremonies, and argue on religious points with all the zeal of a Scottish

Presbyterian, as he was. Others even proceeded to blows. Sir Edward

Varney, finding a priest at the bedside of a sick Englishman, struck him

under the ear and they fell to fighting till they were thrust asunder.

This state of things would not have been tolerated so near the

Inquisition except for the great end in view--the belief that

Charles would become a Catholic. Gregory XV. had written to the

Inquisitor-General to this effect:--"We understand that the Prince of

Wales, the King of Great Britain's son, is lately arrived there, carried

with a hope of Catholic marriage. Our desire is that he should not

stay in vain in the courts of those to whom the defence of the Pope's

authority, and care of advancing religion, hath procured the renowned

name of Catholic. Wherefore, by apostolic letters, we exhort his Catholic

majesty that he would gently endeavour sweetly to reduce the prince to

the obedience of the Roman Church, to which the ancient kings of Great

Britain, with Heaven's approbation, submitted their crowns and sceptres.

Now, to the attaining of this victory, which to the conquered promiseth

triumphs and principalities of heavenly felicity, we need not exhaust the

king's treasures, nor levy armies of furious soldiers, but we must fetch

from heaven the armour of light, whose divine splendour may allure the

prince's eye, and gently expel all errors from his mind. Now, in the

managing of these businesses, what power and art you have, we have well

known long ago; wherefore, we wish you to go like a religious counsellor

to the Catholic king, and to try all ways which, by this present

occasion, may benefit the kingdom of Britain and the Church of Rome. The

matter is of great weight and moment, and therefore not to be amplified

with words. Whoever shall inflame the mind of this royal youth with a

love of the Catholic religion, and breed a hate in him of heretical

impiety, shall begin to open the kingdom of heaven to the Prince of

Britain, and to gain the kingdom of Britain to the Apostolic See."

It was easy to foresee that this absurd journey would lead to these

determined attempts to regain the rich islands of Great Britain to

the Catholic Church. The Catholics everywhere regarded the rupture to

have been occasioned by Henry VIII.'s Protestant marriage, and nothing

appeared so likely as that a Catholic marriage would heal it. It was not

so easy to foresee that Charles, at the age of twenty-three, should so

consummately act the hypocrite. He wrote to the Pope, in reply to a most

gracious and paternal letter from his holiness, calling him "Most Holy

Father," telling him how much he deplored the division of the Churches

and longed to restore union. Gregory was dead before this extraordinary

epistle arrived at Rome, but Urban VIII., the new Pope, lifted up his

hands in joyful astonishment on reading it, and "gave thanks to the

Father of Mercies, that on the very entrance of his reign a British

prince performed this kind of obeisance to the Pope of Rome." Having

apparently so favourable a subject to operate upon, Olivarez now told

Charles that the treaty entered into through the Earl of Bristol had

been rather for show than use, and that now, as the prince and his able

adviser were there themselves, they should make a real and effective

compact. Accordingly, in spite of the strenuous remonstrances of the two

British ambassadors against re-opening the question already settled,

Charles and Buckingham permitted it; and the Spanish minister found

little difficulty in introducing several new and more favourable clauses.

There was, in fact, a public and a private treaty agreed to. By the

public one the marriage was to be celebrated in Spain and afterwards in

England; the children were to remain in the care of their mother till ten

years of age; the Infanta, was to have an open church and chapel for the

free exercise of her religion, and her chaplains were to be Spaniards

under the control of their own bishops. By the private treaty it was

engaged that the penal laws against Catholics should be suspended; that

Catholic worship should be freely performed in private houses; that no

attempts should be made to entice the princess to abandon her hereditary

faith; and that the king should swear to obtain the repeal of the penal

Statutes by Parliament.

When this treaty was sent home, James was struck with consternation. He

had pledged himself to Charles and Buckingham not to communicate any of

their proceedings to the Council; but the present responsibility was

overwhelming and he therefore opened his difficulty to the Council. After

making what the Secretary of the Council calls "a most sad, fatherly,

kind, wise, pious, manly, stout speech as ever was heard," the lords of

the Council came to the conclusion, though reluctantly and with fear,

that the prince's honour must be maintained and the oath to keep the

treaty taken. This, however, was only the public treaty; James kept the

private one to himself and swore to it separately.

Having got the English Court, as they supposed, thus secured, both the

Pope and the Spaniard raised their heads still higher and showed that

they meant to exact the utmost possible concession. In Spain the Papal

dispensation for the marriage was already in the hands of the nuncio,

but he refused to deliver it till the King of England, according to his

oath, had obtained the repeal of the penal Statutes by Parliament; while

in England James refused to go a step farther till the marriage was

celebrated and the first instalment of the dower paid. When the king's

resolve was known, it was conceded that the marriage should at once take

place, but that the princess and the dower should remain in Spain till

the stipulated indulgence to the English Catholics was obtained from

Parliament. James refused this, and sent word that the marriage must

be celebrated and the prince bring home his bride, or come without the

wedding: this brought the Spaniards down a little. The ambassadors in

London assured James that a royal proclamation would satisfy them, but he

replied that a proclamation without the added sanction of Parliament was

no law; that, however, he would issue an order for Catholic indulgence

under the Great Seal. This they were obliged to be satisfied with; but

when it came, to the Lord Keeper Williams, he refused to put the Great

Seal to it, as a most dangerous act, without precedent.

As there was no prospect of a speedy settlement, Charles, who had

probably grown tired of a princess surrounded by such a hedge of

difficulties and delays, desired his father to send him an order for his

recall. It would appear as if the prince had planned the mode of his

retreat, for the preparations for the marriage of the Infanta proceeded,

on the understanding that she was to continue in Spain till spring.

James was apparently occupied in preparing grand wedding presents for

the bride, and a small fleet to bring her home. This, if carried out,

must have been very onerous to him; for he had already made doleful

representations to Charles and Buckingham, of the exhaustion of his

treasury by his remittance of five thousand pounds, and three thousand

pounds for their "tilting stuff," &c. At Madrid the marriage articles

were signed and confirmed by oath, the Infanta assumed the title of

Princess of England, and had a Court formed of corresponding importance.

Never was the marriage so far off. Charles and Buckingham had resolved

to steal away and abandon the whole affair. They felt that they were

regularly entrapped through their folly; and other causes rendered a

speedy exit necessary. Buckingham--vain, empty, and sensual--had given

way without caution or control to his licentiousness and love of parade.

To make him more fitting for the companion of his son, James had raised

him to the rank of duke since his departure. His extravagance, his

amours, his haughty bearing, and unceremonious treatment of both his own

prince and the grandees of Spain, astonished all Madrid. He introduced

the very worst people, men and women, into the palace, and would sit

with his hat on when the prince himself was uncovered. His behaviour

in the presence of the King of Spain was just as irreverent, and the

minister Olivarez was so incensed at his insolence that he detested him.

He had the soul of an upstart lackey under the title of a duke, and was

never easy unless he could outshine all the grandees at the Spanish

Court. He was perpetually importuning the king to supply orders, jewels,

and money. Georges and garters were sent over in numbers to confer on

different courtiers, and the constant cry of Buckingham's letters was

"Jewels, jewels, jewels." He represented how rich the Spaniards were in

jewels, and how poor those looked which they themselves already had. He

described the prince as quite mean in his appearance, compared with

the Spanish splendour. "Sir, he hath neither chain nor hatband, and I

beseech you consider first how rich they are in jewels here; then in

what a poor equipage he came in; how he hath no other means to appear

like a king's son; how they are usefullest at such a time as this, when

you may do yourself, your son, and the nation honour; and lastly, how it

will neither cost nor hazard you anything. These reasons, I hope, since

you have already ventured your chiefest jewel, your son, will serve

to persuade you to let loose these more after him:--first, your best

hatband, the Portugal diamond, the rest of the pendent diamonds to make

up a necklace to give his mistress, and the best rope of pearl, with

a rich chain or two for himself to wear, or else your dog must want a

collar, which is the ready way to put him into it. There are many other

jewels, which are of so mean quality as deserve not that name, but will

save much in your purse, and serve very well for presents."

The prince quite aware that he had entangled himself in engagements that

he could only keep at the risk of his father's crown, and Buckingham

equally aware of the hatred which he had excited in a proud and vengeful

nation, the two agreed to put the most honest possible face on the

matter, and get away. Charles, therefore, presented his father's order

for their return, and pledging himself to fulfil the marriage according

to the articles; nay, appearing most eager for its accomplishment before

Christmas, they were permitted to take their leave, loaded with valuable

presents. The king gave the prince a set of fine Barbary horses, a number

of the finest pictures by Titian and Correggio, a diamond-hilted sword

and dagger, and various other arms of the richest fashion and ornament.

The queen gave him a great many bags of amber, dressed kid-skins, and

other articles; and Olivarez also presented him with a number of fine

Italian pictures and costly articles of furniture. In return, Charles

gave the king diamond-studded hilts for a sword and dagger, to the

queen a pair of rich earrings, and to the Infanta the string of pearls

recommended by Buckingham, to which was attached a diamond anchor, as an

_emblem of his constancy_. He affected the utmost distress at leaving his

bride even for a short time only, and the princess ordered a Mass for his

safe journey home.

Never did appearances look more real, never were they more hollow. The

Spaniards had endeavoured by every act, into which the sacred name of

religion had been dragged, to make the most of their advantage in the

presence of the prince, and to extort terms beyond the original contract;

they were, therefore, properly punished. But nothing could justify

the deep and deliberate falsehood, and repeated perjury of a young

Protestant prince, whose conduct stamped a deep stain on his country and

on Protestantism itself. The Protestants had long and loudly denounced

the jesuitry of the Catholics, and asserted that no faith could be put in

their most solemn engagements. Here, however, was a voluntary surrender

of the pure and lofty morality of Protestantism, a willing abasement of

its honour to the level of the worst Catholic duplicity. We shall see

that the whole of Charles's conduct was lamentably in keeping with this

unprincipled beginning.

[Illustration: PRINCE CHARLES'S FAREWELL OF THE INFANTA. (_See p._ 496.)]

Buckingham was impatient to be in England, from news which he had

received that certain courtiers were busily at work in endeavouring

to undermine his credit with the king. Behind him he left nothing but

detestation, which Olivarez, the chief minister, took no pains to

conceal. When the prince and he set out they were attended by the king

himself, and a brilliant assemblage of the nobles, who added to the

prince's presents a number of fine Andalusian horses and mules. They

halted for several days at the Escurial, where they were splendidly

entertained, and then the king rode on with them as far as Campillo. The

parting of the affianced brothers-in-law was of the most affectionate

kind, and the king ordered a column to be erected on the spot, as a

lasting monument of it. So Charles rode on, attended by several nobles

and entertained most honourably at their castles. He visited the cell

of a celebrated nun at Carrion, who was held to be a saint, and to whom

Donna Maria had given him a letter.

Arrived at the port where the English fleet was waiting for him, he

no sooner stepped on board than he laughed at the credulity of the

Spaniards, called them fools, and wondered at his easy escape from them.

They landed at Portsmouth on the 5th of October, and there and all the

way to and through London their reception was one piece of exultation at

the safe return of the prince from the clutches of the dreaded Spaniards.

The country resounded with the ringing of bells, the firing of cannon,

the whizzing of fireworks, and the shouts of the people. The clergy,

without waiting for royal orders, put up thanksgiving in the churches for

the prince's happy arrival.

Meanwhile, the prince's perfidy was awaking the Spaniards from a trance

of astonishment to a tempest of rage. From Segovia, he had sent back

Clerk, a creature of Buckingham's, to the Earl of Bristol. Calculating

that the Papal dispensation would by that time have arrived, Clerk was to

hand to Bristol an order from the prince not to present the proxies left

in his hands--which were to be given up immediately after the delivery

of the dispensation--till he received further orders from home. The

reason alleged by Charles was that he feared on the marriage by proxy

the Infanta would retire into a convent. The idea was so absurd that

Bristol saw at once that it was a mere pretence to break off the match.

As his honour as well as the honour of the nation was implicated, he at

once hastened to the king and laid the doubts of the prince before him.

The astonishment of the king may be conceived. He had fixed the 29th

of November for the espousals, the 29th of December for the marriage:

orders for public rejoicings were already issued, a platform covered

with tapestry was erected from the palace to the church, and the

nobility had been summoned to attend. He gave Bristol every assurance

that the princess should be delivered to the English without delay, and

Bristol despatched these assurances in all haste to James. Meanwhile,

the Countess Olivarez communicated privately to the Infanta the prince's

message, at which she laughed heartily, saying that she never, in all her

life, had a mind to be a nun, and thought she should hardly turn one now

merely to avoid the Prince of Wales.

Only four days before the one appointed for the espousals, three couriers

on the heels of each other arrived from England, bearing from James the

message that he was perfectly willing for the marriage to proceed, on

condition that the King of Spain pledged himself, under his own hand, to

take up arms for the restoration of the Palatine and to fix the day for

hostilities to commence. At an early period of the negotiation, Philip

had declared that on the completion of the agreement for the marriage, he

would give James a _carte blanche_ regarding the affairs of the Elector

Palatine, and whatever terms James required, he pledged himself to accede

to. Now he repeated that although he could not in honour proclaim war

against his nephew the Emperor--being engaged as mediator between him

and the Palsgrave, at the instance of James--yet he would pledge himself

in writing never to cease, by intercession or by warfare, till he had

restored the Palatine to his hereditary dominion. Bristol and his fellow

ambassador thought this assurance amply satisfactory; they sent off

a messenger in hot haste, bearing their assurances that all possible

difficulty was removed; and they went on putting their households into

velvet and silver lace, to do honour to the marriage ceremony, as if

it were really to take place. Bristol wrote more earnestly to the

king, reminding him that the honour of king, prince, and ambassadors

was most solemnly pledged; that the matters of the Palsgrave had been

treated of separately, and that his majesty had always represented to

Bristol himself that he regarded the marriage as a certain pledge of the

Palatine's restoration. He added that the prince and my lord duke had

also acted entirely on that opinion during their stay there. Charles and

Buckingham, in fact, seem to have taken very little trouble about the

ex-King and Queen of Bohemia.

But all was in vain; the prince had determined not to complete the

marriage. It was believed that the view which he had had of the Princess

Henrietta at Paris had, even before his reaching Spain, changed his

intentions; and a courier brought from James an order for Bristol not to

deliver the proxy till Christmas, "because that holy and joyful time was

best fitting so notable and blessed an action as the marriage." When we

add that the proxy was well known to the king and prince to expire before

Christmas, we can duly estimate this awful language of hypocrisy. The

King of Spain saw at once that he had been imposed upon; he gave instant

orders to stop the preparations for the marriage, for the Infanta to drop

the title of Princess of England, which she is said to have done with

tears, and to return to her usual state. The fury of indignation against

the English in Spain may readily be conceived.

The Earl of Bristol had acted too much the part of a faithful and

honourable servant of the Crown to escape the censure of such a Court,

and the vengeance of such a man as Buckingham. He had not hesitated, in

spite of the remonstrances of the prince, to represent to James, during

their sojourn in Madrid, the disgraceful conduct of that despicable

libertine. James had the folly or the wickedness to show to the favourite

these letters, and Bristol received his recall. The ambassador wrote to

James requesting a remittance sufficient to bear him home, having pledged

all his lady's jewels, and incurred a debt of fifty thousand crowns for

Prince Charles, so that he had not funds even for his journey.

It does not appear that James or Charles took any notice of this most

reasonable appeal; but Philip not only exonerated Bristol from any

share in the disgraceful proceedings, but warned him of the danger

which threatened him at home, and offered to make him one of the most

distinguished men of his own realm, if he would take up his abode in

Spain. Bristol, however, declined the noble offer, saying that he would

rather lose his head in England, conscious as he was of innocence, than

live a duke or Infantado in Spain with the imputation of treason, which

was sure in such a case to be cast on him. Though he was ordered to

quit Spain without delay, he was instructed to travel slowly, and on

his landing he was commanded to retire to his house in the country, and

consider himself a prisoner. The malicious Buckingham did his best to

have him committed to the Tower, but the Duke of Richmond and the Earl of

Pembroke opposed this injustice with effect.

James had got his baby Charles and his dog Steenie home again, but he

soon found that they had involved him in troubles and debts, which very

much abated the pleasure of their company. They had brought home neither

wife nor her much desired money; on the contrary, they had spent his

last shilling, increased his debts, thrown away the greater part of his

jewels, had left the cause of his daughter and son-in-law in a worse

position than before, and now were vehement to engage him in a war with

Spain. Under the gloomy oppression of these embarrassments, he lost even

his appetite for hunting and hawking, shut himself up alone at Newmarket,

and wrote to the Palatine, recommending him to make his submission to

the Emperor; to offer his eldest son, who was to be educated in England,

to him for his daughter; to accept the administration of his hereditary

territory, and to allow the Duke of Bavaria the title of Elector for

life. Under the advice of Charles and Buckingham the Palsgrave positively

declined any such arrangement.

The only resource now was to call a Parliament, but this was a step

which had rarely brought him satisfaction. Before doing this he took

the opinion of the Privy Council during the Christmas holidays on

these points:--Whether the King of Spain had acted sincerely in the

negotiations for the marriage? and whether he had given sufficient

provocation to call for war? The Council unanimously supported the idea

of the King of Spain's sincere dealing, and a majority declared that

there was no just cause for war.

This result, so hostile to the wishes of Buckingham, filled him with

chagrin, and his wrath fell with especial weight on Williams the Lord

Keeper, and Cranfield the Treasurer. These men had been his most servile

creatures; they were, in fact, altogether his creatures; but during his

absence they had seen such evidence of displeasure in the king towards

him, that they imagined his power was about at an end and they were

emboldened to oppose him. But his fierce displeasure and the symptoms of

even growing popularity which showed themselves round him, terrified them

and they made the most humble submission.

On the 2nd of February, 1624, Williams wrote a most abject letter to

Buckingham, begging him to forgive his past conduct, "to receive his

soul in gage and pawn:" they were reconciled. People who before hated

Buckingham now looked upon him as a patriot, for having broken off the

Papist match, and for seeking to punish Spain by war. The heads of the

Opposition in the House of Commons, the Earl of Southampton, the Lord

Say and Sele, and others came over to him; and through Preston, a Puritan

minister and chaplain to the prince, he was brought in favour with many

other members of the country party. Buckingham and Charles assured James

that the demand of war with Spain was the only cry for him, as nothing

would so readily draw money from the Commons. Accordingly, though

trembling and reluctant, James summoned Parliament, which met on the 19th

of February.

[Illustration: THE ROYAL PALACE, MADRID. (_From a photograph by Frith,

Reigate._)]

He opened it in much humbler tones than ever before. He expressed a great

desire to manifest his love for his people. He then informed them that he

had long been engaged in treaties with different countries for the public

good, and had actually sent his son and the man whom he most trusted to

Spain, and all that had passed there should be laid before them; and he

asked them to judge him charitably, and to give him their advice on the

whole matter. One thing he begged to assure them of, that in everything,

public and private, he had always made a reservation for the cause of

religion; and though he had occasionally relaxed the penal statutes

against Catholics a little, yet as to suspending or altering any of them,

"I never," he exclaimed, "promised or yielded; I never thought it with my

heart or spoke it with my mouth!" And this notwithstanding that on the

20th of July previous, he had sworn in the Spanish treaty to procure the

abolition of all those laws from Parliament; a fact notorious not only to

Charles, Buckingham, and Bristol, but to all the Lords of the Council,

and the Spanish ambassadors still in London. He concluded by begging them

to remember that time was precious, and to avoid all impertinent and

irritating inquiries.

On the 24th of February, a conference of both Houses was held at

Whitehall, at which Buckingham went into the detail of the journey of

the prince and himself to Spain. Bristol was prohibited from attending

Parliament, and the duke gave his own version of the affair. According

to him--for he produced only such despatches as had been in a private

conference with the Lord Keeper Williams deemed safe; "his highness

wishing," says Williams, "to draw on a breach with Spain without ripping

up of private despatches"--the Spaniards behaved in a most treacherous

manner. He asserted that after long years of negotiation the king could

bring the court of Spain to nothing; that the Earl of Bristol had merely

got from them professions and declarations; that though the prince

had gone himself to test their sincerity, he had met with nothing but

falsehood and deceit; and that as to the restitution of the Palatinate,

he had found it hopeless from that quarter.

Perhaps no minister bronzed in impudence by years of crooked dealing ever

presented such a tissue of base and arrant fictions to the Commons of

England. The despatches, had they been produced, would have covered the

king, the prince, and the favourite, with confusion. Bristol could have

proved, had he been allowed, that he had actually completed the treaty

when the prince and Buckingham came and put an end to it. So indignant

were the Spanish ambassadors at this shameful misrepresentation of the

real facts, that they protested vehemently against the whole of the

statement, and declared that had any nobleman in Spain spoken thus of the

King of England, he should have paid with his head for the slander.

Buckingham was not only defended but applauded. The prince during the

whole time stood at his elbow, and aided his memory or his ingenuity.

Coke declared that Buckingham was the saviour of his country; and out of

doors the people kindled bonfires in his honour, sung songs to his glory,

and insulted the Spanish ambassadors. The two Houses, in an address to

the Throne, declared that neither the treaty with Spain for the marriage,

nor that for the restitution of the Palatinate, could be continued with

honour or safety.

Of all things James dreaded war: he complained of his poverty, his debts,

of his desire of quietness at his years; but he had not the resolution

to resist the importunities of Buckingham and the prince, backed by a

strong cry from the deluded people, especially as he saw no other mode

of obtaining the money so necessary to him. In addressing Parliament,

he stated candidly the many reasons against the war; the emptiness of

his exchequer and the impoverished condition of his allies; that Ireland

would demand large sums, and the repairs of the navy more; and then he

put to them these questions--whether he could with honour engage in a war

which concerned his own family exclusively? and whether the means would

be found for prosecuting it vigorously?

A deputation from both Houses answered these queries by calling for war,

and offering to support him in it with their persons and fortunes. This

address was read by Abbot, the Archbishop of Canterbury, who but six

months before had most reluctantly sworn to the Spanish treaty. This was,

indeed, a triumph to the archbishop, but did not make the singularity the

less of putting an address for war into the hands of a clergyman; and

one, moreover, who had so lately fallen into great difficulty on account

of his own accidental shedding of blood. When the archbishop came to the

passage where James was congratulated on "his having become sensible of

the insincerity of the Spaniards--" "Hold!" exclaimed the king; "you

insinuate what I have never spoken. Give me leave to tell you that I have

not expressed myself to be either sensible or insensible of their good

or bad dealing. Buckingham hath made you a relation on which you are to

judge, but I never yet declared my mind upon it."

James, indeed, knew very well to the contrary; the Spaniards had been too

grasping, and had thus overshot themselves, but they meant to complete

the marriage; and it was a most unjustifiable thing in James to go to

war with them on the ground of their insincerity, if he did not believe

in its existence. But James was desirous that as Buckingham had so

strenuously called for war to avenge his own petty, private piques, he

should bear the blame of it.

James told them plainly that if he went to war he should demand ample

advances, and when five days afterwards the question of supplies came

on, he demanded seven hundred thousand pounds to commence the war with,

and an annual sum of one hundred and fifty thousand pounds towards the

liquidation of his debts. The amount startled the Commons, in spite

of their magniloquent offer to support him with life and fortune; but

Buckingham and the prince, who were as mad for war as they had before

been for their foolish adventure, let the Commons know that a much less

sum would be accepted, and they voted three hundred thousand pounds

for the year, which the king consented should be put into the hands

of the treasurers appointed by the House, who were to pay money only

on a warrant from the Council of War. James also agreed that he would

not end the war without their consent. The vote was accompanied by

another address, vindicating Buckingham from the censures of the Spanish

ambassadors, and then the king issued a proclamation announcing that both

the treaties with Spain were at an end.

Thus was James, after twenty years of peace, except in the character of

an ally of his son-in-law, launched into a war. The Spaniards ridiculed

the idea; for on the authority of Gondomar, they had conceived not only a

very contemptible idea of James, but that the kingdom was poor, torn with

religious factions, and feeble from the timid and vacillating character

of the king. Only one peer, the Earl of Rutland, had the good sense to

oppose the vote for the war.

The restraint of the desire to please Spain during the negotiations for

the marriage being removed, the Houses of Parliament indulged their old

hatred of the Catholics by uniting in a petition to the king to renew

their persecution. James again protested that he never intended to

abolish those laws, and would never consent to the insertion of a clause

in any treaty whatever, binding him to an indulgence of Catholics. And

Charles also bound himself by an oath, that "whenever it should please

God to bestow upon him any lady that were Popish, she should have no

further liberty but for her own family, and no advantage to any recusants

at home."

Accordingly a proclamation was issued, ordering all missionaries to

quit the kingdom by a certain day under penalty of death; judges and

magistrates were ordered to enforce the laws as aforetime; the Lord Mayor

was enjoined to arrest all persons coming from Mass in the houses of the

ambassadors, and the bishops were called upon to advise the king how the

children of the Papists might be brought up Protestants. The Commons

called on every member to name all Catholics holding office in his town

or county, and prepared a list of them, which they sent to the Lords;

but the Lords declared that before they could unite in a prayer for the

dismissal of any one, they must have evidence of his guilt; and thus the

vindictive scheme fell to the ground.

The Commons, checked in this quarter, turned their attention to their

more legitimate prosecution of jobbers and holders of injurious patents.

They presented a list of eleven such grievances to the king, who replied

that he had his grievances too: they had encroached on his prerogatives;

they had condemned patents of unquestionable usefulness; and had been

guided in their quest after them by lawyers, who, he would say it to

their faces, were in the whole kingdom the greatest grievances of all;

for where a suit was of no benefit to either litigant, they made it so

to themselves. But this did not prevent them from flying at high game.

Buckingham had never forgiven Cranfield, Earl of Middlesex and Lord

Treasurer, for turning against him in his absence; and the Opposition

party, with whom the duke was now connected, took the lead in prosecuting

him on a charge of bribery, oppression, and neglect of duty. James was

indignant at this attack, but had not resolution enough to ward it off;

though he told Buckingham that he was a fool, and making a rod for his

own breech, and Charles that he would live to have his bellyful of

impeachments. Cranfield was condemned to a fine of fifty thousand pounds,

to be imprisoned during his majesty's pleasure, and for ever excluded

from office, from Parliament, and the verge of the Court. Williams, the

Lord Keeper, had also a narrow escape. Notwithstanding his cringing at

the feet of Buckingham, the favourite had by no means forgiven him;

petitions against him were presented to the Committee of Inquiry, but he

again sued humbly to Buckingham, and having had the opportunity during

the Session of doing him a service, the duke let him off with the proud

remark, "I shall not seek your ruin, but I shall cease to study your

fortune."

Buckingham and Charles now persuaded the king to change his foreign

policy. They sent envoys all over Europe to engage the different powers

by any argument and by rich presents to co-operate in the war against

Spain and Austria for the restitution of the Palatinate. To Sweden,

Denmark, and the Protestant States of Germany, they urged the necessity

of reducing the power of the Catholic princes on the Continent. Promises

of liberal subsidies were added, and the concurrence of these States

was pledged. It was a more difficult matter to influence the Catholic

countries of France, Venice, and Savoy to a war which was actually aimed

at the existence of their own religion. But the ancient enmity of these

States against Austria prevailed over their religious scruples, and they

undertook to assist indirectly, by making a show of hostilities against

Spain, so as to prevent her from giving effectual aid to Austria, and by

allowing soldiers to be raised within their territories, as well as by

furnishing money.

With Holland they had effected a league, and undertaken to send troops to

resist the invasion of Spain and Austria, when the news of a frightful

tragedy, perpetrated by the Dutch in the East, upon the English there,

arrived in England. This was what has become so well known in history as

the massacre of Amboyna.

Since the Dutch had enjoyed their long truce with Spain, they had been

zealously colonising and trading to the East. Besides Batavia, they laid

claim to all the Spice Islands in the Indian Archipelago, from which

they had expelled the Portuguese. On one of these islands, Amboyna, the

English East India Company had, in 1612, established a small settlement,

to trade with the natives for cloves. The Dutch compelled them to retire,

but in consequence of a treaty in 1619, the English had returned thither,

and established a settlement at Cambello. In the whole population there

were only about twenty English and about thirty Japanese, whilst there

were two hundred Dutch soldiers besides other Dutchmen in the Civil

Service. Yet on pretence of a conspiracy between the English and Japanese

to surprise the garrison and expel the Dutch, in 1623 the latter seized

Captain Towerson and nine other Englishmen, nine Japanese, and one

Portuguese, and after torturing them into a confession, cut off their

heads.

The horror with which the news of this atrocious deed was received,

threatened to ruin Buckingham's plans. But the English minister made a

strong complaint on the subject; the States made humble apologies and

promises of ample redress, and thus it was contrived for the moment to

smooth over the difficulty. It was the more readily done because the

unpopular Spaniards had already laid siege to Breda; and six thousand

troops were despatched from England to enable Prince Maurice of Orange

to cope with the able Spanish general Spinola. Spinola carried Breda in

defiance of the Dutch and English; and the Prince of Orange, hearing that

Antwerp had been left without a sufficient garrison, marched thither to

surprise it but with equally ill success. To obtain fresh men and money,

Count Mansfeldt, the Palatine's old auxiliary general, came over to

England in the autumn. He was promised twenty thousand pounds a month,

and twelve thousand Englishmen were pressed into his service. With these

he set sail, to reach as soon as possible his army of French and German

mercenaries on the borders of the Palatinate. But the French, who had

agreed to allow this force to pass through their territory, refused, on

account of their disorderly character; for they were the scum of their

own country, and several, on their march through it, had been hanged for

their outrages. Mansfeldt conducted them to the island of Zealand, but

there also the authorities were averse from their landing; and while

remaining cooped up in small miserable transports, in bad weather, and on

a swampy shore, they began to perish of fever. Five thousand of them had

died before they reached the borders of the Palatinate, and the united

force was still too feeble to accomplish anything. Maurice of Orange,

meanwhile, having done nothing at Antwerp, retired into winter quarters,

and soon after died at the Hague; whereupon the Earl of Southampton and

other English officers returned home. Such was the miserable result of

the campaign into which James had been hurried by the folly of Charles

and Buckingham.

The melancholy thoughts of James were diverted from dwelling on these

wretched affairs by the prospect of the marriage of Charles and Henrietta

Maria, the youngest sister of the King of France.

It was a curious fact that at the time of Charles's looking out for a

wife from one of the principal houses of Europe, the prospect of an

English royal marriage was made gloomy by the most awful reflections to

both France and Spain. The last Spanish Queen of England was Catherine of

Aragon, who had found such a tyrant in the sanguinary Henry VIII., and

suffered divorce and severe usage; the last French queen was Margaret

of Anjou, who had been driven from the country after the most heroic

endeavours to maintain her husband on the throne. Besides these sombre

memories, the question presented formidable difficulties from the temper

of the English people regarding Popery. Politically the alliance was

attractive, and this is generally all-sufficient in regal matrimony.

But it was singular that the present marriage with a French princess

was followed by similar and even more fearful results than the former.

Henrietta Maria married Charles only to engage in a similar contest for

the retention of the throne as Margaret of Anjou, and not only to see her

husband deposed but put to death.

Charles is supposed by many to have been struck by the young Princess

of France at his visit to the French Court on his way to Spain, and to

have gone there prepared to break off the match. It is probable, however,

that the thought of Henrietta came back more strongly upon him after he

found himself disappointed in Donna Maria of Spain; for independently

of the other difficulties already related attending Charles's Spanish

courtship, it is very likely that he was not extremely fascinated by

the Infanta. On the way to Spain, Henrietta, as seen by him, was merely

a girl of little more than fourteen years of age, of short stature, and

visible but for a brief space. The impression which she left could not

be very vivid; but the Queen of France, the elder sister of Donna Maria,

was extremely beautiful and, as Charles himself said in his letters to

his father at the time, had so much struck him as to inspire him "with a

greater desire to see her sister." There can be little doubt that Charles

was disappointed in his expectation, for he was of that romantic turn

that had he been strongly fascinated by the lady, he would have broken

through all difficulties for her sake. But at the Court of Spain he met

with another queen, the sister of Louis of France and of Henrietta, who

not only cast the Infanta into the shade by her beauty and grace, but

actually suggested to Charles the more desirable union with her sister

of France. The rigid etiquette of the Spanish Court prevented much

intercourse between Charles and the queen; she dared not even converse

with him in French without express permission, and one opportunity to

do so having been obtained, she begged him never to speak to her again,

for that it was the custom in Spain to poison all gentlemen who were

very marked in their attentions to the queen. But she seized that one

opportunity to say that "she wished he would marry her sister Henrietta,

which indeed he would be able to do, because his engagement with the

Infanta would be certainly broken."

[Illustration: THE LADIES OF THE FRENCH COURT AND THE PORTRAIT OF PRINCE

CHARLES. (_See p._ 506.)]

On the other hand, there was a decided desire in the French Court for

this alliance, despite past experience. Mary de Medici, the queen-mother

of France, had acquired a predominating influence in the government of

her son, Louis XIII., by means of her clever and intriguing almoner

Richelieu, who soon mounted into vast power in the State. She entertained

a strong hope of effecting a marriage for her daughter with the heir

of England, and was no doubt early informed of the probability of the

failure of the Spanish courtship. It was soon conveyed to Charles by

the English ambassador at Paris, that Henrietta had said, "The Prince

of Wales need not have gone so far as Madrid to look for a wife."

This following the suggestion of the Queen of Spain, left no doubt

of the wishes of the Court of France, and the bait seems to have been

soon taken. Buckingham would certainly promote the idea to spite the

Spaniards; and Henry Rich, Lord Kensington, appeared in Paris before

the Spanish match was formally broken off, to open the subject to the

queen-mother.

[Illustration: HENRIETTA MARIA.]

Mary de Medici, though extremely anxious for the marriage, played

the part of the politician well under Richelieu, and gave no decided

encouragement to the hints of the English envoy, till he assured her

plainly that the match with Spain was positively broken off. Even

then, she told Lord Kensington that "she could not consider the matter

seriously, as she had received no intimation of such proposal from the

King of England, and that the princess could not make advances; she must

be sought." On this, Kensington spoke out with authority, and received

a favourable answer. It is asserted that a great sensation was excited

at the French Court, and the ladies crowded round Lord Kensington to

have a view of the prince's portrait, which he carried in a locket; and

the locket was soon privately borrowed by the princess and kept for a

good long observation, she expressing her satisfaction with the looks of

her royal lover. Kensington, by his courtly assiduity at Paris and his

letters to Charles, endeavoured to create a strong personal interest in

the prince and princess towards each other. Hay, Earl of Carlisle, one of

James's favourites, a handsome, empty fop, who prided himself on adorning

his person with lace and jewels to the amount of forty thousand pounds,

was sent as a formal ambassador for the marriage negotiation, the real

conductor of it still being Kensington. A miniature portrait of Henrietta

was sent to Charles, who appeared to be enraptured with it.

So far all went well. But notwithstanding the anxious desire for the

marriage on the part of the French Court, it was not likely that so

crafty a diplomatist as Richelieu would make an easy bargain for the

English. The portion of the princess was settled at eight hundred

thousand crowns. She was pledged to renounce all claims for herself

and her descendants on the crown of France. Then came the question of

religion. James and Charles had lately bound themselves by the most

solemn oaths that a Catholic wife of the prince should have indulgence

in that respect only for her own private worship; and that no toleration

whatever should be extended to the English Catholics on account of such a

marriage. But this was not likely to pass. The Pope Urban, in the first

place, was extremely unfriendly to the match. He expected little good

from a prince who had shown such duplicity in the Spanish courtship; and

he predicted that the alliance, if effected, would be disastrous; being

fully informed by the seminary priests who were in England, secretly

prosecuting the support of Catholicism, of the determined temper of the

people on that score, and assured by them that if the king dared to relax

the penal laws he would not be king long; and if he did not soften their

rigour, the Pope argued, what prospect of happiness could there be for a

Catholic queen? He was, therefore, averse from granting a dispensation.

Under these circumstances the negotiation appeared for some time at a

stand. On the part of the English people, the opposition was scarcely

perceptible. They saw that they were pretty certain to have a Catholic

queen; the Stuart family did not incline to stoop to the alliance of any

further petty Protestant princes; the experiment of the Palatinate was

not encouraging. The people, therefore, were far more disposed to receive

a daughter of great Henry IV., who had been a Protestant at heart even

when he had yielded the profession of his faith to political necessity,

than a grand-daughter of Philip II., who had rendered his memory so

odious in England and all over the world by bloody persecutions of the

Protestants. On the part of the French, however, the proceedings every

day seemed involved in growing difficulties.

Richelieu, who, up to the time of the breaking off the Spanish match, was

most compliant, now insisted on the concession to the Catholics of all

the advantages stipulated for by Spain. He declared that it would be an

affront to his sovereign to offer less. James, despite his recent oath,

signed a paper, promising indulgence to the Catholics, which Kensington

and Carlisle assured Richelieu was quite sufficient; but it had no effect

on the astute French minister. "We did sing a song to the deaf," wrote

the ambassadors, "for he would not endure to hear of it." In vain did

they remind him that the French Court had promised that if they gave

toleration to the Catholics, it would send soldiers to the Palatinate,

and unite their interests with those of England entirely. Richelieu

did not deny this, but contended that the security was not sufficient;

they must have an actual treaty. Meanwhile Lord Nithsdale, a Catholic,

was sent post haste to Rome, to make promises of favour to the English

Catholics in order to procure the dispensation.

At length the French Court agreed to accept the secret agreement of

James, which was to the effect that the English Catholics should enjoy

a greater freedom of religion than had been guaranteed by the Spanish

contract. This was signed by James, Charles, and the Secretary of State,

on the 8th of November, and Louis placed his signature on the 12th to the

treaty of marriage. By this treaty it was provided, not indeed expressly,

as many historians have asserted, that the children of the marriage

should be brought up Roman Catholics till their thirteenth year, and that

they should remain under the queen's care till that age; a stipulation

amounting very much to the same thing; for though Charles chose to

construe the article in his own way, the mother used her opportunity thus

guaranteed to fix the Catholic faith firmly in the hearts of her sons,

as was too well and too disastrously shown in the end.

If the English Court thought the difficulties all surmounted, they were

vastly mistaken; for the French ministers now expressed themselves as

not satisfied with James's secret engagement. It was, they contended,

too vague, and they called upon him to specify precisely the indulgences

which he intended towards the Catholics. At this proposition Carlisle

expressed his astonishment, and wrote to James in a tone of unequivocal

indignation. He advised the king to make no further concessions; feeling

sure that if he were firm, the French would give way rather than hazard

the failure of the match. But to preach firmness to James was to expect

solidity from a mist. He was alarmed at the obstinacy of the Pope; at

the declaration of Philip of Spain, that he held the marriage contract

with Charles as still valid, from a private agreement between the prince

and himself; and at the strenuous efforts made by Philip to bring the

Court of France to this persuasion. To complete his dismay, the Huguenots

of France, just at this moment, made a rising under the leadership of

Soubise. They demanded a better observance of the edicts in favour of

the Protestants, seized the Isle of Rhé, near La Rochelle, placed it in

a state of defence, sent out a fleet to range the coast, and vowed not

to lay down their arms till their demands were granted. James consented

to add these express stipulations to his secret bond--That all Catholics

imprisoned on account of their religion, since the rising of Parliament,

should be liberated; that all fines levied on recusants since that

period should be repaid; and that for the future they should suffer no

interruption to the free exercise of their religious faith.

All obstacles on the part of the French Court were now removed, and

the young princess prepared for her journey to England. But the

Pope continued his opposition, still presaging misfortune from the

marriage, and refusing to deliver the dispensation. The patience of the

queen-mother was exhausted; the ministers of France proposed to proceed

on a dispensation from the ecclesiastic authorities in their own realm;

but to this James demurred, lest the validity of the marriage might

hereafter be called in question. At length the Pope was satisfied by

an oath taken by Louis, binding himself and his successors to compel

James and his son, by all the power of France if necessary, to keep

their engagement. The dispensation was delivered by Spada, the Papal

Nuncio; the Duke of Chevreuse, a prince of the House of Guise, and a near

relative of James and Charles, through the Queen of Scots, was appointed

proxy by Charles, and Buckingham was ordered to go over and receive the

bride. But James was destined not to see the completion of the marriage,

after all his trouble through nine years of matrimonial negotiations.

On the 13th of March, 1625, he returned to Theobalds from the hunt

with an illness upon him, which was regarded as the tertian ague, but

which soon developed itself as gout in the stomach. He had long been

so thoroughly undermined in constitution by his habits of eating and

drinking, that it required no fierce attack of sickness to carry him off.

He had always had a strong repugnance to doctors and physic, but now the

Court physicians were hurried to his bedside. At this moment appeared

the mother of Buckingham with an infallible specific--a plaster and a

posset obtained from an Essex quack. These were pronounced marvellous

in the cure of ague, and though the physicians protested against their

use, they were applied. They did not delay, if they did not accelerate

the catastrophe. On the eleventh day of his illness, James received the

Sacrament. Williams, bishop and Lord Keeper, preached his funeral sermon,

and said that, having told the king "that holy men in holy orders in the

Church of England doe challenge a power as inherent in their functions,

and not in their person, to pronounce and declare remission of sins to

such as being penitent doe call for the same, he had answered suddenly,

'I have ever believed there was that power in you that be in orders in

the Church of England, and therefore I, a miserable sinner, doe humbly

desire Almighty God to absolve me my sinnes, and you, that are His

servant in that high place, to affoard me this heavenly comfort.' And

after the absolution read and pronounced, he received the sacrament

with that zeal and devotion, as if he had not been a fraile man, but a

Christian cloathed with flesh and blood."

On Sunday, the 27th of March, the fourteenth day of his illness, Charles

was hastily called before daylight to go to him, but before he reached

the chamber the king had lost the power of speech. He appeared extremely

anxious to communicate something to him but could not, and soon after

expired. He was in the fifty-ninth year of his age, and the twenty-third

of his reign. Two only of his seven children, three sons and four

daughters, Charles and the ex-queen of Bohemia, survived him.