upon a question of religious decency would be quite as useless as one
upon a point of taste. But the world, either Roman Catholic or
Protestant, is hardly yet so wise as to be prepared to condemn Lord
Baltimore and the assembly of Maryland for the imposition of a fine of
five pounds upon the man who should dare to speak reproachfully of "the
Blessed Virgin," or of the heroic evangelists and apostolic martyrs of
the primitive Church.
3. There is a striking difference between religious uniformity and
social harmony. And it was an object of the law to tolerate the want of
the one and to promote the growth of the other. In this particular it
was but the development of the policy which had been adopted under the
first governor's administration. Bounded by the preceding explanations,
the law throughout breathes the spirit of peace and charity as well as
harmony.
4. Freedom in the fullest sense was secured to all believers in
Christianity: to Roman Catholics and Protestants; to Episcopalians and
Puritans; to Calvinists and Arminians; and to Christians of every other
name coming within the meaning of the assembly. A Christian was a
believer in Jesus Christ. The belief in Christ was synonymous with a
faith in his divinity. And the recognition of his godhead was
equivalent--such is the clear intention of the act--to a confession of
that article in the apostolic creed which teaches the great doctrine of
the Trinity. The act of the assembly also fully explains the oath which
had been imposed upon the governor and the privy counsellors. And the
believer enjoyed, not only a freedom, but also a protection. He who
"troubled, molested, or discountenanced" him was, according to the law,
fined for his offence.
5. From the language of the act, as well as the subsequent practice of
the government, it is evident that the quiet disbeliever also was
protected. A case can easily be given. But it is enough for the reader
to look at that section of the law which forbids the application, in a
reproachful sense, to "any person or persons whatsoever," of any "name
or term" "relating to matter of religion."
The act, it will be observed, covers a very broad ground. It is true, it
did not embrace every class of subsequent religionists. A Jew, without
peril to his life, could not call the Saviour of the world a "magician"
or a "necromancer." A Quaker, under the order of the government, was
required to take off his hat in court, or go immediately to the
whipping-post. The Mormon, who dignifies polygamy with the notion of a
sacrament, who disseminates the Gospel in the propagation of his
species, would not have been allowed, we may suppose, to marry more than
one woman. But as early as 1659 a well-known nonbeliever in the Trinity
lived here, transacted his business, and instituted without objection
his suits in the civil courts. Nor were the Jewish disabilities entirely
removed till a period long after the American Revolution; and this
feature of the law, all things considered, was not more of a reproach to
the legislators of 1649 than the constitution of the State to the
reformers of 1774.
We have no evidence, indeed, that any Quakers were in Maryland at the
passage of the law; and when they came, their case was misunderstood;
for the dislike toward them arose from their supposed want of respect
for the constituted authorities, and their refusal to take the oath of
submission. A constitutional difficulty might also readily occur to
anyone, as it certainly did to the Proprietary, who was bound by the
charter to maintain the fundamental principles of Anglo-Saxon law, which
had always regarded the instrumentality of the oath in the
administration of practical justice as the corner-stone of a system. But
every disposition was manifested to render them comfortable; and they
soon became a flourishing and influential denomination.
Notwithstanding the imperfection which ever marks human legislation, it
is wonderful to think how far our ancestors went in the march of
religious freedom. The earliest policy of Maryland was in striking
contrast with that of every other colony. The toleration which prevailed
from the first, and fifteen years later was formally ratified by the
voice of the people, must, therefore, be regarded as the living
embodiment of a great idea; the introduction of a new element into the
civilization of Anglo-American humanity; the beginning of another
movement in the progress of the human mind.
FOOTNOTES:
[36] The words in the English copy of the charter are "God's holy and
true Christian religion"; in the Latin, "_Sacrosancta Dei et vera
Christiana religio_."
[37] "The Virginians," says Chalmers, "boasted, with their wonted pride,
that the colonists of Kent sent burgesses to their assembly, and were
subjected to their jurisdiction, before Maryland had a name." Nor was
the boast without foundation. Their early legislative journals show
conclusively that the island was represented by Captain Nicholas Martin.
[38] The date of the settlement cannot be accurately given. Ethan Allen
supposes it was during the year 1629.
GREAT CIVIL WAR IN ENGLAND
EXECUTION OF CHARLES I
A.D. 1649
LORD MACAULAY CHARLES KNIGHT
No period of English history is more crowded with important
events than that of the civil war. The intolerant reign of
James I had brought him into conflict, not only with the
religious elements in the kingdom, but also with Parliament.
Like James, his son and successor, Charles I, was a stubborn
believer in the divine right of the monarch; and as James had
shown throughout his reign a flagrant disregard of law, so
Charles from the outset betrayed the same disposition. He
surrounded himself with advisers who supported his favorite
views. In the first fifteen months of his reign he summoned two
parliaments only to dissolve them in anger. Next he raised
money by forced loans and other expedients which were odious to
many of his subjects.
For the first time England was now divided between two great
parties. Matters proceeded with constantly increasing friction,
and at last the struggle developed into civil war. Macaulay's
summary of it, and Knight's picture of its culmination in that
most melancholy tragedy, the execution of the King, cover the
subject in its essential aspects, without unnecessary dealing
with minor details.
LORD MACAULAY
In August, 1642, the sword was at length drawn; and soon, in almost
every shire of the kingdom, two hostile factions appeared in arms
against each other. It is not easy to say which of the contending
parties was at first the more formidable. The Houses commanded London
and the counties round London, the fleet, the navigation of the Thames,
and most of the large towns and seaports. They had at their disposal
almost all the military stores of the kingdom, and were able to raise
duties, both on goods imported from foreign countries and on some
important products of domestic industry.
King Charles was ill provided with artillery and ammunition. The taxes
which he laid on the rural districts occupied by his troops produced,
it is probable, a sum far less than that which the Parliament drew from
the city of London alone. He relied, indeed, chiefly, for pecuniary aid
on the munificence of his opulent adherents. Many of these mortgaged
their land, pawned their jewels, and broke up their silver chargers and
christening-bowls in order to assist him. But experience has fully
proved that the voluntary liberality of individuals, even in times of
the greatest excitement, is a poor financial resource when compared with
severe and methodical taxation, which presses on the willing and
unwilling alike.
Charles, however, had one advantage, which, if he had used it well,
would have more than compensated for the want of stores and money, and
which, notwithstanding his mismanagement, gave him, during some months,
a superiority in the war. His troops at first fought much better than
those of the Parliament. Both armies, it is true, were almost entirely
composed of men who had never seen a field of battle. Nevertheless, the
difference was great. The Parliamentary ranks were filled with hirelings
whom want and idleness had induced to enlist. Hampden's regiment was
regarded as one of the best; and even Hampden's regiment was described
by Cromwell as a mere rabble of tapsters and serving-men out of place.
The royal army, on the other hand, consisted in great part of gentlemen,
high-spirited, ardent, accustomed to consider dishonor as more terrible
than death, accustomed to fencing, to the use of fire-arms, to bold
riding, and to manly and perilous sport, which has been well called the
image of war. Such gentlemen, mounted on their favorite horses, and
commanding little bands composed of their younger brothers, grooms,
gamekeepers, and huntsmen, were, from the very first day on which they
took the field, qualified to play their part with credit in a skirmish.
The steadiness, the prompt obedience, the mechanical precision of
movement, which are characteristic of the regular soldier, these gallant
volunteers never attained. But they were at first opposed to enemies as
undisciplined as themselves, and far less active, athletic, and daring.
For a time, therefore, the Cavaliers were successful in almost every
encounter.
The Houses had also been unfortunate in the choice of a general. The
rank and wealth of the Earl of Essex made him one of the most important
members of the Parliamentary party. He had borne arms on the Continent
with credit, and, when the war began, had as high a military reputation
as any man in the country. But it soon appeared that he was unfit for
the post of commander-in-chief. He had little energy and no originality.
The methodical tactics which he had learned in the war of the Palatinate
did not save him from the disgrace of being surprised and baffled by
such a captain as Rupert, who could claim no higher fame than that of an
enterprising partisan.
Nor were the officers who held the chief commissions under Essex
qualified to supply what was wanting in him. For this, indeed, the
Houses are scarcely to be blamed. In a country which had not, within the
memory of the oldest person living, made war on a great scale by land,
generals of tried skill and valor were not to be found. It was
necessary, therefore, in the first instance, to trust untried men; and
the preference was naturally given to men distinguished either by their
station or by the abilities which they had displayed in Parliament.
In scarcely a single instance, however, was the selection fortunate.
Neither the grandees nor the orators proved good soldiers. The Earl of
Stamford, one of the greatest nobles of England, was routed by the
Royalists at Stratton. Nathaniel Fiennes, inferior to none of his
contemporaries in talents for civil business, disgraced himself by the
pusillanimous surrender of Bristol. Indeed, of all the statesmen who at
this juncture accepted high military commands, Hampden alone appears to
have carried into the camp the capacity and strength of mind which had
made him eminent in politics.
When the war had lasted a year, the advantage was decidedly with the
Royalists. They were victorious, both in the western and in the northern
counties. They had wrested Bristol, the second city in the kingdom, from
the Parliament. They had won several battles, and had not sustained a
single serious or ignominious defeat. Among the Roundheads adversity had
begun to produce dissension and discontent. The Parliament was kept in
alarm, sometimes by plots and sometimes by riots. It was thought
necessary to fortify London against the royal army, and to hang some
disaffected citizens at their own doors. Several of the most
distinguished peers who had hitherto remained at Westminster fled to
the court at Oxford; nor can it be doubted that if the operations of the
Cavaliers had at this season been directed by a sagacious and powerful
mind, Charles would soon have marched in triumph to Whitehall.
But the King suffered the auspicious moment to pass away; and it never
returned. In August, 1643, he sat down before the city of Gloucester.
That city was defended by the inhabitants and by the garrison, with a
determination such as had not, since the commencement of the war, been
shown by the adherents of the Parliament. The emulation of London was
excited. The train-bands of the city volunteered to march wherever their
services might be required. A great force was speedily collected and
began to move westward. The siege of Gloucester was raised; the
Royalists in every part of the kingdom were disheartened; the spirit of
the Parliamentary party revived; and the apostate lords, who had lately
fled from Westminster to Oxford, hastened back from Oxford to
Westminster.
And now a new and alarming class of symptoms began to appear in the
distempered body politic. There had been, from the first, in the
Parliamentary party, some men whose minds were set on objects from which
the majority of that party would have shrunk with horror. These men
were, in religion Independents. They conceived that every Christian
congregation had, under Christ, supreme jurisdiction in things
spiritual; that appeals to provincial and national synods were scarcely
less unscriptural than appeals to the court of arches or to the Vatican;
and that popery, prelacy, and Presbyterianism were merely three forms of
one great apostasy. In politics, the Independents were, to use the
phrase of their time, root and branch men, or, to use the kindred phrase
of our own time, radicals. Not content with limiting the power of the
monarch, they were desirous to erect a commonwealth on the ruins of the
old English polity.
At first they had been inconsiderable, both in numbers and in weight;
but before the war had lasted two years they became, not indeed the
largest, but the most powerful, faction in the country. Some of the old
Parliamentary leaders had been removed by death; and others had
forfeited the public confidence. Pym had been borne, with princely
honors, to a grave among the Plantagenets. Hampden had fallen, as became
him, while vainly endeavoring, by his heroic example, to inspire his
followers with courage to face the fiery cavalry of Rupert. Bedford had
been untrue to the cause. Northumberland was known to be lukewarm. Essex
and his lieutenants had shown little vigor and ability in the conduct of
military operations. At such a conjuncture it was that the Independent
party, ardent, resolute, and uncompromising, began to raise its head,
both in the camp and in the House of Commons.
The soul of that party was Oliver Cromwell. Bred to peaceful
occupations, he had, at more than forty years of age, accepted a
commission in the Parliamentary army. No sooner had he become a soldier
than he discerned, with the keen glance of genius, what Essex, and men
like Essex, with all their experience, were unable to perceive. He saw
precisely where the strength of the Royalists lay, and by what means
alone that strength could be overpowered. He saw that it was necessary
to reconstruct the army of the Parliament. He saw also that there were
abundant and excellent materials for the purpose, materials less showy,
indeed, but more solid, than those of which the gallant squadrons of the
King were composed. It was necessary to look for recruits who were not
mere mercenaries, for recruits of decent station and grave character,
fearing God and zealous for public liberty. With such men he filled his
own regiment, and, while he subjected them to a discipline more rigid
than had ever before been known in England, he administered to their
intellectual and moral nature stimulants of fearful potency.
The events of the year 1644 fully proved the superiority of his
abilities. In the South, where Essex held the command, the Parliamentary
forces underwent a succession of shameful disasters; but in the North
the victory of Marston Moor fully compensated for all that had been lost
elsewhere. That victory was not a more serious blow to the Royalists
than to the party which had hitherto been dominant at Westminster; for
it was notorious that the day, disgracefully lost by the Presbyterians,
had been retrieved by the energy of Cromwell and by the steady valor of
the warriors whom he had trained.
These events produced the "Self-denying Ordinance" and the new model of
the army. Under decorous pretexts, and with every mark of respect, Essex
and most of those who had held high posts under him were removed; and
the conduct of the war was intrusted to very different hands. Fairfax, a
brave soldier, but of mean understanding and irresolute temper, was the
nominal lord-general of the forces; but Cromwell was their real head.
Cromwell made haste to organize the whole army on the same principles on
which he had organized his own regiment. As soon as this process was
complete, the event of the war was decided. The Cavaliers had now to
encounter natural courage equal to their own, enthusiasm stronger than
their own, and discipline such as was utterly wanting to them. It soon
became a proverb that the soldiers of Fairfax and Cromwell were men of a
different breed from the soldiers of Essex. At Naseby took place the
first great encounter between the Royalists and the remodelled army of
the Houses. The victory of the Roundheads was complete and decisive. It
was followed by other triumphs in rapid succession. In a few months the
authority of the Parliament was fully established over the whole
kingdom. Charles fled to the Scots, and was by them, in a manner which
did not much exalt their national character, delivered up to his English
subjects.
While the event of the war was still doubtful, the Houses had put the
primate to death, had interdicted, within the sphere of their authority,
the use of the liturgy, and had required all men to subscribe that
renowned instrument known by the name of the "Solemn League and
Covenant." Covenanting work, as it was called, went on fast. Hundreds of
thousands affixed their names to the rolls, and, with hands lifted up
toward heaven, swore to endeavor, without respect of persons, the
extirpation of popery and prelacy, heresy and schism, and to bring to
public trial and condign punishment all who should hinder the
reformation of religion. When the struggle was over, the work of
innovation and revenge was pushed on with increased ardor. The
ecclesiastical polity of the kingdom was remodelled. Most of the old
clergy were ejected from their benefices. Fines, often of ruinous
amount, were laid on the Royalists, already impoverished by large aids
furnished to the King. Many estates were confiscated. Many proscribed
Cavaliers found it expedient to purchase, at an enormous cost, the
protection of eminent members of the victorious party. Large domains,
belonging to the crown, to the bishops, and to the chapters, were
seized, and either granted away or put up to auction. In consequence of
these spoliations, a great part of the soil of England was at once
offered for sale. As money was scarce, as the market was glutted, as the
title was insecure, and as the awe inspired by powerful bidders
prevented free competition, the prices were often merely nominal. Thus
many old and honorable families disappeared and were heard of no more;
and many new men rose rapidly to affluence.
But, while the Houses were employing their authority thus, it suddenly
passed out of their hands. It had been obtained by calling into
existence a power which could not be controlled. In the summer of 1647,
about twelve months after the last fortress of the Cavaliers had
submitted to the Parliament, the Parliament was compelled to submit to
its own soldiers. Thirteen years followed, during which England was,
under various names and forms, really governed by the sword. Never
before that time, or since that time, was the civil power in our country
subjected to military dictation.
The army which now became supreme in the state was an army very
different from any that has since been seen among us. At present the pay
of the common soldier is not such as can seduce any but the humblest
class of English laborers from their calling. A barrier almost
impassable separates him from the commissioned officer. The great
majority of those who rise high in the service rise by purchase. So
numerous and extensive are the remote dependencies of England that every
man who enlists in the line must expect to pass many years in exile, and
some years in climates unfavorable to the health and vigor of the
European race. The army of the Long Parliament was raised for home
service. The pay of the private soldier was much above the wages earned
by the great body of the people; and, if he distinguished himself by
intelligence and courage, he might hope to attain high commands.
The ranks were accordingly composed of persons superior in station and
education to the multitude. These persons, sober, moral, diligent, and
accustomed to reflect, had been induced to take up arms, not by the
pressure of want, not by the love of novelty and license, not by the
arts of recruiting-officers, but by religious and political zeal,
mingled with the desire of distinction and promotion. The boast of the
soldiers, as we find it recorded in their solemn resolutions, was that
they had not been forced into the service, nor had enlisted chiefly for
the sake of lucre, that they were no janizaries, but freeborn
Englishmen, who had, of their own accord, put their lives in jeopardy
for the liberties and religion of England, and whose right and duty it
was to watch over the welfare of the nation which they had saved.
A force thus composed might, without injury to its efficiency, be
indulged in some liberties which, if allowed to any other troops, would
have proved subversive of all discipline. In general, soldiers who
should form themselves into political clubs, elect delegates, and pass
resolutions on high questions of state, would soon break loose from all
control, would cease to form an army, and would become the worst and
most dangerous of mobs. Nor would it be safe in our time to tolerate in
any regiment religious meetings, at which a corporal versed in Scripture
should lead the devotions of his less gifted colonel, and admonish a
backsliding major. But such was the intelligence, the gravity, and the
self-command of the warriors whom Cromwell had trained that in their
camp a political organization and a religious organization could exist
without destroying military organization. The same men, who, off duty,
were noted as demagogues and field preachers were distinguished by
steadiness, by the spirit of order, and by prompt obedience on watch, on
drill, and on the field of battle.
In war this strange force was irresistible. The stubborn courage
characteristic of the English people was, by the system of Cromwell, at
once regulated and stimulated. Other leaders have maintained order as
strict. Other leaders have inspired their followers with zeal as ardent.
But in his camp alone the most rigid discipline was found in company
with the fiercest enthusiasm. His troops moved to victory with the
precision of machines, while burning with the wildest fanaticism of
crusaders. From the time when the army was remodelled to the time when
it was disbanded, it never found, either in the British Islands or on
the Continent, an enemy who could stand its onset. In England, Scotland,
Ireland, Flanders, the Puritan warriors, often surrounded by
difficulties, sometimes contending against three-fold odds, not only
never failed to conquer, but never failed to destroy and break in pieces
whatever force was opposed to them. They at length came to regard the
day of battle as a day of certain triumph, and marched against the most
renowned battalions of Europe with disdainful confidence.
Turenne was startled by the shout of stern exultation with which his
English allies advanced to the combat, and expressed the delight of a
true soldier when he learned that it was ever the fashion of Cromwell's
pikemen to rejoice greatly when they beheld the enemy; and the banished
Cavaliers felt an emotion of national pride when they saw a brigade of
their countrymen, outnumbered by foes and abandoned by friends, drive
before it in headlong rout the finest infantry of Spain, and force a
passage into a counter-scarp which had just been pronounced impregnable
by the ablest of the marshals of France.