CHAPTER XII.

THE REIGNS OF JAMES I. AND CHARLES I.

While the Protestants in Germany were struggling for religious

liberty, and the Parliaments of France for political privileges, there

was a contest going on in England for the attainment of the same great

ends. With the accession of James I. a new era commences in English

history, marked by the growing importance of the House of Commons, and

their struggles for civil and religious liberty. The Commons had not

been entirely silent during the long reign of Elizabeth, but members

of them occasionally dared to assert those rights of which Englishmen

are proud. The queen was particularly sensitive to any thing which

pertained to her prerogative, and generally sent to the Tower any man

who boldly expressed his opinion on subjects which she deemed that she

and her ministers alone had the right to discuss. These forbidden

subjects were those which pertained to the management of religion, to

her particular courts, and to her succession to the crown. She never

made an attack on what she conceived to be the constitution, but only

zealously defended what she considered as her own rights. And she was

ever sufficiently wise to yield a point to the commons, after she had

asserted her power, so that concession, on her part, had all the

appearance of bestowing a favor. She never pushed matters to

extremity, but gave way in good time. And in this policy she showed

great wisdom; so that, in spite of all her crimes and caprices, she

ever retained the affections of the English people.

[Sidenote: Accession of James I.]

The son of her rival Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots, ascended the throne,

(1603,) under the title of _James I._, and was the first of the Stuart

kings. He had been king of Scotland under the title of _James VI._,

and had there many difficulties to contend with, chiefly in

consequence of the turbulence of the nobles, and the bigotry of the

reformers. He was eager to take possession of his English inheritance,

but was so poor that he could not begin his journey until Cecil sent

him the money. He was crowned, with great ceremony, in Westminster

Abbey, on the 25th of June.

The first acts of his reign were unpopular; and it was subsequently

disgraced by a continual succession of political blunders. To detail

these, or to mention all the acts of this king, or the events of his

inglorious reign would fill a volume larger than this History.

Moreover, from this period, modern history becomes very complicated

and voluminous, and all that can be attempted in this work is, an

allusion to the principal events.

[Sidenote: The Genius of the Reign of James.]

The genius of this reign is the contest between _royal prerogative and

popular freedom_. The proceedings in parliament were characterized by

a spirit of boldness and resistance never before manifested, while the

speeches and acts of the king were marked by an obstinate and stupid

pertinacity to those privileges which absolute kings extorted from

their subjects in former ages of despotism and darkness. The boldness

of the Commons and the bigotry of the king led to incessant

disagreement and discontent; and, finally, under Charles I., to open

rupture, revolution, and strife.

The progress of this insurrection and contest furnishes one of the

most important and instructive chapters in the history of society and

the young student cannot make himself too familiar with details, of

which our limits forbid a description.

The great Puritan contest here begins, destined not to be closed until

after two revolutions, and nearly a century of anxiety, suffering, and

strife. Providence raised up, during the whole of the Stuart dynasty,

great patriots and statesmen, who had an eye to perceive the true

interests and rights of the people, and a heart and a hand to defend

them. No period and no nation have ever been more fertile in great men

than England was from the accession of James I. to the abdication of

James II., a period of eighty-five years. Shakspeare, Raleigh, Coke,

Bacon, Cecil, Selden, Pym, Wentworth, Hollis, Leighton, Taylor,

Baxter, Howe, Cromwell, Hampden, Blake, Vane, Milton, Clarendon,

Burnet, Shaftesbury, are some of the luminaries which have shed a

light down to our own times, and will continue to shine through all

future ages. They were not all contemporaneous, but they all took

part, more or less, on one side or the other, in the great contest of

the seventeenth century. Whether statesmen, warriors, poets, or

divines, they alike made their age an epoch, and their little island

the moral centre of the world.

But we must first allude to some of the events of the reign of

James I., before the struggle between prerogative and liberty

attracted the attention of Europe.

[Sidenote: Conspiracy of Sir Walter Raleigh.]

One of the first was the conspiracy against the king, in which Lord

Cobham and Sir Walter Raleigh were engaged. We lament that so great a

favorite with all readers as Sir Walter Raleigh, so universal a

genius, a man so learned, accomplished, and brave, should have even

been suspected of a treasonable project, and without the excuse of

some traitors, that they wished to deliver their country from tyranny.

But there is no perfection in man. Sir Walter was restless and

ambitious, and had an eye mainly to his own advantage. His wit,

gallantry, and chivalry were doubtless very pleasing qualities in a

courtier, but are not the best qualities of a patriot. He was

disappointed because he could not keep pace with Cecil in the favor of

his sovereign, and because the king took away the monopolies he had

enjoyed. Hence, in conjunction with other disappointed politicians, he

was accused of an attempt to seize the king's person, to change the

ministry, and to place the Lady Arabella Stuart on the throne. Against

Raleigh appeared no less a person than the great Coke, who prosecuted

him with such vehemence that Raleigh was found guilty, and condemned

to death. But the proofs of his guilt are not so clear as the evidence

of his ambition; and much must be attributed to party animosity.

Though condemned, he was not executed; but lived to write many more

books, and make many more voyages, to the great delight both of the

cultivated and the adventurous. That there was a plot to seize the

king is clear, and the conspirators were detected and executed.

Raleigh was suspected of this, and perhaps was privy to it; but the

proofs of his crime were not apparent, except to the judges, and to

the attorney-general, Coke, who compared the different plots to

Samson's foxes, joined in the tails, though their heads were

separated.

[Sidenote: Gunpowder Plot.]

[Sidenote: Persecution of the Catholics.]

The most memorable event at this time in the domestic history of the

kingdom was the Gunpowder Plot, planned by Catesby and other

disappointed and desperate Catholics for the murder of the king, and

the destruction of both houses of parliament. Knowing the sympathies

of James for their religion, the Catholics had expected toleration, at

least. But when persecution continued against them, some reckless and

unprincipled men united in a design to blow up the parliament. Percy,

a relation of the Earl of Northumberland, was concerned in the plot,

and many of the other conspirators were men of good families and

fortunes, but were implacable bigots. They hired a cellar, under the

parliament house, which had been used for coals; and there they

deposited thirty-one barrels of gunpowder, waiting several months for

a favorable time to perpetrate one of the most horrid crimes ever

projected. It was resolved that Guy Fawkes, one of the number, should

set fire to the train. They were all ready, and the 5th of November,

1605, was at hand, the day to which parliament was prorogued; but

Percy was anxious to save _his_ kinsman from the impending ruin, Sir

Everard Digby wished to warn some of _his_ friends, and Tresham was

resolved to give _his_ brother-in-law, Lord Mounteagle, a caution. It

seems that this peer received a letter so peculiar, that he carried it

to Cecil, who showed it to the king, and the king detected or

suspected a plot. The result was, that the cellar was explored by the

lord chamberlain, and Guy Fawkes himself was found, with all the

materials for striking a light, near the vault in which the coal and

the gunpowder were deposited. He was seized, interrogated, tortured,

and imprisoned; but the wretch would not reveal the names of his

associates, although he gloried in the crime he was about to commit,

and alleged, as his excuse, that violent diseases required desperate

remedies, the maxim of the Jesuits. But most of the conspirators

revealed their guilt by flight. They might have escaped, had they fled

from the kingdom; but they hastened only into the country to collect

their friends, and head an insurrection, which, of course, was easily

suppressed. The leaders in this plot were captured and executed, and

richly deserved their fate, although it was clear that they were

infatuated. But in all crime there is infatuation. It was suspected

that the Jesuits were at the bottom of the conspiracy; and the whole

Catholic population suffered reproach from the blindness and folly of

a few bigots, from whom no sect or party ever yet has been free. But

there is no evidence that any of the Catholic clergy were even privy

to the intended crime, which was known only to the absolute plotters.

Some Jesuits were indeed suspected, arrested, tortured, and executed;

but no evidence of guilt was brought against them sufficient to

convict them. But their acquittal was impossible in such a state of

national alarm and horror. Nothing ever made a more lasting and

profound impression on the English mind than this intended crime; and

it strengthened the prejudices against the Catholics even more than

the persecutions under Queen Mary. Had the crime been consummated, it

would only have proved a blunder. It would have shocked and irritated

the nation beyond all self-control; and it is probable that the whole

Catholic population would have been assassinated, or hunted out, as

victims for the scaffold, in every corner of England. It proved,

however, a great misfortune, and the severest blow Catholicism ever

received in England. Thus God overrules all human wickedness. There

was one person who suffered, in consequence of the excited suspicions

of the nation, whose fate we cannot but compassionate; and this person

was the Earl of Northumberland, who was sentenced to pay a fine of

thirty thousand pounds, to be deprived of all his offices, and to be

imprisoned in the Tower for life, and simply because he was the head

of the Catholic party, and a promoter of toleration. Indeed, penal

statutes against the Catholics were fearfully multiplied. No Catholic

was permitted to appear at court, or live in London, or within ten

miles of it, or remove, on any occasion, more than five miles from his

home, without especial license. No Catholic recusant was permitted to

practise surgery, physic, or law; to act as judge, clerk, or officer

of any court or corporation; or perform the office of administrator,

executor, or guardian. Every Catholic who refused to have his child

baptized by a Protestant, was obliged to pay, for each omission, one

hundred pounds. Every person keeping a Catholic servant, was compelled

to pay ten pounds a month to government. Moreover, every recusant was

outlawed; his house might be broken open; his books and furniture

destroyed; and his horses and arms taken from him. Such was the severe

treatment with which the Catholics, even those who were good citizens,

were treated by our fathers in England; and this persecution was

defended by some of the greatest jurists, divines, and statesmen which

England has produced. And yet some maintain that there has been no

progress in society, except in material civilization!

[Sidenote: Robert Carr, Earl of Somerset.]

One of the peculiarities of the reign of James was, the ascendency

which favorites obtained over him, so often the mark of a weak and

vacillating mind. Henry VIII. and Elizabeth had their favorites; but

they were ministers of the royal will. Moreover, they, like Wolsey,

Cromwell, Burleigh, and Essex, were great men, and worthy of the trust

reposed in them. But James, with all his kingcraft and statecraft,

with all his ostentation and boasts of knowledge and of sagacity,

reposed his confidence in such a man as Villiers, Duke of Buckingham.

It is true he also had great men to serve him; Cecil was his

secretary, Bacon was his chancellor, and Coke was his chief justice.

But Carr and Villiers rose above them all in dignity and honor, and

were the companions and confidential agents of their royal master.

[Sidenote: Greatness and Fall of Somerset.]

Robert Carr was a Scottish gentleman, poor and cunning, who had early

been taught that personal beauty, gay dress, and lively manners, would

make his fortune at court. He first attracted the attention of the

king at a tilting match, at which he was the esquire to Lord Dingwall.

In presenting his lord's shield to the king, his horse fell and threw

him at James's feet. His leg was broken, but his fortune was made.

James, struck with his beauty and youth, and moved by the accident,

sent his own surgeon to him, visited him himself, and even taught him

Latin, seeing that the scholastic part of his education had been

neglected. Indeed, James would have made a much better schoolmaster

than king; and his pedantry and conceit were beyond all bounds, so

that Bacon styled him, either in irony or sycophancy, "the Solomon of

the age." Carr now became the pet of the learned monarch. He was

knighted, rich presents were bestowed on him, all bowed down to him as

they would have done to a royal mistress; and Cecil and Suffolk vied

with each other in their attempts to secure the favor of his friends.

He gradually eclipsed every great noble at court, was created Viscount

Rochester, received the Order of the Garter, and, when Cecil, then

Earl of Salisbury, died, received the post of the Earl of Suffolk as

lord chamberlain, he taking Cecil's place as treasurer. Rochester, in

effect, became prime minister, as Cecil had been. He was then created

Earl of Somerset, in order that he might marry the Countess of Essex,

the most beautiful and fascinating woman at the English court. She was

daughter of the Earl of Suffolk, and granddaughter of the old Duke of

Norfolk, executed in 1572, and, consequently, belonged to the first

family in the realm. She was married to Essex at the age of thirteen,

but treated him with contempt and coldness, being already enamored of

the handsome favorite. That she might marry Carr she obtained a

divorce from her husband on the most frivolous grounds, and through

the favor of the king, who would do any thing for the man he delighted

to honor. She succeeded in obtaining her end, and caused the ruin of

all who opposed her wishes. But she proved a beautiful demon, a

fascinating fury, as might be expected from such an unprincipled

woman, although ennobled by "the blood of all the Howards." Her reign

lasted, however, only during the ascendency of her husband. For a

time, "glorious days were succeeded by as glorious nights, when masks

and dancings had a continual motion, and when banquetings rapt up the

spirit of the sacred king, and kept it from descending to earthly

things." But whatever royal favor stamps, royal favor, like fashion,

leaves. Carr was supplanted by Villiers, and his doom was sealed. For

the murder of his old friend Sir Thomas Overbury, who died in the

Tower, as it was then supposed by poison, he and his countess were

tried, found guilty, and disgraced. But he was not executed, and,

after a few years' imprisonment, retired to the country, with his

lady, to reproach and hate each other. Their only child, the Lady Anna

Carr, a woman of great honor and virtue, married the first duke of

Bedford, and was the mother of Lord Russell who died on the scaffold,

a martyr to liberty, in the reign of Charles II. The origin of the

noble families of England is curious. Some few are descended from

successful Norman chieftains, who came over with William the

Conqueror, and whose merit was in their sword. Others are the

descendants of those who, as courtiers, statesmen, or warriors,

obtained great position, power, and wealth, during former reigns. Many

owe their greatness to the fact that they are the offspring of the

illegitimate children of kings, or the descendants of the ignoble

minions of kings. Some few are enrolled in the peerage on account of

their great wealth; and a still smaller number for the eminent

services they have rendered their country like Wellington, Brougham,

or Ellenborough. A vast majority can boast only the merit or the

successful baseness of their ancestors. But all of them are

interlinked by marriages, and therefore share together the glory or

the shame of their progenitors, so far as glory and shame can be

transmitted from father to son, independently of all individual virtue

or vice.

[Sidenote: Duke of Buckingham.]

[Sidenote: Lord Bacon.]

Carr was succeeded in the royal favor by Villiers, and he, more

fortunate, ever retained the ascendency over the mind and heart of

James, as well as of his son Charles I. George Villiers owed his

fortune, not to his birth or talents, but to his fine clothes, his

Parisian manners, smooth face, tall figure, and bland smiles. He

became cup-bearer, then knight, then gentleman of the privy council,

then earl, then marquis, and finally duke of Buckingham, lord high

admiral, warden of the Cinque Ports, high steward of Westminster,

constable of Windsor Castle, and chief justice in eyre of the parks

and forests. "The doting and gloating king" had taught Somerset Latin;

he attempted to teach Buckingham divinity, and called him ever by the

name of "Steenie." And never was there such a mixture of finery,

effeminacy, insolence, and sycophancy in any royal minion before or

since. Beau Brummell never equalled him in dress, Wolsey in

magnificence, Mazarin in peculation, Walpole in corruption, Jeffries

in insolence, or Norfolk in pride. He was the constant companion of

the king, to whose vices he pandered, and through him the royal favor

flowed. But no rewards, or favors, or greatness satisfied him; not so

much because he was ambitious, as because, like a spoiled child, he

did not appreciate the magnitude of the gifts which were bestowed on

him. Nor did he ever know his place; but made love to the queen of

France herself, when he was sent on an embassy. He trampled on the

constitution, subverted the laws, ground down the people by taxes, and

taught the king to disregard the affections of his subjects, and to

view them as his slaves. But such a triumph of iniquity could not be

endured; and Buckingham was finally assassinated, after he had gained

an elevation higher than any English subject ever before attained,

except Wolsey, and without the exercise of any qualities which

entitled him to a higher position than a master of ceremonies at a

fashionable ball. It is easy to conceive that such a minion should

arrive at power under such a monarch as James; but how can we

understand that such a man as Lord Bacon, the chancellor, the

philosopher, the statesman, the man of learning, genius, and wisdom,

should have bowed down to the dust, in vile subserviency, to this

infamous favorite of the king. Surely, what lessons of the frailty of

human nature does the reign of James teach us! The most melancholy

instance of all the singular cases of human inconsistency, at this

time, is the conduct of the great Bacon himself, who reached the

zenith of his power during this reign. It is not the receiving of a

bribe, while exercising the highest judicial authority in the land, on

which alone his shame rests, but his insolent conduct to his

inferiors, his acquiescence in wrong, his base and unmanly sycophancy,

his ingratitude to his friends and patrons, his intense selfishness

and unscrupulous ambition while climbing to power, and, above all, his

willingness to be the tool of a despot who trampled on the rights and

liberties which God had given him to guard; and this in an age of

light, of awakened intelligence, when even his crabbed rival Coke was

seeking to explode the abuses of the Dark Ages. But "the difference

between the soaring angel and the creeping snake, was but a type of

the difference between Bacon the philosopher and Bacon the

attorney-general, Bacon seeking for truth and Bacon seeking for the

Seals." As the author of the Novum Organum, as the pioneer of modern

science, as the calm and patient investigator of nature's laws, as the

miner and sapper of the old false systems of philosophy which enslaved

the human mind, as the writer for future generations, he has received,

as he has deserved, all the glory which admiring and grateful millions

can bestow, of his own nation, and of all nations. No name in British

annals is more illustrious than his, and none which is shaded with

more lasting shame. Pope alone would have given him an immortality as

the "wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind." The only defence for the

political baseness of Bacon--and this is insufficient--is, that all

were base around him. The years when he was in power are among the

darkest and most disgraceful in English history.

[Sidenote: Trial and Execution of Raleigh.]

Allusion has been made to the reign of favorites; but this was but a

small part of the evils of the times. Every thing abroad and at home

was mismanaged. Patents of monopolies were multiplied; the most

grievous exactions were made; indefensible executions were ordered;

the laws were perverted; justice was sold; and an ignominious war was

closed by a still more ignominious peace. The execution of Raleigh was

a disgrace to the king, the court, and the nation, because the manner

of it was so cowardly and cruel. He had been convicted, in the early

part of the reign, of treason, and committed to the Tower. There he

languished twelve years, amusing himself by writing a universal

history, and in seeking the elixir of life; for, in the mysteries of

chemistry, and in the mazes of historical lore, as in the intrigues of

courts, and dangers of camps, he was equally at home.

He was released from his prison in order to take command of an

adventurous expedition to Guiana in quest of gold. In a former voyage

he had visited the banks of the Oronoco in quest of the city of Manoa,

where precious stones and gold existed in exhaustless treasures. That

El Dorado he could not find; but now, in prison, he proposed to

Secretary Winwood an expedition to secure what he had before sought in

vain. The king wavered a while between his cupidity and fear; for,

while he longed for gold, as the traveller does for water on the

desert of Sahara, he was afraid of giving offence to the Spanish

ambassador. But his cupidity was the stronger feeling, and Raleigh was

sent with fourteen ships to the coasts of South America. The

expedition was in every respect unfortunate to Raleigh and to the

king. The gallant commander lost his private fortune and a promising

son, the Spaniards attacked his armament, his troops mutinied and

deserted, and he returned to England, with a sullied fame, to meet a

disappointed sovereign and implacable enemies. In such times, failure

is tantamount to crime, and Raleigh was tried for offences he never

committed. The most glaring injustice, harshness, and sophistry were

resorted to, even by Bacon; but still Raleigh triumphantly defended

himself. But no innocence or eloquence could save him; and he was

executed on the sentence which had been pronounced against him for

treason fifteen years before. To such meanness and cowardice did his

enemies resort to rid the world of a universal genius, whose crime--if

crime he ever committed--had long been consigned to oblivion.

[Sidenote: Encroachments of James.]

But we cannot longer dwell on the lives of eminent individuals during

the reign of James. However interesting may be the details of their

fortunes, their history dwindles into insignificance when compared

with the great public injuries which an infatuated monarch inflicted.

Not cruel in his temper, not stained by personal crimes, quite learned

in Greek and Latin, but weak and ignorant of his duties as a king, he

was inclined to trespass on the rights of his subjects. As has been

already remarked, the genius of his reign was the contest between

prerogative and liberty. The Commons did not acquiesce in his

measures, or yield to his wishes, as they did during the reign of

Elizabeth. He had a notion that the duty of a king was to command, and

that of the subject was to obey, in all things; that kings ruled by

divine right, and were raised by the Almighty above all law. But such

notions were not approved by a parliament which swarmed with Puritans,

and who were not careful to conceal their views from the king. They

insisted on their privileges as tenaciously as the king insisted on

his prerogative, and often came into collision with him. And they

instituted an inquiry into monopolies, and attacked the monstrous

abuses of purveyance, and the incidents of feudal tenure, by which,

among other things, the king became guardian to wards, and received

the profits of their estates during their minority. These feudal

claims, by which the king, in part, received his revenue, were every

year becoming less valuable to the crown, and more offensive to the

people. The king, at length, was willing to compound, and make a

bargain with the Commons, by which he was to receive two hundred

thousand pounds a year, instead of the privileges of wardship, and

other feudal rights. But his necessities required additional grants,

which the Commons were unwilling to bestow; and the king then resorted

to the sale of monopolies and even peerages, sent the more turbulent

of the Commons to prison, and frequently dissolved parliament. He was

resolved to tax the people if supplies were not granted him, while the

Commons maintained that no taxation could be allowed without their

consent. Moreover, the Commons refused to grant such supplies as the

king fancied he needed, unless certain grievances were redressed,

among which was the High Commission Court, an arbitrary tribunal,

which fined and imprisoned without appeal. But James, though pressed

for money, stood firm to his notions of prerogative, and supplied his

most urgent necessities by illegal means. People were dragged to the

Star Chamber, on all kinds of accusations, that they might be

sentenced to pay enormous fines; new privileges and monopolies were

invented, and new dignities created. Baronets, who are hereditary

knights, were instituted, and baronetcies were sold for one thousand

pounds each.

[Sidenote: Quarrel between James and Parliament.]

But the monopolies which the king granted, in order to raise money,

did not inflame the Commons so much as the projected marriage between

the prince of Wales and the infanta of Spain. James flattered himself

that this Spanish match, to arrange which he had sent Buckingham to

the court of Madrid, would procure the restitution of the Palatinate

to the elector, who had been driven from his throne. But the Commons

thought differently. They, as well as the people generally, were

indignant in view of the inactivity of the government in not sending

aid to the distressed Protestants of Germany; and the loss of the

Palatinate was regarded as a national calamity. They saw no good which

would accrue from an alliance with the enemies and persecutors of

these Protestants; but, on the other hand, much evil. As the

constitutional guardians, therefore, of the public welfare and

liberty, they framed a remonstrance to the king, representing the

overgrown power of Austria as dangerous to the liberties of Europe,

and entreated his majesty to take up arms against Spain, which was

allied with Austria, and by whose wealth Austrian armies were

supported.

James was inflamed with indignation at this remonstrance, which

militated against all his maxims of government; and he forthwith wrote

a letter to the speaker of the House of Commons, commanding him to

admonish the members "not to presume to meddle with matters of state

which were beyond their capacity, and especially not to touch on his

son's marriage." The Commons, not dismayed, and conscious of strength,

sent up a new remonstrance in which they affirmed that they _were_

entitled to interpose with their counsel in all matters of state, and

that entire freedom of speech was their ancient and undoubted right,

transmitted from their ancestors. The king, in reply, told the

Commons, that "their remonstrance was more like a denunciation of war,

than an address of dutiful subjects, and that their pretension to

inquire into state affairs was a plenipotence to which none of their

ancestors, even during the weakest reigns, had ever dared to aspire."

He farther insinuated that their privileges were derived from royal

favor. On this, the Commons framed another protest,--that the

liberties, franchises, privileges, and jurisdictions of parliament are

the ancient and undoubted birthright of Englishmen, and that every

member has the right of freedom of speech. This protest they entered

upon their journals, upon which James lost all temper, ordered the

clerk to bring him the journals, erased the protestation with his own

hand, in presence of the judges and the council, and then dissolved

the parliament.

Nothing else of note occurred in this reign, except the prosecution of

the Spanish match, which was so odious to the nation that Buckingham,

to preserve his popularity, broke off the negotiations, and by a

system of treachery and duplicity as hateful as were his original

efforts to promote the match. War with Spain was the result of the

insult offered to the infanta and the court. An alliance was now made

with France, and Prince Charles married Henrietta Maria, daughter of

Henry IV. The Commons then granted abundant supplies for war, to

recover the Palatinate; and liberty of conscience was granted by the

monarch, on the demands of Richelieu, to the Catholics--so long and,

perseveringly oppressed.

[Sidenote: Death of James I.]

Shortly after, (March 27, 1625,) King James died at Theobalds, his

favorite palace, from a disease produced by anxiety, gluttony, and

sweet wines, after a reign in England of twenty-two years; and his

son, Charles I., before the breath was out of his body, was proclaimed

king in his stead.

The course pursued by James I. was adopted by his son; and, as their

reigns were memorable for the same struggle, we shall consider them

together until revolution gave the victory to the advocates of

freedom.

Charles I. was twenty-five years of age when he began his reign. In a

moral and social point of view he was a more respectable man than his

father, but had the same absurd notions of the royal prerogative, the

same contempt of the people, the same dislike of constitutional

liberty, and the same resolution of maintaining the absolute power of

the crown, at any cost. He was moreover, perplexed by the same

embarrassments, was involved in debt, had great necessities, and was

dependent on the House of Commons for aid to prosecute his wars and

support the dignity of the crown. But he did not consider the changing

circumstances and spirit of the age, and the hostile and turbulent

nature of his people. He increased, rather than diminished, the odious

monopolies which irritated the nation during the reign of his father;

he clung to all the old feudal privileges; he retained the detestable

and frivolous Buckingham as his chief minister; and, when Buckingham

was assassinated, he chose others even more tyrannical and

unscrupulous; he insisted on taxing the people without their consent,

threw contempt on parliament, and drove the nation to rebellion. In

all his political acts he was infatuated, after making every allowance

for the imperfections of human nature. A wiser man would have seen the

rising storm, and might possibly have averted it. But Charles never

dreamed of it, until it burst in all its fury on his devoted head, and

consigned him to the martyr's grave. We pity his fate, but lament

still more his blindness. And so great was this blindness, that it

almost seems as if Providence had marked him out to be a victim on the

altar of human progress.

With the reign of Charles commences unquestionably the most exciting

period of English history, and a period to which historians have given

more attention than to any other great historical era, the French

Revolution alone excepted. The attempt to describe the leading events

in this exciting age and reign would be, in this connection, absurd;

and yet some notice of them cannot be avoided.

[Sidenote: The Struggle of Classes.]

For more than ten centuries, great struggles have been going on in

society between the dominant orders and sects. The victories gained by

the oppressed millions, over their different masters, constitute what

is called the Progress of Society. Defenders of the people have

occasionally arisen from orders to which they did not belong. When,

then, any great order defended the cause of the people against the

tyranny and selfishness of another order, then the people have

advanced a step in civil and social freedom.

When Feudalism weighed fearfully upon the people, "the clergy sought,

on their behalf, a little reason, justice, and humanity, and the poor

man had no other asylum than the churches, no other protectors than

the priests; and, as the priests offered food to the moral nature of

man, they acquired a great ascendency, and the preponderance passed

from the nobles to the clergy." By the aid of the church, royalty also

rose above feudalism, and aided the popular cause.

The church, having gained the ascendency, sought then to enslave the

kings of the earth. But royalty, borrowing help from humiliated nobles

and from the people, became the dominant power in Europe.

[Sidenote: Rise of Popular Power.]

In these struggles between nobles and the clergy, and between the

clergy and kings, the people had acquired political importance. They

had obtained a knowledge of their rights and of their strength; and

they were determined to maintain them. They liked not the tyranny of

either nobles, priests, or kings; but they bent all their energies to

suppress the power of the latter, since the two former had been

already humiliated.

The struggle of the people against royalty is preëminently the genius

of the English Revolution. It is to be doubted whether any king could

have resisted the storm of popular fury which hurled Charles from his

throne. But no king could have managed worse than he, no king could be

more unfortunately and unpropitiously placed; and his own imprudence

and folly hastened the catastrophe.

The House of Commons, which had acquired great strength, spirit, and

popularity during the reign of James, fully perceived the difficulties

and necessities of Charles, but made no adequate or generous effort to

relieve him from them. Some of the more turbulent rejoiced in them.

They knew that kings, like other men, were selfish, and that it was

not natural for people to part with their privileges and power without

a struggle, even though this power was injurious to the interests of

society. In the Middle Ages, barons, bishops, and popes had fought

desperately in the struggle of classes; and it was only from their

necessities that either kings or people had obtained what they

demanded. King Charles, no more than Pope Boniface VIII., would

surrender, as a boon to man, without compulsion, his supposed

omnipotence.

[Sidenote: Quarrel between the King and the Commons.]

The king ascended his throne burdened by the debts of his father, and

by an expensive war, which the Commons incited, but would not pay for.

They granted him, to meet his difficulties and maintain his honor, the

paltry sum of one hundred and forty thousand pounds, and the duties of

tonnage and poundage, not for life, as was customary, but for a year.

Nothing could be more provoking to a young king. Of course, the money

was soon spent, and the king wanted more, and had a right to expect

more. But, if the Commons granted what the king required, he would be

made independent of them, and he would rule tyrannically, as the kings

of England did before him. So they resolved not to grant necessary

supplies to carry on the government, unless the king would part with

the prerogatives of an absolute prince, and those old feudal

privileges which were an abomination in the eyes of the people.

Charles was not the man to make such a bargain. Few kings, in his age,

would have seen its necessity. But necessity there was. Civil war was

inevitable, without a compromise, provided both parties were resolved

on maintaining their ground. But Charles fancied that the Commons

could be browbeaten and intimidated into submission; and, moreover, in

case he was brought into collision with his subjects, he fancied that

he was stronger than they, and could put down the spirit of

resistance. In both of these suppositions he was wrong. The Commons

were firm, and were stronger than he was, because they had the

sympathy of the people. They believed conscientiously, especially the

Puritans, that he was wrong; that God gave him no divine right to

enslave them, and that they were entitled, by the eternal principles

of justice, and by the spirit of the constitution, to civil and

religious liberty, in the highest sense of that term. They believed

that their rights were inalienable and absolute; that, among them,

they could not be taxed without their own consent; and that their

constitutional guardians, the Commons, should be unrestricted in

debate. These notions of the people were _ideas_. On ideas all

governments rest. No throne could stand a day unless the people felt

they owed it their allegiance. When the main support of the throne of

Charles was withdrawn, the support of popular ideas, and this support

given to the House of Commons, at issue with the sovereign, what could

he do? What could Louis XVI. do one hundred and fifty years

afterwards? What could Louis Philippe do in our times? A king, without

the loyalty of the people, is a phantom, a mockery, and a delusion,

unless he have physical force to sustain him; and even then armies

will rebel, if they feel they are not bound to obey, and if it is not

for their interest to obey.

Now Charles had neither _loyalty_ nor _force_ to hold him on his

throne. The agitations of an age of unprecedented boldness in

speculations destroyed the former; the House of Commons would not

grant supplies to secure the latter. And they would not grant

supplies, because they loved themselves and the cause of the people

better than they loved their king. In short, it was only by his

concessions that they would supply his necessities. He would not make

the concessions, and the contest soon ended in an appeal to arms.

[Sidenote: The Counsellors of Charles.]

But Charles was not without friends, and some of his advisers were men

of sagacity and talent. It is true they did not fully appreciate the

weakness of the king, or the strength of his enemies; but they saw his

distress, and tried to remove it. They, very naturally in such an age,

recommended violent courses--to grant new monopolies, to extort fines,

to exercise all his feudal privileges, to pawn the crown jewels, even,

in order to raise money; for money, at all events, he must have. They

advised him to arrest turbulent and incendiary members of the Commons,

to prorogue and dissolve parliaments, to raise forced loans, to impose

new duties, to shut up ports, to levy fresh taxes, and to raise armies

friendly to his cause. In short, they recommended unconstitutional

measures--measures which both they and the king knew to be

unconstitutional, but which they justified on the ground of necessity.

And the king, in his perplexity, did what his ministers advised. But

every person who was sent to the Tower, every new tax, every sentence

of the Star Chamber, every seizure of property, every arbitrary

command, every violation of the liberties of the people, raised up new

enemies to the king, and inflamed the people with new discontents.

[Sidenote: Death of Buckingham--Petition of Right.]

At first the Commons felt that they could obtain what they wanted--a

redress of grievances, if the king's favorite adviser and minister

were removed. Besides, they all hated Buckingham--peers, commons, and

people,--and all sought his downfall. He had no friends among the

people, as Essex had in the time of Elizabeth. His extravagance, pomp,

and insolence disgusted all orders; and his reign seemed to be an

insult to the nation. Even the people regarded him as an upstart,

setting himself above the old nobility, and enriching himself by royal

domains, worth two hundred eighty-four thousand three hundred and

ninety-five pounds. So the Commons violently attacked his

administration, and impeached him. But he was shielded by the king,

and even appointed to command an expedition to relieve La Rochelle,

then besieged by Richelieu. But he was stabbed by a religious fanatic,

by the name of Felton, as he was about to embark at Portsmouth. His

body was removed to London, and he was buried with great state in

Westminster Abbey, much lamented by the king, who lost his early

friend, one of the worst ministers, but not the worst man, which that

age despised, (1628.)

Meanwhile the indignant Commons persevered with their work. They

passed what is called the "Petition of Right,"--a string of

resolutions which asserted that no freeman ought to be detained in

prison, without being brought to trial, and that no taxes could be

lawfully levied, without consent of the Commons--the two great pillars

of the English constitution, yet truths involved in political

difficulty, especially in cases of rebellion. The personal liberty of

the subject is a great point indeed; and the act of _habeas corpus_,

passed in later times, is a great step in popular freedom; but, if

never to be suspended, no government could guard against conspiracy in

revolutionary times.

The Petition of Right, however, obtained the king's assent, though

unwillingly, grudgingly, and insincerely given; and the Commons,

gratified for once, voted to the king supplies.

But Charles had no notion of keeping his word, and soon resorted to

unconstitutional measures, as before. But he felt the need of able

counsellors. His "dear Steenie" was dead, and he knew not in whom to

repose confidence.

[Sidenote: Earl of Strafford.]

The demon of despotism raised up an agent in the person of Thomas

Wentworth, a man of wealth, talents, energy, and indomitable courage;

a man who had, in the early part of his career, defended the cause of

liberty; who had even suffered imprisonment sooner than contribute to

an unlawful loan, and in whom the hopes of the liberal party were

placed. But he was bribed. His patriotism was not equal to his

ambition. Seduced by a peerage, and by the love of power, he went over

to the side of the king, and defended his arbitrary rule as zealously

as he had before advocated the cause of constitutional liberty. He was

created Viscount Wentworth, and afterwards earl of Strafford--the most

prominent man of the royalist party, and the greatest traitor to the

cause of liberty which England had ever known. His picture, as painted

by Vandyke, and hung up in the princely hall of his descendant, Earl

Fitzwilliam, is a faithful portrait of what history represents him--a

cold, dark, repulsive, unscrupulous tyrant, with an eye capable of

reading the secrets of the soul, a brow lowering with care and

thought, and a lip compressed with determination, and twisted into

contempt of mankind. If Wentworth did not love his countrymen, he

loved to rule over them: and he gained his end, and continued the

prime minister of absolutism until an insulted nation rose in their

might, and placed his head upon the block.

[Sidenote: John Hampden.]

Under the rule of this minister, whom every one feared, the Puritans

every where fled, preferring the deserts of America, with freedom, to

the fair lands of England, with liberty trodden under foot. The reigns

of both James and Charles are memorable for the resistance and despair

of this intrepid and religious sect, in which were enrolled some of

the finest minds and most intelligent patriots of the country. Pym,

Cromwell, Hazelrig, and even Hampden, are said to have actually

embarked; but Providence detained them in England, they having a

mission of blood to perform there. In another chapter, the Puritans,

their struggles, and principles, will be more fully presented; and we

therefore, in this connection, abstain from further notice. It may,

however, be remarked, that they were the most inflexible enemies of

the king, and were determined to give him and his minister no rest

until all their ends were gained. They hated Archbishop Laud even more

intensely than they hated Wentworth; and Laud, if possible, was a

greater foe to religious and civil liberty. Strafford and Laud are

generally coupled together in the description of the abuses of

arbitrary power. The churchman, however, was honest and sincere, only

his views were narrow and his temper irritable. His vices were those

of the bigot--such as disgraced St. Dominic or Torquemada, but faults

which he deemed excellencies. He was an enthusiast in high churchism

and toryism; and his zeal in defence of royal prerogative and the

divine rights of bishops has won for him the panegyrics of his

friends, as well as the curses of his enemies. For Strafford, too,

there is admiration, but only for his talents, his courage, his

strength--the qualities which one might see in Milton's Satan, or in

Carlyle's picture gallery of heroes.

While the king and his minister were raising forced loans and

contributions, sending members of the House of Commons to the Tower,

fining, imprisoning, and mutilating the Puritans, a new imposition

called out the energies of a great patriot and a great man, John

Hampden--a fit antagonist of the haughty Wentworth. This new exaction

was a tax called _ship money_.

It was devised by Chief Justice Finch and Attorney-General Noy, two

subordinate, but unscrupulous tools of despotism, and designed to

extort money from the inland counties, as well as from the cities, for

furnishing ships--a demand that Elizabeth did not make, in all her

power, even when threatened by the Spanish Armada. Clarendon even

admits that this tax was not for the support of the navy, "but for a

spring and magazine which should have no bottom, and for an

everlasting supply on all occasions." And this the nation completely

understood, and resolved desperately to resist.

Hampden, though a wealthy man, refused to pay the share assessed on

him, which was only twenty shillings, deeming it an illegal tax. He

was proceeded against by the crown lawyers. Hampden appealed to a

decision of the judges in regard to the legality of the tax, and the

king permitted the question to be settled by the laws. The trial

lasted thirteen days, but ended in the condemnation of Hampden, who

had shown great moderation, as well as courage, and had won the favor

of the people. It was shortly after this that Hampden, as some

historians assert, resolved to leave England with his cousin Oliver

Cromwell. But the king prevented the ships, in which they and other

emigrants had embarked, from sailing. Hampden was reserved for new

trials and new labors.

[Sidenote: Insurrection in Scotland.]

About a month after Hampden's condemnation, an insurrection broke out

in Scotland, which hastened the crisis of revolution. It was produced

by the attempt of Archbishop Laud to impose the English liturgy on the

Scottish nation, and supplant Presbyterianism by Episcopacy. The

revolutions in Scotland, from the time of Knox, had been popular; not

produced by great men, but by the diffusion of great ideas. The people

believed in the spiritual independence of their church, and not in the

supremacy of a king. The instant, therefore, that the Episcopal

worship was introduced, by authority, in the cathedral of Edinburgh,

there was an insurrection, which rapidly spread through all parts of

the country. An immense multitude came to Edinburgh to protest against

the innovation, and crowded all the houses, streets, and halls of the

city. The king ordered the petitioners home, without answering their

complaints. They obeyed the injunction, but soon returned in greater

numbers. An organization of resistance was made, and a provisional

government appointed. All classes joined the insurgents, who, menaced,

but united, at last bound themselves, by a solemn league and covenant,

not to separate until their rights and liberties were secured. A vast

majority of all the population of Scotland--gentlemen, clergy,

citizens, and laborers, men, women, and children--assembled in the

church, and swore fealty to the covenant. Force, of course, was

necessary to reduce the rebels, and civil war commenced in Scotland.

But war increased the necessities of the king, and he was compelled to

make peace with the insurgent army.

Eleven years had now elapsed since the dissolution of the last

parliament, during which the king had attempted to rule without one,

and had resorted to all the expedients that the ingenuity of the crown

lawyers could suggest, in order to extort money. Imposts fallen into

desuetude, monopolies abandoned by Elizabeth, royal forests extended

beyond the limits they had in feudal times, fines past all endurance,

confiscations without end, imprisonments, tortures, and

executions,--all marked these eleven years. The sum for fines alone,

in this period, amounted to more than two hundred thousand pounds. The

forest of Rockingham was enlarged from six to sixty miles in circuit,

and the earl of Salisbury was fined twenty thousand pounds for

encroaching upon it. Individuals and companies had monopolies of salt,

soap, coals, iron, wine, leather, starch, feathers, tobacco, beer,

distilled liquors, herrings, butter, potash, linen cloth, rags, hops,

gunpowder, and divers other articles, which, of course, deranged the

whole trade of the country. Prynne was fined ten thousand pounds, and

had his ears cut off, and his nose slit, for writing an offensive

book; and his sufferings were not greater than what divers others

experienced for vindicating the cause of truth and liberty.

At last, the king's necessities compelled him to summon another

parliament. He had exhausted every expedient to raise money. His army

clamored for pay; and he was overburdened with debts.

[Sidenote: Long Parliament.]

On the 13th of April, 1640, the new parliament met. It knew its

strength, and was determined now, more than ever, to exercise it. It

immediately took the power into its own hands, and from remonstrances

and petitions it proceeded to actual hostilities; from the

denunciation of injustice and illegality, it proceeded to trample on

the constitution itself. It is true that the members were irritated

and threatened, and some of their number had been seized and

imprisoned. It is true that the king continued his courses, and was

resolved on enforcing his measures by violence. The struggle became

one of desperation on both sides--a struggle for ascendency--and not

for rights.

One of the first acts of the House of Commons was the impeachment of

Strafford. He had been just summoned from Ireland, where, as lord

lieutenant, he had exercised almost regal power and regal audacity; he

had been summoned by his perplexed and desponding master to assist him

by his counsels. Reluctantly he obeyed, foreseeing the storm. He had

scarcely arrived in London when the intrepid Pym accused him of high

treason. The Lords accepted the accusation, and the imperious minister

was committed to the Tower.

The impeachment of Laud soon followed; but he was too sincere in his

tyranny to understand why he should be committed. Nor was he feared,

as Strafford was, against whom the vengeance of the parliament was

especially directed. A secret committee, invested with immense powers,

was commissioned to scrutinize his whole life, and his destruction was

resolved upon. On the 22d of March his trial began, and lasted

seventeen days, during which time, unaided, he defended himself

against thirteen accusers, with consummate ability. Indeed, he had

studied his charges and despised his adversaries. Under ordinary

circumstances, he would have been acquitted, for there was not

sufficient evidence to convict him of high treason; but an

unscrupulous and infuriated body of men were thirsting for his blood,

and it was proposed to convict him by bill of attainder; that is, by

act of parliament, on its own paramount authority, with or without the

law. The bill passed, in spite of justice, in spite of the eloquence

of the attainted earl. He was condemned, and remanded to the Tower.

Had the king been strong he would have saved his minister; had he been

magnanimous, he would have stood by him to the last. But he had

neither the power to save him, nor the will to make adequate

sacrifices. He feebly interposed, but finally yielded, and gave his

consent to the execution of the main agent of all his aggressions on

the constitution he had sworn to maintain. Strafford deserved his

fate, although the manner of his execution was not according to law.

[Sidenote: Rebellion of Ireland.]

A few months after the execution of Strafford, an event occurred which

proved exceedingly unfortunate to the royal cause; and this was the

rebellion of Ireland, and the massacre of the Protestant population,

caused, primarily, by the oppressive government of England, and the

harsh and severe measures of the late lord lieutenant. In the course

of a few weeks, the English and Scottish colonies seemed almost

uprooted; one of the most frightful butcheries was committed that ever

occurred. The Protestants exaggerated their loss; but it is probable

that at least fifty thousand were massacred. The local government of

Dublin was paralyzed. The English nation was filled with deadly and

implacable hostility, not against the Irish merely, but against the

Catholics every where. It was supposed that there was a general

conspiracy among the Catholics to destroy the whole nation; and it was

whispered that the queen herself had aided the revolted Irish. The

most vigorous measures were adopted to raise money and troops for

Ireland. The Commons took occasion of the general spirit of discontent

and insurrection to prepare a grand remonstrance on the evils of the

kingdom, which were traced to a "coalition of Papists, Arminian

bishops and clergymen, and evil courtiers and counsellors." The

Commons recited all the evils of the last sixteen years, and declared

the necessity of taking away the root of them, which was the arbitrary

power of the sovereign. The king, in reply, told the Commons that

their remonstrance was unparliamentary; that he could not understand

what they meant by a wicked party; that bishops were entitled to their

votes in parliament; and that, as to the removal of evil counsellors,

they must name whom they were. The remonstrance was printed and

circulated by the Commons, which was of more effect than an army could

have been.

Thus were affairs rapidly reaching a crisis, when the attempt to seize

five of the most refractory and able members of parliament consummated

it. The members were Hollis, Hazelrig, Pym, Hampden, and Strode; and

they were accused of high treason. This movement of the king was one

of the greatest blunders and one of the most unconstitutional acts he

ever committed. The Commons refused to surrender their members; and

then the king went down to the house, with an armed force, to seize

them. But Pym and others got intelligence of the design of Charles,

and had time to withdraw before he arrived. "The baffled tyrant

returned to Whitehall with his company of bravoes," while the city of

London sheltered Hampden and his friends. The shops were shut, the

streets were filled with crowds, and the greatest excitement

prevailed. The friends of Charles, who were inclined to constitutional

measures, were filled with shame. It was now feared that the king

would not respect his word or the constitution, and, with all his

promises, was still bent on tyrannical courses. All classes, but

bigoted royalists, now felt that something must be done promptly, or

that their liberties would be subverted.

Then it was, and not till then, that the Commons openly defied him,

while the king remained in his palace, humbled, dismayed, and

bewildered, "feeling," says Clarendon, "the trouble and agony which

usually attend generous minds upon their having committed errors;" or,

as Macaulay says, "the despicable repentance which attends the

bungling villain, who, having attempted to commit a crime, finds that

he has only committed a folly."

[Sidenote: Flight of the King from London.]

In a few days, the king fled from Whitehall, which he was never

destined to see again till he was led through it to the scaffold. He

went into the country to raise forces to control the parliament, and

the parliament made vigorous measures to put itself and the kingdom in

a state of resistance. On the 23d of April, the king, with three

hundred horse, advanced to Hull, and were refused admission by the

governor. This was tantamount to a declaration of war. It was so

considered. Thirty-two Lords, and sixty members of the Commons

departed for York to join the king. The parliament decreed an army,

and civil war began.

Before this can be traced we must consider the Puritans, which is

necessary in order fully to appreciate the Revolution. The reign of

Charles I. was now virtually ended, and that of the Parliament and

Cromwell had begun.

* * * * *

[Sidenote: Rise of the Puritans.]

Dissensions among the Protestants themselves did not occur until the

reign of Elizabeth, and were first caused by difficulties about a

clerical dress, which again led to the advocacy of simpler forms of

worship, stricter rules of life, more definite forms of faith, and

more democratic principles of government, both ecclesiastical and

civil. The first promoters of these opinions were the foreign divines

who came from Geneva, at the invitation of Cranmer, of whom Peter

Martyr, Martin Bucer, John à Lasco, were the most distinguished. Some

Englishmen, also, who had been travelling on the continent, brought

with them the doctrines of Calvin. Among these was Hooper, who, on

being nominated to the bishopric of Gloucester, refused to submit to

the appointed form of consecration and admission. He objected to what

he called the _Aaronical_ habits--the square cap, tippet, and

surplice, worn by bishops. But dissent became more marked and

determined when the exiles returned to England, on the accession of

Elizabeth, and who were for advancing the reformation according to

their own standard. The queen and her advisers, generally, were

content with King Edward's liturgy; but the majority of the exiles

desired the simpler services of Geneva. The new bishops, most of whom

had been their companions abroad, endeavored to soften them for the

present, declaring that they would use all their influence at court to

secure them indulgence. The queen herself connived at non-conformity,

until her government was established, but then firmly declared that

she had fixed her standard, and insisted on her subjects conforming to

it. The bishops, seeing this, changed their conduct, explained away

their promises, and became severe towards their dissenting brethren.

The standard of the queen was the Thirty-Nine Articles. She admitted

that the Scriptures were the sole rule of faith, but declared that

individuals must interpret Scripture as expounded in the articles and

formularies of the English church, in violation of the great principle

of Protestantism, which even the Puritans themselves did not fully

recognize--the right and the duty of every individual to interpret

Scripture himself, whether his interpretation interfered with the

Established Church or not.

[Sidenote: Original Difficulties and Differences.]

The first dissenters did not claim this right, but only urged that

certain points, about which they felt scruples, should be left as

matters indifferent. On all essential points, they, as well as the

strictest conformists, believed in the necessity of a uniformity of

public worship, and of using the sword of the magistrate in defence of

their doctrines. The standard of conformity, according to the bishops,

was the queen's supremacy and the laws of the land; according to the

Puritans, the decrees of provincial and national synods.

At first, many of the Puritans overcame their scruples so far as to

comply with the required oath and accept livings in the Establishment.

But they indulged in many irregularities, which, during the first year

of the reign of Elizabeth, were winked at by the authorities. "Some

performed," says an old author, "divine service in the chancel, others

in the body of the church; some in a seat made in the church; some in

a pulpit, with their faces to the people; some keeping precisely to

the order of the book; some intermix psalms in metre; some say with a

surplice, and others without one. The table stands in the body of the

church in some places, in others it stands in the chancel; in some

places the table stands altarwise, distant from the wall a yard, in

others in the middle of the chancel, north and south. Some administer

the communion with surplice and cap, some with a surplice alone,

others with none; some with chalice, others with a communion cup,

others with a common cup; some with unleavened bread, and some with

leavened; some receive kneeling, others standing, others sitting; some

baptize in a font, some in a basin; some sign with the sign of the

cross, other sign not; some minister with a surplice, others without;

some with a square cap, others with a round cap; some with a button

cap, and some with a hat, some in scholar's clothes, some in common

clothes."

These differences in public worship, which, by many, were considered

as indifferent matters, and by others were unduly magnified, seem to

have constituted the chief peculiarity of the early Puritans. In

regard to the queen's supremacy, the union of church and state, the

necessity of supporting religion by law, and articles of theological

belief, there was no disagreement. Most of the non-conformists were

men of learning and piety, and among the ornaments of the church.

The metropolitan bishop, at this time, was Parker, a great stickler

for the forms of the church, and very intolerant in all his opinions.

He and others of the bishops had been appointed as commissioners to

investigate the causes of dissent, and to suspend all who refused to

conform to the rubric of the church. Hence arose the famous Court of

the Ecclesiastical Commission, so much abused during the reigns of

James and Charles.

[Sidenote: Persecution during the Reign of Elizabeth.]

Under the direction of Parker, great numbers were suspended from their

livings for non-conformity, and sent to wander in a state of

destitution. Among these were some of the most learned men in the

church. They had no means of defence or livelihood, and resorted to

the press in order to vindicate their opinions. For this they were

even more harshly dealt with; an order was issued from the Star

Chamber, that no person should print a book against the queen's

injunctions, upon the penalty of fines and imprisonment; and authority

was given to church-wardens to search all suspected places where books

might be concealed. Great multitudes suffered in consequence of these

tyrannical laws.

But the non-conformists were further molested. They were forbidden to

assemble together to read the Scriptures and pray, but were required

to attend regularly the churches of the Establishment, on penalty of

heavy fines for neglect.

At length, worried, disgusted, and irritated, they resolved upon

setting up the Genevan service, and upon withdrawing entirely from the

Church of England. The separation, once made, (1566,) became wider and

wider, and the Puritans soon after opposed the claims of bishops as a

superior order of the clergy. They were opposed to the temporal

dignities annexed to the episcopal office to the titles and office of

archdeacons, deans, and chapters; to the jurisdiction of spiritual

courts; to the promiscuous access of all persons to the communion; to

the liturgy; to the prohibition, in the public service of prayer, by

the clergyman himself; to the use of godfathers and godmothers; to the

custom of confirmation; to the cathedral worship and organs; to

pluralities and non-residency; to the observance of Lent and of the

holy days; and to the appointment of ministers by the crown, bishops,

or lay patrons, instead of election by the people.

The schism was now complete, and had grown out of such small

differences as refusing to bow at the name of Jesus, and to use the

cross in baptism.

In our times, the Puritans would have been permitted to worship God in

their own way, but they were not thus allowed in the time of

Elizabeth. Religious toleration was not then understood or practised;

and it was the fault of the age, since the Puritans themselves, when

they obtained the power, persecuted with great severity the Quakers

and the Catholics. But, during the whole reign of Elizabeth,

especially the life of Archbishop Parker, they were in a minority, and

suffered--as minorities ever have suffered--all the miseries which

unreasonable majorities could inflict.

[Sidenote: Archbishops Grindal and Whitgift.]

Archbishop Grindal, who succeeded Parker in 1575, recommended milder

measures to the queen; but she had no charity for those who denied the

supremacy of her royal conscience.

Grindal was succeeded, in 1583, by Dr. Whitgift, the antagonist of the

learned Dr. Cartwright, and he proved a ruler of the church according

to her majesty's mind. He commenced a most violent crusade against the

non-conformists, and was so harsh, cruel, and unreasonable, that

Cecil--Lord Burleigh--was obliged to remonstrate, being much more

enlightened than the prelate. "I have read over," said he, "your

twenty-four articles, and I find them so curiously penned, that I

think that the Spanish Inquisition used not so many questions to

entrap the priests." Nevertheless fines, imprisonment, and the gibbet

continued to do their work in the vain attempt to put down opinions,

till within four or five years of the queen's death when there was a

cessation of persecution.

[Sidenote: Persecution under James.]

[Sidenote: Puritans in Exile.]

But the Scottish Solomon, as James was called, renewed the severity

which Elizabeth found it wise to remit. Hitherto, the Puritans had

been chiefly Presbyterians; but now the Independents arose, who

carried their views still further, even to wildness and radicalism.

They were stricter Calvinists, and inclined to republican views of

civil government. Consequently, they were still more odious than were

the Presbyterians to an arbitrary government. They were now persecuted

for their doctrines of faith, as well as for their forms of worship.

The Church of England retained the thirty-nine articles; but many of

her leading clergy sympathized with the views of Arminius, and among

them was the primate himself. So strictly were Arminian doctrines

cherished, that no person under a dean was permitted to discourse on

predestination, election, reprobation, efficacy, or universality of

God's grace. And the king himself would hear no doctrines preached,

except those he had condemned at the synod of Dort. But this act was

aimed against the Puritans, who, of all parties, were fond of

preaching on what was called "the Five Points of Calvinism." But they

paid dearly for their independence. James absolutely detested them,

regarded them as a sect insufferable in a well-governed commonwealth,

and punished them with the greatest severity. Their theological

doctrines, their notions of church government, and, above all, their

spirit of democratic liberty, were odious and repulsive. Archbishop

Bancroft, who succeeded Whitgift in 1604, went beyond all his

predecessors in bigotry, but had not their commanding intellects. His

measures were so injudicious, so vexatious, so annoying, so severe,

and so cruel, that the Puritans became, if possible, still more

estranged. With the popular discontents, and with the progress of

persecution, their numbers increased, both in Scotland and England.

With the increase of Puritanism was also a corresponding change in the

Church of England, since ceremony and forms increased almost to a

revival of Catholicism. And this reaction towards Rome, favored by the

court, incensed still more the Puritans, and led to language

unnecessarily violent and abusive on their side. Their controversial

tracts were pervaded with a spirit of bitterness and treason which, in

the opinion of James, fully justified the imprisonments, fines, and

mutilations which his minister inflicted. The Puritans, in despair,

fled to Holland, and from thence to New England, to establish, amid

its barren hills and desolate forests, that worship which alone they

thought would be acceptable to God. Persecution elevated them, and

none can deny that they were characterized by moral virtues and a

spirit of liberty which no people ever before or since exhibited.

Almost their only fault was intolerance respecting the opinions and

pleasures of many good people who did not join their ranks.

James's death did not remit their sufferings; but, by this time, they

had so multiplied that they became a party too formidable to be

crushed. The High Commission Court and the Star Chamber still filled

the prisons and pillories with victims; but every sentence of these

courts fanned the flame of discontent, and hastened the catastrophe

which was rapidly approaching. The volcano, over whose fearful brink

the royal family and the haughty hierarchy were standing, was now

sending forth those frightful noises which indicated approaching

convulsions.

During the years that Charles dispensed with the parliaments, when

Laud was both minister and archbishop, the persecution reached its

height, and also popular discontent. During this period, the greatest

emigration was made to New England, and even Hampden and Cromwell

contemplated joining their brethren in America. Arianism and Popery

advanced with Puritanism, and all parties prepared for the approaching

contest. The advocates of royal usurpation became more unreasonable,

the friends of popular liberty became more violent. Those who had the

power, exercised it without reflection. The history of the times is

simply this--despotism striving to put Puritanism and liberty beneath

its feet, and Puritanism aiming to subvert the crown.

But the greatest commotions were in Scotland, where the people were

generally Presbyterians; and it was the zeal of Archbishop Laud in

suppressing these, and attempting to change the religion of the land,

which precipitated the ruin of Charles I.

[Sidenote: Troubles in Scotland.]

Ever since the time of Knox, Scotland had been the scene of violent

religious animosities. In that country, the reformation, from the

first, had been a popular movement. It was so impetuous, and decided

under the guidance of the uncompromising Knox, that even before the

dethronement of Mary, it was complete. In the year 1592, through the

influence of Andrew Melville, the Presbyterian government was fairly

established, and King James is said to have thus expressed himself: "I

praise God that I was born in the time of the light of the gospel, and

in such a place as to be king of the purest kirk in the world." The

Church of Scotland, however, had severe struggles from the period of

its institution, 1560, to the year 1584, when the papal influence was

finally destroyed by the expulsion of the earl of Arran from the

councils of the young king. Nor did these struggles end even there.

James, perceiving that Episcopacy was much more consonant with

monarchy than Presbyterianism, attempted to remodel the Scottish

church on the English basis, which attempt resulted in discontent and

rebellion. James, however, succeeded in reducing to contempt the

general assemblies of the Presbyterian church, and in confirming

Archbishop Spotswood in the chief administration of ecclesiastical

affairs, which, it must be confessed, were regulated with great

prudence and moderation.

When Charles came to the throne, he complained of the laxity of the

Scotch primate, and sent him a set of rules by which he was to

regulate his conduct. Charles also added new dignities to his see, and

ordained that he, as primate, should take precedence over all the

temporal lords, which irritated the proud Scotch nobility. He moreover

contemplated the recovery of tithes and church lands for the benefit

of the Episcopal government, and the imposition of a liturgy on the

Scotch nation, a great majority of whom were Presbyterians. This was

the darling scheme of Laud, who believed that there could scarcely be

salvation out of his church, and which church he strove to make as

much like the Catholic as possible, and yet maintain independence of

the pope. But nothing was absolutely done towards changing the

religion of Scotland until Charles came down to Edinburgh (1633) to be

crowned, when a liturgy was prepared for the Scotch nation, subjected

to the revision of Laud, but which was not submitted to or seen by,

the General Assembly, or any convocation of ministers in Scotland.

Nothing could be more ill timed or ill judged than this conflict with

the religious prejudices of a people zealously attached to their own

forms of worship. The clergy united with the aristocracy, and both

with the people, in denouncing the conduct of the king and his

ministers as tyrannical and unjust. The canons, especially, which Laud

had prepared, were, in the eyes of the Scotch, puerile and

superstitious; they could not conceive why a Protestant prelate should

make so much account of the position of the font or of the communion

table, turned into an altar. Indeed, his liturgy was not much other

than an English translation of the Roman Missal, and excited the

detestation of all classes. Yet it was resolved to introduce it into

the churches, and the day was fixed for its introduction, which was

Easter Sunday, 1637. But such a ferment was produced, that the

experiment was put off to Sunday, 23d of July. On that day, the

archbishops and bishops, lords of session, and magistrates were all

present, by command, in the Church of St. Giles. But no sooner had the

dean opened the service book, and begun to read out of it, than the

people, who had assembled in great crowds, began to fill the church

with uproar. The bishop of Edinburgh, who was to preach, stepped into

the pulpit, and attempted to appease the tumultuous people. But this

increased the tumult, when an old woman, seizing a stool, hurled it at

the bishop's head. Sticks, stones, and dirt followed the stool, with

loud cries of "Down with the priest of Baal!" "A pape, a pape!"

"Antichrist!" "Pull him down!" This was the beginning of the

insurrection, which spread from city to village, until all Scotland

was in arms, and Episcopacy, as an established religion, was

subverted. In February, 1638, the covenant was drawn up in Edinburgh,

and was subscribed to by all classes, in all parts of Scotland; and,

in November, the General Assembly met in Glasgow, the first that had

been called for twenty years, and Presbyterianism was reëstablished in

the kingdom, if not legally, yet in reality.

From the day on which the Convocation opened, until the conquest of

the country by Cromwell, the Kirk reigned supreme, there being no

power in the government, or in the country, able or disposed to resist

or question its authority. This was the golden age of Presbyterianism,

when the clergy enjoyed autocratic power --a sort of Druidical

ascendency over the minds and consciences of the people, in affairs

temporal as well as spiritual.

[Sidenote: Peculiarities of Puritanism in England.]

Puritanism did not pervade the English, as it did the Scotch mind,

although it soon obtained an ascendency. Most of the great political

chieftains who controlled the House of Commons, and who clamored for

the death of Strafford and Laud, were Puritans. But they were not all

Presbyterians. In England, after the flight of the king from

Whitehall, the Independents attracted notice, and eventually seized

the reins of government. Cromwell was an Independent.

The difference between these two sects was chiefly in their views

about government, civil and ecclesiastical. Both Presbyterians and

Independents were rigid Calvinists, practised a severe morality, were

opposed to gay amusements, disliked organs and ceremonies, strictly

observed the Sabbath, and attached great importance to the close

observance of the Mosaic ritual. The Presbyterians were not behind the

Episcopalians in hatred of sects and a free press. They had their

model of worship, and declared it to be of divine origin. They looked

upon schism as the parent of licentiousness, insisted on entire

uniformity, maintained the divine right of the clergy to the

management of ecclesiastical affairs, and claimed the sword of the

magistrate to punish schismatics and heretics. They believed in the

union of church and state, but would give the clergy the ascendency

they possessed in the Middle Ages. They did not desire the entire

prostration of royal authority, but only aimed to limit and curtail

it.

The Independents wished a total disruption of church and state, and

disliked synods almost as much as they did bishops. They believed that

every congregation was a distinct church, and had a right to elect the

pastor. They preferred the greatest variety of sects to the ascendency

of any one, by means of the civil sword. They rejected all spiritual

courts, and claimed the right of each church to reject, punish, or

receive members. In politics, they wished a total overthrow of the

government--monarchy, aristocracy, and prelacy; and were averse to any

peace which did not secure complete toleration of opinions, and the

complete subversion of the established order of things.

[Sidenote: Conflicts among the Puritans.]

Between the Presbyterians and the Independents, therefore, there could

not be any lasting sympathy or alliance. They only united to crush the

common foe; and, when Charles was beheaded, and Cromwell installed in

power, they turned their arms against each other.

The great religious contest, after the rise of Cromwell, was not

between the Puritans and the Episcopalians, but between the different

sects of Puritans themselves. At first, the Independents harmonized

with the Presbyterians. Their theological and ethical opinions were

the same, and both cordially hated and despised the government of the

Stuarts. But when the Presbyterians obtained the ascendency, the

Independents were grieved and enraged to discover that religious

toleration was stigmatized as the parent of all heresy and schism.

While in power, the Presbyterians shackled the press, and their

intolerance brought out John Milton's famous tract on the liberty of

unlicensed printing--one of the most masterly arguments which the

advocates of freedom have ever made. The idea that any dominant

religious sect should be incorporated with the political power, was

the fatal error of Presbyterianism, and raised up enemies against it,

after the royal power was suppressed. Cromwell was persuaded that the

cause of religious liberty would be lost unless Presbyterianism, as

well as Episcopacy, was disconnected with the state; and hence one

great reason of his assuming the dictatorship. And he granted a more

extended toleration than had before been known in England, although it

was not perfect. The Catholics and the Quakers were not partakers of

the boon which he gave to his country; so hard is it for men to learn

the rights of others, when they have power in their own hands.

[Sidenote: Character of the Puritans.]

The Restoration was a victory over both the Independents and the

general swarm of sectaries which an age of unparalleled religious

excitement had produced. It is difficult to conceive of the intensity

of the passions which inflamed all parties of religious disputants.

But if the Puritan contest developed fanatical zeal, it also brought

out the highest qualities of mind and heart which any age has

witnessed. With all the faults and weaknesses of the Puritans, there

never lived a better class of men,--men of more elevated piety, more

enlarged views, or greater disinterestedness, patriotism, and moral

worth. They made sacrifices which our age can scarcely appreciate, and

had difficulties to contend with which were unparalleled in the

history of reform. They made blunders which approximated to crimes,

but they made them in their inexperience and zeal to promote the cause

of religion and liberty. They were conscientious men--men who acted

from the fear of God, and with a view to promote the highest welfare

of future generations. They launched their bark boldly upon an unknown

sea, and heroically endured its dangers and sufferings, with a view of

conferring immortal blessings on their children and country. More

prudent men would have avoided the perils of an unknown navigation;

but, by such men, a great experiment for humanity would not have been

tried. It may have failed, but the world has learned immortal wisdom

from the failure. But the Puritans were not mere adventurers or

martyrs. They have done something of lasting benefit to mankind, and

they have done this by the power of faith, and by loyalty to their

consciences, perverted as they were in some respects. The Puritans

were not agreeable companions to the idle, luxurious, or frivolous;

they were rigid ever, to austerity; their expressions degenerated into

cant, and they were hostile to many innocent amusements. But these

were peculiarities which furnished subjects of ridicule merely, and

did not disgrace or degrade them. These were a small offset to their

moral wisdom, their firm endurance, their elevation of sentiment,

their love of liberty, and their fear of God. Such are the men whom

Providence ordains to give impulse to society, and effect great and

useful reforms.

* * * * *

We now return to consider the changes which they attempted in

government. The civil war, of which Cromwell was the hero, now claims

our attention.

The refusal of the governor of Hull to admit the king was virtually

the declaration of war, for which both parties had vigorously

prepared.

The standard of the king was first raised in Nottingham, while the

head-quarters of the parliamentarians were in London. The first action

of any note was the battle of Edge Hill, (October 23, 1642,) but was

undecisive. Indeed, both parties hesitated to plunge into desperate

war, at least until, by skirmishings and military manoeuvres, they

were better prepared for it.

The forces of the belligerents, at this period, were nearly equal but

the parliamentarians had the ablest leaders. It was the misfortune of

the king to have no man of commanding talents, as his counsellor,

after the arrest of Strafford. Hyde, afterwards lord chancellor, and

Earl of Clarendon, was the ablest of the royalist party. Falkland and

Culpeper were also eminent men; but neither of them was the equal of

Pym or Hampden.

[Sidenote: John Hampden.]

The latter was doubtless the ablest man in England at this time, and

the only one who could have saved it from the evils which afterwards

afflicted it. On him the hopes and affections of the nation centred.

He was great in council and great in debate. He was the acknowledged

leader of the House of Commons. He was eloquent, honest, unwearied,

sagacious, and prudent. "Never had a man inspired a nation with

greater confidence: the more moderate had faith in his wisdom; the

more violent in his devoted patriotism; the more honest in his

uprightness; the more intriguing in his talents." He spared neither

his fortune nor his person, as soon as hostilities were inevitable. He

subscribed two thousand pounds to the public cause, took a colonel's

commission, and raised a regiment of infantry, so well known during

the war for its green uniform, and the celebrated motto of its

intrepid leader,--"_Vestigia nulla retrorsum_." He possessed the

talents of a great statesman and a great general, and all the united

qualities requisite for the crisis in which he appeared--"the valor

and energy of Cromwell, the discernment and eloquence of Vane, the

humanity and moderation of Manchester, the stern integrity of Hale,

the ardent public spirit of Sydney. Others could conquer; he alone

could reconcile. A heart as bold as his brought up the cuirassiers who

turned the tide of battle on Marston Moor. As skilful an eye as his

watched the Scottish army descending from the heights over Dunbar. But

it was when, to the sullen tyranny of Laud and Charles, had succeeded

the fierce conflict of sects and factions, ambitious of ascendency,

and burning for revenge; it was when the vices and ignorance, which

the old tyranny had generated, threatened the new freedom with

destruction, that England missed that sobriety, that self-command,

that perfect soundness of judgment, that perfect rectitude of

intention, to which the history of revolutions furnishes no parallel,

or furnishes a parallel in Washington alone."[1]

[Footnote 1: Macaulay.]

[Sidenote: Oliver Cromwell.]

This great man was removed by Providence from the scene of violence

and faction at an early period of the contest. He was mortally wounded

in one of those skirmishes in which the detachments of both armies had

thus far engaged, and which made the campaigns of 1642-3 so undecided,

so tedious, and so irritating--campaigns in which the generals of both

armies reaped no laurels, and which created the necessity for a

greater genius than had thus far appeared. That genius was Oliver

Cromwell. At the battle of Edge Hill he was only captain of a troop of

horse, and at the death of his cousin Hampden, he was only colonel. He

was indeed a member of the Long Parliament, as was Hampden, and had

secured the attention of the members in spite of his slovenly

appearance and his incoherent, though earnest speeches. Under his

rough and clownish exterior, his talents were not perceived, except by

two or three penetrating intellects; but they were shortly to appear,

and to be developed, not in the House of Commons, but on the field of

battle. The rise of Oliver Cromwell can scarcely be dated until the

death of John Hampden; nor were the eyes of the nation fixed on him,

as their deliverer, until some time after. The Earl of Essex was still

the commander of the forces, while the Earl of Bedford, Lord

Manchester, Lord Fairfax, Skippon, Sir William Waller, Leslie, and

others held high posts. Cromwell was still a subordinate; but genius

breaks through all obstacles, and overleaps all boundaries. The time

had not yet come for the exercise of his great military talents. The

period of negotiation had not fully passed, and the king, at his

head-quarters at Oxford, "that seat of pure, unspotted loyalty," still

hoped to amuse the parliament, gain time, and finally overwhelm its

forces. Prince Rupert--brave, ardent, reckless, unprincipled--still

ravaged the country without reaping any permanent advantage. The

parliament was perplexed and the people were disappointed. On the

whole, the king's forces were in the ascendant, and were augmenting;

while plots and insurrections were constantly revealing to the

parliamentarians the dangers which threatened them. Had not an able

leader, at this crisis, appeared among the insurgents, or had an able

general been given to Charles, it is probable that the king would have

secured his ends; for popular enthusiasm without the organization

which a master spirit alone can form, soon burns itself out.

[Sidenote: The King at Oxford.]

The state of the contending parties, from the battle of Edge Hill, for

nearly two years, was very singular and very complicated. The king

remained at Oxford, distracted by opposing counsels, and perplexed by

various difficulties. The head-quarters of his enemies, at London,

were no less the seat of intrigues and party animosities. The

Presbyterians were the most powerful, and were nearly as distrustful

of the Independents as they were of the king, and feared a victory

over the king nearly as much as they did a defeat by him, and the

dissensions among the various sects and leaders were no secret in the

royalist camp, and doubtless encouraged Charles in his endless

intrigues and dissimulations. But he was not equal to decisive

measures, and without them, in revolutionary times, any party must be

ruined. While he was meditating and scheming, he heard the news of an

alliance between Scotland and the parliament, in which the

Presbyterian interest was in the ascendency. This was the first great

blow he received since the commencement of the war, and the united

forces of his enemies now resolved upon more vigorous measures.

At the opening of the campaign, the parliament had five armies--that

of the Scots, of twenty-one thousand; that of Essex, ten thousand five

hundred; that of Waller, five thousand one hundred; that of

Manchester, fourteen thousand; and that of Fairfax, five thousand five

hundred--in all, about fifty-six thousand men, of whom the committee

of the two kingdoms had the entire disposal. In May, Essex and Waller

invested Oxford, while Fairfax, Manchester, and the Scots met under

the walls of York. Thus these two great royalist cities were attacked

at once by all the forces of parliament. Charles, invested by a

stronger force, and being deprived of the assistance of the princes,

Rupert and Maurice, his nephews, who were absent on their marauding

expeditions, escaped from Oxford, and proceeded towards Exeter. In the

mean time, he ordered Prince Rupert to advance to the relief of York,

which was defended by the marquis of Newcastle. The united royalist

army now amounted to twenty-six thousand men, with a numerous and well

appointed cavalry; and this great force obliged the armies of the

parliament to raise the siege of York. Had Rupert been contented with

this success, and intrenched himself in the strongest city of the

north of England, he and Newcastle might have maintained their ground;

but Rupert, against the advice of Newcastle, resolved on an engagement

with the parliamentary generals, who had retreated to Marston Moor, on

the banks of the Ouse, five miles from the city.

The next day after the relief of York was fought the famous battle of

Marston Moor, (July 2, 1644,) the bloodiest in the war, which resulted

in the entire discomfiture of the royalist forces, and the ruin of the

royal interests at the north. York was captured in a few days. Rupert

retreated to Lancashire to recruit his army, and Newcastle, disgusted

with Rupert, and with the turn affairs had taken, withdrew beyond

seas. The Scots soon stormed the town of Newcastle, and the whole

north of England fell into the hands of the victors.

[Sidenote: Cromwell after the Battle.]

[Sidenote: Enthusiasm of the Independents.]

This great battle was decided by the ability of Cromwell, now

lieutenant-general in the army of the parliament. He had distinguished

himself in all subordinate stations, in the field of battle, in

raising forces, and in councils of war, for which he had been promoted

to serve as second under the Earl of Manchester. But his remarkable

military genius was not apparent to the parliament until the battle of

Marston Moor, and on him the eyes of the nation now began to be

centred. He was now forty-five years of age, in the vigor of his

manhood, burning with religious enthusiasm, and eager to deliver his

country from the tyranny of Charles I., and of all kings. He was an

Independent and a radical, opposed to the Episcopalians, to the

Presbyterians, to the Scots, to all moderate men, to all moderate

measures, to all jurisdiction in matters of religion, and to all

authority in political affairs, which did not directly emanate from

the people, who were called upon to regulate themselves by their

individual reason. He was the idol of the Independent party, which now

began to gain the ascendency in that stormy crisis. For three years,

the Presbyterians had been in the ascendant, but had not realized the

hopes or expectations of the enthusiastic advocates of freedom. By

turns imperious and wavering, fanatical and moderate, they sought to

curtail and humble the king, not to ruin him; to depress Episcopacy,

but to establish another religion by the sword of the magistrate.

Their leaders were timid, insincere, and disunited; few among them had

definite views respecting the future government of the realm: and they

gradually lost the confidence of the nation. But the Independents

reposed fearlessly on the greatness and grandeur of their abstract

principles, and pronounced, without a scruple, those potent words

which kindled a popular enthusiasm--equality of rights, the just

distribution of property, and the removal of all abuses. Above all,

they were enthusiasts in religion, as well as in liberty, and devoutly

attached to the doctrines of Calvin. They abominated all pleasures and

pursuits which diverted their minds from the contemplation of God, or

the reality of a future state. Cromwell himself lived in the ecstasy

of religious excitement. His language was the language of the Bible,

and its solemn truths were not dogmas, but convictions to his ardent

mind. In the ardor of his zeal and the frenzy of his hopes, he fondly

fancied that the people of England were to rise in simultaneous

confederation, shake off all the old shackles of priests and kings,

and be governed in all their actions, by the principles of the Bible.

A sort of Jewish theocracy was to be restored on earth, and he was to

be the organ of the divine will, as was Joshua of old, when he led the

Israelites against the pagan inhabitants of the promised land. Up to

this time, no inconsistencies disgraced him. His prayers and his

exhortations were in accordance with his actions, and the most

scrutinizing malignity could attribute nothing to him but sincerity

and ardor in the cause which he had so warmly espoused. As magistrate,

as member of parliament, as farmer, or as general, he slighted no

religious duties, and was devoted to the apparent interests of

England. Such a man, so fervent, enthusiastic, honest, patriotic, and

able, of course was pointed out as a future leader, especially when

his great military talents were observed at Marston Moor. From the

memorable 2d of July he became the most marked and influential man in

England. Hampden had offered up his life as a martyr, and Pym, the

great lawyer and statesman, had died from exhaustion. Essex had won no

victory commensurate with the public expectations, and Waller lost his

army by desertions and indecisive measures. Both Essex and Manchester,

with their large estates, their aristocratic connections, and their

Presbyterian sympathies, were afraid of treating the king too well.

The battle of Newbury, which shortly after was gained by the

parliamentarians, was without decisive results, in consequence of the

indecision of Manchester. The parliament and the nation looked for

another leader, who would pursue his advantages, and adopt more

vigorous measures. At this point, the Presbyterians would have made

peace with the king, who still continued his insincere negotiations;

but it was too late. The Independents had gained the ascendency, and

their voice was for war--no more dallying, no more treaties, no more

half measures, but uncompromising war. It was plain that either the

king or the Independents must be the absolute rulers of England.

Then was passed (April 3, 1645) the famous Self-Denying Ordinance, by

which all members of parliament were excluded from command in the

army, an act designed to get rid of Essex and Manchester, and prepare

the way for the elevation of Cromwell. Sir Thomas Fairfax was

appointed to the supreme command, and Cromwell was despatched into the

inland counties to raise recruits. But it was soon obvious that the

army could do nothing without him, although it was remodelled and

reënforced; and even Fairfax and his officers petitioned parliament

that Cromwell might be appointed lieutenant-general again, and

commander-in-chief of the horse; which request was granted, and

Cromwell rejoined the army, of which he was its hope and idol.

[Sidenote: Battle of Naseby.]

He joined it in time to win the most decisive battle of the war, the

battle of Naseby, June 14, 1645. The forces of both armies were nearly

balanced, and the royalists were commanded by the king in person,

assisted by his ablest generals. But the rout of the king's forces was

complete, his fortunes were prostrated, and he was driven, with the

remnants of his army, from one part of the kingdom to the other, while

the victorious parliamentarians were filled with exultation and joy.

Cromwell, however, was modest and composed, and ascribed the victory

to the God of battles, whose servant, he fancied, he preëminently was.

[Sidenote: Success of the Parliamentary Army.]

The parliamentary army continued its successes. Montrose gained the

battle of Alford; Bridgewater surrendered to Fairfax; Glasgow and

Edinburgh surrendered to Montrose; Prince Rupert was driven from

Bristol, and, as the king thought, most disgracefully, which

misfortune gave new joy to the parliament, and caused new

thanksgivings from Cromwell, who gained the victory. From Bristol, the

army turned southward, and encountered what royalist force there was

in that quarter, stormed Bridgewater, drove the royalist generals into

Cornwall, took Winchester, battered down Basing House, rich in

provisions, ammunition, and silver plate, and completely prostrated

all the hopes of the king in the south of England. Charles fled from

Oxford, secretly, to join the Scottish army.

By the 24th of June, 1646, all the garrisons of England and Wales,

except those in the north, were in the hands of the parliament. In

July, the parliament sent their final propositions to the king at

Newcastle, which were extremely humiliating, and which he rejected.

Negotiations were then entered into between the parliament and the

Scots, which were long protracted, but which finally ended in an

agreement, by the Scots, to surrender the king to the parliament, for

the payment of their dues. They accordingly marched home with an

instalment of two hundred thousand pounds, and the king was given up,

not to the Independents, but to the Commissioners of parliament, in

which body the Presbyterian interest predominated.

At this juncture, (January, 1647,) Cromwell, rather than the king, was

in danger of losing his head. The Presbyterians, who did not wish to

abolish royalty, but establish uniformity with their mode of worship,

began to be extremely jealous of the Independents, who were bent on

more complete toleration of opinions, and who aimed at a total

overthrow of many of the old institutions of the country. So soon as

the king was humbled, and in their hands, it was proposed to disband

the army which had gloriously finished the war, and which was chiefly

composed of the Independents, and to create a new one on a

Presbyterian model. The excuse was, that the contest was ended, while,

indeed, the royalists were rather dispersed and humbled, than subdued.

It was voted that, in the reduced army, no one should have, except

Fairfax, a higher rank than colonel, a measure aimed directly at

Cromwell, now both feared and distrusted by the Presbyterians. But the

army refused to be disbanded without payment of its arrears, and,

moreover, marched upon London, in spite of the vote of the parliament

that it should not come within twenty-five miles. Several irritating

resolutions were passed by the parliament, which only had the effect

of uniting the army more strongly together, in resistance against

parliament, as well as against the king. The Lords and Commons then

voted that the king should be brought nearer London, and new

negotiations opened with him, which were prevented from being carried

into effect by the seizure of the king at Holmby House, by Cornet

Joyce, with a strong party of horse belonging to Whalley's regiment,

probably at the instigation of Cromwell and Ireton. His majesty was

now in the hands of the army, his worst enemy, and, though treated

with respect and deference, was really guarded closely, and watched by

the Independent generals. The same day, Cromwell left London in haste,

and joined the army, knowing full well that he was in imminent danger

of arrest. He was cordially received, and forthwith the army resolved

not to disband until all the national grievances were redressed, thus

setting itself up virtually against all the constituted authorities.

Fairfax, Cromwell, Ireton, and Hammond, with other high officers, then

waited on the king, and protested that they had nothing to do with the

seizure of his person, and even invited him to return to Holmby House.

But the king never liked the Presbyterians, and was willing to remain

with the army instead, especially since he was permitted to have

Episcopal chaplains, and to see whomsoever he pleased.

[Sidenote: Seizure of the King.]

The generals of the army were not content with the seizure of his

majesty's person, but now caused eleven of the most obnoxious of the

Presbyterian leaders of parliament to be accused, upon which they hid

themselves, while the army advanced towards London. The parliament, at

first, made a show of resistance, but soon abandoned its course, and

now voted that the army should be treated with more respect and care.

It was evident now to all persons where the seat of power rested.

In the mean time, the king was removed from Newmarket to Kingston,

from Hatfield to Woburn Abbey, and thence to Windsor Castle, which was

the scene of new intrigues and negotiations on his part, and on the

part of parliament, and even on the part of Cromwell. This was the

last chance the king had. Had he cordially sided now with either the

Presbyterians or the Independents, his subsequent misfortunes might

have been averted. But he hated both parties, and trifled with both,

and hoped to conquer both. He was unable to see the crisis of his

affairs, or to adapt himself to it. He was incapable of fair dealing

with any party. His duplicity and dissimulation were fully made known

to Cromwell and Ireton by a letter of the king to his wife, which they

intercepted; and they made up their minds to more decided courses. The

king was more closely guarded; the army marched to the immediate

vicinity of London; a committee of safety was named, and parliament

was intimidated into the passing of a resolution, by which the city of

London and the Tower were intrusted to Fairfax and Cromwell. The

Presbyterian party was forever depressed, its leading members fled to

France, and the army had every thing after its own way. Parliament

still was ostensibly the supreme power in the land; but it was

entirely controlled by the Independent leaders and generals.

[Sidenote: Triumph of the Independents.]

The victorious Independents then made their celebrated proposals to

the king, as the Presbyterians had done before them; only the

conditions which the former imposed were more liberal, and would have

granted to the king powers almost as great as are now exercised by the

sovereign. But he would not accept them, and continued to play his

game of kingcraft.

Shortly after, the king contrived to escape from Windsor to the Isle

of Wight, with the connivance of Cromwell. At Carisbrook Castle, where

he quartered himself, he was more closely guarded than before. Seeing

this, he renewed his negotiations with the Scots, and attempted to

escape. But escape was impossible. He was now in the hands of men who

aimed at his life. A strong party in the army, called the _Levellers_,

openly advocated his execution, and the establishment of a republic;

and parliament itself resolved to have no further treaty with him. His

only hope was now from the Scots, and they prepared to rescue him.

Although the government of the country was now virtually in the hands

of the Independents and of the army, the state of affairs was

extremely critical, and none other than Cromwell could have extricated

the dominant party from the difficulties. In one quarter was an

imprisoned and intriguing king in league with the Scots, while the

royalist party was waiting for the first reverse to rise up again with

new strength in various parts of the land. Indeed, there were several

insurrections, which required all the vigor of Cromwell to suppress.

The city of London, which held the purse-strings, was at heart

Presbyterian, and was extremely dissatisfied with the course affairs

were taking. Then, again, there was a large, headstrong, levelling,

mutineer party in the army, which clamored for violent courses, which

at that time would have ruined every thing. Finally, the Scotch

parliament had voted to raise a force of forty thousand men, to invade

England and rescue the king. Cromwell, before he could settle the

peace of the country, must overcome all these difficulties. Who, but

he, could have triumphed over so many obstacles, and such apparent

anarchy?

The first thing Cromwell did was to restore order in England; and

therefore he obtained leave to march against the rebels, who had

arisen in various parts of the country. Scarcely were these subdued,

before he heard of the advance of the Scottish army, under the Duke of

Hamilton. A second civil war now commenced, and all parties witnessed

the result with fearful anxiety.

The army of Hamilton was not as large as he had hoped. Still he had

fifteen thousand men, and crossed the borders, while Cromwell was

besieging Pembroke, in a distant part of the kingdom. But Pembroke

soon surrendered; and Cromwell advanced, by rapid marches, against the

Scottish army, more than twice as large as his own. The hostile forces

met in Lancashire. Hamilton was successively defeated at Preston,

Wigan, and Warrington. Hamilton was taken prisoner at Uttoxeter,

August 25, 1648, and his invading army was completely annihilated.

[Sidenote: Cromwell Invades Scotland.]

Cromwell then resolved to invade, in his turn, Scotland itself, and,

by a series of military actions, to give to the army a still greater

ascendency. He was welcomed at Edinburgh by the Duke of Argyle, the

head of an opposing faction, and was styled "the Preserver of

Scotland." That country was indeed rent with most unhappy divisions,

which Lieutenant-General Cromwell remedied in the best way he could;

and then he rapidly retraced his steps, to compose greater

difficulties at home. In his absence, the Presbyterians had rallied,

and were again negotiating with the king on the Isle of Wight, while

Cromwell was openly denounced in the House of Lords as ambitious,

treacherous, and perfidious. Fairfax, his superior in command, but

inferior in influence, was subduing the rebel royalists, who made a

firm resistance at Colchester, and all the various parties were

sending their remonstrances to parliament.

Among these was a remarkable one from the regiments of Ireton,

Ingoldsby, Fleetwood, Whalley, and Overton, which imputed to

parliament the neglect of the affairs of the realm, called upon it to

proclaim the sovereignty of the people and the election of a supreme

magistrate, and threatened to take matters into their own hands. This

was in November, 1646; but, long before this, a republican government

was contemplated, although the leaders of the army had not joined in

with the hue and cry which the fanatical Levellers had made.

[Sidenote: Seizure of the King a Second Time.]

In the midst of the storm which the petition from the army had raised,

the news arrived that the king had been seized a second time, and had

been carried a prisoner to Hurst Castle, on the coast opposite the

island, where he was closely confined by command of the army.

Parliament was justly indignant, and the debate relative to peace was

resumed with redoubled earnestness. It is probable that, at this

crisis, so irritated was parliament against the army, peace would have

been made with the king, and the Independent party suppressed, had not

most decisive measures been taken by the army. A rupture between the

parliament and the army was inevitable. But Cromwell and the army

chiefs had resolved upon their courses. The mighty stream of

revolution could no longer be checked. Twenty thousand men had vowed

that parliament should be purged. On the morning of December 6,

Colonel Pride and Colonel Rich, with troops, surrounded the House of

Commons; and, as the members were going into the house, the most

obnoxious were seized and sent to prison, among whom were Primrose,

who had lost his ears in his contest against the crown, Waller,

Harley, Walker, and various other men, who had distinguished

themselves as advocates of constitutional liberty. None now remained

in the House of Commons but some forty Independents, who were the

tools of the army, and who voted to Cromwell their hearty thanks. "The

minority had now become a majority,"--which is not unusual in

revolutionary times,--and proceeded to the work, in good earnest,

which he had long contemplated.

[Sidenote: Trial of the King.]

This was the trial of the king, whose apartments at Whitehall were now

occupied by his victorious general, and whose treasures were now

lavished on his triumphant soldiers.

On the 17th of December, 1648, in the middle of the night, the

drawbridge of the Castle of Hurst was lowered, and a troop of horse

entered the yard. Two days after, the king was removed to Windsor. On

the 23d, the Commons voted that he should be brought to trial. On the

20th of January, Charles Stuart, King of England, was brought before

the Court of High Commission, in Westminster Hall, and placed at the

bar, to be tried by this self-constituted body for his life. In the

indictment, he was charged with being a tyrant, traitor, and murderer.

To such an indictment, and before such a body, the dignified but

unfortunate successor of William the Conqueror demurred. He refused to

acknowledge the jurisdiction of the court. But the solemn mockery of

the trial proceeded nevertheless, and on the 27th, sentence of death

was pronounced upon the prisoner--that prisoner the King of England, a

few years before the absolute ruler of the state. On January 30, the

bloody sentence was executed, and the soul of the murdered king

ascended to that God who pardons those who put their trust in him, in

spite of all their mistakes, errors, and delusions. The career of

Charles I. is the most melancholy in English history. That he was

tyrannical, that he disregarded the laws by which he swore to rule,

that he was narrow, and bigoted, that he was deceitful in his

promises, that he was bent on overturning the liberties of England,

and did not comprehend the wants and circumstances of his times, can

scarcely be questioned. But that he was sincere in his religion,

upright in his private life, of respectable talents, and good

intentions, must also be admitted. His execution, or rather his

martyrdom, made a deep and melancholy impression in all Christian

countries, and was the great blunder which the republicans made--a

blunder which Hampden would have avoided. His death, however, removed

from England a most dangerous intriguer, and, for a while, cemented

the power of Cromwell and his party, who now had undisputed ascendency

in the government of the realm. Charles's exactions and tyranny

provoked the resistance of parliament, and the indignation of the

people, then intensely excited in discussing the abstract principles

of civil and religious liberty. The resistance of parliament created

the necessity of an army, and the indignation of the people filled it

with enthusiasts. The army flushed with success, forgot its relations

and duties, and usurped the government it had destroyed, and a

military dictatorship, the almost inevitable result of revolution,

though under the name of a republic, succeeded to the despotism of the

Stuart kings. This republic, therefore, next claims attention.

* * * * *

REFERENCES.--The standard Histories of England. Guizot's

History of the English Revolution. Clarendon's History of

the Rebellion. Forster's Life of the Statesmen of the

Commonwealth. Neal's History of the Puritans. Macaulay's

Essays. Lives of Bacon, Raleigh, Strafford, Laud, Hampden,

and Cromwell. These works furnish all the common

information. Few American students have the opportunity to

investigate Thurlow's State Papers, or Rushworth,

Whitelocke, Dugdale, or Mrs. Hutchinson.