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mbb. Barkass Fikrob 
Has. Carl Uasssler 
Hub. Howard Litce 

HlSB HABOARKT KNIOHT 



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CABINET CYCLOPAEDIA. 



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Printed by A. Spottiswoodb, 
New-Street-Square 



THE 

CABINET CYCLOPEDIA. 

CONDUCTED BY THE 

REV. DIONYSIUS LARDNER, iL.D. F.R.S.L.&E. 
M.R.LA. F.R.A.S. F.L& F.Z.S. H011.F.C.P.S. &c. ftc. 

ASSISTED BT 

EMINENT LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC MEN. 



Btograpgp. 



EMINENT BRITISH STATESMEN. 

VOL. II. 
BY JOHN FORSTER, ESQ. 

OF THE INNER TEMPLE. 



LONDON: 

PBUfTED FOR 

LONOMAN, REES, ORME, BROWN, OREEN, ft LONGMAN, 

PATERNOSTER-ROW ; 

AND JOHN TAYLOR, 

UPPER COWER STREET. 

1836. 



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'L.-'^/f ^4-^?2'^^.-t/t:-t'.\J,m //me J//^.//^A/ ^'g/M 



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PREiFACE. 



In giving the lives of the most prominent actors 
upon the great and awful stage of the Old English 
Revolution, the Author has thought himself justified 
in departing from the system observed by his pre- 
decessors, and, instead of the numerous individual 
sketches that, under other circumstances, are all 
that is necessary, devoting a whole volume at a time 
to but two or three of those eventful biographies 
which include the histories of minor contemporaries, 
and, indeed, the history of the age itself. Fo^ the 
times, awful as they were, were scarcely greater 
than the men ; — the ideas of both present them- 
selves to us at once, like shadowy and solid giants 
standing together, and hardly letting us discern 
which leads the other. 

The life of Eliot is the first that has appeared. 
He did not survive to be an actor in the scene dur- 
ing the most obvious part of the great contest ; and 
posterity has been so much occupied with those 
who did, that they are startled when they have 
leisure to look back, and see these older and not 
less noble shapes of its commencement, — these less 
bodily, yet hardly less visible, demi-gods, ^- who 



VI PREFACE. 

were its first inspiring minds. Eliot was the greatest 
actor in the outbreak of the Revolution, though it 
became ultimately the more memorable part of his lot 
to think and to suffer ; and the reader will see that 
he did both, with that mixture of force and delicacy, 
that prose of common sense and poetry of the heart, 
which so remarkably characterises the man of busi- 
ness in that age, and which is traceable, in the 
Author's opinion, to the effect which the chivalrous 
breeding of the reign of Elizabeth had upon the 
rising generation. The sons and daughters of the 
" Arcadia " were the parents of the men of Charles 
and Cromwell. 

58. Lincoln's Inn Fields. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 
SIR JOHN ELIOT - - - -'1 

THOMAS WENTWORTH, EARL OF STRAF- 
FORD - - - - - 178 



LIVES 



OF 



EMINENT BRITISH STATESMEN 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. 
1590--1632* 

John Ei«iot was '* a Cornishman born^ and an esquire's 
8on/'^ His family^ though new residents in that 
county^ were of very ancient Devonshire descent. 
Prince alludes to them in his '^Worthies;*' and Fuller has 
pointed out the name of Walter Eliot^ one of his an- 
cestors^ in the sheriff's return of the gentry of the 
county of Devon^ made in 1433^ during the reign of 
Henry VI. Browne Willis, who may be considered 
a good authority on the subject, having married a lineal 
descendant of the family^, states that this Walter Eliot 
allied himself to the family of sir Richard Eliot, ap- 
pointed a justice of the court of King's Bench by 
Henry VIII., but more illustrious as the father of one 
of the earliest of our vernacular writers, the famous sir 
Thomas Eliot.^ The first of the family who settled 
in Cornwall appears to have been the great.uncle of sir 

1 Anthony Wood, Ath. Oxon. vol. iL p. 478. Ed. Bliu. 

s See Ducarel'8 ** Life of Browne Willis." 

3 Browne Willis'i " Notitia Parliamentaria,** toL ii. p. 142. 

r VOL. II. B 



2 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

JohD^ who obtained from the family of Champernowne 
the priory of St. Germains and its lands^ in exchange 
for property possessed by him at Cudands^ near Ash- 
burton.^ To this priory the name of Port Eliot was 
then given^ which it bears to this day. Its large estates 
have descended with it from father to son^ and form a 
considerable portion of the property of the present earl 
of St. Germains.^ 

At this seat of Port Eliot John Eliot was bom^ on 
the 20th of April^ 1590.^ In his youth he was sub- 
jected to none of the restraints that should have been 
applied to a temper naturally ardent. His father was a 
man of easy habits^ kept very hospitable house ^^ flung it 
open to every sort of visitor^ and never^ it is to be pre- 
sumedj troubled himself to consider the effect of such a 
course upon the uncontrolled disposition and manners of 
his son. It is to this lax education that we have to at- 
tribute a painful incident in the life of Eliot^ of which 
the most treacherous advantage has been taken by his 
political enemies.^ 

Archdeacon Echaird, a notorious advocate of the 
Stuarts^ and a most inaccurate historical writer^ gave 
the first public account of it. After stating^ most un^ 
truly (as we have seen)^ that Eliot was of a '^ new 

^ " I do not know," says an accomplished living descendant of the 
patriot, ** the exact year in which this change took place; but John Eliot 
died at the priory of St Germains, having given it the name of Port Eliot, 
in 1565. An account of that transaction is to be found in Carew's Survey 
of Cornwall, published about 1580. Chalmers, in his Biographical Die. 
tionary, speaks of the family of Eliot of Port Eliot, and those of Heath field 
and Minto, to be descended Arom a sir W. Allot, who came over with 
William the Conqueror : but this account is merely traditional, and cannot 
be borne out by proof. The Herald*s Visitation of Cornwall, made in 1602, 
and preserved in the Heralds' College, gives the armorial bearings of the 
family ; the shield containing twelve quarterings, — a proof, at a time 
when pretensions to heraldic honours were minutely scrutinised, that the 
origin of the family could not have been very recent." — Lord Eliot. 

3 In " Notitia Parliamentaria," (the noticeof the borough of St Germains, 
at p. 149. of the second volume), a description will be found of Port Eliot 
See also " Carew*s Survey of Cornwall,** ed. 1603: and the fourth volume of 
Mr. D'Icraeli'B ** Commentaries on the Life and Reign of Charles L,** pi 50a 

3 Browne Willis. Anthony Wood fixes it incorrectly at 1592. 

* See " Carew's Survey of Cornwall.** 

^ How eagerly such a charge as that which follows would have been 
seized by the Intter opponents of Eliot among his contemporaries, had a 
reasonable foundation existed for it, is sufficiently obvious. It might have 
served as the tithe of an apology for his harsh treatment Nowhere, bow. 
ever, in parliament or elaewhere, does a trace of it appear. 



SIB JOHN ELIOT. 3 

hanilj-^," this archdeacon proceeds : — *' Within his 
own parish there lived one Mr. John Moyle, a gentle- 
man of very good note and character in his country^ 
who^ together with his son> had the honour to serve in 
parliament. Whether out of rivalship or otherwise, 
Mr. Eliot, having, upon a very slight occasion, enter- 
tained a bitter gmdge against the other, went to his 
house under the show of a friendly visit, and there 
treacherously stabbed him, while he was turning on 
one side to take a glass of wine to drink to him."^ He 
states further : ^' Mr. Moyle outlived this base attempt 
about forty years, who, with some others of his family, 
often told the particulars to his grandson. Dr. Prideaux, 
and other relations, from whom I had this particular 
account"^ We are here left uncertain, it will be seen, 
whether the account was received at fifth or sixth hand 
from gossiping relations, or from the respected and 
learned dean of Norwich. A late writer, however, has 
thought fit to assume the latter, and has insisted, with con- 
siderable and very obstinate vehemence, on the probable 
truth of the statement."^ With the help of materials in 
a lately published work by lord Nugent^, and guided by 
a fact I have discovered respecting sir John Eliot's father, 
I now present this singular incident in a new, and, it 
may be hoped, a final aspect. 

It occurred, so far as there is truth in it, in the ex- 
treme youth of Eliot. That he should have earned for 
himself, at that time, the epithet '^ wilful," will scarcely 
appear surprising after what I have said of the habits and 
indulgences of his father. Mr. Moyle, who resided at 
Bake, a district of the parish of St. Germains, close to 
Port Eliot^, took upon himself to warn old Eliot that 

I Echard*s HiHonr, pi 491 folios ed. 172a Is this the « contemporary 
writer** to whom Mr. D'lsrtwli alludes, in toL iv. p^ 508. of his Com. 
mentaries ? I can find no other. 

s Echard*s History, p. 4S4. 3 Ibid. 

* Mr. D*IsraelL See his Commentaries, vol ii. p. S70L ; vol iv. p. 513. ; 
his pamphlet in answer to lord Nugent's *' Memorials of Hampden," 
pi 5. 

^ Memorials of Hampden. 

• Notitia Parllamentaria. Browne Willis, the intimate friend of the 
Moyles, does not make the slightest allusion tn thu incident^ as remejiu 

B 2 



4 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

such was the disposition of his son. Miss Aikin^ the 
historical writer^ has now in her possession a letter, 
written hy an ancestor of one of the most respectable 
families of Devonshire^ wherein the cause and course of 
the quarrel which ensued are given^ as described by 
the daughter of Mr. Moyle himself^ a witness not likely 
to be unjustly partial to sir John Eliot.^ This is 
the statement of that letter. — Mr. Moyle having ac- 
quainted sir John Eliot*s father with some extravagances 
in his son's expenses^ and this being reported with some 
aggravating circumstances^ young £liot went hastily to 
Mr. Moyle*8 house and remonstrated. What words 
passed she knows not^ but Eliot drew his sword, and 
wounded Mr. Moyle in the side. " ' On reflection,' 
continues Mr. Moyle's daughter, ' he soon detested the 
fact; and from thenceforward became as remarkable 
for his private deportment^ in every view of it, as his 
public conduct. Mr. Moyle was so entirely reconciled 
to him, that no person, in his time, held him in higher 
esteem.' ** 

That this hasty ebullition of will occurred in extreme 
youth, I am now prepared to prove. I find, from 
documents of the time, that Eliot's father died in l609.^ 
He was buried in the church of St. Germains, on the 
24th of June in that year. Anthony Wood (the best 
authority on such a point, though on such only) tells 
us that young Eliot entered college in l607y and con- 
tinued there three years.^ It is evident, therefore, that' 
at the time of the quarrel with Moyle, Eliot covJd not 
have been more than seventeen, or — assuming (which is 
most unlikely) that it occurred in a college vacation of 
his first year — eighteen years old. This will be con- 
sidered as established beyond further doubt. It is con- 



bered harshly by that family ; a circumstance explained by the testimony 
which has been since obtained from the daughter or the pretended ** victim." 

1 See Memorials of Hampden, vol L p. 152. Aikin's Charles the First, 
vol. i. p. 265. 

a WiUis's Researches into the Pedigree of the Eliots. Not Pari, voL ii . 
p. 144i. 

3 Atb. Oxon., vol. iL p. 478. ^ 



• SIR JOHN ELIOT.. 5 

firmed still more by a remarkable document wbich has 
been found among the £liot papers ^, ^^ An apologie/' 
addressed to Mr. Moyle by young Eliot^ for the " greate 
injury" he had done him, and witnessed by names^ 
some of which were afterwards greatly distinguished in 
the parliamentary history of the time. The terms of 
it are highly curious^ and indicate the writer clearly. 
It is an atonement which marks the characteristic 
impulse of a young and generous mind^ anxious to re- 
pair an unpremeditated wrong. " Mr. Moyle^" so runs 
the apology^ *' I doe acknowledge I have done you a 
greate injury^ which I wish I had never done^ and doe 
desire you to remit it ; and I desire that all unkindnesse 
may be forgiven and forgotten betwixt us, and hence- 
forward I shall desire and deserve your love in all 
fiiendly offices^ as I hope you will mine. Jo. Elyotte." 
That this apology was honestly meant^ and strictly 
redeemed^ that the writer did desire the love of him 
whom he had hastily injured^ and deserve it^ and^ more- 
over^ obtain it — we are fortunately not without ample 
proof. In the volume of Eliot papers already referred 
to^ exist two letters ^^ written, many years after this 
events by sir John to this very Mr. Moyle^ granting him 
solicited favours. It was a saying of shrewd severity^ 
that few natures exist capable of making compensation 
to those whom they may have injured, or even of ceasing 
to follow them vidth resentment. Assuredly, however, 
rare and virtuous as such natures are, John Eliot's was 
one of them. He held himself the constant and willing 
debtor of the man he had unwillingly offended. *' 1 
am sorry," he says, in one of his letters, after granting 
Moyle what he had asked, '^ this return is not better to 
the occasion you have given me ; it may serve for an 
expression of my power^ though my affection be beyond 
it. I can command corruption out of no man^ but in 

1 See lord EIiot*t communication to Mr. D'Israeli, ftill of excellent feel, 
ing, and a proper concern for the memory of his great progenitor, *' Com. 
mentariet/* vol. iv. j>. 509. 

s Eliot Paper*, Ma, Noa. 63. and 9& 

B 3 



O BRITISH STATESMEN. 

mine own heart have a clear wHl to serve you^ and 
shall faithfully remain your true friend." In die other, 
written some months after, in answer to an intercession 
hy Moyle for an offending tenant of sir John*s, the fol- 
lowing passage occurs : — ^' In answer to your love, I 
will give orders to my servant Hill, at his return into 
thfe country, to repay him the money that's received, 
and so to leave him to his old interest for the tene- 
ment, in which he must acknowledge your courtesy 
and favour, for whose satisfaction it is done by your 
most affectionate friend." ^ 

Taken in connection with the statements I have given, 
this incident assumes, in my mind, a more than ordi- 
nary interest, and becomes^ indeed, an important feature 
in the life of Eliot. It is the line drawn between his 
passing youth and coming manhood. Whatever may 
have been the turbulence of his boyhood, whatever the 
struggle of its uncurbed passions, this event startled him 
into a perfect and sober self-control. His '^private 
deportment," says Mr. Moyle's daughter, was as re- 
markable ever after, as that of his public conduct. In 
the latter, his temper never ceased to be ardent for the 
general good, and against the wrongful oppressor. In 
private, it was ardent in kindness, in busy purposes and 
affections for those around him. To the ^^last right 
end," he stood 



(C 



A perfect patriot, and a noble ftiend/* — 



1 Mr. D'Israeli has said, in his fourth volume, p. 513^ (in reference to 
the ** apologie " quoted in a preceding page), '^I perfectly agree that this 
extraordinary apology was not written by a man who had stabbed his com. 
panion in the back ; nor can limagine, that qfter such a revo/ting incident, 
any approximation at a renewal ^ intercourse would have been possiUe,** 
He then proceeds, with very amusing pertinacity, to shift the grounds 
of the charge. His argument, however, on his own admission, is wholly 
exploded by the letters above cited. No malignity, however desperate or 
reckless, can again revive it I cannot leave the subject of this first 
calumny, in the promotion of which Mr. D'Israeli has joined with such 
painful and mistaken bitterness, without expressing my regret, that 
political passion, and preconceived notions of character, should so bewilder 
an ingenious mind. Mr. D'Israeli, though in all cases too fond of suggest, 
ing events ft-om rumours, has rendered many services to history, and not. 
withstanding his various misstatements respecting E3iot, which I shall have 
occasion to refute, has never scrupled to pay a not unwilling tribute to the 
greatness of his intellect 



SIB JOHN ELIOT. 7 

and so his biographer must delineate him, apart from 
all precoDceiyed affections or prejudices. 

Immediately after the quarrel with Mr. Moyle, it is 
probable that young Eliot left his home for the univer- 
sity of Oxford. Anthony Wood states that he '^ became 
a gentleman* commoner of Exeter college^ in Michael- 
mas term anno l607, aged 15."^ The same authority 
tells us that he left the university^ without a degree^ after 
he had continued there about three years.^ That his 
time, however^ was not misspent at that venerable seat 
of study, he afterwards well proved. He had naturaUy 
a fine imagination; and when, on the lapse of a few 
years, it burst forth in the house of commons, it 
was surrounded with the pomp of Greek and Roman 
learning. In the studies of his youth, in those invalu- 
able treasures of thought and language which are placed 
within the reach of every scholar, he had strengthened 
himself for great duties. And more than this. In his 
youthful contemplation of the ancient school philosophy, 
he had provided for his later years the enjoyment of 
those subhme reveries, which, we shall have occasion to 
see, were his chief consolations in a dungeon. Little, 
probably, did he Aen imagine, as he was first making 
the acquaintance of Seneca, of Plato, and the Stagyrite, 
that they would stand him in the stead of friends, when 
prison bars had shut out every other. 

The sudden interruption to his studies, at the expira- 
tion of three years, appears to have originated in his 
desire to obtain some acquaintance with the common 
law of England. This knowledge began then to be 
considered a necessary accomplishment for one who 
aspired to the honours of parliament, with the view of 
supporting the principles of the rising country party. 
Eliot was one of these ; and, as Wood informs us, after 
leaving the university, ''went to one of the inns of 
court, and became a barrister." ^ The lapse of a year 

1 Ath. Oxaa. toL iL p. 478. This is incorrect, however, as I have stated, 
in respect of Eliot's aga He was seventeen. 
< Ath. Oxon. vol. ii. p. 478. ^ Ibid. 

B 4 



8 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

or two introduces us to a new incident in his private 
life^ of which a malignant advantage has^ as usual^ been 
taken by his political opponents. 

His disposition^ never less active than meditative, 
induced him to visit the continent. At precisely the 
same period^ the discerning lady Villiers ^ had sent her 
famous son to grace the beauty of his face^ and tibe 
handsomeness of his person (his only birthright), by 
the advantages of foreign travel. Eliot and Villiers 
met, and the courtesies of English travellers in a fo- 
reign country ensued between them.^ They journeyed 
together; and it is not surprising that a generous 
warmth in the disposition of Eliot should have suited 
well with the bold address and sprightliness of temper^ 
for which alone, at that time, George Villiers was re- 
markable. It is said they became intimate. In all 
probability they did so, if we may judge from a cir- 
cumstance that shall in due course be noticed. 

Meanwhile, I have another misrepresentation to clear 
away. After his return from the continent, Eliot mar- 
ried. It has been reserved for the writer before referred 
to — Mr. D*Israeli^ whose ingenuity of research^ and plea- 
sant attractiveness of style^ are only outstripped by his 
violent political tendencies, and his most amusing pro- 
fessions of philosophical impartiality — to fasten upon 
even this domestic, and most private^ incident in the 

1 Buckingham was a younger son, by a second marriage, of sir George 
Villiers, of Brookesley, in Leicestershire, whose family, though ancient, 
had hitherto been unheard of in the kingdom. His mother is reported to 
have served in his father's kitchen, but he, being struck with her extra, 
ordinary beauty and person, which the meanness of her clothes could not 
hide, prevailed with ladv Villiers, not without difficulty, to raise her to a 
higher office ; and on the death of that lad^ he married this her servant 
As, however, the heir by a former marriage succeeded to the family 
estate, it became a grand object with lady Villiers, who had obtained the 
means through a second husband, whom she afterwards deserted, to 
accomplish her children for pushing their own fortune in the world. 
Hence her conduct to George, as I have noticed it abov& See R. Coke, 
p. 74. Hacket's Life of Williams, part i. p^ 171. Brodie's British Em- 
pire, vol. ii. p. 12, 13. 

2 Echard's History, p. 424. Mr. D'Israeli claims the merit of having 
discovered ih\6 (vol. iv. p. 507. ; Pamphlet, p. 3.),— a claim on which his 
friends also insist (see Quarterly Review, Na ^civ. p. 470.), on what 
authority does not appear. Echard was the first discoverer, if there be any 
merit in it; nor would his statement have carried any weight, but that 
other circumstances have tended to confirm it. 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. 9 

fife of Eliot^ as another instance of what he is pleased 
to consider the turhulence and '^iingovemahle passion" 
of his ''hold and adventurous character." ^ Without 
quoting any authority^ Mr. D'Israeli states^ that '' when 
the house of commons voted 5000/. for a compensation 
to the family for his [[Eliot's^ ' sufferings^' they also 
voted another 2000/.^ part of four^ for which he had 
heen fined hy the court of wards^ hy reason of his 
marriage with sir Daniel Norton's daughter." He then 
goes on to state that this indicates the violent carrying 
off of the kdy hy the turhulent Eliot. What possible 
authority Mr. D*Israeli can bring forward for this state- 
ment^ I know not. The only record in existence 
hearing on such a subject^ so far as I am aware^ is an 
entry in the earl of Leicester's journal^ of unquestioned 
authenticity and correctness. It is most satisfactory on 
the pointy as will be seen ; and I will not suppose that 
this was the source from which Mr. D'Israeli derived 
his statement. It is as follows : — " Monday^ 18th 
January^ l646. The house of commons this day^ 
according to former order^ took into consideration the 
great losses and sufferings of many members^ in the 
yeare tertio Caroli^ for speaking (in parliament) in behalf 
of the kingdom. A report whereof was made to the 
house^ from the committee to whom it was formerly 
referred ; and the commons^ upon debate^ passed several 
votes for allowances to be given to such members, in 
recompense of theyr wrongs and sufferings, as foUoweth : " 
several names are then specified, and among them, 
'' that 5000/. be allowed to sir John Elllotte's younger 
children; and his dder son's fine in the court of wards 
to be remitted." 2 

This ''elder son," against whose turbulence the re- 
proof of Mr. D'Israeli ought to have been directed, was a 
youth of idle and riotous habits, very wild irregularities, 
which subsequently^ as we shall show, proved a source 

1 See Mr. D'lsraeli's Commentaries, toI. ii. p. 28a 

> Sidney Papers, pp. S, 3. Thu early portion of the Journal ia ecpe- 
dally remarkable for its accuracy and precision. AU of it was written for 
the author's private use. 



10 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

of much anxiety and disquiet to his father. He was 
the exact person for the adventure maliciously fixed upon 
sir John. The latter married without violating the laws 
of any courts hut was deprived of his wife by deaths 
after she had presented him with two sons.^ The 
" younger children" alluded to in the passage quoted 
would seem to comprise the family of the second son. 

Eliot's intercourse with Villiers was now resumed. 
A wonderful change had taken place in the intervaL 
The base creature Somerset had been prosecuted at 
last, ostensibly for the murder of Overbury^, but, in 
reality, to provide room for a fourth favourite, on whom 
the majesty of the day might lavish its shameless fond* 
ness. That new favourite was selected in the person of 
George Villiers. Well might lord Clarendon exclaim^ 
'^ Never any man, in any age, nor, I believe, in any 
country or nation, rose in so short a time to so much 
greatness of honour, fame, or fortune, upon no other 
advantage or recommendation than of the beauty or 
gracefulness of his person." ^ Among the successive 
honours showered in ridiculous abundance upon him^ 
fell that of lord high admiral of England. With this 
office was connected the duty of appointing vice-admi- 
rals in the several counties; and it is probable that, per- 
sonal motives of acquaintance or even friendship quite 
apart, the name of Eliot was instantly suggested to the 
young favourite, as one that claimed on every ground a 
promotion of this sort. He possessed one of the largest 
paternal estates of any gentleman of the time, and had 
the command of much influence in his own and the 
neighbouring county. Accordingly we find that the 
lapse of a short time after that which saw Villiers pro- 
moted to the office of lord high admiral, saw Eliot made 

^ This is evident from the Eliot Papers, MS. 

3 I avail myself of the opportunity which the mention of this name 
aflfbrds me, to remind the reader that sir Thomas Overbury, scarcely 
remember«I but for his misfortunes, is deserving of a better and more 
grateful remembrance He was an accomphshed scholar, and adorned 
literature by many delicate writings. Some passages in the ** Witty Cha- 
racters *' api)ended to his poem of ** The Wife,** are quite unequalled for 
simplicity and gentleness. 

3 History of the Rebellion, folio ed. vol. u p. 9. 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. 11 

Tioe-admiral of Devonshire. He was also appointed 
chainnan of the oommittee of stannaries — of his duties 
in which office he has left a manuscript report — and^ 
at the same time^ he received knighthood. 

In accordance with the desperate and unwearied 
spirit of misrepresentation I have already had so many 
occasions to allude to^ the political enemies of this il- 
lustrious person have seized on this change in his estate^ 
to attribute it to those vile and vulgar motives, which 
' alone they would seem to be acquainted with. Echard 
leads the way, connecting it, most unfortunately for 
bis purpose^ with the incident of Moyle.^ After giving 
the false accpunt^ formerly quoted, of that youthful 
anecdote, the archdeacon proceeds : " And now, sup« 
posing he had perfected his revenge, he immediately 
hastened to London to address himself to his sure friend 
the duke of Buckingham^ in order to get his pardon : 
whichj to his great disappointment^ he could not obtain 
without advancing a considerahle sum of money into the 
exchequer. But as soon as his pardon was sealed, and 

I the money paid^ he received intelligence that Mr. 
Moyle was unexpectedly recovered. Upon the happy 
assurance of this^ he again applied himself to the duke^ 
to procure the repayment of the money ; but that being 
swallowed up in the occasions of the court beyond any 
recovery^ all that he could obtain in lieu of it was to 
be knighted : which^ though it might have allayed the 
heat of his ambition, was so heinously taken at the 
hands of a person once his equal, that after that he 
never ceased to be his mortal enemy^ hut helped to 
blow up such a flame in the house as was never extin- 
guished." This monstrous account, which I have ex- 
tracted partly for the amusement of the reader, has 
found its helievers in the present day.^ It is idle to 

I waste words on its refutation. At the period when^ it 
is thus hardily asserted^ the assassin Eliot hurried up 

1 Ecfaard's History, p. 4S4. 

> See Mr. D* Israeli's Commentaries, vol ii p. S70. — a passage which 
has not yet been retracted. 



12 BRITISH 8TATE81IEN. 

to his friend the duke, to crave protection from the 
laws he had outraged^ that " assassin " was hut a hoy^ 
and the " duke " plain George Villiers, with less power 
than his pretended suppliant. 

But the inconsistencies of the candid ^^historians'' 
and " commentators" do not end here. Mr. D* Israeli^ 
who adopts the ridiculously false statement just quoted^ 
has attempted to corroborate it by the production of a 
letter written in the year l623 to the duke.^ That is 
to say, he adopts the statement that sir John repaid the 
protection and the knighthood given him by the duke 
with immediate and violent hostility ; and proposes to 
corroborate that, by producing a letter written in cour- 
teous and deferential terms, by sir John to the duke^ 
some considerable time after the period of the knight- 
hood. The gross folly of this is apparent. I pass that^ 
however^ to consider the letter, and the position at- 
tempted to be established by its means^ namely, '^ that 
in 1623 we find sir John a suppliant to, and at least a 
complimentary admirer of, the minister^ and only two 
years after, in 1625^ Eliot made his first personal 
attack on that minister, his late patron and friend^ 
whom he then selected as a victim of state." 2 

With respect to the first part of this charge, the 
answer is short and obvious. The letter is not written 
in sir John's personal character, but as vice-admiral of 
Devonshire, to the lord high admiral of England. 
This is admitted even, in another place, by the author 
of the charge him self .^ The office of vice-admiral had 
proved extremely troublesome to sir John, involving 
him in many disputes concerning the wrecks on the 
coast, and saddling him with the expenses of various 
trials."^ Rather than submit to these, it would appear 
that, in one instance, Eliot preferred to subject himself to 
the inconveniences of arrest. Under such circumstances 

» Commentaries, vol. ii. p. 270. * Pamphlet, p. 6. 

3 Commentaries, vol. ii. p. 270. 

* See Commons* Journals, 27th of February, 1623; and again, 2d of 
March in the same year. 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. IS 

it was most natural that he should seek some reparation 
for the injuries he had undergone in support of the 
office and rights of the duke of Buckingham. For 
this purpose the letter in question was written: its 
toDe is expostulatory^ and^ courteous as its terms are^ it 
is even deficient in those elaborately complimentary 
phrases which were considered due^ in that age, to the 
ceremonious observances of letter-writing. It is as 
follows. 

'* Right honourable, — With what affection I have 
served your graoe^ I desire rather it should he read in 
my actions than my words, which made me sparing in 
my last relation to touch those difficulties wherewith my 
letters have been checkt, that they might the more 
iiilly speak themselves. I shall not seek to gloss them 
nowj but, as they have been, leave them to your grace's 
acceptance, which I presume so noble, that scandal or 
detraction cannot decline it. It were an injury of your 
worth, which I dare not attempt, to insinuate the 
opinion of any merit by false colours or pretences, or 
with hard circumstances to endear my labours, and 
might beget suspicion, sooner than assurance in your 
credit, which I may not hazard. My innocence, I hope, 
needs not these ; nor would I shadow the least errour 
wider your protection. But when my services have 
been faithful, and not altogether vain, directed truly to 
the honour and benefit of your place, only suffering 
upon the disadvantage of your absence, I must impor-' 
tune your grace to support my weakness, that it may 
cause no prejudice of your rights and liberties, which 
I have studied to preserve, though with the loss of 
mine own. My insistance therein hath exposed me to 
a long imprisonment and great charge, which still in. 
creaseth, and threatens the ruin of my poor fortunes, if 
they be not speedily prevented. For which, as my 
endeavours have been wholly yours, I most humbly 
crave your grace's favour both to myself and them ; in 



14 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

which I am devoted. Your grace's thrice humble 
servant. J. Eliot." 

'' Novemb. 8. l62S.'*i 

Now^ not a single expression in this letter is incon- 
sistent with the construction which I have placed on it^ 
or justly appropriate to any other construction. The 
complimentary phrases fall evidently short of the no- 
torious custom of the time. I am^ indeed^ surprised at 
the bareness of the language^ considering the year in 
which it was written. Buckingham had just then 
managed to conciHate the country party ^^ and was be- 
spattered with praise in all directions. The people^ freed 
from the political panic that had been caused by the pros- 
pect of the Spanish match^ in the suddenness of the escape 
showered applauses on the masked duke; and sir Edward 
Coke^ leading the opposition in the house of commons, 
was betrayed shortly after into the very professional 
hyperbole of calling him the " saviour of his comitry."^ 
Had the terms of Eliot's letter^ therefore^ been most 
adulatory^ there would have existed little cause for won- 
der : we see that they are not so. Whether the letter 
was answered or not, appears uncertain ; but the ac- 
quaintance of the parties did not cease here^ as I shall 
have occasion to indicate hereafter."^ One word more 
on this subject. Mr. D'lsraeli^ alluding to the date 
of this letter, calls it '' the close of 1523*/' which 
would intimate that parliament had already commenced 
its sitting ; and then goes on to. tell his readers, that 
the patriotism of £liot was a '^ political revolution^ 
which did not happen till two years after he had been 

1 Cabala, ed. 1663. pp. 412, 413. The italics are my own. They show 
the independence of spirit which breaks through even this ofBcial com. 
plaining. 

3 In the same volume of letters — the " Cabala"— p. S40 is a letter to the 
duke from a staunch and unslandered patriot, sir Robert Philips, on which 
a precisely similar charge to this we are now discussing might be as easily 
founded. Had Mr. D'Israeli overlooked this ? He admits Philips to have 
been, emphatically, an independent country gentleman. 

3 Clarendon, Hist vol. i. p. 7. 

< At the duke's death a suit pended between them, and accounts stiU 
unsettled. Eliot MSS. 
. s Commentaries, voL il p. 272. 



Sm JOHN ELIOT. 15 

a suppliant to this yery minister." ^ This is most un. 
true. The letter was written in the eighth month of 
162s (old style)^ two months before the assembling of 
parliament ; and in that parliament the voice of Eliot 
was heard, in stirring accents of honest patriotism. 
Though none of his speeches at this period have been 
preseryed in the parliamentary histories, I am prepared 
to prove, from the journals of the house of commons^ 
and from manuscript records, that no ^' political revo. 
ludon" ever occurred in his life ; that he was consistent 
from the first ; that his eloquence was often exerted in 
that last assembly of James's reign, and never but in 
support of the great party for whose rights and privi- 
l^es he afterwards suffered death. 

A few words may here be allowed to me, on the 
aspect of pubhc affairs at the meeting of this parlia- 
ment, which introduced Eliot to public life.^ I shall 
always avoid, in these biographies, matters of general 
history or character, except so far as may be needed in 
illustration of individual conduct, or of diose particular 
questions which called forth its distinctive energies. 
That individual conduct shall also be limited, as much 
as possible, to the subject of each life. Thus, in the 
present instance, I have nothing to do with the great 
men who laboured in the same cause with Eliot, ex- 
cept as their general policy and characteristics illus- 
trate his exertions. I have nothing to do with the great 
questions they agitated, except in so far as they called 
forth his individual energies : what remains will be 
noticed in other biographies ; nor shall I seek in vain 
the opportunity of observing upon any great incident 
of this great era of statesmanship. The first object will 
in all cases be, to carry light and life into general his- 
tory, by particular details of character. 

The ignominious defeat of the elector palatine by 
Spinola, and the circumstances which ought especially 
to have induced James to render assistance to his weak 

' Commentaries, vol. ii. p. 2S7. * 

s For a sketch of the preceding parliaments, see the biography of Straf. 
fold. 



-r" 



16 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

but unfortunate son-in-law, bebng to history.^ In not- 
doing so, he subjected himself to the derision of Eu- 
rope ^y and to the self-reproach (if he were able to have 
felt it) of having sacrificed the noblest opportunity of 
making himself popular in his own nation, and honoured 
every where, as the asserter of dvil and religious liberty. 
But he was bound in the fetters of Spain, and had set 
his foolish heart on a match for the prince with the 
infanta. This was a politic bait thrown out by that 
wily country, and greedily seized by the king. It was 
intended as a means of dragging the pusillanimous 
James into the league with the house of Austria, for 
oppressing the protestants, and invading the liberties of 
Germany. It succeeded. The people of England saw 
their brother protestants abroad hunted down by tyrants; 
they saw the evangelical league broken and discomfited 
by the Roman catholic union ; themselves made parties 
to the wrong which they abhorred, and enemies to that 
holy cause of freedom and -of conscience, on which, at 
home, they had staked ail. Discontent rose to a fright- 
ful pitch, and the person of the king was even threat- 
ened.3 At this moment the tide of affairs was suddenly 
turned ; and the man who had resisted the outcries of 

' See the various histories. Dr. Lingard has treated the subject very 
fully. See also tome able reasoning on the general question in Boling^. 
broke's Remarks, pp. SSS—SOR. 8vo edit. Mr. Brodic has stated the de> 
merits of James's conduct with appropriate bitterness. There are also 
some very important communications relative to this in lord Hardwicke's 
State Papers ; in the second volume of Somers* Tracts, by Scott : and in 
Howell's Familiar Letters. See Rushworth, vol L pp. 76— lia ; Hacket's 
Life of Williams ; Heylin's Life of Laud ; and Saunderson's James I. Mr. 
D* Israeli's " Secret History of the Spanish Match " is very pleasant and 
ingenious. See also Roger Coke's ** Detection," a very honest book, if we 
set aside its plagiarisms. 

^ From a curious volume, entitled *' Truth brought to Light,** we learn 
that, in Flanders, they presented in their comedies messengers bringing 
news that England was ready to send a hundred thousand ambassadors to 
the assistance of the palatinate. " And they pictured the king in one 
place with a scabbard without a sword ; in another place, with a sword that 
nobody could draw, though divers persons stood pulling at it In Bruxels 
they painted him with his pockets hanging out, and never a penny in 
them, and his purse turned upside down. In Antwerp thev pictured the 
queen of Bohemia like a poor Irish mantler, with her hair hanging about 
her ears, and her child at her back, with the king, her father, carrying the 
cradle after.her." — Truth brought to IMht. Introduction. 

3 See a curious tract, ** Tom Tell Truth," in the second volume of 
Somers* Collection. 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. 17 

an ingolted nation^ yielded to the peevish complaints of 
a haughty and offended minion. 

Jealousy of Bristol's negotiations had resolved Buck- 
ingham to carry the prince to Spain ; jealousy of the 
wily archhishop Williams now induced him to wish for 
home. Moreover^ he had heen neglected in that stately 
country^ not to say insulted, for his levity and profligate 
hearing. A deadly jealousy had also risen hetween him 
and the Spanish minister, Olivarez ; and he h^an to 
feel that^ in proportion as the edifice of his power was 
lofty^ it was unstable. He saw an expedient for se- 
curing it on a wider and more solid basis, and straight- 
way seized it. He effected a rupture, and hurried the 
prince home, whither the welcome news of this new 
policy had travelled before, securing them an en- 
thusiastic welcome. The unaccustomed acclamations 
wafted a new sense into the all-grasping soul of Buck- 
ingham ; and, resolving to try the game of patriotism, 
he forced the king to summon a parliament. He threw 
himself into the arms of the (deceived) popular party^ 
and drove the unhappy James from his boasted '^ king- 
crafty" into a declaration of war against Spain. ^ 

The parliament assembled, with hopes never before 
entertained. The dissolution of the Spanish treaty was 
justly considered a great national deliverance; and the 
favourite of James, who had disrobed him of his in- 
gbrious mantle of peace, was now the favourite of the 
nation. At this extraordinary juncture, £liot took his 
seat in the hoiise of commons. It has been asserted by 
Wood^ and others, that he sat in the previous parliament; 
but this is certainly a mistake. He was returned now 
for the first time, with Mr. Richard Estcourt, for the 
borough of Newport, in Cornwall. 

And now, from the first moment of his public life, 

> The keenest dissection, as it appears to mi?, of the condvct of Buck 
ingham and the prince, throughout the whole of this Spanish aflfkir, will 
be found in a work very recenUv published in the present series,— History 
of England, tc^ !▼., continued from sir James Mackintosh. 

* Wood is seldom to be relied on in any date, except those which are 
ftimished by the Oxford books : —lord Nugent has inaccurately adopted 
his sUtement that Eliot sat in the parliament of 1681. 

VOL. II. 



18 BRITISH STATE8MBN. 

his patriotism began, — not from pique, or a spirit of 
opposition — for as yet he had no opponents, save those 
of his religion and his country. For be it ever re- 
membered, that, in that day, politics were necessarily 
and intimately connected with religious doctrine. The 
Romish cause was the cause of the oppressor, while the 
protestant was that of the oppressed ; and the English 
constitutional party saw no chance for good govemment^ 
save in a root-and-branch opposition to the Roman ca« 
tholic faith. Their cause of freedom at home was 
weakened by the success of popish tyranny abroad ; and 
the great struggle going on between the protestant 
patriots of Bohemia, and the various Roman catholic 
powers leagued in extensive confederacy against them, 
seemed a not improbable shadowing forth of the future 
destiny of the popular party in England. So thought 
the leaders of this parliament, — ^' the greatest and the 
knowingest auditory," as a political adversary called 
them, " that this kingdom, of perhaps the world, af- 
forded^ j'' and so they acted, confirming that great 
reputation. 

Eliot at once distinguished himself, and was received 
as a leader of the country party. I have been at some 
pains to trace his conduct through this parliament, for 
it has not been mentioned by any historian ; whilst ad- 
vantage has been taken of the silence, to bear out the 
assertion of his having been, at this period, a mere un- 
distinguished subserver to the duke of Buckingham. 
We shall see how far this is just. 

The parliaident met on the 12th of February, 1623. 
It was adjourned, however, until the 19th, when the 
speech was delivered, and the house further adjourned 
until the 23d. The three following days were occupied 
in arranging conferences with the lords, respecting the 
duke s intended '' Narrative." On the 27th, Eliot arose. 
It was the earliest day of the session, and it was his first 
appearance in the house. He declared at once the cause he 
had entered to sustain; and, putting aside, as subordinate, 

1 Hackerf life of WiUUnu, p. J79i 



SIS JOHN ELIOT. 19 

eren the all-engrossing question of the war^ raised his 
▼oioe for certain ancient privileges of ttie nation.^ On the 
1st of March^ he q>oke on the question of the Spanish 
treaties, in the high strain of popular feeling. He 
alluded to war, as that " which alone will secure and 
repair us ; " and recommended the setting out of a fleet 
'^by those penalties the papists and recusants have 
alrcttdy incurred^, — means which would have been 
especially odious to the court. But Eliot never waited 
to trim his propositions by the court fashion, even in its 
popular days, and we never discern in him the bated 
breath, or the whispering humbleness. On that oc 
casion, also, he seems to have resented the long and 
vacillating negotiations of the king and his secretaries. 
" Fitter for us to do than to speak," he said, and most 
justly said, at that crisis: On the 8 th of the same 
month, he opposed a hasty decision with respect to the 
king's answer at Theobald's.^ It was not satisfactory, 
owing to the immediateness of its demand for supplies. 
fie had been appointed one of the deputation; and, 
alluding to ^' many strange reports," since their return, 
he moves " to have some time eadi to. take copies, and 
then to deliberate and advise."^ This he carried. 
On the 11th, he went up to the lords, on this same 
subject, with some of the great leaders of the house — 
Philips, Selden, Coke, Rudyard, Saville, Stroude — to 
confer with them about his majesty's estate.*'^ This 
conference elicited an assurance from the treasurer, the 
following day, of ^'his majesty's resolution to call 
parliaments dft, to make good laws, and redress public 
grievances." From this may be well inferred the nature 
of the previous day's remonstrance from Eliot and his 
friends. Nor did this plausible assurance put those 
faithful men off their guard. They answered the trea- 
surer, '' that we had no doubt here yesterday, as among 

1 ComsKms' Joumak, Feb. 97. 1683. 

s Journals of that date. 

9 See the answer. Pari. Hist vol vi. p. 9Sl edit. 1763L 

4 Commons' Journals, March 8. 1G2& 

• Ibid. March 11. WtS. 

2 



20 BRITISH 8TATB8MEN. 

the lords. We fittest to relieve the king's particular 
wants^ when we have enabled the subjects to do it^ by 
removing their grievances." ^ An explanation of the 
disputed passages in the answer was sahsequently given^ 
such as satisfied the house. 

In the same spirit were all £liot's speeches in the 
matter of this Spanish war. He never supported it but 
for the promotion of the popular cause> and always ac- 
companied his approbation of the measure with an 
avowal of those greater ulterior objects^ which he felt it 
ought to accomplish. I need not go through the nume- 
rous minutes of the journals, in which his name appears 
at this time. His attention to the business of debate^ 
as to the committees, must have been most arduous^ 
since it was unremitting. Besides the great number of 
private bills, in the management of which his name 
appears, he took part in all public questions ; lent his 
aid to the best legal reforms ; and generally formed one 
in the more learned committees appointed to consider 
disputed questions on the privileges of the universities.^ 
He opposed always, with watchful jealousy, any attempt 
to move from the constitutional usages of the house; 
and when the ministers proposed, through sir Guy 
Palmer, to have a committee to draw a bill for the 
continuance of all bills the next session in statu quo, 
that they might so " husband time," — the name of Eliot 
was found successfully opposed to this, in connection 
with his friends. Philips, Coke, and Digges.^ He was 
unceasing in his exertions against monopolies^; and in 
reminding the house of the petitions — those *^ stinging 
petitions," as the king used bitterly to call them — ^^not 
to be forgotten against recusants^;" but, when duty to 
the cause permitted it, he never pressed the letter of 

1 Commons* Journals, March 12. IGSSL 

s Ibid, poisitn. He was also very active in endeavouring to set 
the grants of crown lands on a better footing. Many instances will be 
found of his exertions in respect to the universities ; as in the case of the 
Wadham and Magdalen Colleges : and he is often associated with Coke, 
Philips, and Gyles, in the forwarding of Cornish private bills. 

3 Commons' Journals, April S9. 1621 

4 Ibid. AprU 7. 169*. 
» Ibid. April a 1601 



SIB JOHN ELIOT. 21 

offence against any offender. Humanity came in rescue 
of the strictness of his judgments. When some of the 
popular party pushed hard against the under-sheriff of 
Cambridge^ for a misdemeanor at the election^ £liot 
humanely interceded. He suggested that the custody 
the sheriff had ah^ady undergone^ and the expenses he 
had heen put to^ were surely sufficient punishment^ and 
lecommended his immediate dismissal. The ever true 
and able sir Robert Philips seconded the suggestion. 
In no single respect can the enemies of Eliot taunt him 
with his conduct in this session ; nor will they dare 
hereafter to use their equally dangerous weapon^ the 
imputation of his silence^ to prove that his patriotism 
was sluggish or inactive^ or moving only at the will of 
others. 

After the most anxious search^ I can find^no allusion 
from £]ioty respecting Buckingham^ which indicates a 
feeling of any sort. His silence on this head is indeed 
remarkable^ as the lauded name of the duke was then 
most frequently on the lips of other popular members; 
and yet^ that it did not proceed from any vindictive 
feeling at an abrupt cessation of intercourse, I think I 
am enabled to prove. From a minute of the journals 
of the house, it appears that, on one of the debates re- 
specting the Spanish treaties, some private letters of the 
duke of Buckingham were referred to, whereupon Eliot 
stated that he had that morning seen those letters. This 
is specially entered in the journals. ^ No other member 
makes the remotest allusion to having seen them. This 
appears to me to offer a fair presumption that Eliot still 
continued to meet Buckingham in private intercourse. 
If this is admitted, then the amiable theory of those 
writers who have concluded that the letter to the duke^ 
previously quoted, was the last of a series of unanswered 
applications, and that^ from the time of its date, a vindic- 

1 Commons* Journals, April 1. 1624 In no other place do I find the 
smallest allusion to Buckingham, not even at the close of the Spanish 
business, when thanks were moved by £liot to ** the prince, the king, and 
to God,** for the result of the delilserations. Commons* Journals, April S4. 
1601 

S 



SS BRITISH STATE!I31EN. 

five feeling had been awakened in the breast of the offended 
writer^ — that £liot*s patriotism, in fact, was altogether 
a personal pique at Buckingham ^, — has received another 
blow^ prostrate as it was before. 

And another^ should any one chance to think ano^ 
ther necessary^ remains to be inflicted. In this par. 
liament a question arose^ on which I have discovered 
the note of a speech by Eliot^ which could never have 
been delivered by him^ if his character had not rested 
clearly free from all imputations of personal dependence 
or political subserviency. It occurred in a debate " at the 
close of 1623/' the very period fixed by our modem 
commentators, from which to date their obstinate accus^ 
ations. At that period, several committees were sitting 
on the various courts of justice^ to investigate complaints 
against their mal-administration. Among many petitions 
presented to the house in consequence of these com- 
mittees, was one from the wife of a person named Grys^ 
complaining of wrongs she had suffered from the court 
of chancery^ and appeaHng against the long delays of 
that court. To this petition sir £dward Coke objected. 
The lawyer stood in the way of the redresser of griev- 
ances. He told the house that the woman was half dis- 
tracted ; that the wrong she complained of occurred in 
'^ £gerton's time ;" that he was now gone ; and that it 
was a most unusual thing to complain against the dead. 
After some discussion^ it was at last resolved that the 
grievance in question^ with others^ should be argued by 
counsel before a sub.committee. This sub-committ^ 
was then about to be chosen^ when sir John Eliot rose. 
He spoke, as was his custom ever, in concern for the 
wrongs of the oppressed. He warned the house to be 
careful in their choice, for he knew of what vast im- 
portance it was that the ^' cries of the vexed subject" 
should be heard by unbiassed men. He implored them 
to " have a special care" that its members should '^ have 

1 Mr. D'Israeli (passim) ; who9e suggestions on this subject have been 
lately adopted by a distinguished writer. See Quarterly Review, Na 94. 
p. 471. 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. S3 

I 

no dependence upon men in place ; " he suggested that 
it would be better to have no lawyers upon it ; that it 
were more just to ^' have countrymen^ that have no de- 
pendence/' ^ There are few who will disagree with me 
in tfainkingy that these are not the words of a follower 
of Buckingham. That they should have been spoken 
by one, who laboured under the very odium of what he 
so earnestly condemned, is, to a monstrous degree, im. 
probable. Not on that occasion, nor on any other, did 
his opponents in the house dare to hint such a charge. 
I find the patriotic old lawyer replying to this earnest 
appeal, with a statement of '' great inconveniences in 
having such a sub-committee,'' and an entreaty to " have 
it well considered of : *' — but not a word of reproach on 
the motives of Eliot. 

It is necessary that I should now advert to the terms 
on which Eliot and his friends in this parliament con- 
sented to furnish supplies for the Spanish war. On the 
gross abuse of these supplies, their subsequent bitter op- 
position was most justly founded. 

Their earnest desire to see James's mean subserviency 
to Spain at once destroyed, never for an instant blinded 
them to the serious consequence of pressing the people by 
heavy subsidies. Nine hundred thousand pounds had 
been demanded. They granted three hundred thousand; 
promising more, if, in the right prosecution of the 
contest, more should become necessary. Over and over 
again they distinctly stated, that the country was not in 
a condition to hazard a general war ; and, by many sharp 
stipulations, they restricted hostilities to one object, spe- 
cific and defined. They seem, indeed, to have had 
some reason, before the final arrangement, to suspect the 
gross duplicity^ which had been practised on them by 
Buckingham, and to have resolved to defend their own 
policy at all events. They declared, that their object, 
in so earnestly promoting war, was the recovery of the 
Palatinate, and that alone : that hostilities with Spain 

1 Commons* Journals, March 17. 1628. 
* This wm be alluded to shortly. , 

4 



24 BRITISH 8TATE8HEX. 

therefore^ were to be entered into^ only in so far as that 
)>ranch of the house of Austria was expected to assist 
the others in retaining the territory of the elector pala- 
tine. Nothing could be more distinct than their stipu* 
lations on this point. They were recognised before the 
death of James. No war with Spain was proclaimed^ 
though correspondence with its court was broken ; and 
when Mansfield received his commission^ with twelve 
regiments^ for the service of the Palatinate, he was re- 
quired *' not to make any invasion^ or do any act of waf 
against the country or dominion^" of the king of Spain. ^ 
How far this first condition was preserved, we shall 
shortly have occasion to see. Another condition there 
waSj proposed by the king himself, that in order to 
insure the application of the grant to the purposes sought 
to be attained^ it should be paid into the hands of com- 
missioners, appointed by the house, who should expend 
the money upon that business alone, for which it was 
granted.^ The rupture of peace was no headlong enter- 
prise, plunged into by the parliamentary leaders, without 
regard to the issue, or the means of its attainment.^ 

Meanwhile^ during these negotiations, no popular 
grievance was lost sight of. Up to this period^ a 
couplet familiar in the common mouth had embodied 
the history of parliaments : 

" Many faults complained of, few things mended, 
A subsidy granted, the parliament ended.'* 



1 Rushworth, vol. L pp. 153, 151 

* Hume calls this '* unprecedented in an English monarch.** (Vol. r. 
p. 98.) But though the practice had certainly then become unusual, it was 
common at a former period of English history. See Brodie's Hist, of 
British Empire, vol. ii. p. S9. That the king proposed this, however, 
under compulsion by his new tyrant Buckingham, and as a mere trick to 
deceive the commons, was soon evident. To the astonishment of all, on 
accepting the subsidies, he used this language : — ** I desire you to under, 
stand, that I must have a faithfUl secret council of war, which must not 
be ordered by a multitude, for so my designs may be discovered before 
hand. One penny of this money shall not be bestowed but in sight of your 
committees ; but whether I shall send 2,000 or 10,000, whether by sea or 
by land, east or west^ by diversion or otherwise, by invasion upon the 
Bavarian or the emperor, you must leave that to your king." An ingenious 
method of rendering the check he had before submitted to for the purpose 
of procuring a liberal grant, void and effbctlefts. 

9 Commons* Journals, and Tarl. Hist, ptusim. 



BIB JOHN ELIOT. 25 

With the exception of the subsidy bill of l621, no bill 
bad been allowed to pass for the space of thirteen years, 
legislation was now at last resumed. Measures were 
pa^ed to reform many grievances in the law, and in 
prevention of vexatious prosecutions. '^ Their long 
counsels, which had been weather-bound, came to a 
quiet road, and their vessel was Ughted of statutes which 
are of immortal memory." ^ The greatest of all these 
was that which abolished monopolies for the sale of 
merchandise, or for using any trade. It was nobly 
drawn up by Coke, Eliot, Philips, and other members, 
as a mere declaratory statute, reciting that such mo- 
nopolies were already contrary to the ancient and fun- 
damental laws of the realm. ^^ It was there supposed,'* 
says Hume, " that every subject of England had entire 
power to dispose of his own actions, provided he did 
no injury to any of his fellow subjects ; and that no 
prerogative of the king, no power of any magistrate, 
nothing but the authority alone of laws, could restrain 
that unlimited freedom." ^ Following upon this mea- 
sure, and of an importance no less great, came the im- 
peachment of the lord treasurer Middlesex. For two 
centuries, — with the single exception of the case of 
Bacon, too feeble to fix, with any certainty, the prece- 
dent, — that grand constitutional right had lain dormant. 
It was now asserted with eagerness by the commons, 
and promoted hotly by Buckingham, who had long 
hated the growing independence of the power of Mid- 
dlesex, and as his caprice had raised him from ob- 
scurity, now turned to hunt him to disgrace. In vain 

1 Racket** Scrinia Reterata (Life of Willianu}, part L |v SOO. He goes 
on, in his fashion, to say — "The Toices all went one way, as a field of 
I wheat is bended that 's blown with a gentle gale, one and all ; " which 
nroves that quaint old gentleman to have been a reader of Beaumont and 

• • ♦ " And the people. 
Against their nature, are all bent for him ; 
And like a field of standing com, that *8 moved 
With a stiff gale, their heads bow all one way." 

PhUaster. 

* History, vol. v. pp. 96/99. See also lord Coke, on the subject of this 
great act, 3 last 181. 



26 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

the shrewdness of James remonstrated, — " By God, 
Stenny, you are a fool, and will shortly repent tfaia 
foUy ; and will find that, in this fit of popularity, you 
are making a rod with which your own hreech will be 
scourged." In vain he turned to the prince, and, with 
a bitterness of prophecy, like that of Bacon to Mid- 
dlesex ('^ Remember that a parliament will come !**)> 
told him that he would live *' to have his belly full of 
parliamentary impeachments." ^ The commons were 
suffered to proceed. They proved the guilt of the lord 
treasurer ^ ; and rescued from the disuse of centuries, 
and beyond the chance of recall, a vital parliamentary 
right against future ministers of the crown. 

James never forgave this. Hacket teUs us that, in 
reference to the matter, *' he was quipt every day with 
ignominious taunts, that the kind correspondencies be- 
tween him and the parliament began to have a doud 
over them."^ There were other causes besides this. 
Further grievances remained to be discussed, and the 
house had entered upon them with unwearying zeal. The 
king then gave them to understand, that though they were 
to apply redress to some known grievances, they were 
not to go on seeking after more ; and shortly afterwards, 
in discontent, prorogued them.^ He had failed in the 
ol^ject of his concessions. He fancied they would have 
put him in possession of more money and more power. 
^^ He let fall some fiowers of his -crown," says the 
quaint Hacket, *' that they might gather them up ; 



» Clarendon, Hwt p. 20. 

s See the proceedings in the Pari. Hist Carte thought him clearly 
guilty, p. 116. It appears also that Nicholas Ferrar, a most conscientious 

Snrson, was one of nistbur ardent accusers. Wordsworth's Ecclesiastical 
iography, vol. iv. See also Hailam, vol. i. p. 508. Clarendon, Hacket, 
and ottlers, consider him to have been used as a sacrifice to Buckingham*8 
resentment Eliot acted on all the committees of this impeachment, with 
Sandys, Digges, Philips, Wentworth, Pym, &c. See Journals, April 12. 
1624, &c. &c. 
3 Life of William, part i. pp. 189, 190. 

* See Pari. Hist vol. vi. p. 128. &c. Intimation having then gone 
abroad, of the new treaty of marriage carrying on at Paris, the commons 
had sent up what the king called a " stingingT)etition" against the papists. 
See Rushworth, vol. i. p. 140. et seq. ; also Hoger Coke's Detection, vol. i. 
p. 383. Nothing could exceed the present dupbcity of the king and his 
successor on this subject 



SIB JOBN ELIOT. 27 

whichj indeed^ was no more than de/iuvium pennarum, 
the moulting of some feathers^ after which the eagle 
would fly the better." ^ Much to the astonisliment and 
disgust of the eagle in question, however^ measures 
which had for their object the clipping of his wings, 
the effectual marring of his royal flights^ had appeared 
to be ripening daily. Under these circamstances^ on 
the 29th of October, 1624, the day to which the par* 
liament had been prorogued, the parliament was finally 
dissolved. 

The death of James, sudden and mysterious, fol- 
lowed close upon this event ; and the house of commons 
was almost instantly challenged to a contest by his ill- 
advised successor. They had prepared themselves for 
it by their exertions of the last five and twenty years. 
They had obtained little, it might be said, in respect of 
distinct enactments; but they had fenced themselves 
round with privileges, never to be questioned more, by 
favourites or by monarchs. '^ They had rescued from 
disuse their ancient right of impeachment; they had 
placed on record a protestation of their claim to debate 
all matters of public concern ; they had remonstrated 
against the usurped prerogatives of binding the subject 
by proclamation, and of levying customs at the out- 
posts ; they had secured beyond controversy their ex- 
clusive privilege of determining contested elections of 
their members." ^ Vast rights remained yet to be as- 
serted, expressive wrongs to be redressed ; but an in- 
creasing energy in the nation gave new confidence and 
strength to its representatives ; and they assembled at 
the summons of the new monarchy immediately after 
his accession, more than ever proudly watchful of pri- 
vilege, and more than ever sternly resolved on good 
government. In this parliament, which met at West- 
minster on the 18th of June, l625, Eliot was again at 
his post. He took his seat with a new colleague, Mr. 



1 Life of Williams, vol i. p. 186w 
* Hallam, vol. L p. 509. 



28 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

Ralph Specot^ for the same borough as before — that of 
Newport, 

It may be well^ before we listen to the comments o£ 
Mr. D'Israelij and of others from whom a more liberal 
consideration was to be expected^ as to the severe con- 
duct of this parliament to their young sovereign, to 
ask whether any reasonable foundation of confidence 
had been laid between them before their meeting this 
day? Had any symptoms of a new and better ad- 
ministration appeared in any quarter of the government? 
Did favouritism, intrigue, or corruption^ seem to have 
abated a jot of their all-governing influence at court ? 
Had oppression and injustice, even for the few little 
weeks of the new reign, ceased to harass the nation ? 
But for so short a time, had the doctrine and the prac- 
tice of absolute power and monarchy imprescriptable, 
been vailed before the presence of the people, as their 
new inheritor, with admirable hypocrisy, vailed his 
crown before that people's representatives, on this day of 
their assembling? ^ 

The answer which history gives to these questions is 
a just warrant for the murmurs of distrust which, in 
his progress to his first parliament, already sounded in 
the ears of the monarch ; which scattered the seeds of 
disaffection in aU directions; and planted bitter thorns 
in the young crown, as yet scarcely settled on the 
temples of its wearer. 

To the amazement of all, the statement made to 
James's last parliament by Buckingham, and corrobo- 
rated by Charles, had been discovered to be one tissue 
of gross falsehoods. On that statement, it has been 
seen, the war with Spain was undertaken. We have 
Clarendon's authority for asserting that they knew it to 
be untrue. 2 ^' But yet," says Rush worth, "the prince 

1 Charles, on the day of this parliament's meeting, wore bis crown, vail, 
ing it at the opening and the close of his speech, with a solemn and un- 
usual defei-. nee. 

« Clarendon, Hist of Rebellion, vol. i. p. 19. follo-ed. A reference to 
the proceedings on the mutual charges of Buckingham and Bristol, in 
Rushworth*s first volume, or in the sixth and seventh volumes of the 
** Parliamentary History," will supply very satisfactory means of judgment 



SIR JOHN EUOT. 29 

not only gave tbe testimony of his silence to these un- 

traths^ but^ on its being reported to the house the same 

day, approved thereof there also." ^ The inevitable 

discovery of the truth, therefore, by the arrival of 

Bristol, now completely shattered aU the popularity 

which Charles and Buckingham had acquired in the 

last reign, from the breach of the Spanish treaties. But 

it did more. It inflamed displeasure by the shame of 

impofdtion ; and poisoned at once those fresh springs of ^ 

public confidence, which a new king has, as it were, a 

light to claim as his own. Nor was this all. With an 

almost indecent haste, the king had entered into a mar. 

riage with a daughter of Roman catholic France ; had 

consented to certain secret articles in the settlement of 

the marriage, in favour of her religion ; had agreed to a 

suspension of the penal laws against the catholics ; and, 

as an earnest of his promised indulgences, had already 

granted to several Romish priests a special pardon, 

without the formality even of a conviction, of all offences 

committed by them against the penal laws. In fact, of 

his own inconsiderate will, he had provoked in the 

English nation that precise shame of religious subjection, 

to avoid which they had been anxious to rush into a 

war with Spain. Nor was this the only religious wrong. 

Symptoms had shown themselves of an unholy bellum 

epUcopale at home. Laud's celebrated schedule of ec- 

desiastics, branded with the letters O and P, as they 

happened to be orthodox, or suspected puritan, had 

already been discussed in the ministerial councils, and 

had been felt also in portentous signs of that exclusive 

system of church patronage, the subsequent effects of 

which were so terrible. ^ 

This parliament, therefore, shaped their determin. 
ations accordingly. Their first efforts were directed to 



on this and other Important points connected with the Spanish business. 
Nothing, as Iftr. Hallam remarks (vol. i. Const Hist p. 520. )» can be more 
gratuitous, or indeed impossible, than many of Mr. Hume*s assertions 
relating to them. 

1 Rushworth, Hist Coll toI. I p.l6.et seq. ed. 1682. 

s ItHd. VOL L pp. 167> 168. See also Laud*s Diary. 



so BRITISH STATESHBN. 

secure the future safety of the people hy an enlarge* 
ment of the basis of popular representation, i On a. 
repetition of the king*s demand for supplies^ Eliot and 
his friends went up to him with an address^ respectfully 
and cautiously worded^ promising supplies^ but claiming 
the redress of grievances. . The intemperate and threat- 
ening answer of the king had no effect on the steady- 
purposes of these great men. They voted tonnage and 
poundage for one year. The house of lords^ disdaining 
to accept it with such a limitation^ rashly rejected the 
bill. Still the commons were not alarmed. They pur- 
sued their own course calmly ; granted the king readily^ 
as they had promised^ two subsidies ; and were pro* 
ceeding to votes of inquiry and censure into various 
wrongs and grievances^ when the plague suddenly broke 
out in London. The major part of the members ob- 
jected to continue at their post. '^ While we dre now 
speakings" said one, '* the bell is tolling every minute/' ^ 
An adjournment to Oxford was consequently proposed^ 
and, after a vast deal of squabbling between the king 
and his two rival ministers, granted. Williams and 
Buckingham, now coming fast to an open rupture, could 
not but iUustrate the truth of the old saying.^ Just as 
the house was adjourning to Oxford, however, sir John 
Eliot, with characteristic spirit, rose and made the fol- 
lowing motion, — " An order, that within three days 
after our next meeting, the house shall then be called^ 
and the censure of the house to pass upon all such as 
shall then be absent." Ever true and sincere himself 

1 See Glanville's Reports. < Riuhworth, Hist. Coll. voL L p. 173. 

3 A lively account (though sometimes over ingenious) of this notorious 
quarrel will be found in Mr. D'Israeli's secret history of the king's first 
ministers, ** Commentaries," vol. i. pp. 24&— 272. It was a Fearhem and 
Lockit affkir. ** Never trust," says that excellent moralist, Jonathaa 
Wild, " never trust the man who has reason to suspect you know he hat 
injured you.** The archbishop and the duke acted with decision on this 
maxim. While the worthy, prelate was intriguing deeply for the duke's 
impeachment, the no less worthy peer was engaged in a similar plan for 
the ruin of the bishop. See Brodie's Hist of Brit Emp. voL ii p. 81. 
Heylin's Life of Laud, p. 139. Hacket's Scrinia Reserata, part xL 

{»p. 16| 17, 18. Rushworth, vol. i. In all their disputes, however, I think Wil* 
iams has the decided advantage; and he must have startled Buckingham not 
a little when he suddenly w hispered in his grace's ear the memorable words,~- 
" No man that is wise vfUl show himself angry with the people of MnekuuL** 



SIB JOHN ELIOT. 31 

he would consent to no adjournment which had not 
lome chance^ in the sincerity of others^ of answering 
the end proposed.^ 

In the course of the proceedings hefore this adjourn, 
ment, 1 should mention, that I have observed a circum- 
stance which seems likely to have been the origin of 
sir Thomas Wentworth's dislike of Eliot. A feeling of 
bitterness unquestionably existed between them during 
the greater part of their parliamentary career.^ Mr. 
Disraeli does not fail to suggest^ that Wentworth might 
have '' disdained the violence and turbulence of Eliot ^;" 
and he goes on to state all the malicious motives that have 
been suggested on both sides by Hacket and his hero. 
£Yen Mr. Hallam is betrayed, I think, on this point, 
into an unworthy admission. " Always jealous/' he 
says, speaking of Wentworth^ " of a rival, he contracted 
a dislike for sir John Eliot, and might suspect that he 
was likely to be anticipated by that more distinguished 
patriot in royal favours."^ Such a supposition, on 
Wentworth's part, supposes a possibility of its truth on 
£liot'8. I believe the dislike to have originated in no 
such matter ; but, on the contrary, in Eliot's keen pe- 
netration and unswerving sense of justice. I find that^ 
shortly after this first parliament assembled, a dispute 
upon the validity of sir Thomas Wentworth's return for 
the county of York came before the house. Sir John 
SayUle claimed a new election. This was opposed by the 
court party, who^ for reasons best known to themselves 
and the intriguing archbishop Williams^ supported 
Wentworth.^ Eliot^ on the other hand, supported the 

i Commoni* JounuiU, July 11. 

* One of Hacket's elegant sentences runs thus : -~ " Sir John Eliot of 
the west, and sir Thomas Wentworth of the north (the northern cock, as 
he afterwards calls him), both in the prime of their age and wits, both 
oooqncuout for able speakers, clashed so often in the house, and cudgelled 
one another with such strong contradictions, that it grew from an emu- 
lation between them to an enmity.** •^Scrmia Beserata. 

> Commentaries, voL ii. p. 273. 

* Constitutimial History, toI. ii. p. 57. 

> I shall have occasion to allude to these more specifically in the biognu 
fhy of Strafford. Eliot is never understood to have been in any way 
ocnnected with Saville, whose character was not of that stamp to command 
either his public or private sympathy. His keen penetration had already 
pointed to the ftiture earl of Stmffbrd aa a patriot who " rather looked to 



S2 BRITISH 8TATE8MBN. 

diiims of Sarille; and impresBed their justice so forcibly 
on the popular side of die house, that the election of 
Wentworth was declared void. ^ From this I date the 
hatred of the future earl of Strafford towards one whom 
no court intrigue could influence, whom no friendship 
could persuade, to desert the great principles of public 
and of private justice. Wentworth was again returned ; 
thenceforward opposed Eliot whenever he was able ; 
and, when that great statesman had perished in the 
cause so basely forsaken by himself, he sneered at him 
as a '^ fantastic apparition ;*' and never ceased to spit 
forth venom to the creature Laud against his memory 
and glory. 

Sir John Eliot, however, was on the eve of illustrat- 
^^> ^7 & more striking example, this great feature in 
his character. Though he still held the office of vice- 
admiral of Devonshire ^, he felt that the time had at 
last arrived, which left him no alternative of choice, 
with reference to the lord high admiral. Up to this 
period he had sustained, as is all but certain from the 
the proofs I have alleged, a personal intercourse with that 
nobleman, and was certainly still connected with him 
in office. His duty now required that this should 
cease. His youthful companion had long been lost in 
the pampered minister of kings^ his superior in office 

be won than cared to be obdurate;" and it is very certain that he looked 
upon the meaner lord Saville in futuro (the period of whose elevation by 
the by is singularly misstated by Hume) with a still more contemptuous 
scorn. But the present case was simply one of justice. "What its precise 
merits were, I am unable to state; but that Wentworth was capable of 
resorting to the moat unscrupulous and disgraceful expedients in mrther- 
ance of nis own aims, is evident ftom what we know of his conduct at a 
former contest with SaviUe : I allude to the election for York in IdSL The 
candidates were Wentworth, Saville, and Calvert, the secretary of state. 
Wentworth, having secured his own return, zealously laboured to provoke 
the flreeholders agamst Saville, and, still apprehensive of Calvert's failure^ 
from his knowledge of the extensive influence of his opponent, wrote to 
the secretary in these words : — ** I have heard that when sir Francis 
Darcy opposed sir Thomas Luke, in a matter of like nature, the lords of 
the council writ to sir Francis to desist I know my lord chancellor is very 
sensible of you in this business : a word to him, and such a letter would 
make an end of all** -^ Strqffi)rd's State Papers^ voL L p. 10. 

1 Commons* Journal, July 4. The motion of " Mr. Solicitor '* for coun- 
sel for Wentworth, was defeated by a majority of thirty-nine. Wentworth 
at a new election was anin returned. 

s HarL MS& 390. Xetter of Mead to sir Martin StuteviUe, dated 
FebL25. 



SIB JOHN EIiIOT. $S> 

WIS beneath him in public honesty. Both were aban. 
doned. Sir John Eliot now saw^ in the speedy destruc- 
tion of Buckingham^ the only destruction of that power 
behind the throne which was greater than the throne itself^, 
and was daily becoming more and more fatal to the 
people.^ He had at last concentred in his own person^ 
and in those of his servile adherents^ the most consider- 
aUe offices of the crown^ and in his single existence 
seemed to be content to involve the question of the 
privil^es of the nation. Eiiot^ contented also with 
that issue^ buckled himself to the destruction of the 
minister with terrible earnestness. 

It is a striking tribute to the honesty of Eliot that 
the dishonest men of all parties declared themselves in 
turn against him. Archbishop Williams^ in his abject 
paper of apology to the king, to disclaim all connection 
'^ with any of the stirring men,'' declared that about 
this time '^ sir John Eliot, the only member that began 
to thrust in a complaint against me^ was never out of 
my lord duke's chamber and bosom." ^ This, one of 
the cringing falsehoods of that learned divine, simply 
proves that Eliot hated sycophancy in every shape^ 
whether popular or aristocratic, and was equally oppo- 
sed to the duke, and to Williams, the duke's mortal enemy* 
At the very moment when the lie was so hardily as* 
serted, he had been appointed one of the secret mana- 
gers to prepare an impeachment against Buckingham. 

This charge is yet scarcely so preposterous as one of 
of a similar character, belonging also to this period, 
gravely brought forward by Mr. D'Israeli. " That sir 
John Eliot," says that writer, '^ was well known to the 
king, and often in the royal circle, appears by sir 

1 " The whole power of the kingdom was graspedby his insatiable hand ; 
while he both engrossed the entire confidence of his master, and held, 
iBTested in his single person, the most considerable offices of the crown. "-~ 
Hume's History, voL v. p. 1S7. " Who he will advance, shall be ad- 
Tanced ; and who he doth but firown upon, must be thrown down."— 
StrafTord Papers, vol i. p. 98. 

* Scrinia Reserata, part i. This would have been better guessed, as I shall 
have occasion to show, of Wentworth. Still, it would have been incorrect. 

YOL. n. p 



84i BRITISH STATESafEN. 

John's complaint in the parliament at Oxford in 1625, 
of six Romish priests heing lately pardoned^ which the 
duke had prevailed upon the king to he done^ in hig 
presence, at Hampton Court.'* Whereupon Mr. D'ls- 
raeli concludes that '^ £liot^ like sir Dudley Digges, was 
in fact a great servant of the duke's." ^ This is an ^ 
oddly emphatic instance of perverse misrepresentation^ 
or I would scarcely hazard the reproach of tediousness 
in refuting it. Archdeacon Echard is Mr. D'Israeli's 
authority.^ Roger Coke I discover to have been the 
only authority for archdeacon Echard. I quote the 
original passage. '' When the parliament met at Ox- 
ford" (says Coke^ plagiarising a previous statement by 
Hacket)^ ^' the speaker had no sooner taken his chair but 
a western knight enlarges the sense of his sorrow that 
he had seen ,a pardon for six priests bearing test July 
12.; whereas but the day before it^ when they were to part 
from Westminster^ the lord keeper had promised in the 
king's name before them all^ that the rigour against the 
priests should not be deluded.*' ^ Oldmixon^ quoting 
this account^ makes the western knight sir Robert 
Philips of Somersetshire^ and quotes it correctly 
enough.^ The archdeacon, on the other hand, takes 
for granted that the western knight must have been sir 
John Eliot of Cornwall ; and^ with his usual incorrect, 
ness, coupling the passage with a few words that go 
before it, stating that the king had signed the pardon 
in the presence and by the influence of Buckingham^ 
tortures it into what Mr. D' Israeli has adopted. 
And Mr. D'lsraeli consummates the series of misre- 
presentations by supporting upon their authority a 
charge of sycophancy against Eliot T I have now to 
state that whatever demerit attaches to the circumstance 
must be removed from Eliot, and from Philips also ; 
for that the ^^ western knight" who '^enlarged the 

I Commentaries, toL ii. p. S73. 
s Echard'g History, folio ed. p. 422. 

3 Roger Coke's Detection, vol L p. 2S2. ed 16M. But see also Scrinia 
Reserata, part 1. 
* Oldmixon's History, p. 78. ed. 17S0. 



SIB JOHN ELIOT. 35 

sense of his sorrow " was sir Edward Gyles^ one of the 
the Cornish inenbers. ^ 

Eliot had more stirring game in hand. Scarcely had 
the parliament reassembled at Oxford when secret in- 
telligence reached him that the loan of ships which had 
been promised to the king of France^ at the close of 
the late reign, for the purpose of employment against 
the Spanish interest in Italy and the Valtoline^ had 
been perverted, by the deliberate treachery of Bucking- 
ham and his minion the king, to the use of the French 
catholics against the huguenots of Rochelle. ^ He 
saw and seized his opportunity. He hurried down to the 
the house, and implored them to grant no further sup> 
I^es, for that there were heavy grievances to be con- 
sidered. Charles having heard this, summoned the 
houses to meet him at the great hall in Christ Church, 
to " convince them of the necessity of considering his 

1 Cafmmons* Journals, Ist of August. Brodie gives the name correctly, 
▼oL U. p. 73. Mrs. Macaulay is also correct, vol. i. p. S76. I was some, 
what surprised to find, from the preface to Mons. Guizot's vivid ** Histoire 
de la Revolution d' Angleterre," that the work by that lady was published 
in France in 1791. with the name of Mirabeau as its author ! (Hist par 
Guicot, vol. i. Preface, p. xvii.) It is singularly honourable, I may add, 
lo the French nation, that M. Guizot has found encouragement enough to 
make it worth his while to publish for the use of his countrymen a series 
of translations of original memoirs of the times of the two great English 
iev<dutions {CoUeetion des M^tnoires relatifu d, la Revolution d'Angleterre, 
accompagn^e de Notices et d^Eclaircissemens Historiques)^ amounting to 
twenty-eight octavo volumes ! Such a collection would be invaluable to 
the historioU inquirer in our own countrv ; but where is the public patron- 
age that would bear out 'any English bookseller or English man of letters 
in such an undertaking ? 

s Lord Nugent discovered, among the earl St. Germain's papers, a cony 
of the high.minded protest by admiral Pennington, together with the 
original orders from Buckingham, and from Charles himself, relating to 
this disgraceful business. These I take to have been forwarded secretly by 
P^nington to sir John Eliot, in the way of self-vindication. His, as lord 
Nugent truly observes, was a hard position. He commanded the ship, and 
led the fleet, of bis sovereign. But he had. been sent forth, amid the 
acclamations of his country, to give effect to a generous treaty with the 
oppressed and the besieged. He had no sooner arrived at his destination 
than he found himself under secret orders to put himself under a foreign 
command, in a murderous warfare against the English honour and the pro. 
testant religion.-.See Nugent's Memorials, vol. i. p. 100., and Appendix A. 
lord Nugent has omitted to state a singular circumstance in connection 
with this business, which renders my suggestion still more probable. On the 
eve of the meeting of the Oxford parliament, Pennington was hastening to 
lay before that assembly an account of the proceedings, when, to prevent 
the effect of such a disclosure, A« tiMif concealed by the interference of the 
amri till the dissolution, which quickly followed. » See Rush worth, vol i. 
pi 17& Brodie, Brit Emp. vol li. p. 72. 



S6 BRITISH . STATESMEN. 

business first." Under his direction^ his ministers then 
detailed his wants ; and to prevent the effect^ so mudi 
dreaded, of the disclosure of the affair at Rochelle^ 
secretary Cooke told the commons, with a cool and 
deliberate hypocrisy, that " the French king chose 
to sheath his sword in the bowels of his own sub« 
jects rather than declare war against the catho- 
lies." ^ After the conclusion of this conference^ the 
members of the commons returned to their house^ and 
sir John Eliot rose. He implored them to pause be- 
fore they yielded up their only irresistible arguments 
for good government. " It is notusual^" he said, '' to 
grant subsidies upon subsidies in one parliament and no 
grievances redressed." He then boldly stated that the 
treasury had been misemployed, that evil counsels 
guided the king's designs, that the necessities of the 
nation had arisen through improvidence, and that they 
had need to petition the king for a strait hand and a 
better counsel to manage his affairs. 2 Next, he ^^ de- 
sired there might an account be given for all the 
monies given in parliament since the 12th of king 
James, with some invectives against the commissioners^ 
whom he called the pretending sparers of the king's 
purse ; laying to their charge the loss of thousands of 
men's lives in our late expeditions by land and sea." ^ 
He reserved his heaviest blow for the ' last^ aiming it 
with a deadly effect against Buckingham. *' I desire 
to know," said Eliot, " whether the money designed for 
the Palatinate did not maintain the ships sent against 
RocheUe ?" ^ The commons, inflamed by this address^ 
threw out intelligible hints of impeaching Buckingham. 
The king^ exasperated in the extreme, threatened a dis. 
solution^ while he urged once more his necessities. 
Cold and resolute was the answer of the commons. 
'^ Necessity is a dangerous counsellor, and is a conti- 
nual argument of supplies in all parliaments. Those 

» Rushworth, Hist. Coll^ vol. i. p. 178. 

s See Oldmixon's History, p. 79- See also Rushworth, vol. i. a 18QL 

s H*rleian MSS. 390. Letter of Mead to Stuteviile. 

* See Oldmixon, p. 79. ; and Rushworth, voL t p. 18a 



81B JOHN ELIOT. S? 

irho have put the king and kingdom into such a neces- 
sity and hazard ought to answer for it^ whosoever they 
be." ^ This ominous allusion more nearly alarmed the 
king^ and an abrupt dissolution followed. Parliament 
was dismissed on the 12 th of August.^ 

It was speedily re-summoned ; but disgraceful scenes 
had intervened. The king^ under the advice of Buck- 
ingham^ had openly dispensed with the laws. Letters 
had been issued by order of council^ under the privy 
seal^ forcing loans from private persons ^y generally those 
who were connected with the popular party^ for the 
mad purpose of carrying on the Spanish war ; and the 
Spanish war was carried on^ up to the disastrous, ill* 
concerted^ and most wretchedly conducted^ expedition 
to Cadiz. Parliament could then be warded off no 
longer^ hated as was even its name. Buckingham^ 
with an ominous foreboding of the future^ strove to dis- 
qualify the leading men^ by getting them pricked as 
sheriffs of their respective counties. Eliot^ it is said^ 
was the chief object of his anxiety on this head ^ ; but, 
in Eliot's case^ he found it impracticable. I think it 
probable, however, that the duke prevented his elec- 
tion for Newport. Here was only a means of greater 

> Rusliworth, vol. i. p. 190. 

' Mr. Hume, in one of the early panages of hU history fwhich remains 
unequalled for its beauty of style and philosophical remark, though it is 
utterly worthless as a book of authority), describes this parliament with 
a strange mixture of truth and error. " It was necessary to fix a choice : 
either to abandon entirely the privileges of the people, or to secure them 
by firmer and more precise barriers than the constitution had hitherto 
provided for them. In this dilemma men of such aspiring genius, and such 
independent fortunes, could not long deliberate ; they boldly embraced the 
aide of freedom, and resolved to grant no supplies to their necessitous 
prince, without extorting concessions in favour of civil liberty. The end, 
they esteemed beneficial and noble ; the means, regular and constitutionaL 
To grant or reAise supplies was the undoubted privilege of the commons." 
See the whole passage, vol. v. p. 138. quarto edit 1763. See also Clarendon, 
▼oL i. p. &» folio edit 

> Lord Nugent found one of these requisitions in the MS. collection 
at Stowe. It is addressed to sir William Andrews, of Lathbury in Buck, 
inghamshire, then a tenant oi John Hampden's, and afterwards one of the 
di^ty lieutenants for that county under the parliament It appears that 
for these contributions, exacted with the utmost severity and injustice, 
collectors were appointed, whose acquittance should be a sufficient warrant 
for repayment in eighteen months. " Put not your faith in princes I " 
sir William Andrews* acquittance, remains appended to the requisition. 

* Echard's History, p. 4S6. D'Israeli's Commentaries, vol i. p. 29S. 



58 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

triumph. He presented himself to his native county 
of Cornwall^ and was instantly returned hy the electors.^ 
It was an age when the middle and lower ranks of the 
people shared a common enthusiasm^ and were inaccess- 
ihle alike to fear or to favour. It is striking, and even 
affecting, to mark the quiet calmness with which Eliot 
now sought to provide, that the risk and danger, to 
which he knew his conduct in the coming parliament 
must expose himself, might not fall heavily on his 
children. He assigned over every portion of his most 
extensive estates in trust to relatives for the henefit of 
his family.^ Having done this, he repaired to his place 
in the house of commons, resolved, at whatever hazard^ 
to strike down the great traitor who had imperilled the 
liherty and the property of the kingdom. 

At Westminster, on the 6th of February, 1626, this 
" great, warm^ and ruffling ^ " parliament assembled. 
Eliot had scarcely taken his seat, before his vehement 
eloquence, overflowing with embittered invective, was 
heard 'thundering against the doomed minister. In his 
style of oratory, a singular power of severity and keen, 
ness united itself with the clearest facility of detail, was 
adorned with the most pleasing classical allusion, and 
was directed against its object with such warmth and 
earnestness of passion as it is always most difficult to 
resist. The case of the chaplain Montagu "^ was aban. 
doned for the higher quarry : searching committees were 
appointed, and the defeats and disgraces of the nation 
were traced home to Buckingham. The rage of the 
king exceeded all bounds ; and, under its influence, he 
sent an insolent message to the house. *' I must let 
you know, that I wiU not allow any of my servants to 
be questioned among you, much less such as are of 
eminent place, and near unto me. * * I see you es- 

1 Parliamentary History, and Commons* Journals. 

< Harleian MSS. Na 7uOO. Letter of Pory to Puckering. See also 
D'Israeli's Commentaries, vol iv. pi 51(X I shall have to advert to this 
hereafter. 

3 WhiUocke's Memorials of the English AfRiirs, p. 7. edit 1682. 
^ 4 I shall have occasion to allude to this case in the biography of Pym. 



SIB JOHN ElilOT. 39 

pecially aim at the duke of Buckingham. * * I would 
you would hasten for my supply^ or else it will he worse 
for yourselves ; for if any evil happen^ I think I shall 
he ihe last that shall feel it." ^ Eliot smiled at this 
impotent rage. " We have had a representation of 
great fear^" he said ; '^ hut I hope that shall not darken 
our oDderstandings. Our wills and affiections were never 
more dear/' he continued^ ^' more ready^ as to his ma- 
jesty ; hut we are haulked and checked in our forward- 
ness by those the king entrusts with the affairs of the 
kingdom." Again he inflamed the house hy comments 
on the Spanish expedition. ** The last action was the 
king's first action; -and in this the king and kingdom 
have suffered dishonour. We are weakened in our 
strength and i^fety; our men and ships are lost." Then 
followed a hitter taunt against even the personal courage 
of Buckingham, who^ it will he recollected^ had left the 
command of the expedition to sir Edward Cecil. " The 
great general had the whole command^ hoth hy sea and 
land ; and could the great general think it sufficient to 
put in his deputy and stay at home?" The orator 
next^ taking advantage of the excitement of his hearers^ 
thundered forth questions of a more fatal meaning. 
'' Are not honours now sold, and made despicable ? 
Are not judicial places sold ? And do not they then sell 
justice again ? Fendere jure potest — emerat ilk prius,*' 
After some well-employed classical allusions, Eliot pro- 
ceeded thus : — "I shall, to our present case, cite two 
precedents. The first was in the eleventh year of 
Henry III. The treasure was then much exhausted; 
many disorders complained of; the king wronged by 
ministers. Many subsidies were demanded in parlia. 
ment, but they were denied ; and the lords and com- 
mons joined to desire the king to reassume lands which 
had been improvidently granted, and to examine his 
great officers, and the causes of those evils which the 
people then suffisred. This was yielded unto by the 
king ; and Hugh de Burgo was found faulty, and was 

^ WhiUocke>s MemonaU, p. 3. 
D 4 



40 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

displaced * and then the commons, in the same parlia'*- 
ment, gave supply. The second precedent was in the 
tenth year of Richard II. Then the times were such^ 
and places so changeable^ that any great officer could 
hardly sit to be warmed in his place. Supply was at 
that parliament required : the commons denied supply, 
and complained that their monies were misemployed^ 
that the earl of Suffolk (Michael de la Pole) then over- 
ruled all ; and so their answer was, ^ they could not give/ 
and they petitioned the king that a commission might 
he granted, and the earl of Suffolk might be examined. 
A commission," Eliot continued, reserving himself for 
a closing sarcasm at Buckingham,* ^^ at their request 
was awarded ; and that commission recites all the evil 
then complained of; and that the king, upon the pe- 
tition of the lords and commons, had granted that exa- 
mination should be taken of the crown lan^ which 
were sold, of the ordering of his household, and the 
disposition of the jewels of his grandfather and father. 
/ hear nothing said in this house of our jewels, nor tviU 
I speak of them ; hut I could wish they were within 
these walls I" ^ The effect of this speech was complete^ 
and in the midst of the general indignation excited. Dr. 
Turner's resolutions, that " common fame*' was a good 
ground of accusation against Buckingham, were passed ; 
and notice was sent to the duke of the proceedings 
against him. At the same time, in illustration of the 
good faith with which they acted, they announced that 
the king's immediate necessities should be relieved while- 
his minister was brought to trial ; and they redeemed this 
pledge by a vote for the grant of three subsidies and 
three fifteenths. 2 The king now felt more strongly 
than ever the imminent danger of his favourite. Again 

1 Buckingham had raised money upon the crown jewels and plate, by 
the king's order, at the Hague. StrafiFbrd. State Papers, vol i. p. 2S. 
Ingram to Wentworth. Owing to a singular omission of the editors of 
the last great parliamentary history, we look vainly among the debates 
they have collected for this very remarkable speech. It is in Rushworth, 
however (vol. i. p. 220.}, and in the Old Parliamentary History, vol. vk 
p^ 441. edit. 176S. 

s Rushworth's Hist. ColL vol i. p. 221. Whitlocke's Memorials, p. a , 



nR JOHN EIJOT. 4) 

lie interfered, and again his interference was defeated 
by the boldness of Eliot. '^ Remember^'' he said^ " that 
parliaments are altogether in my power for their calling, 
ntting, and dissolution ; therefore as I find the fruits 
of them good or evil, they are to continue or not to be." ^ 
The commons retired to deliberate this with locked 
doors, and the key placed in the hands of the speaker. 
What passed in that memorable sitting did not pubUcly 
transpire ; but I can supply some portion of it at least 
from a manuscript letter of the time. ^' Sir John Eliot 
rose up and made a resolute (I doubt whether a timely)^ 
speech, the sum whereof was, that they came not thither 
ather to do what the king should command them, or 
to abstain where he forbade them ; and therefore they 
should continue constant to maintain their priyileges, 
and not do either more or less for what had been 
said unto them." ^ This ominous meeting with locked 
doors alarmed the king ; negotiations were opened, ex- 
planations offered, every possible resource of avoidance 
attempted, but in vain. It was too late to dispute the 
right of impeachment after the precedents of Bacon and 
Middlesex ; and the commons, after addressing the king 
in decorous language, impeached Buckingham on twelve 
articles. ^ 

Eight chief managers were appointed. To Pym, 

r > Rushworth, vol. L p. S25. Whitlocke, p. 4. 

> Here the timid writer alludes to what was frequently urged against 
Eliot, the severe and unsparing character of his speeches. Clarendon was 
acGiistoined to the house of commons, and spealcs diflferently. " Modesty 
and moderatkm in words," says that noble writer, ** never was nor ever 
will be otMerved in popular councils, whose foundation is liberty of speech." 
^H^. qfthe BehaUon^ vol i. p. 7. folio edit 

a Harleian MS& Letter of Mead to sir Martin Stuteville, dated April 8. 
In a subsequent letter of the same correspondent in this collection (dated 
April 2&), I find the first shadowing forth of the iniquitous dispersion of 
nr Robert Cotton's library— yn event which that learned antiquary was 
unable to survive. ** Sir Robert Cotton's books are threatened to be taken 
away, because he is accused to impart ancient precedents to the lower 
house.** 

* The duk^s obsequious and fawning answer had simply the efifect of 
adding another charge to the impeachment. I must refer the reader to 
the various histories for an ample exposure of the disgraceful practices 
resorted to by the king to rescue his favourite firom the powerful opposition 
of the earls Bristol and Arundel in the upper house. Brodie's Hist of tRe 
British Empire, vol. ii. p. 105. et tea. Lingard's History, vol. ix. p. S45. 
H teq. The History, tnm sir James Mackintosh, in Lardner's Cyclopaedia, 
voL ▼. ppi SI— 46. 



42 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

Herbert^ Selden, Glanville^ Sherland, and Wandesford^ 
was entrasted the duty of dilating upon the facts of the 
impeachment ; to sir Dudley Digges the task of openings 
the proceedings in a '^ prologue" was committed ; and 
for sir John Eliot the arduous duty was reserved of 
winding up the whole proceedings by one of his iin« 
pressive perorations^ that should serve as an .^^ epilogue" 
to this mighty drama. They did not over estimate the 
value of his eloquence. ^ 

The speech delivered by him on this great occasion 
is an important chapter in bis history. Sir Dudley 
Digges^ a courtly patriot^ had spoken the '' prologue" in 
the highest prevailing style of ornate circumlocution and 
quaintly elevated metaphor. Professing to deliver him- 
self in ^' plain country language^ setting by all rhetorical 
affectations/' the monarchy he compared to the creation^ 
the commons to the earthy the lords to the planets, the 
king to the glorious sun, the clergy to the fire, the 
judges and magistrates to the air, and the duke of Buck- 
ingham to a comet, " a prodigious comet." All this 
was only a striking foil to the nervous and daring in-< 
vective, the clear and gorgeous declamation, of Eliot. 
The proud minister, who had kept his seat during the 
harangue of Digges, insokntly braving his accuser, and 
jeering his quaint expressions, was observed to leave the 
house when Eliot, on the following day, arose.^ It was 
well for himself that he had done so. Never was an 
attack made, in that or any succeeding time, so eloquent^ 



1 For the history of this impeachment, and reports of the various 
speeches, see Rush worth, vol i. p. 302 etseo.; Parliamentary History, vols, 
vi. and vii. : History from Mackintosh, vol. v. p. 46. et seq. The thirteen 
articles of the impeachment were arranged under the following heads : — 
Plurality of offices ; buying the place of high admiral; buying the warden- 
ship of the cinque ports ; not guarding the narrow seas ; unlawfully and 
corruptly staying a French ship; extorting 10,000/. Arom the £as'. India 
merchants ; putting English ships in the hands of the French, to be em- 
ployed against the protestants of Rochelle (this embraced two articles) ; 
compelling lord Roberts to buy his peerage; selling places of judicature % 
procuring honours for his poor kindred ; malversation of the king** 
revenue ; giving physic to the late king. 

*s The duke's absence is marked by a letter in the Harl. MSS. 383. See 
also Rush worth. In Ellis's Original Letters, vol. iii. p. 226. (second edit.), 
an account will be found of the duke's ** jeering and fleering insolence.** 
and the spirited rebuke it at last provoked. 



• 8IR JOBN ELIOT. 45 

80 bitter^ so earnest, so disdainful. The orator excelled 
himself. He had summoned to his seryice all his lite- 
rary accomplishments, and he closely environed his ar-^ 
gument with a passion that was absolutely terrible. 

He began by describing the ambition of " this man," 
as he disdainfully termed the duke, impeaching it by 
" the common sense of the miseries and misfortunes 
which the people suffer," and protesting in eloquent 
phrase against those high misdemeanors which *' have 
lost us the regality of our narrow seas, the ancient in- 
heritance of our princes." He then exposed, as '^ full 
of collusion and deceit,'' the '^ inward character" of the 
mind of Buckingham. '* I can express it,*' said Eliot 
bitterly^ " no better than by the beast called by the an- 
cients steUionatus; a beast so blurred, so spotted, so full 
of foul lines, that they knew not what to make of it." 
He next presented to their lordships " the duke's high 
oppression" in all its strange extent, '^ not to men alone, 
but to laws and statutes, to acts of council, to pleas and 
decrees of court, to the pleasure of his majesty." The 
orator afterwards, having indulged some quiet sarcasms 
at Buckingham, his victims, and his extortions, ^^ ma- 
thematically observed and exquisitely expressed,"' — ad- 
vanced to the most serious imputations, which he 
handled with a fearful severity. '^ That which was 
wont to be the crown of virtue and merit is now become 
a merchandise for the greatness of this man, and even 
justice is made his prey ! The most deserving offices, 
that require abilities to discharge them, are fixed upon 
the duke, his allies, and kindred. He hath drawn to 
him and his, the power of- justice, the power of honour, 
and the power of command, — in efiect, the whole power 
of the kingdom, both for peace and war ! " £liot then 
painted a mournful picture of the result of the favour- 
ite's extortions in the present state of the kingdom, the 
*' revenues destroyed, the fountain of supply exhausted, 
the nerves of the land relaxed," placing beside it, in vivid 
and indignant contrast, thegorgeousness of Bucking- 
ham'« possessions. ^^ He intercepts, consumes, and ex- 



44 BRITISH STATKSHfiN. 

hausts the revenues of the crown^ not only to satisfy his 
own lustful desires^ hut the luxury of others ; and^ hy 
emptying the veins the hlood should run In^ he hath cast 
the hody of the kingdom into a high consumption. 
Infinite sums of money^ and mass of land exceeding the 
value of money, nay^ even contributions in parliament^ 
have been heaped upon him ; and how have they been 
employed ? Upon costly furniture, sumptuous feasting^ 
apd magnificent building, the visible evidences of the 6J7- 
press exhausting of the state ! And yet his ambition," pro- 
ceeded Eliot, alluding darkly to more dreadful charges^ 
'^ which is boundless, resteth not here, but, like a violent 
flame, bursteth forth, and getteth further scope. Not 
satisfied with injuries and injustice, and dishonouring oJT 
religion, his attempts go higher, — to the prejudice of his 
sovereign. The effects I fear to speak, and fear to think.^ 
I end this passage, as Cicero did in a Uke case, — negra^ 
vioribus utar verbis quam ret naturafert, aut levioribus 
quam causce necessitas postulate 

The closing passage of £liot*s sptech was tremendous, 
and must have electrified the house. 

^' Your lordships have an idea of the man, what he is 
in himself, what in his affections I You have seen his 
power, and some, I fear, have felt it ! You have known 
his practice ; and have heard the effects. It rests then 
to be considered what, being such, he is in reference to 
the king and state — how compatible or incompatible with 
either ? In reference to the king, he must be styled the 
canker in his treasure; in reference to the state, the 
moth of a]] goodness. What future hopes are to be ex- 
pected, your lordships may draw out of his actions and 
affections. In all precedents I can hardly find him a 
match or parallel. None so like him as Sejanus, thus 
described by Tacitus: — Audaa: sui obtegens, in alios cri- 
minator, juxta adulator et superbus. My lords, for his 
pride and flattery it was noted of Sejanus that he did 

1 We feel with Eliot on tbig point. The reader is referred to a forcible 

Passage in Mr. Brodie's History of the British Empire, vol ii. pp. 43, 44w 
have satisfied myself respecting Mr.Brodie's proof, by referring to the M& 
in the Ayscough Collection of the British Museum, No. 4991. p. 206. 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. 45 

dimtes suos provindis adomare. Doth not this man the 
like ? Ask England^ Scotland^ and Ireland^ and they 
will tell you ! Sejanus's pride was so excessive^ Tacitus 
saith^ that he neglected all counsel^ mixed his husiness 
and seryice with the prince^ seemed to confound their 
actions^ and was often styled imperatorU lahorum so-^ 
dug. How lately^ and how often^ hath this man com- 
mixed his actions^ in discourse^ with actions of the king ! 
My lords^ I have done. You see the man ! By him 
came all these evils ; in him we find the cause ; on him 
we expect the remedies ; and to this we met your lord- 
ships in conference/' 

The rage of the king^ when told of Eliot's speech, 
betrayed him. In a manuscript letter of the time the 
writer alludes to the unseemly anger displayed as 
'* private news which I desire you to keep to yourself 
as your own, by separating this half sheet, and burning 
it or conceding it." The allusion to the death of his 
ftther, and to Sejanus, had strangely affected Charles. 
" Implicitly," he exclaimed, " he must intend me for 
Tiberius ! "^ — and he hurried to the house of lords to 
complain of sir John Eliot. Then began those cruel 
persecutions which Eliot had foreseen, and prepared 
himself for, and which were only exhausted at last in 
the death of their illustrious object. He was that day 
committed close prisoner to the Tower ; and, by an odd 
kind of chance, which may be worth noting for' some of 
my readers, was flung into the dungeon which, after a few 
short months, received Felton, Buckingham's assassin.^ 

1 Harlcdan MS& 383. Letter of Mead, dated May 11. The writer sub- 
•equently wyg that sir Robert Cotton had told him that the king's affte- 
tion towards the duke ** was very admirable — no whit lessened." When 
Charles indeed came in his barge from Whitehall to order Eliot to the 
Tower, Buckingham sat by his side I MS. letter to Mead. 

s ** As Felton the last weeke passed through Kingston-upon-Thames, an 
old woman bestowed this salutation upon him : ' Now God blesse thee, 
little David,' quoth she : meaning he had killed Goliah. He hath hitherto 
(saitb my author) been fairly used in the Tower, being put into the same 
lodiging where sir John Eliot lay, and allowed two dishes of meat every 
meal." Harleian MS& 390. Felton was a miserable enthusiast, who 
revenged upon Buckingham only a private wrong. But his name deserves 



honour for the memorv of one striking incident at the close of his unhappy 
life. I quote it from Ellis's Original Letters, vol iii. p. 267. second edit : — 
'* Another friend told me that on Tuesday morning, some of the lords ' 



life. I quote it from Ellis's Original Letters, vol iii. p. 267. second edit : — 
'* Another friend told me that on Tuesday morning, some of the lords 
bdng witb him, my lord of DoEset told mm, * Mr. Felton, it is the king's 



46 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

Digges was also committed. The house of commons^ 
on hearing of this gross breach of privilege (the first of 
that series of open and undisguised outrages which 
brought Charles to the scaffold)^ broke up instantly^ 
notwithstanding a very heavy press of business before 
them ; and, after dinner, many members met in West- 
minster Hall, ^* sadly communicating their minds to 
one another." ^ The following morning they met in 
the house ; but when the speaker reminded them of the 
business of the day, — "Sit down! sit down!" was 
the general cry : no business till we are righted in our 
liberties!"^ A sullen silence succeeded, which was 
broken by the memorable expostulation of sir Dudley 
Carleton, the king's vice-chamberlain. Unadvisedly he 
let the court secret out! After complaining of the 
violent and contemptuous expressions resorted to by 
£liot and Digges, he blurted forth as follows : — ^' 1 
beseech you, gentlemen, move not his majesty with 
trenching on his prerogative, lest you bring him out of 
love with parliaments. In his messages he hath told 
you, that if there were not correspondency between him 
and you, he should be enforced to use new counseh. 
Now, I pray you to consider what these new counsels 
are, and may be. I fear to declare those that I con- 
ceive. In all Christian kingdoms you know that 
parliaments were in use anciently, until the monarchs 
began to know their own strength, and, seeing the tur- 



pleasure you should be put to torture, to make you confe&se your com- 
plices ; and therefore prepare yourself for the rack.' To whom Felton : 
* I do not believe, my lord, that it is the king's pleasure : for be is a just 
and a gracious prince, and will not have his subjects to be tortured against 
law. I do again affirm, upon my salvation, that my purpose was known 
to no man living ; and more than I have said before I cannot But if it 
be his majesty's pleasure, I am ready to suffer whatever his majesty will 
have inflicted upon me. Yet this I must teil you by the way, that if I be 
put upon the rack I will accuse you, my lord of Dorset, and none but 
yourself.* So they left him there without bringing him to the rack.** The 
letter writer might have gone farther, for this was not all. To excuse 
themselves from the possible supposition that they could have been in. 
fluenced in this case by terror, the judges were ordered to deliver a de. 
cision that " no such punishment as the rack is known or allowed by our 
law." We owe this to Felton. 

1 Harleian MSS. 385. Letter to Mead, dated May 12. 

s Ibid. See also Rushworth, vol. i. p. S56., and Parliamentary Historj, 
vol yil pk 159., for other accounts of this scene. 



SIB JOHN EUOT. 47 

bulent sqpirit of their parliaments^ at length they^ hy 
little and little^ began to stand upon their prerogatives^ 
and at last overthrew the parliaments throughout Chris- 
tendom^ except here only with us. And^ indeed^ you 
would count it a great misery^ if you knew tlie subjects 
in foreign countries as well as myself, to see them look 
not like our nation^ with store of flesh on their backs^ 
but like so many ghosts, and not men, being nothing 
but skin and bones, with some thin cover to their 
nakedness, and wearing only wooden shoes on their 
feet ; so that they cannot eat meat, or wear good 
dotbes, but they must pay and be taxed unto the 
king for it* This is a misery beyond expression, and 
that which' yet we are free from."^ Poor sir Dudley 
had scarcely delivered himself of this when his ears 
were saluted with loud and unwelcome shouts — ^^ To 
the bar ! to the bar ! " He narrowly escaped the 
necessity of apologising at the bar on his knees. 

Ultimately Digges, coy patriot, having consented to 
retract certain expressions complained of, was released. 
Eliot, on the other hand, coldly and sternly refused to 
listen to any proposals; and the king, unable to keep up 
the struggle, was obliged, after the expiration of eight 
days^ to sign a warrant for his release. On his re- 
appearance in the house, the vice- chamberlain, by his 
master's command, repeated the charge of intemperate 
language ; upon which sir John, instead of denying 
anything he had said, or meanly endeavouring to ex- 
j^ain away the harshness of the terms he had made use 
of, in a remarkably eloquent and sarcastic speech 
avowed and defended every name he had applied to 
Buckingham. 2 The spirit of this great man communi- 

> Wbitlocke't Memorials, p. 6. Rushwortb, vol i. pi 359. Pari. Hist 
vol. Tii. p. 159. 

* Hataell's Precedent*. For a report of sir John's speech, see Rush- 
worth, ToL L p. SG2. ; and Pari Hi4t vol. vii. p. 165. The latter is more, 
full and correct I quote a striking passage : — " For the words, the man, 
be laid, he *P<^ fui by the bookt hut suddenly. For brevity's sake he used 
the words. The man. He thought it not fit at all times to reiterate his 
tiUes ; and yet thmketh him not to be a god*' In conclusion, Eliot touched 
with a modieit and ma^ly forbearance on the old charge against him. —• 
** For the manner of his speech, as having too much vigour and strength 



48 BRITISH STATBSlIBSr. 

cated itself to the houge ; and^ by a unammous TOte^ 
refusing even to order him to withdraw ^, they cleared 
him from every imputation. 

Charles^ nothing taught by this egregious failure^ 
continued to play the minion to Buckingham^ who had 
now resolved^ by another dissolution^ to throw for his 
only chance of safety. This was, indeed^ a desperate 
step^ and so Charles would seem to have considered it ; 
but his fears^ his consciousness of the injuries he was 
committing on his subjects^ every thing sank before the 
influence of the favourite. " The duke being in the 
audience chamber, private with the king, his majesty 
was overheard* (as they talk) to use these words : ' What 
can I do more ? ' I have engaged mine honour to mine 
uncle of Denmark, and other princesl I have, in a 
manner, lost the love of my subjects. What wouldest 
thou have me do ?' Whence some think the duke moved 
the king to dissolve the parliament." ^ Or, it may have 
been, the duke moved the king to get himself promoted 
to the chancellorship of Cambridge. Monstrous as it 
appears, a royal message was sent forthwith to the con- 
vocation, on the present occurrence of the vacancy, 
ordering them to elect the duke ! Vain was every en- 
treaty to postpone the election ; at least until after the 
event of the impeachment were known. It was carried^. 



he said he could not excuse his natural defects' : but he then endeavoured, 
and ever did in that house, to avoid passion ; and only desired to do hit 
duty." 

^ The entry in the Journals is remarkable: *' Sir John Eliot of himself 
withdrew ; the house refusing to order his withdrawing." 

^ A letter in the Harleian MSS. Mead to Stuteville, dated May 13. 

3 By means the most disgraceful, which after all only secured Buckingham 
a majority of three votes over lord Andover, hastily set up by the commons. 
In JBUis's Original Letters, vol. iii. p. S31., we have a curious account of 
the contest. ** My lord bishop labours ; Mr. Mason visits for his lord, Mr. 
Cosens for the most true patron of the clergy and of scholars. Masters 
belabour their fellows. Dr. Maw sends for his, one by one, to persuade 

them ; some twice over. Divers in town got hacknies, and fled to 

avoid importunity. Very many — some whole colleges — were gotten by 
their fearful masters, the bishop, and others, to suspend, who otherwise 
were resolved against the duke, and kept away with much indignation : 
and yet for all this stirre the duke carried it but b^ three votes from my 
lord Andover, whom we voluntarily set up against him, without motion on 

his behalf, yea, without bis knowledge. We had but one doctor in 

the whole towne durst (for so I dare speak) give with us against the duke ; 
and that was Dr. Porter of Queen's.** 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. 49 

md received the formal and elaborate approval of the 
king. The commons^ then^ after a stormy debate^ in 
which Cliot took his usual warm and vigorous part ^^ 
sent to crave audience of his majesty " about serious 
business concerning all the commons of the land." The 
king returned answer^ that they should hear from him 
the next day. They did hear from him : the next day 
they were dissolved ^ ; and the rash monarch proceeded 
to try the effect of those ^* new counsels" which he 
and his servants had so often threatened. 

These ^* new counsels " appeared in the shape of a 
naked despotism. £very thing short of the absolute 
surrender of the subject to the muskets of the soldiery 
was resorted to; and we learn^ from a remarkable passage 
in Hume*8 history^ good reason why the new counsels 
fen diort of that. ''Had he possessed any military 
force," says the philosophical apologist of Charles, " on 
which he could depend, 'tis not improbable that he 
had, at once, taken off the mask, and governed without 
any regard to parliamentary privileges. • ♦ * But his 
army was new levied, ill paid, and worse disciplined ; 
nowise superior to the militia, who were much more 
numerous, and who were, in a great measure, under the 
influence of the country gentlemen.*' 3 ^g j^ ^j^g^ ^j^^ 
mask was very clumsily kept on. The first thing at- 
tempted under it was to cover, by a bungling impo- 
sition, an outrageous stretch of power. The people 
were instructed by the agents of government that, as 

* It was be who proposed, and had the chief hand in framing, the celebrated 
remonstrance (Rushworth, vol. i. p. 400.^ which every member of the 
house held in his possession on the day of the dissolution of this parliament 
A prodaxnation was subsequently issued against it by the king. See Rush, 
worth, vol. L pi 411. 

s See also Sanderson's account in his Life of Charles, p. 5S. ; and Rush, 
worthy vol. L p. S96. 

' lustofn^ vol V. p. 151. Clarendon's account may be subjoined to 
this : ~~ ** Upon every dissolution, such as had given any offbnce were 
imprisoned, or disgraced ; new projects were every day set on foot for 
money, which served only to ofibnd and incense the people, and brought 
little supplies to the king's occasions ; yet raised a great stock for expos- 
tulation, murmur, and complaint, to be exposed when other supplies 
should be required. And many persons of the best quality and condition 
under tbff peerage were committed to several prisons, with circumstances 
unusual and unheard of, for refusing to pay money required by these ex. 
tnoidinary ways." — Hist, qf BebeUion, vol i. p. 22. 

VOL. II • E 



50 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

subsidies had been TOted in the last house of commons^ 
they could not l^;all7 refuse to pay them, though par. 
liament had been dissolved before the bill embodying 
them had passed ; and they were levied accordingly ! A 
commission to improve the revenues of crown lands 
went forth next on a mission of the grossest tyranny ; 
and^ following this^ a commission to force the most 
enormous penalties against religious recusants. Privy 
seals for the loan of money were at the same tinoe 
issued^ in all directions^ to men of reputed property^ and 
an immediate advance of an hundred and twenty 
thousand pounds was insolently demanded from the 
city of London. Lastly^ a levy of ships was ordered 
from the port towns and counties adjoining — a forecast 
of the memorable tax of ship money. ^ As men 
grieved and wondered at these things, the news arrived 
of the defeat of the king of Denmark at the bloody 
battle of Luttern ; and Charles seized the advantages 
of this disaster to his ally, to execute a measure he 
had long meditated, and of which all these oppressions 
we have named were but even the feeble foreshadowing. 
He sent commissioners into every quarter of the king- 
dom, with the most frightfully inquisitorial powers^ to 
execute a general foboeb loan. ^ He issued an 



1 Rushworth, vol L pp. 411—472- Rymer, xviii. pp. 7S0— S4S. White, 
locke. pp. 7—9. In these authorities ample infonnation will be found. 
See also Pari. Hist voL vii. pp. 920—338. In connecUon with these ac 
counts it may be amusing to quote an anecdote firom the office book of 
the master of the revels, '* here entered/* as he obserres, ** for ever, to 
be remembered by my son, and those who cast their eyes on it, in honour 
of kinep Charles my master." The king, reading a manuscript play of 
Massinger*s, had stumbled on the following : — 

'* Monies ! well raise supplies what ways we please. 
And force you to subscribe to blanks, in which 
We'll mulct you as we shall think fit The CsBsars 
In Rome were wise, acknowledging no laws 
But what their swords did ratify : **— 

and, in the disgust of the moment, wrote a halting line against it: 

'* This is too insolent, and to be changed ! " 

Truly, nothing should be so disgiuting to us, as a hideous likeness of 
ourselves ! 

3 It is worth while giving an extract firom the private Instructions of 
these commissioners. They were ** to treat apart with every one of those 
who are to lend, and not in the presence, or hearing, of any other, unless 
they see cause to the contrary ; and, if any shaU reftue to lend, and shall 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. 51 

dabonte proclamation at the same time, excusing these 
new counsels by the exigence o^ the moment ; and^ 
in private instructions to the clergy^ ordered them to 
use the pulpit in advancement of his monstrous pro- 
jects.^ Reverend doctors^ ivith an obedient start, 
straightway preached illimitable obedience, on pain, of 
eternal damnation.^ Imprisonment of various sorts 
compensated for the inefficacy of religious anathemas. 
The poor who could not, or would not, pay were pressed 
into the army or the navy; substantial tradesmen were 
dragged from their families ; men of rank even were or- 
dered into the palatinate ^ ; large batches of country gen- 



make delay, or excuses, and persist in their obstinacy, that they examine 
such persons upon oath, whether they have been dealt with&l to deny, or 
reAise to lend, or make an excuse for not lending ; — who hath dealt so 
with tbem, or what speeches or persuasions he or they have used to him, 
tending to that purpose ? And that they shall also charge every such 
person in his mi(}esty*s name, upon his allegiance, not to declare to any 
dber what his answer was.'*— inifAtoorfA, vol i. p. 419. 

1 Laud, now bishop of Bath and Wells, drew these instructions up in 
the name of the king. (See Heylin*s Life, p. 161. et teg. j and Laud's 
Diary.) "The dextrous performance of which service,'* says Heylin, 
** as it raised 'Laud higher in his mtOesty's good opinion of him, so it 
was reconapenaed with a place of greater nearness to him than before 
he had." 

* Sbthorp, vicar of Brackley, in Northamptonshire, and Manwaring, a 
king's chaplain and vicar of St 6iles*s, made themselves most notorious in 
this slavisn and criminal service. Extracts firom the sermons of these 
of the most atrocious description, will be found in Rushworth, voL i. 
^2, 4fi3. They had excellent imitators. I find among the Sloane 

SS. a letter descriptive of a sermon preached by the dean of Canterbury, 
fkom which the reader may take an extract : — " It was the speech of a 
nan renowned for wisdom in our age, that if he was commanded to put 
forth to sea in a ship that had neither mast nor tackling he would do it 
And being asked what wisdom that were, replied, the wisdom must be in 
him that hath power to command, not in him that conscience binds to 
obey." The question of the licensing these sermons for publication led 
to the suspension of Abbot f^om the see of Canterbury. Abbot, however, 
was no better than his brother Laud, probably a little worse, since the 
conduct of the former was at least intelligible. See History, from Mack- 
intosh, vol. V. F^70. The archbishop's Narrative in Rushworth, vol. i. 
pp. 434—457. vValpole's Royal and Noble Authors, art Northampton, 
note by Park. Haliam*s Const. Hist, vol i. p. 570. note. 

^ There is something so extremely natural and forcible in sir Peter 
Hajnsum's sturdy account of his experience in this particular, that I 
cannot forbear quoting it After parliament had assembled, a debate arose 
on ** I>etignation to Foreign Employment," whereupon sir Peter Hayman 
got upon bis legs : ** I have not forgot my employment into the palatinate. 
1 was caUed before the lords of the council, for what I knew not. but I 
beard it was for not lending on a privy seal. I told them, if they will uike 
my estate, let them ; I would give it up ; lend I would not When I was 
before the lords of the council, they laid to my charge my unwillingness 
to serve the king. I said, I had my life and my estate to serve my country 
and my relii^on. They told me, that if I did not pay I should be put upon 

E 2 



ffs 



52 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

tlemen were lodged in custody ^ ; and as a punishment to 
some^ more aggravated and horrible^ probably, than any 
we have named^ the remains of the disgraced and infa- 
mous troops that had survived the affair at Cadiz -were 
quartered upon their houses^ in the midst of their 
wives and children ! ^ And as these crimes had been 
sanctioned by the ministers of religion^ so the vile 
slaves who sat in the seats of justice were ordered to 
confirm them by law. A voice or two that had hinted 
from the bench a feeble utterance of opposition were 
instantly stifled^ and the conclave of judges remanded 



an employment of service. I was willing. After ten weeks waiting, they 
told me I was to go with a lord into the palatinate, and that I should have 
employment there, and means befitting. I told them I was a subject, and 
desired means. Some put on venr eagerly, some dealt nobly. They said, 
I must go on my own purse. 1 told them nemo nu'b'tat gut's expenns. 
Some told me, I must ga I began to think, what, must I ? None were 
ever sent out in thit way. Lawyers told me I could not be so sent Having 
this assurance I demanded means, and was resolved not to stir but upon 
those terms ; and, in silence and duty, I denied. Upon this, having given 
me a command to go, after twelve days they told me they would not send 
me as a soldier, but to attend on an ambassador. I knew that strnie would 
hit me, therefore I settled my troubled estate, and addressed myself to that 
service." Eiiot*s comments on this usage were appropriately bitter. 
Pari Hist voL vii. p. 40S. 

1 Some were brought up to London, and committed to rigorous confine, 
ment in the Fleet, the Gatehouse, the Marshalsea, and the New Prison. 
Eliot was one of these. The rest, as sir Thomas Wentworth and others, 
were subjected to confinement, strict, but much less rigorous, in va. 
rious counties. Hampden had been thrown into the Gatehouse at first, 
but was afterwards released an^ sent into Hampshire. One anecdote 
will illustrate the numberless instances of quiet and forbearing fortitude, 
practised by men recollected no longer, but who at this time sb^ lustre on 
the English character. George Catesby, of Northamptonshire, being 
committed to the Gatehouse as a recusant, alleged, among other reasons 
for his non-compliance, that he considered ** that this loan might become 
a precedent ; and that every precedent, he was told by the lord president, 
was a flower of the prerogative." The lord president told him that '* he 
lied ! " Catesby merely shook his head, observing, *' I come not here to 
contend with your lordship, but to suffbr." Lord Suffolk then interposed 
to entreat the lord president not too far to urge his kinsman, Mr. Catesby. 
The latter, however, waived any kindness he might owe to kindred, de- 
claring that "he would renuun master of his own purse." D*Israeii*s 
Commentaries, vol. ii. p. 9. 

3 See a letter in Straobrd's State Papers, vol. L p. 40., and Rushworth, 
voL i. pp. 418-*420. " There were Arequent robberies," says the collector, 
" burglaries, rapes, rapines, murders, and barbarous cruelties. Unto some 
places they were sent as a punishment, and wherever they came, there 
was a general outcry." From his place in parliament, sir Thomas Went. 
worth afterwards denounced this : ** They have sent from us the light of 
our eyes; enforced companies of guests worse than the ordinances of 
France ; vitiated our wives and daughters before our faces ; brought the 
crown to greater want than ever it was, by anticipating the revenue ! 
And can the shepherd be thus smitten, and the flock not be scattered ? '* 
'-'Pari Hist, vol vil p. 370. 



SIB JOHN ELIOT. 53 

&ye lecasants^ who had brought their habeas cor. 
pns.i 

Sir John Eliot, at this moment^ lay a prisoner in the 
Gatehouse. He had been foremost to refuse the loan^ 
was arrested in Cornwall^ brought before the council 
table^ and thence committed to prison. In prison^ and 
before the council table^ as in his place in the house of 
commons^ Eliot had the unfailing resource of fearless- 
ness; and a composed vigour. Wherever circumstances 
placed him^ he knew that, so long as they left him life, 
they left him able to perform its duties. From the 
Cratehouse, he forwarded to the king an able argument 
against the loan, which he concluded by a request, urged 
with a humble but brave simplicity, for his own im- 
mediate release. This document has been preserved. 
It commences with a protest against the supposition 
that '^ stubbornness and will*' have been the motives 

1 The case of sir Thomas Darnel, sir John Corbet, sir Walter Earl, sir 
John HeverinKham, and sir Everard Hampden, which is reported at great 
length in the State Trials, is an admirable illustration, among other things, 
of toe character of the crown lawyers and judges of the time. There is au 
abridgment of the proceedings in Rushworth, pp. 468 — 162. Sir Randolph 
Crew, immediately before this case was argued, having, as Rushworth 
expresses it, ** showed no zeal," (i. 420.) was removed to make way for sir 
Nicholas Hyde ; and it is quite clear that two of the judges (Jones and 
Doddridge) who sat with the latter, having shown a decided leaning 
towards the prisoners during the argument, were brought to a better un. 
derstanding with sir Nicholas before the decision. When the case was 
afterwards sent before the house of lords, and the judges were, so to speak, 

Kut upon their trial, judge Whitelock betrayed the secret ** The commons,** 
e said, '* do not know what letters and commands we receive.'* Beyond 
all praise was tiie conduct of the counsel employed for the prisoners on this 
occasion. The most undaunted courage exalted the profoundest know, 
ledge The sober grandeur of Selden, and the rough energy of Noy, must 
have struck with an ominous effect on the court councils. It was here that 
Sekien threw out, in a parenthesis, those remarkable words which, it has 
been judiciously observed (History, Arom Mackintosh, voL v. p. 77.) are 
uiplicable to periods much later and of more pretension to lioerty than 
that of Charles. They are yet, in fact, to be expounded. " Jf ifagna 
Charta were ftUly executed^ as it ought to be, every man vfotdd enjoy his 
liberty better than he doth.** In connection with this remarkable case, too, 
sir Edward Coke (who argued it before the lords) presented, for the first 
time, to his astonished profession, the highest vigour of a noble and liberal 
thought, issuing, as it were, even out of the most formal technicalities of 
law. '* Shall I have an estate for lives or for years in England, and be 
tenant at will for my liberty P A freeman, to be tenant at will for his Aree- 
dom ! There is no such tenure in all Littleton ! *' The excited state of 
the public mind, during the arguments on this question, is vividly conveyed 
in a letter I have found among the Harleian MSS. ** The gentlemen'* 
counsel for habeas corpus, Mr. Selden, Mr. Noy, Sergeant Bramstcn, and 
Mr. C(4throp, pleaded yesterday taith wonderful applause^ even qf shoutirig 
and dapping qf hands : which is unusual in that place.** 

E 3 



54 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

of the writer's recent recusancy. " With a sad^ yet 
a faithful heart/' Eliot continues^ *' he now presumes 
to offer up the reasons that induced him. The rule of 
justice he takes to be the law ; impartial arbiter of go- 
vernment and obedience ; the support and strength of 
majesty ; the observation of that justice by which sub- 
jection is commanded." Through a series of illustrious 
examples the writer then advances to his position of 
strict obedience to the laws^ in the duty of resisting 
their outrage. '' He could not, as he feared, without 
pressure to these immunities, become an actor in this 
loan, which by imprisonment and restraint was urged, 
contrary to the grants of the great charter, by so many 
glorious and victorious kings so many times confirmed. 
Though he was well assured by your migesty's promise 
that it should not become a precedent during the hap- 
piness of your reign, yet he conceived from thence a 
fear that succeeding ages might thereby take occasion, 
for posterity, to strike at the property of their goods." 
He concludes by assuring the king, that he will never 
consent to " inconveniences in reason," or to the dis- 
pensation, violation, or impeachment of the laws. ^' No 
factious humour, nor disaffection led on by stubbornness 
and will, hath herein stirred or moved him, but the 
just obligation of his conscience, which binds him to 
the service of your majesty, in the observance of your 
laws; and he is hopeful that your majesty will be 
pleased to restore him to your favour, and his liberty, 
and to afford liim the benefit of those laws which, in all 
humility, he craves.*' ^ Eliot probably never expected 
that this petition would be granted. Its publication 
effected his purpose in strengthening the resolutions 
of the people; and he quietly waited in his prison 
for the day of a new parliament. 

This was precipitated by the insolent fury of Buck- 

1 Rushworth, vol. i. p. 429. Wbitlocke says that ** Sir John Eliot took 
this way to inform the king what his council did not ** — Memorials^ p. 8. 
Anthony Wood oddly converts this into a statement that Eliot was obliged 
to write in this way to the king, because his (Eliot's) ** counsel would not 
assist him otherwise." 



SIB JOHN ELIOT. 55 

ingham, who had consummated the desperate condition 
of affairs by a new and unprovoked war with France. At 
the suggestion of the duke's outraged vanity)^ Charles 
had dismissed the French servants of his young queen ; 
she herself had been insulted ^ ; the remonstrances of the 
French court answered by a seizure of French ships ; 
and an expedition for the relief of Rochelle undertaken 
by the very court whose treachery had so lately assisted 
to reduce it. Recollecting the bitter sarcasm of £liot^^ 
Buckingham undertook the command of the present ex- 
pedition in person ; and^ having concerted measures so 
wretchedly as to be obliged to disembark on the adjacent 
Isie of Rhe^ he there suffered his army to be baffled by an 

1 Clarendon distincUy airigns this an the motiye : — "In his embasiy in 
Fnnce, where his person and presence was wonderfully admired and 
esteemed (and in truth it was a wonder in the eyes of all men), and in 
which he appeared with all the lustre the wealth of England could adorn 
him with, and outshined all the bravery that court could dress itself in, 
and over-acted the whole nation in their own most peculiar vanities, he 
had the ambition to fix his eyes upon, and to dedicate his most violent 
afifection to, a lady of a very sublime quality,** — but I will cut short the 
reader's impatience, and this interminable sentence, by saying at once that 
Buckingham fell violently in love with the young queen of France, Anne 
of Austria, declared his passion, and was listened to with anything but 
xesentmenL With what success the duke might ultimately have urged 
his suit, it would be impossible to say, since great authorities diffler ; but 
it is certain that his purpose was abruptly foiled by the interference of 
cardinal Richelieu, in whom he suddenly discovered a formidable rival. 
The mad desire to foil this great statesman and most absurd lover, and to 
be aUe to return to Anne of Austria in all the triumphs of a conqueror, 
now urged him to these extremities against France. The thing is scarcely 
credible, but so it certainly appears to have been. What is to be said of 
the wretched weakness of Charles ? See M^moires in^dits du Comte de 
Brienne, L Eclaircissements. Madame de Motteville, M^moires d'Anne 
d*Aatrich& Aikin*s Court of Charles, vol i. p. 67. Brodie*s Hist of 
British Empire, vol. iL p. 139. Lingard*s History, vol ix. p. 361. Cla. 
rendon, voL i. p. 31. Carte (vol iv. p. ISS.) has attemped to throw dis. 
credit on it by the production of dates from the Mercure Francois, but 
unsuccessfully. 

s This is not an occasion to notice the personal disputes of the king and 
queen, nor the way in which, for his own purposes, thev were secretly 
inflamed by Buckingham. Charles, like most unfaithful and decorous 
husbands, suspected his wife } and his wife, a woman of energy and 
'spirited sense, despised him. Buckingham*s insults to the queen are 
docribed by Clarendon, vol L p. 31., and other writers. See History, 
ftom Mackintosh, vol v. p. 62, 1 may add, that the account of the young 
queen's reception of the news of the dismissal of her servants, aS given in 
a letter of the day, is extremely characteristic of a quick temper redeemed 
by a ready self-command. ** It is said, also, the queene, when she under- 
stood the designe, grew very impatient, and brake the glasse windows with 
her little fiste ; but since I heare her rage is appeased, and the king and 
Aee. since they went together to Nonsuche, have been very jocund toge- 
ther!'* — Harl. MSS. 383. Ellis's Original Letters, vol iii. p. 239. 

3 See p. 39. of this Memoir. 

E 4 



56 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

inferior force^ and to be at length overtaken in a sita- 
ation where yalour was of no avails and where death 
destroyed them dreadfully^ without even the agency of 
an enemy. 1 The result of this was in all respects 
frightfiil ; mutiny proved the least of the dangers that 
followed ; and the financial difficulties of the court he- 
came so urgent^ that the last desperate and dreaded 
resource forced itself upon the king.^ The loan recu. 
sants were set at liberty^ and writs for a new parliament 
were issued. 

Unprecedented excitement prevailed at the elections.^ 
Sir John Eliot was triumphantly returned for Cornwall; 
and every country gentleman that had refused the loan 
was sent, to the house of commons. *' We are without 
question undone ! '* exclaimed a court prophet ; and the 
king, agitated by fear and rage, prepared himself to '^ lift 
the mask." Secret orders were transmitted to the Low 
Countries for the levy of 1000 German horse, und the 

i' 

^ See a letter of Denzil Hollis to Wentworth. Strafibrd Papers, vol. i. 
p. 42. Rushwortb, toL I p. 465. Carte, vol iv. p. 176. et sea. Many- 
curious particulars, and especially the letters of Charles to Buckingham, 
connected with this afEkir, will be found in Hardwicke's State Papers, 
▼oL L p. 13. et seq. I shall have to advert to it again, in noticing one of 
Eliot's speeches. 

3 Sir Robert Cotton was consulted by the lords of the council, and bis 
advice is said to have determined the matter. It is melancholy to see, 
however, that this great scholar was tempted on this occasion (see his 
Paper in Rushworth, vol. L pi 467.) into concessions extremely unworthy 
of nim. It is probable that a rumour of this, coupled with his silence on 
the affiur of the loan, led to his defeat at the Westminster election. Eliot 
was warmly attached to him. 
where all the eminent men < 
friendship with Selden most 
MSS. Jul C. iii. 

3 An extract from a manuscript letter, dated March 8. 1627, will present 
a lively notion of this excitment It has quite a modem air : — *' There 
was a turbulent election of burgesses at Westminster, whereof the duke 
(Buckingham), being steward, made account he should, by his authority 
and vicinity, have put in sir Robert Pye. It continued three days, and 
when sir Robert Pye's p«rty cried * A Pye I a Pye ! a Pye ! ' the adverse 
party would cry * A pudding ! a pudding I a pudding!* and others, ' A lie! 
a lie I a lie!' In fine, Bradshaw, a brewer, and Maurice, a grocer, carried 
it firom him by about a thousand voices, they passing by also sir Robert 
Cotton, besides our man and Mr. Hayward, who were their last burgesses, 
because, as it is said, they had discontented their neighbours, in urging 
the payment of the loan. It is feared (saith mine author), because such 
patriots are chosen every where, the parliament will not last abpve eight 
days. You hear of our famous election in Essex, where sir Francis Bar. 
rington and sir Harbottle Grimston had all the voices of 16,500 men."— . 
Sloane MSS. 




r 



■"* —- ■ -^ K-Sf"- 



SIS JOHN ELIOT. 5? 



purchase of 10^000 stand of arms^ immediately to be 
conyeyed to England.^ 

This famous third parliament was opened by the king 
at Westminster, on the 17th of March, l628, in a 
speech of insolent menace. If they did not do their 
duty, he told them, '^ I must use those other means 
which God hath put into my hands, to save that which 
the follies of other men may otherwise hazard to lose. 
Take not this as threatening ; I scorn to threaten any 
but my equals." 2 Wonderful was the temper and 
decorum with which the great leaders of that powerful 
house listened to this pitiful display. The imagination 
rises in the contemplation of the profound statesmanship 
which distinguished every movement of these men, and 
it is difficult to describe it in terms of appropriate 
praise. Conscious of the rigour of the duties they had 
to perform, for these they reserved their strength. Not 
a worc£was wasted before the time of action came, not 
an energy fell to the ground as too great for the oc- 
casion. A resolved composure, a quiet confidence, steadily 
shone from their slightest preparation ; — and the court, 
who had looked to strengthen themselves by the pro. 
vocation of outrage, were lost in a mixed feeling of 
wonder and doubt, perhaps of even hope. ^' Was it 
possible that the ' new counsels' had cooled the fire of 
patriotism ? " Finch, a man known to be favourably 
afected to the court, was chosen speaker. '^ Was the 

' There U no doubt of this. The pretence afterwards asaigned was to 
aefend the kingdom from invasion (Carte iv. p. 183.) ; but the real object 
was to overawe the house of commons. See Rushwortfa, voL i. p. 474v A 
oommitsion was issued at the same time (concurrent with the issuing of 
we election writs!) to certain privy councillors, to consider of raising 
money by impositions, or otherwise, '* whernin form and circumstance 
most be dispensed with, rather than the substance be lost." These schemes 
were all defeated, but their discovery necessarily exasperated the commons. 
—fiuhutorih, vol. i. p. 614. 

' Rushworth, voL i. p. 477. The men to whom this foolish impertinence 
was addressed are thus described in a manuscript letter of the time by a 
very 'moderate politician. ** The house of commons was both yesterday 
and to^ay as full as one could sit by another ; and they say it is the most 
noble and magnanimous assembly that ever these walls contained. And I 
't^rd a lord intimate they were able to. buy the upper house (his majesty 
^Qly excepted) thrice over, notwithstanding there be of lords temporal to 
toe number of 118 : and what lord in Fngland would be followed by to 
'^njf freeholders as some (if these are." — Letter, dated March 21. 1628, in 
Sloane's MSS. 



58 BRITISH 8TATE81CEN. 



» 



expediency of some compromise recognised at last? 
A resolution was passed to grant a supply, no less than 
fiye subsidies^ and to be paid within twelve monlhs ! 
*^ Was all this possible ? " — ^' Were these the men who 
had been sent, from every quarter of the country to op« 
pose the courts to resent the wrongs of their constituents^ 
and to avenge their own ?" Old secretary Cooke hurried 
down with feeble haste to grasp at the subsidies. He 
was then quietly told that they could not be paid ; that 
the bill for collecting them^ indeed, shoidd not be 
framed, until certain necessary securities were given by 
the king for the future enjoyment of liberty and pro- 
perty among the subjects of the kingdom. The crest- 
fallen ministers resorted to their hypocritical arts of 
evasion and refusal: the patriot leaders prepared for 
action. The consummate policy we have described had 
resolved the dispute into the dearest elements of right 
and wrong ; and the position of the commons against 
the court was firmly and immovably determined.^ What 
they had resolved to do could now be done ; and, the 
court policy once openly betrayed, the passionate elo- 
quence of EUot was heard, opening up to the public 
abhorrence the wounds that had lately been inflicted 
upon the liberties and laws.^ 

1 I refer the reader, for the only exact account of the proceedings of this 
parliament, to the journals and debates. Dr. Lingard has described the con. 
duct of the leaders of the country party very faithfully. " They advanced step 
by step ; first resolving to grant a supply, then fixing it at the tempting 
amount of five subsidies, and, lastly, agreeing that the whole should be 
paid within the short space of twelve months. But no art, no entreaty 
could prevail on them to pass their resolution in the shape of a bill. It was 
held out as a lure to the king ; it was gradually brought nearer and nearer 
to his grasp, but they still refused to surrender their hold ; they required 
as a previous condition that he should give his assent to those liberties 
which they claimed as the birthright of JGnglishmen." — History ^ voL ix. 
p. 379. See also Hume, vol. v. p. 160. 

3 " Sir John Eliot," says the writer of the Ephemeris Parliamentaria, 
" did passionately and rhetorically 'set forth our late grievances ; he mis. 
liked much the violating of our laws." This speech is unfortunately lost. 
" What pity it is," observes Mr. Brodie, ** that no copy has been preserved 
of sir John £liot'8 speech upon the grievances ! He appears to have been 
the most eloquent man of his time." Echoing his regret, I am surprised 
that Mr. Brodie should have passed without mention a most remarkable 
speech of Eliot, which I shall have immediate occasion to allude to. deli- 
vered by him on the same sulnect in the present session, and admirably 
handed down to us from the MSS. of Napier. He had noble seconders on 
the occasion referred to in the text ** I read of a custom," said sir Robert 
Philips (rising after Eliot bad ceased), '* among the old Romans, that 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. 59 

The result^ after many committees on the liherty of 
the subject^ was a resolution to prepare the memorable 
petition of right. ^ Sir John £liot took part in all the 
debates ; lifted them to the most vigorous and passion. 
ately determined tone ; and now acted in all respects as 
the great leader of the house. 

Charles's attempts to get hold of the subsidies con- 
tinued to be unceasing, and every art was resorted to by 
his ministers. Buckingham, meanwhile, covered with 
his recent failures and disgraces, had hitherto kept him- 
self out of view ; and it is another proof of the noble 
policy we have characterised in every movement of the 
popular leaders at this time, that, intent upon their 
grander objects, they passed the subdued favourite, so 
long as he was not intruded before them, in contempt, 
uous silence. The court party, however, rarely failed 



ODoe every year they hdd a solemn feast for their slaves, at which they 
had liberty, without exception, to speak what they would, thereby to ease 
their afflicted minds; wnich, being finished, they severally returned to 
their former servitude. This may, with some resemblance and distinction, 
well set forth our present state ; when now, after the revolution of some 
time, and grievous suffMng of many violent oppressions, we have, as those 
■laves had, a day of libertv of speech ; but shall not, I trust, be hereafter 
daves, for we are free. Vet what new illegal proceedings our states and 
peraoRS have sufi^red under, my heart yearns to think, mv tongue falters 
to utter ! I can live,** passionatelv Philips continued, ** although another, 
who has no right, be put to live with me : nay, I can live although I pay 
exciies and impositions more than I do. But to have my liberty, which is 
the soul of my life, taken from me by power ! and to have my body pent 
up in a gaol, without remedy by law, and to be so adjudged 1 O improvident 
ancestors! O unwise forefathers! to be so curious in providing for the 
quiet possession of our laws, and the liberties of parliament, and to neglect 
our persons and bodies, and to let them lie in prison, and that, durante 
henejdacito, remediless ! If this be law, why do we talk of liberties ? Why 
do we trouble ourselves with a diq>ute about law, franchises, property of 
goods, and the like ? What may any man call his own, if not the liberty 
of his person ? ** Sir Benjamin Rudyard followed. ** This is the crisis of par. 
liaments," be said; ** by this we shall know whether parliaments will live or 
die! '* To him succeeded the dark and doubtful energy of Wentworth, and 
the undiromed clearness of the venerable sir Edward Coke. ** I'll begin,** 
said the latter, after approving the proposed supplies, '* with a noble record. 
It cbeen me to think of it! It is worthy to be written in letters of gold ! 
lioans against the will of the subject are against reason and the ft-anchises of 
the land, and they desire restitution. Franchise! What a word is that 
' franchise ! * ** — Pari Hi^. voL vii. p. 363. et »eq. These men were indeed 
capable of the great duties that fell to them. 

' The grievances detailed before these committees were reduced to six 
heads: attendance at the council board — imprisonment — confinement— 
des^natioD to foreign employment — martial law — undue proceedings in 
matters of judicature These were severally debated, and Eiiot spcd^cCupon 
all of them with characteristic energy. The portions that remain of his 
ipeechefareiufflcienttoindicatethls.— ParAlftft vol vii. pp.399— 405. &c. 



6*0 BRITISH STATES]! EN. 

to misconstrue condact of this sort ; and now^ with a 
fatal preciptancy^ presumed upon this silence. Cooke^ 
the king's secretary, by way of an inducement to suffer 
him to touch the subsidies^ assured the house that the 
king was very grateful for their vote ; and, moreover, 
that Buckingham had implored his majesty to grant all 
the popular desires.^ An extract from a manuscript letter 
of the time will convey the most lively notion of what 
followed. '' Sir John Eliot instantly leapt up, and taxed 
the secretary for intermingling a subject's speech with 
the king's message. It could not become any subject to 
bear himself in such a fashion^ as if no grace ought to 
descend from the king to the people, nor any loyalty 
ascend from the people to the king, but through him 
only. Whereunto many in the house made an exclam- 
ation, ^ Well spoken, sir John Eliot ! ' "^ From a 
more detailed report I will give an extract of this 
speech, happily characteristic of Eliot's style, of the 
dignified phrase, not unmixed with a composed sarcasm, 
with which in the present instance the sharpness of his 
rebuke was tempered. " My joy at this message is not 
without trouble, which must likewise be declared. I 
must disburthen this affliction, or I cannot, otherwise, 
so lively and so faithfully express my devotion to the 
service of this house as I had resolved. I know not by 
what fatality or infortunity it has crept in, but I ob- 
serve, in the close of the secretary's relation, mention 
made of another in addition to his migesty ; and that 
which hath been formerly a matter of complaint, I find 
here still — a mixture with his majesty, not only in his 
business, but in name. Is it that any man conceives the 
mention of others, of what quality soever, can add en- 
couragement or afiection to us, in our duties and loy- 
alties towards his majesty, or give them greater latitude 
or extent than naturally they have } Or is it supposed 
that the power or interest of any man can add more 

» Pari; Higt vol vii. p. 431. 

2 Sloane MSB., 4177. Letter from Mr. Pory. . Another account will be 
found among these manuscripts, in a letter from Mr. Mead, dated April 12. 
1628w 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. 



61 



readiness to his majesty^ in his gracious inclination to- 
wards us^ than his own goodness gives him ? I cannot 
beUeve it ! But^ sir^ I am sorry there is occasion that 
these things should he argued; or that this mixture^ 
which was formerly condemned^ should appear again. 
I heseech you^ sir^ let it not he hereafter ; let no man 
take this holdness within these walls^ to introduce it ! 
It is contrary to the custom of our fathers^ and the 
honour of our times. I desire that such interposition 
may he let alone, and that all his majesty's regards and 
goodnesses towards this house may spring alone from 
his confidence of our loyalty and affections." ^ The 
secretary remained silent, hut the court rememhered 
that rehuke hitterly. 

Equally firm, however, against its threatening and 
cajoling, the commons persisted in their great purpose. 
Resolutions were passed declaratory of the rights of 
the people ; and a conference appointed with the lords 
that they might concur in a petition to the throne 
— founded upon magna charta and other statutes ; di- 
rected to the security of the person, as the foremost 
of all securities ; strengthened on that point hy twelve 
direct and thirty.one indirect precedents ; completed hy 
certain resolutions of their own, reducing those prece- 
dents to a distinct unity of purpose^; and to he 
called a petition of right, because requiring nothing, 

1 Part Hist vol. vii. p. 433. In this speech also Eliot, referring to the 
king's thankfiil recognition of the vote of subsidies, and the honeyed words 
he had addressed to them through Cooke, expressive of his sense of their 
claims, threw out a remark in which there appears an ominous union of 
sarcasm and sternness. ** I presume we have all received great satisfaction 
from his majesty in his present gracious answer and resolution for the 
bastness of this house ; in his answer to our petition for religion, so par. 
ticularly made; in his resolution in that other consideration concerning 
the point, already sbttlbd hbre, in declaration of our liberties ; and for 
the parliament in general." 

3 These resolutions were four in number, and had for their object the 
security of the subject from those infamous pretences of the court lawyers 
and court judges, which had been so remarkably exhibited in the case of the 
Ave members. See them in Rushworth, vol. i. p. 513. Pari. Hist. vol. vii. 

E, 407. The profound skill and judgment of the leaders of the commons, 
y sealing down the old statutes thus, at once shut out every possible plea 
of nlence or evasion from the corrupt judges, and struck from under them 
tbar old resource to antagonist enactments, judicial precedents, and 
exerciMS of prerogative 



62 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

save the recognition and direction of violated lawg. 
The lords and commons met^ and the consdtitii^ 
tional lawyers stated their case with a startling clear^ 
ness. " It lies not under Mr. attorney's cap^*' ex- 
claimed sir Edward Coke, " to answer any one of our 
arguments/* " With my own hand,** said Selden, '' I 
have written out all the records from the Tower, the 
exchequer, and the king's bench, and I will engage my 
head Mr. attorney shall not find in all these archives 
a single precedent omitted." ^ The close of the con- 
ference elicited from the lords a series of counter-reso- 
lutions, which were immediately rejected by £liot and 
his friends, as nothing more than an ingenious subter- 
fuge. These resolutions, in point of fact, if agreed 
to, would, after recognising the l^ality of the prece- 
dents urged, have left the matter precisely where it 
was. The king' s word was to be the chief security.^ 

The lords, in truth, had been tampered with ; and 
the court heedlessly betrayed this by proposing, a few 
days after, in a royal message, precisely the same 
security, with the addition of a piece of advice that one 

1 See the reports of the conference in the Journals. Rushworth, yol. L 
p. 527. et sea. ; and Pari. Hist. voL yiL p. 409. et sea. The legal research 
and vast ability displayed by the popular leaders in this conference, deter, 
mined the lords to hear counsel for the crown. One of these, however, 
Serjeant Ashley, having argued in behalf of the prerogative in the higji 
tone of the last reign, was ordered into custody by their lordships, who at 
the same time assured the commons that he liad no authority «rom them 
for what he had said. (See Pari. Hist. vol. viii. p. 47. for the ofibnsive 
argument : and afterwards, p. 53. and p. 68.) This was a somewhat strongs 
step to take against a king's counsel, employed at a free conference ; and 
Mr. Hallam urges it (Const Hist vol. i. p. 535.) as a ** rpmarkable proof 
of the rapid growth of popular principles." It is a compliment to the 
growing influence of the lower house, but certainly no proof of the popular 
principles of a body of men who, the very moment after they had thus seemed 
to ccmd^nn arbitrary doctrines, proposed to grant to the king in extraordi. 
nary cases, the necessity of which he was to determine, a power of commit- 
ment without showing cause ! This was robbing Peter to pay Paul with a 
vengeance I See their five propositions, in Rushworth, vol i. p. 546. An 
aneoidote of one of their lordships, which occurred at this time, is worth tub. 
joining. As the earl of Suffolk was passing from the conference into the com- 
mittee chamber of the house, he insolently swwe at one of the members 
of the commons, and said Mr. Selden deserved to be hanged, for that he 
had rased a record. Tills was immediately noised about, and came to the 
ears of Eliot He took up the matter with great warmth, in vindicatioa 
of his regard for Selden, had the circumstances investigated by a commit- 
tee, and proposed some stringent resolutions against the earl, " which were 
agreed unto by the whole house.'* See Commons' Journals, April 17. 1628^ 
and Pari Hist, vol vii. p. 452. 
s See Rushworth, voL i. p. 54& 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. 6S 

regrets to see so eTidendy wasted. It would have 
been hailed with nods of such profuse delight by a 
parcel of Chinese mandarins. '^ The wrath of a Idng 
is like the roaring of a lion ; and all laws^ with his 
wrath^ are of no effect : but die king's favour is like 
the dew upon the grass ; there all will prosper ! * Un- 
doubtedly this was lost upon the present audience. 
Eliot^ who was well read in literature^ might probably 
have reminded Philips or Selden of the leonine propen- 
sities of die Athenian weaver^ who aggravated his voice^ 
however, to such an extent in roarings that at last he 
came to roar as gendy as a dove or a nightingale. Cer- 
tainly no other notice was taken. The commons re« 
turned to their house^ and quiedy, and without a 
single dissentient, ordered their lawyers to throw the 
matter of their petition into the shape of a bill^ that 
the responsibility of openly rejecting it might fall on the 
lords and the king. 

Message succeeded message, but still the commons 
proceeded. Briefly and peremptorily^ at last^ Charles 
desired, through his secretary^ to know decidedly whe- 
dier the house would or would not rest upon his 
royal word ? *' Upon this there was sUence for a good 
space." ^ Pjrm was the first to break it ; and £liot 
hastened to relieve Pym from die personal dilemma 
in which his fearless acuteness threatened to place 
him. ^^ I move^'' said he, '^ that this proposition be 
put to the question, because diey that would have it 
do urge us to that point." ^ The question was rejected. 
Charles instandy sent down another message peremp- 
torily warning them not *' to encroach on that sove. 

1 See ParL Hiit voL viil p. 81. Ruahwortfa, voL L p. SSL Aikin*i 
Coart of Charles, vol. i. p. £06. 

s Kushworth, yd. L p. S53. ParL Hist, vol viii. p. 95. 

3 There is no mention of this in the debates, but I have it on the 
authority of a manuscript letter in the collection of Dr. Birch. I may 
take this opportunity of stating that that learned person had with his own 
hand transcribed for publication, from the Harleian and yarious other col- 
lections, a vast number of letters, illustrative of the reigns of James I. and 
Charles I. ; but which remain to this day on the shelves of the Sloane 
oollection, as the transcriber left them. Their arrangement and publica. 
tion would confer a valuable service on histerv ; yet I fear there is no preu 
vailing encouragement for undertakings of this sort. It is to be regretted. 



64 BAITISH STATESMEN. 

reignty^ or prarogative^ which God hath put into our 
hands/' and tl\reatening to end the session on Tuesday 
se'nnight at the furthest. ^^ Whereupon," say the 
Journals, '^ sir John Eliot rose and spoke." He com- 
plained bitterly of the proposed shortness of the session. 
^' Look,'* he exclaimed, '^ how many messages we 
have! Interruptions, mis-reports, and misrepresent- 
ations produce these messages. I fear," continued 
Eliot, " his majesty yet knows not what we go about. 
Let us make some enlargement, and put it again before 
him." ^ An address for this purpose was instantly 
agreed to by the house, was presented by the speaker^ 
and again the king found himself completely baffled. 
It would be too painful to follow his windings and 
doublings through their long and mean course, but that 
at every turn some new evidence arrests us, of the 
brilliant powers and resources of the great statesman 
whose character we seek to illustrate. 

So clear and decisive was the last statement of the 
commons, that Charles fancied he had no resource now 
but to intimate his assent to the proposed bill ; yet, 
even in doing this, he sought, by an insidious restriction, 
to withhold from the old statutes and precedents that 
unity and directness of purpose which the cementing 
resolutions of the house were, for the first time, about 
to give to them. ''We vindicate," Wentworth had 
said, — " what ? new things } No ! our ancient, legal, 
and vital liberties, — by re-enforcing the laws enacted 
by our ancestors, by setting such a seal upon . them 

, ^ Pari. Hist voL viii. p. 99. Rushworth, vol i. p. 555. In the address 
which was voted in consequence of Eliot's proposition, the king is ad. 
vised distinctly of the nature of the resolutions tney had passed, as I have 
above explained them. " They have not the least thought of straining or 
enlarging the former laws ; the bounds of their desires extend no farther 
than to some necessary explanation of that which is truly comprehended 
within the >ust sense and meaning of those laws, wfth some moderate pro. 
vision for execution and performance ^ — Pari. Hist. voL viii. ^. 102. Sir 
Benjamin Rudyard expressed the matter, in the course of the debate on 
this address, in a more homely way. *• For my own part," he said, •* I 
should be very glad to see that good, old, decrepit law of Magna Charta, 
which hath been so long kept in, Iain bed-rid as it were, — 1 should be 
glad, I say, to see it walk abroad again, vaith new vigour and lustre.** The 
conclusion of his speech was a covered rebuke to Charles. ** No man 
is bound to be rich, or great •— no, nor to be wise. But everff man it bound 
to be honest," 



1 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. 65 

» no licentious spirit shall dare hereafter to enter upon 
them ! " ''I assent," said Charles, unworthily at the 
same moment seeking to evade this seal, '^but so as that 
Magna Charta and the other six statutes alluded to may 
be without additions, paraphrases, or explanations." ' 
The Gommons had not had time to spurn the proffered 
deceit, when, with a childish imbecility, the king sent 
down another message desiring that they should take 
bis word.^ The house was at this moment sitting 
in committee. Secretary Cooke, who brought the mes- 
sage, concluded with an earnest desire that " the debate 
upon it should be done before the house, and not be. 
fore the committee." He had good reasons for this ; 
for he knew what arguments might possibly be urged, 
and that the court had at least one security against 
them, in the secret commands which the king had 
already placed upon the timid speaker.^ Sir John Eliot, 
conscious of the weakness of Finch, saw through the 
secretary's purpose, and effectually foiled it. With 
great energy he urged proceeding in committee as more 
likely to be honourable and advantageous. '^That way," 
he said, " leads most to truth. It is a more open way. 
Every man may there add his reasons, and make 
answer upon the hearing of other men's reasons and 
a^uments." ^ The house assented; the debate proceeded 
with closed doors; and the result was a plain and 
determined resolution by the commons, that they could 
only take the king's word in a parliamentary way. They, 
passed their bill, and sent it up to the lords.^ 

* speech of the lord keeper. Pari. Hist. vol. viii. p. 98. Rushworth, 
Tol. L p. 557. The miserable fatuity of consenting thus to their proceeding 
by bill, while he robs them of all the advantages they sought to acHieve by 
that mode of procedure, is too apparent. 

' Rush worth, vol L p. 557. F 

rrig^ing method of delivering tl 

>Tinch had already commenced his bargain for promotion, by promising 
the king to discountenance, as much as possible, any aspersion of his mi- 
nisters, and more especially of Buckingham. I have already suggested the 
only motive the commons could have had in electing this man as their 
9ptiker. They appear to have desired to impress the court, on their first 
meeting, with a sense of how little they were disposed to be actuated in 
their duties by any violent temper, or the resentment of individual wrongs. 
Diey committed an error, but a generous one. 

* ParL Hist vol. viii. p. KM. 

* In the interval between this and the^ri^ assent of Charles, the afikir 

TOIi. n. F 



' Rush worth, vol L p. 557. FarL Hist vol. viii. p. loa The secretary's 
wringing method of delivering this message was curious and instructive. 



66 BBITISH 8TATESMBN. 

To the lords the king now addressed a letter^ stating 
that he could not^ without the overthrow of his sove- 
reignty^ part with the power of committing the subject^ 
but promising in all ordinary cases to obey Magna 
Charta^ and not to imprison for the future '' any man 
for refusing a loan^ nor for any cause which, in his 
judgment and conscience, he did not conceive necessary 
for the public good/'^ This letter was instantly sent to 
the lower house, and all the notice we find of it in their 
journals is given in four words, — '' They laid it aside." 2 
Not so the lords, who, with customary pliancy, founded 
upon it a saving clause to reserve his majesty's '^ sove- 
reign power," and — so weakened — sent down the bill. 
" Let us take heed,'* said Coke, on hearing the addi- 
tion, '^ what we yield unto ; Magna Charta is such a 
fellow that he will have no sovereign." Selden followed 
with a singular warning and precedent^ ; the clause was 
generally condemned ; and, after a conference, the 
lords consented to abandon it. The petition of right. 



of Dr. Manwaring wa« brought before the house I shall have to allude 
to it in the biography of Pym. 

1 The Lords* Journals, May IS. Rushwortb, vol i. p. 560. ParL Hist 
vol. viii. p. 110. 

a Rushworth, vol. i. p. 561. ParL Hist vol. viiL p. 112. 

3 The debate on this question was one of the most remarkable, for a dia. 
play of ready knowledge and acute judgment See especially Selden *s 
speech, and that delivered by Glanvil before the lords. Rushwortb^ 
voL i. p. 568—579. A precedent had been urged by the opposite party, 
from a petition in the reign of Edward I. Selden's alLwondeirfttl learning 
never railed him. " That clause of 28th Edward I.,*' he said, at once 
silencing his opponents, ** was not in the petition, but in the king's answer. ** 
Then mark how triumphantly he turned the tables on them->the passage is 
in all respects remarkable. **ln 28th Edward L, the commons, by petition or 
bill, did obtain the liberties and articles at the end of the parliament ; they 
were extracted out of the roll, and proclaimed abroad. The addition 
was added in the proclamation ; but in the bill there was no * savant ; * 
yet afterwards it was put in. And to prove this, though it is true there is 
no parliament.roll of tnat year, yet we have histories of that time. In the 
library at Oxford there is a journal of a parliament of that very year which 
mentions so much ; as also in the public library at Cambridge there is in a 
MS. that belonged to an abbey : it was of the same year, ^th Edward I. 
and it mentions the parliament, and the petitions, and * articulos quos 
petierunt sic co^firmatfii rex, ut in fine addereL salvo jure cororue regis^* 
and they came in by proclamation. But, in London, when the people 
heard of this clause being added in the end, they fell into execration for 
that addition ; and the great earls that went away satisfied fh)m the par. 
liament, hearing of this, went to the king, and afterwards it was cleared 
at the next parliament Now there is no parliament-roU of this, of that 
time; only in the end of Edward III. there is one roll that recites it.*' 



SIB JOHN ELIOT. 67 

adopted by both houses^ was now presented to the 
throne. 

Charles^ for two long months^ had^ by every sort of sub- 
terfuge^ struggled to avoid this crisis. It had arrived^ 
notwithstanding. On the one hand^ want awaited him ; 
on the other^ the surrender of his darling power. In- 
capable of either^ he sought a passage of escape through 
one perfidy more^ and in this he might have succeeded 

— but for Eliot He sent for the judges^ and, with 
the most solemn injunctions to secresy^ put three ques- 
tions to them respecting the proposed petition of rights : 

— ^' Whether the king may commit .without showing a 
cause ? " ^^ Whether the judges ought to deliver on 
habeas corpus a person committed?" ^* Whether he 
should not deprive himself of such power of commit- 
ment by granting the petition of right?" The judges 
answered to the first and second questions, that the 
general rule of law was against him, but exceptive cases 
might arise ; and to the third, they said that it must 
be left to the courts of justice in each particular case J 
Consoling himself with these assurances, he went to the 
house of lords in a sort of secret triumph, resolved to 
assent to the bill, yet in such terms as might still leave its 
construction to his convenient parasites on the bench. 
The commons hurried up to their lordships' bar. 

So dosed the debate on " sovereign power." I may add that upon this 
nopoaed addition, that notably bungling intriguer, bishop Williams, emi. 
neatly distinguished himself. He professed to be an ardent promoter of the 
petition of right, yet he stood up mightily for the clausa The consequence 
was a meeting between himself and Buckingham, a perfect reconcilement, 
and, as we are told, ** his grace had the bishop's consent with a little 
asking, that he would be his grace's faithful servant in the next session of 
parliament : and was allowed to hold up a seeming enmity, and his own 
popular estimation, that he might the sooner do the work," Such were 
the public men with whom Eliot had to deal, and upon the faith of such 
as these have attempts been made upon li^» character. See Racket's 

ScrinU Reierata, p. 77. etssq. ,. . . , _.u • *u tt 

J The questions and answers were discovered at length m the Hargrave 
MSS. xxxu. 97. Hallam's Constitutional History, vol. i. p. 533. Ellis's 
Onsinal Letters, new series, vol iii. p. 250. History, from Mackintosh, 
▼oL V p. 92. Much unnecessary trouble, on the part of the king, appears 
through all these proceedings ; for he afterwards proved himself quite as 
capable of openly violating a statute enacted in the regular manner, as of 
playing the gameof evaak)n.with his duty and his conscience. But wounded 
▼aoity had clearly much to do with it 

¥ 2 



6s BRITISH STATESMEN. 

'^ Gentlemen^" he said, with a sullen ahruptness, '^ I 
am come hither to perform my duty. I think no man 
can think it long, since I have not taken so many days 
in answering the petition, as ye spent weeks in framing 
it : and I am come hither to show you that, as well in 
formal things as in essential, I desire to give you as 
much content as in me hes." He then, to the surprise 
of his hearers, instead of the ordinary soit droit fait 
comme il eat dSsirS, delivered the following hy way of 
royal assent : — '^ The king willeth, that right he done 
according to the laws and customs of the realm, and 
that the statutes he put in due execution, that his suhjects 
may have no cause to complain of any wrong or oppres- 
sions, contrary to their just rights and liberties, to the 
preservation whereof he holds himself in conscience 
as well obliged, as of his own prerogative." ' 

The next meeting of the house of commons was a very 
momentous one. The singular treachery of the king had 
struck with a paralysing effect upon many of the mem- 
bers ; it seemed hopeless to struggle with it further ; 
it had continued proof against every effort; all the 
constitutional usages of parliament had fallen exhausted 
from the unequal contest; and already the house saw 
itself dissolved, without the achievement of a single 
guarantee for the liberty and property of the kingdom. 
The best and the bravest began to despair. 

But then the genius of Eliot rose to the grandeur of 
that occasion ; and, by its wonderful command over 
every meaner passion, by its great disregard of every per- 
sonal danger, wrested the very sense of hopeless discom- 
fiture to the achievement of a noble security. Knowing 
more thoroughly than others the character of the king, 
he knew that he was yet assailable. His conduct at 
this awful crisis has seemed to me to embody a perfect 
union of profound sagacity and fearless magnanimity, 
imsurpassed, perhaps unequalled, in the history of 
the most illustrious statesmen. 

» Rushworth, vol. i. p. 588. Pari. Hist vol viii. pt 145. 



SIB JOHN ELIOT. 69 



(C 



On Tuesday, the 3d of June," says Rushworth, 
'^ the ldng*8 answer to the petition of right was read in 
the house of commons, and seemed too scant. Where- 
upon sir John Eliot stood up, and made a long speech, 
wherein he gave forth so full and lively a representation 
of all grievances, hoth general and particular, as if they 
had never before been mentioned" i. But observe with 
what consummate policy. It was not a representation 
of the grievances alone, such as had been urged some 
months before : it was a pursuit of them to their poison- 
ous spring and source ; it was an exhibition beside them 
of their hideous origin ; it was a direction of the wrath 
of the people against one oppressor, whose rank was not 
beyond its reach ; it was, in one word, a fatal blow at 
Charles through that quarter where alone he seemed to 
be vulnerable — it was, in its aim and result, a philippic 
against the duke of Buckingham. Demosthenes never 
delivered one, more clear, plain, convincing, irresistible. 
It calls to mind that greatest of orators. £liot*s general 
style was more immediately cast in the manner of 
Cicero, but here he rose beyond it, into the piercing 
region of the Greek. Demosthenic strength and 
closeness of reasoning, clearness of detail, and appalling 
earnestness of style, are all observable in the naked 
outline I now present. What may have been the gran- 
deur and the strength of its complete proportions? 
I recollect a remark of Mr. Hazlitt's, that the author of 
this speech might have originated the '^ dogged style " 
of one of our celebrated political writers. " There is 
no affectation of wit in it," he continued, *^ no studied or- 
nament, no display of fancied superiority. The speaker's 
whole heart and soul are in his subject ; he is full of 
it ; his mind seems, as it were, to surround and pene. 
trate every part of it ;" nothing diverts him from his 
purpose, or interrupts the course of his reasoning for a 

» Rushworth, voL i. p. 591. The indefatigable collector, however, only 
gives a brief outline of the speech. It may be worth notice also, that, owing 
to some confusion in his papers, a portion of this outline was printed in the 
wrong place, and still stands as a separate speech both in his work and the 
Parliamentary History. See the latter, vol vii. p. 399. ; and Rushworth, 
vol L p. 5sa 

F 3 



70 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

moment. No thought of the personal loss^ then fright- 
fully incurred^ no fear of the dangers that were sure to 
follow. His argument rose paramount^ for it was €he 
life of the nation's liberties^ 

" Mr. Speaker,*' Eliot hegan, " we sit here as the 
great council of the king, and, in that capacity, it is 
OUR DUTY to take into consideration the present state 
and affairs of the kingdom. In this consideration, I 
confess, many a sad thought hath affrighted me ; and 
that not only in respect of our dangers from abroad^ 
which yet I know are great, as they have been often in 
this place prest and dilated to us, but in respect of our 
disorders here at home, which do inforce those dan«- 
gers, and by which they are occasioned. For, I be- 
lieve, I shall make it deare unto you, that, as at first the 
cause of these dangers were our disorders, so our disor- 
ders now are yet our greatest dangers. It is not so 
much the potency of our enemies, as the weakness of 
ourselves, that threatens us. That saying of the father 
may be assumed by us : Non tarn potentia sua, quam 
negligentia nostra. Our want of true devotion to heaven, 
our insincerity and doubling in religion, our want of 
councils, our precipitate actions, the insufficiency or un- 
faithfulness of our generals abroad, the ignorance or 
corruptions of our ministers at home, the impoverishing 
of the sovereign, the oppression and depression of the 
subject, the exhausting of our treasures, the waste of 
our provisions, consumption of our ships, destruction of 
our men — these make the advantage to our enemies, 
not the reputation of their arms. And if in these there 
be not reformation, we need no foes abroad. Time itself 
will ruin us !" 

It is a saying of May, 'the historian, in reference to this and other 
speeches, that " Uie freedom that sir John Eliot used in parliament, was 
by the people applauded, though much taxed by the courtiers, and can. 
sured by some of a more politique reserve (considering the times) among 
his own party, in that kind that Tacitus censures Thraseas Foetus, as 
thinking such freedom a needlesse, and therefore a foolish thing, where 
no cure could be hoped by it. Sibi periculum, nee aim libertattyn.** This 
is the old reproach of the timid and indifferent I am about to show, in 
the present instance, that he incurred the danger, which soon after fell 
upon his life, in no spirit of idle forwardness, but for the achievement of a 
great practical purpose, vahich be did achieve. 



BIB JOHN ELIOT. 71 

A BUght iirt^rruption from the nunisters here appears 
to hftTe ^ven Eliot a moment's pause. With admirable 
address he appealed to the house. '' You will all hold 
it necessary that what I am about to urge seems not an 
aspersion on the state^ or imputation on the govern- 
ment, as I have known such motions misinterpreted. 
Far is this from me to propose^ who have none but 
clear thoughts of the excellency of the king, nor can 
have other ends than the advancement of his majesty's 
glory. I shall desire," he continued, '^ a little of your 
patience extraordinary to open the particulars, which I 
shall do with what brevity I may, answerable to the 
importance of the cause, and the necessity now upon us, 
yet with such respect and observation to the time, as I 
hope it shall not be thought troublesome.*' 

He then proceeded to open up the question of " insin- 
cerity and doubling in religion." He pursued it through 
many strong and terrible examples. ^' Will you have 
authority of books ? " he asked, furnishing them with a 
series of the most striking passages from the recent 
collections of the committee that had been sitting on 
religious affiiirs. '^ Will you have proofs of men ? " he 
continued. " Witness the hopes, witness the presump- 
tions, witness the reports of all the papists generally. 
Observe the dispositions of commanders, the trust of 
officers, the confidence in secretaries to employments in 
this kingdom, in Ireland, and elsewhere ! These all 
will show it hath too great a certainty; and to this add 
but the incontrovertible evidence of that all-powerful 
hand, which we have felt so sorely. For if the hea- 
vens oppose themselves to us for our impiety, it is we 
that first opposed the heavens.** 

Eliot next handled the '^ want of councils." " This,*' 
he said, '^ is that great disorder in a state, with which 
there cannot be stability. If effects may show their 
causes, as they are often a perfect demonstration of 
them, our misfortunes, our disasters, serve to prove it, 
and the consequences they draw with them. If reason 
be attowed in this dark age, the judgment of depend- 

F 4 



' 



72 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

encies and foresight of contingencies in affairs do con- 
firm it. For^ if we view ourselves at home^ are we in 
strength^ are we in reputation^ equal to our ancestors ? 
If we view ourselves abroad^ are our friends as many^ 
are our enemies no more ? Do our friends retain their 
safety and possessions? Do not our enemies enlarge 
themselves^ and gain from them and us? To what 
counsel owe we the loss of the Palatinate^ where we 
sacrificed both our honour and our men^ — obstructing 
those greater powers appointed for that service, by 
which it might have been defensible? What counsel 
gave direction to the late action^ whose wounds are yet 
bleeding — I mean the expedition to Rhee^ of which 
there is yet so sad a memory in all men ? What de- 
sign for us, or advantage to our state, could that import ? 
You know the wisdom of our ancestors, and the practice 
of their times ; how they preserved their safeties ! We 
all know^ and have as much cause to doubt as they had^ 
the greatness and ambition of that kingdom, which the 
OLD WORLD COULD NOT SATISFY.^ Agaiust this grcat- 
ness and ambition we likewise know the proceedings of 
that princess, that never-to-be-forgotten, excellent queen, 
Elizabeth, whose name, without admiration, falls not 
into mention even with her enemies ! You know ho'vr 
she advanced herself, and how she advanced this nation 
in glory and in state ; how she depressed her enemies^ 
and how she upheld her friends ; how she enjoyed a 
full security, and made them then our scorn, who now 
are made our terror ! " 

The principles of that policy by which Elizabeth had 
effected all this, Eliot now developed to the house, ex- 
hibiting beside them the singularly opposite and pitiful 
contrast of the prevailing policy. The passage is remark- 
able for its Subtlety, no less than for its exactest truth. 
" Some of the principles she built on were these ; and, 
if I mistake, let reason and our statesmen contradict me. 
— First, to maintain, in what she might, an unity in 

1 The entire range of English oratory furnishes nothing finer in expres- 
sion and purpose than this allusion to Spain. 



SIB JOHN ELIOT. 73 

France^ that that kingdom^ heing at peace nvithin itself^ 
might be a bulwark to keep back the power of Spain by 
land. Next^ to preserve an amity and league between 
that state and us, that so we might come in aid of the 
Low Countries, and by that means receive their ships 
and help them by sea. This tbeble cobd^ so working 
between France^ the States, and England, might enable 
usj as occasion should require, to give assistance unto 
others. It was by this means, the experience of that 
time doth tell us, that we were not only free from those 
fears that now possess and trouble us, but our names 
were also fearful to our enemies. See now what corre- 
spondency our actions have with this; square them by 
these rules. They have induced, as a necessary conse- 
quence, a division in France between the protestants 
and their king, of which we have had too woful and 
lamentable experience. They have made an absolute 
breach between that state and us, and so entertain us 
against France, and France in preparation against us, 
that we have nothing to promise to our neighbours — 
hardly to ourselves ! Nay, observe the time in which 
they were attempted, and you shall find it not only 
varying from those principles, but directly contrary and 
opposite, ejp diametro, to those ends ! and such as, from 
the issue and success, rather might be thought a con- 
ception of Spain, than begotten here with us ! *' 

Every word was now falling with tremendous effect 
upon Buckingham, and the ministers could endure it 
no longer. Sir Humphry May, the chancellor of the 
duchy, and one of the privy council, started from his 
seat, '^ expressing,'' as Rushworth states it, '^ a dislike. 
But the house ordered sir John Eliot^ to go on. Where- 
upon he proceeded thus : — ' Mr. Speaker, I am sorry for 
this interruption, but much more sorry if there hath 
been occasion ; — wherein, as I shall submit myself 
wholly to your judgment, to receive what censure you 
should give me, if I have offended ; so, in the integrity 
of my intentions and clearness of my thoughts, I must 
stin retain this confidence^ — that no greatness shall deter 



74 BBITISH STATESMEN. 

me from the duties which I owe to the service of my 
king and country^ bat that^ with a trae English hearty I 
shall discharge myself as faithfully^ and as really^ to 
^he extent of my poor power, as any man whose hmiours 
or whose offices most strictly oblige him/ " 

With admirable self-possession, Eliot then resumed 
his speech at the very point of interruption^ and con- 
tinued to urge the madness of breaking peace witli 
France at a time so emphatically unfortunate. " Yon 
know," he said, ^^ the dangers Denmark was in^ and 
how much they concerned us ; what in respect of our 
alliance and the country ; what in the importance of the 
Sound ; (\vhat an advantage to our enemies the gain there- 
of w^ould be !) What loss then, what prejudice to us, by 
this disunion ! we breaking upon France, France en- 
raged by us, and the Netherlands at amazement between 
both ! no longer could we intend to aid that luckless king, 
whose loss is our disaster." ^ Here Eliot, having, as it 
appears to me, reduced the matter ad absurdum, suddenly 
turned round to the ministerial bench. " Can those, now, 
that express their troubles at the hearing of these things, 
and have so often told us, in this place, of their knowledge 
in the conjunctures and disjunctures of affairs, myy they 
advised in this? Was this an act of council, Mr. Speaker? 
/ have more charity than to think it ; and, unless they 
make a confession of themselves, I cannot believe it," 

The orator now, under cover of a discussion of a 
third division of his argument, " the insufficiency 
and unfaithfulness of our generals/' dragged Bucking- 
ham personally upon the scene. For a moment, how- 
ever, before doing this, he paused. ^' What shall I say ? 
I wish there were not cause to mention it ; and, but 
out of apprehension of the danger that is to come, 

1 It would be easy to dilate this speech into a rolume, so pregnant is 
every word with meaning, so condensed are its views, yet so exact and 
forcible. The reader who is best acquainted with the general history of 
the time, will appreciate it best The present is an allusion to the dig. 
astrous defeat of the king of Denmark by count Tilly. The king of Eng- 
land had precipitated the quarrel by his weak importunities, and then, by 
this outrageous war with France, utterly disabled his own power of as- 
sistance. 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. 7^ 

if the like choice hereafter be not prevented^ I cotQd 
willingly be silent. But my duty to my sovereign^ 
my service to this house^ and the safety and honour of 
my country, are above all respects; — and what so 
nearly trenches to the prejudice of this^ must not, shall 
not, be forborne." 

Then followed this bitter and searching exposure of 
the incapacity of Buckingham in his various actions. 
How much its effect is increased by the ominous omis- 
sion of his name ! 

" At Cadiz, then, in that first expedition we made, 
when we arrived and found a conquest ready, — (the 
Spanish ships I mean, which were fit for the satisfaction 
of a voyage ; and of which some of the chiefest then 
there themselves, have since assured me, that the 'satis- 
faction would have been sufficient, either in point of 
honour, or in point of profit,) — why was it neglected ? 
why vras it not achieved ? it being of all hands granted, 
how feasible it was ? 

*' After, when with the destruction of some of our 
men^ and with the exposition of some others, who 
(though their fortunes since have not been such) by 
chance came ofi^ — when, I say with the loss of our 
serviceable men, that unserviceable fort was gained, and 
the whole army landed ; — why was there nothing done ? 
— why was there nothing attempted ? If nothing was 
intended, wherefore did they land? If there was a 
service, wherefore were they shipped again ? 

" Mr. Speaker, it satisfies me too much in this, — 
when I think of their dry and hungry march into that 
drunken quarter (for so the soldiers termed it), where 
was the period of their journey, — that divers of our 
men, being left as a sacrifice to the enemy, the generaVs 
labour was at an end / " 

" For the next undertaking at Rhde I will not 
trouble you much, — only this in short. Was not that 
whole action carried against the judgment and opinion 
of those officers that were of the council ? Was not 
the first, was not the last, was not all, in the landing, in 



76 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

the intrenching^ in the continuance there^ in the assault^ 
in the retreat^ without their assent 9 Did any advice 
take place of such as were of the council ? If there 
should be made a particular inquisition thereof, these 
things will be manifest^ and more ! — I will not instance 
the manifesto that was made for the reason of these 
arms ; nor by whom^ nor in what manner^ nor on what 
grounds^ it was published; nor what effects it hath 
wrought^ drawing, as it were, almost the whole world into 
league against us ; — nor will I mention the leaving of 
the wines, or the leaving of the salt, which were in 
our possession^ and of a value, as it is said, to answer 
much of our expense ; — nor that great wond&r which 
no Alexander or Casar ever did, the enriching of the 
enemy by courtesies when our soldiers wanted help ^ ; 
nor the private intercourses and parleys with .the fort^ 
which continually were held ; — what all these intended 
may be read in the success, and upon due examination 
thereof, they would not want their proofs ! " 

Eliot passed to the consideration of ^^ the ignorance 
and corruption of our ministers." ^^ Where,' he asked^ 
^' can you miss of instances ? If you survey the court, 
if you survey the country ; if the church, if the city be 
examined ; if you observe the bar, if the bench ; if the 
ports, if the shipping ; if the land, if the seas, — all 
these will render you variety of proofs, and that in 
such measure and proportion as shows the greatness 
of our disease to be such, that, if there be not some 

^ The affected gallantries and courtesies practised by Buckingham to 
the enemy, during this expedition, were ridiculous in the extreme. When 
Toiras sent a trumpet to reauest a passport to convey some wounded of. 
ficers to the coast, Buckingham sent them his grand chaloupe, or yacht, 
flirnished with every elegant convenience, and lined with tres belle acar- 
lette rouge ; while his musicians, with all the varieties of their instru- 
ments, solaced and charmed the wounded enemy in crossing the arm of 
the sea. Toiras once inquiring " whether they had saved any melons in 
the island ? " was the uext day presented, in the duke's name, with a 
dozen. The bearer received twenty golden crowns ; and Toiras despatching 
six bottles of orange flower water, and a dozen jars of cypress powder, the 
duke presented the bearer with twenty Jacobuses ! After a sharp action, 
when Toiras sent one of his pages with a trumpet, to request leave to bury 
some noblemen, the duke received the messenger with terms of con. 
dolence. See an amusing account in D'Israeli's Commentaries, vol. u. 
p. 48. 



SIB JOHN ELIOT. 77 

speedy application for remedy^ our case is almost des- 
perate." 

Eliot here paused for a few moments. '^ Mr. 
Speaker," he said, " I fear I have heen too long in these 
particulars that are passed, and am unwilling to offend 
you ; therefore in the rest I shall he shorter." As he 
condenses his statements, it will he seen he becomes 
more terrible. ^ 

'^ In that which concerns the impoverishing of the 
king, no other arguments will I use than such as all 
men grant. The exchequer, you know, is empty, ancl 
the reputation thereof gone; the ancient lands are sold; 
the jewels pawned ; the plate engaged ; the debt still 
great; almost all charges, both ordinary and extraor- 
dinary, borne up by projects. What poverty can be 
greater ? What necessity so great ? What perfect En- 
glish hetu-t is not almost dissolved into sorrow for this 
truth ! ' 

'' Fov the oppression of the subject, which, as I re- 
member. 4s the next particular I proposed, it needs no 
demonstration : the whole kingdom is a proof. And for 
the exhausting of our treasury, that very oppression 
speaks it. What waste of our provisions, what con- 
sumption of our ships, what destruction of our men, 
have been ! Witness that journey to Argiers. Witness 
that'^with Mansfield. Witness that to Cadiz. Witness 
the next. Witness that to Rh^. Witness the last. (I 
pray God we may never have more such witnesses !) 
Witness likewise the Palatinate. Witness Denmark. 
Witness the Turks. Witness the Dunkirkers. Witness 
ALL ! What losses we have sustained ! how we are im- 
paired in munition, in ships, in men ! It is beyond 
contradiction, that we were never so much weakened, nor 
ever had less hope how to be restored." 

Eliot concluded thus, with a proposition for a re. 
monstrance to the king. 

'^ These, Mr. Speaker, are our dangers ; these are 
they which do threaten us ; and they are like the Trojan 
horse, brought in cunningly to surprise us. In these do 



78 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

lurk the strongest of our enemies^ ready to issue on us ; 
and if we do not speedily expel them^ these are the 
signs^ these the invitations to others. These will so 
prepare their entrance^ that we shall have no means left 
of refuge^ or defence. For if we have these enemies at 
home, how can we strive with those that are abroad ? 
If we be free from these, no other can impeach us ! 
Our ancient fingHsh virtue, like the old Spartan valour^ 
cleared from these disorders, — a return to sincerity in 
religion, once more friends with heaven, having ma- 
turity of councils, sufficiency of generals, incorruption 
of officers, opulency in the king, liberty in the people, 
repletion in treasure, plenty of provisions, reparation of 
ships, preservation of men — our ancient English virtue, 
I say, thus rectified, will secure us ; but unless there 
be a speedy reformation in these, I know not what hopes 
or expectations we can have. 

'' These are the things, sir, I shall desire to have 
taken into consideration; that as we are the great council 
of the kingdom, and have the apprehension of these 
dangers, we may truly represent them unto the king : 
whereto, I conceive, we are bound by a treble obligatioii 
—7 of duty to God, of duty to his majesty, and of duty 
to our country. 

" And therefore I wish it may so stand with the 
wisdom and judgment of the house, that they may be 
drawn into the body of a remonstrance, and in all hu- 
mility expressed ; with a prayer unto his majesty, that, 
for the safety of himself, for the safety of the kingdom, 
and for the safety of religion, he will be pleased to give 
us time to make perfect inquisition thereof ; or to take 
them into his own wisdom, and there give them such 
timely reformation as the necessity and justice of the 
case doth import. 

" And thus, sir, with a large affection and loyalty to 
his majesty, and with a firm duty and service to 
my country, I have suddenly (and it may be with 
some disorder) expressed the weak apprehensions I 
have ; wherein if I have erred, I humbly crave your 



SIB JOHN ELIOT. 79 

pardon^ and so submit mysejf to the censure of the 
house.*' 1 

Eliot's purpose was already accomplished ! Scarcely 
had he resumed his seat^ when the effects he had 
laboured to produce broke forth. ^^ Disaffection ! " 
cried sir Henry Martin and others of the court party ; 
'^ and there wanted not some who said that speech was 
made out of some distrust of his majesty's answer to 
the petition;"^ — from the popular side^ on the other 
hand^ some stem and significant words were heard about 
the necessity of a remonstrance. The crisis had un- 
questionably come. The courtiers went off to tell their 
news at the council table — the patriots '^turned them- 
selves into a grand committee^ touching the danger and 
means of safety of king and kingdom." 

The newsmongers discharged their duty faithfully. 
The next day a royal message came to the house^ ac« 
quainting them that within six days the session would 
close^ and desiring them not to touch upon any new 
mat er, but to conclude the necessary business.^ The day 
following that brought anotlier message^ ^ commanding 
the Speaker to let them know^ that he will certainly 
hold that day prefixed without alteration^ and he requires 
them^ that they enter not into^ or proceed with^ any 
new business, which may spend greater time,\)r whidi 
may lay any scandal or aspersion upon the state^ govern- 
ment, or ministers thereof." ^ The scene that ensued 

^ This speech was preserved in sir John Napier's manuscripts, and 
wilt be found in the Old Parliamentary History, vol. viii. p. 155. 

' Rushworth, voL i. p. 593. Eliot is said to have remarked on this, that 
be had for some time ** had a resolution to open these last mentioned 
grievances, to satisfle his majesty herein, only he had stayed for an opporm 
tuiuty.** This reads like a sarcasm. Be that as it may, it is remarkable that 
Wentworth, upon this, is described to have stepped forward and " attested 
that averment,** saying that he had heard such to have been the determin. 
ation of JQiot This is the only appearance of courtesy, or, indeed, of any 
other feeling than a violent dislike, which it is possible to trace in the con. 
duct of Wentworth to Eliot And it might have been meant in the way of 
** damned good-natured friendship." On the whole, however, I suspect it 
to have been simply another tillip to the wavering negotiations of the court, 
which Wentworth was now waiting the issue of. Many communications 
had alreadypassed through the n4edium of the Speaker and Weston. See 
Strafford's State Papers, vol. i. p. 46. 

3 Rushworth, vol i p. 593. Pari. Hist. vol. viii. p. 167. 

4 Rushworth, vol L p. 60& Pari. Hist vol. viii. p. 168. 



80 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

was in all respects extraordinary. Sir Robert Philips 
was the first to rise. " I consider my own infirm. 
ities," said Philips, '^ and if ever my passions were 
wrought upon, now this message stirs me up especi- 
ally. What shall we do, since our humble purposes 
are thus prevented?"^ Eliot here suddenly started 
up, and spoke with more than ordinary vehemence. 
'^ Ye all know," he said, " with what affection and 
integrity we have proceeded hitherto, to have gained his 
majesty's heart. It was out of the necessity of our 
duty, we were brought to that course we were in. I 
doubt a misrepresentation to his majesty hath drawn 
this mark of Ids displeasure upon us ! I observe in 
the message, amongst other sad particulars, it is con- 
ceived, that we were about to lay some aspersions on 
the government. Give me leave to protest, sir, that so 
clear were our intentions, that we desire only to vindi- 
cate those dishonours to our king and country ! It is 
said also, as if we cast some aspersions on his majesty's 
ministers ! I am confident no minister, how dear soever, 

can " A strange interruption stopped him. " Here," 

says the account in the Napier MSS., ** the Speaker 
started up from the chair, and, apprehending sir John 
Eliot intended to fall upon the duke, said, with tears in 
his eyeSy ' There is a command laid upon me, to interrupt 
any that should go about to lay an aspersion on the 
ministers of the state.' "^ EHot sat down in silence. 

Events, for passions include events, now crowded 
together to work their own good work ; and the great 
statesman, the author, as it were, of that awful scene, 
may be conceived to have been the only one who beheld 
it from the vantage ground of a sober consciousness 
and control. Into that moment his genius had thrown 
a forecast of the future. The after terrors he did not 
live to see, but now concentred in the present spot were 
aU their intense and fervid elements. They struggled 
in their birth with tears. I do not know whether it 

1 Rushwortb, vol L p. G06. 

s Ibid, vol L p. G0& Pari. Hist vol. viiL p. 191. 




SIR JOHN ELIOT. 81 

may not be thought indecorous and unseemly now for 
statesmen to shed tears^ but I consider the weeping of 
that memorable day^ that '*. black and doleful Thursday i^*' 
to have been the precursor of an awful resolve. Had 
these great men entertained a less severe sense of their 
coming duty^ no such present weakness had been shown. 
The monarchy, and its cherished associations of centu- 
ries, now trembled in the balance. *^ Sir Robert Philips 
spoke^" says a member of the house^ writing to his friend 
die day after, '' and mingled his words with weeping ; 
sir Edward Coke, overcome with passion, seeing the 
desolation that was like to ensue, was forced to sit down 
when he began to speak, through the abundance of 
tears ; yea the speaker in his speech could not refrain 
from weeping and shedding of tears ; besides a great 
many, whose great griefs made them dumb and 
silent." 2 

A deep silence succeeded this storm, and the few words 
ihat broke the silence startled the house into its accus- 
tomed attitude of resolution and composure. — '' It is 
the speech lately spoken by sir John Eliot which has 
given offence, as we fear, to his majesty."*^ — The 
irresolute men who hazarded these words at such a 
time little anticipated their immediate result. " Here- 
upon^" says Rushworth, '' the house declared, ' that 
every member of the house is free from any undutiful 
speech, from the beginning of the parliament to that 
day;' and ordered, ^that the house be turned into a 
committee, to consider what is fit to be done for the 
safety of the kingdom ; and that no man go out upon 
pain of being sent to the Tower.'" The time for 



1 This exprenion is used in a manuscript letter of the day. 

9 This Interesting letter will be found in Rushworth, toL i. p. 609. It 
will be seen that in the commencement of it, the writer, Mr. Aiured, dis. 
tinctly conveys the impression that this extraordinary scene had been 
caused by Eliot's great speech of two days before. He gives a sketch of the 
speech, and afterwards describes the interference of the ministers " As 
he was enumerating which, tiie chancellor of the dutchy said * it was a 
strange language ; * yet the house commanded sir John Eliot to go on. 
Then the chancellor desired, if he went on, that himself might go out. 
IVhereupon they all bade him begone, ye/ he ttajfed and heard him out J** 

3 Rushworth, toL i. pp. 606, 607. Pari. Hist, vol. :tiil p 192. 

V0I«. II. o 



82 BRITISH STATESMBN. 

action had arrived. The upeaker^ in ahject terror^ 
'^ humhly and earnestly hesought the house to give him 
leave to absent himself for half an hour^ presuming 
they did not think he did it for any ill intention ; which 
was instantly granted him." ^ He went to the king. 
In the interval of his absence cheerful acclamations re^ 
sounded once more through the house, for again Bucking- 
ham was fearlessly named as the '^ grievance of griev- 
ances ;" and " as when one good hound," observes a 
member who was present, '^ recovers the scent, the rest 
come in with a full cry, so they pursued it, and every one 
came on home, and laid the blame where they thought the 
fault was, and were voting it to the question, 'that 
the duke of Buckingham shall be instanced to be the 
chief and principal cause of all those evils,' when the 
speaker, having been three hours absent and with the 
king, brought this message, ' that his majesty com-i 
mands, for the present, they adjourn the house till to- 
morrow morning, and that all committees cease in the 
meantime/ What we shall expect this morning God 
of heaven knows." ^ 

The king, it is evident, now shook with alarm. The 
clouds were gathering over his favourite thicker and 
blacker than ever. That morning, however, with a last 
vague hope, he sent a cozening message, and a wish for 
a '^ sweet parting."*' The only notice taken of it by the 
commons was the forwarding of a petition '^ for a clear 
and satisfactory answer in full parliament to the petition 
of rights^," and the stern opening of an investigation 
into several high grievances, more especially the charge 
I have before mentioned of a design for introducing 
foreign troops into the kingdom.^ No alternative was 

1 Rushworth, vol. i. p. 609. 

a Rushworth, vol. i. p. 610. P»rL Hist, vol viii. p. 196. 

3 " So, for this time/' ran the elose of the message, ** let all Christendom: 
take notice of a sweet parting between him and his people ; which, if it 
fall out, his majesty will not he long from another meeting ; when such 
grievances, if there be any, at their leisure and convenience may be con. 
sidered." Pari. Hist, vol. viii. p. 197. Rushworth, vol. I. p. 610. 

* Pari. Hist, voL viii p. 201. Rushworth, vol i. p. 612. 

& Burlemach, a naturalised Dutch merchant, was examined, and ad. 
mitted that he had received 30fiO(^ from the treasury, for the raising of 



SIR JORN ELIOT. 83 

left to Charles, and the commons were summoned the 
next day to meet him in the upper house. 

'^ To avoid all ambiguous interpretations, and to 
show you there is no doubleness in my meaning, I am 
willing to pleasure you as well in words as in substance. 
Read your petition, and you shall have an answer that, 
I am sure, will please you."^ Such was Charles's speech 
to the members of the house of commons who crowded 
that day round their lordships' bar. The petition was 
read accordingly, and the usual answer was returned, — 
Soit droit fait comme il est desir^. " At the end of 
the king's first speech," says a memorandum on the 
lords' journals, ^' at the answer to the petition, and on 
the conclusion of the whole, the commons gave a great 
and joyful applause." 

Charles the First, after he left the house of lords that 
day, stood in a different relation to the people from that 
he had occupied before. It is impossible to deny this 
fact.^ The commons had asserted it in cleaving so 
strongly to their resolutions, the king himself in striving 
so desperately to evade them. A certainty of direction 
and operation had been given to the old laws. Charles 
appeared, indeed, to sanction the notion of a great and 
vital change by the first step he took. He sent a message 

Gennan hone, which he had disbuned accordiDgly. He Airther admitted 
that 1000 hone had been levied in consequence, and arms provided for 
them in Holland, but that *' he heard they were lately countermanded/* 
ParL Hist, vol. viil p. 200. And see Rushworth, vol. i. p. 612. 

» Pari. Hist, vol. viii, p. 202. Rushworth, vol i. p. 613. 

s Hume observes, ** It may be affirmed, without any exaggeration, 
that the king's assent to the petition of rights produced such a change in 
the government as was almost equivalent to a revolution ; and by cir. 
eumscribing in so many articles the royal prerogative, gave additional 
security to the liberties of the subject." without going so far as this, it is 
quite certain that it materially altered Charles's position in a moral as well 
as legal sense. The petition of rights (it is given at length in Hume's 
History, vol. v. p. 171.) affirmed and confirmed expressly the enactments' 
of the 9 Hen. III. chap. 29. (Magna Charta), that no freeman be deprived 
fk bis liberty or his property except by judgment of his peers, or by the 
law of the land : of the 28 £dw. III. chap. 33., that no man, of whatever 
estate or condition, fhould be taken, imprisoned, disseised, disherited, or 
put to death, without being brought to answer by due process of law : and of 
the 25. 37, 38. 42 Edw. Ill, with the 17 Rich. II., to the same intent. But 
it did even more than this, by its embodyment of the supplementary reso- 
lutions of the commons, which, as I have already observed, bound the 
judges to a strict letter of oonstructiop, and deprived them of the plea of 
antagonist enactments. 

O 2 



84 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

to the commons^ desiring " that the petition of rights, 
with his assent thereunto, should not only be recorded 
in both houses, and in the courts of Westminster, but 
that it be put in print, for his honour, and the content 
and satisfaction of his people." ^ 

The commons, according to Rushworth, ^< returned 
to their own house with unspeakable joy, and re- 
solved so to proceed as to express their thankfulness. 
Now frequent mention was made of proceeding with 
the bill of subsidies, of sending the bills which were 
ready to the lords, and of perfecting the bill of 
tonnage and poundage. Sir John Strangewaies ex. 
pressed his joy at the answer, and further added, 
^ Let us perfect our remonstrance.* "2 ^u^j g^di yj^ 

their exact mode of procedure. The largest supplies 
that had been voted for years were at once presented to 
the king. The king's commission of excise was de- 
manded to be cancelled under the new act of right 
The bill for the granting of tonnage and poundage, 
which was already far advanced, was passed^ but a 
protest voted at the same time, on the ground of its 
inconsistency with the new act, against Charles's old 
course of levying this imposition without consent of par- 
liament.^ A remonstrance was also voted and presented 
to the king» against certain proceedings of Buckingham.^ 
These measures were not only in conformity with the 
petition, but were positively required to give it efficacy and 
completeness. No opportunity of concession or concord 



1 Pari. Hist, vol. viii. p. 203. 
s Rushworth, vol. i. p. 613. 

3 The only plea advanced by the court lawyers against the conduct of 
the commons in this matter, worthv of notice, was founded on the ini- 
quitous judgment of the court of exchequer in Bates's case during the last 
reign. But this plea had surely been barred by the resolutions I have 
■o often named. Supposing it to be urged that the language of the petition 
was not sufficiently general to comprehend duties charged on mercnandise 
at the outports, as well as internal taxes and exactions — an opinion which 
was strongly contested by Eliot — it is quite certain that the iniquitous appli- 
cation of the statutes in Bates's case, that grossest of instances of " judge- 
xnade law," wu distinctly foreclosed. Tonnage and poundage, like other 
subsidies, could thereafter only spring fh>m the free grant of the people. 

4 This remonstrance, drawn up by Selden and Eliot, is extremely able. 
It is impossible, after reading it, to question its necessity. See Rushworth, 
▼oL i. p. 619. 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. 85 

withheld from Charles^ but no distinct right was 
forebome. The grand committees that were then sitting, 
on the yarious heads of religion^ trade^ grievances, and 
<:oiirts of justice^ were ordered to sit no longer.^ Every 
appearance of imnecessary opposition was carefully 
avoided. 

But suddenly^ in the midst of these measures, the com- 
mons were summoned by the king to the house of lords. 
After a long interview with the speaker, Charles had 
hurried there to close the session. ^' It may seem 
strange," he said, when they appeared at the bar, '^ that 
I come so suddenly to end this session before I give my 
assent to the bills. I will tell you the cause, though I 
must avow that I owe the account of my actions to God 
alone." This was a very proper commencement to his 
speech ; for, after peevishly complaining of the remon- 
strance against Buckingham, he went on to inform them 
that he would have no interference with his rights over 
tonnage and poundage; and, further, that they had alto- 
gether misunderstood the petition of rights. '^ I have 
granted no new, but only confirmed the ancient liberties 
of my subjects." His concluding words were very re- 
markable. ^^ As for tonnage and poundage, it is a thing 
I cannot want, and was never intended by you to ask, 
nor meant by me, I am sure, to grant. To conclude, I 
command you all that are here to take notice of what I 
have spoken at this time to be the true intent and 
meaning of what I granted you in your petition ; but 
especially you, my lords, the judges, for to you only, 
under me, belongs the interpretation of laws."^ Par- 
liament was then prorogued to the 20th of the following 
October. 

The patriot leaders separated, it may be supposed, 
with many gloomy forebodings. New miseries and 
oppressions were about to visit the people. Yet had 
this immortal session strengthened the people's hearts 

1 Ru^h worth, vol. i. p. 613. 

s The reader, coupling this with Charles's previous consultation with the 
udges, will readily understand its significance. 

G 3 



86 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

for endurance, no less than it had sharpened their 
powers for resistance. The patriots had no caase to se- 
parate with any distrust of each other. 

Eliot went immediately into Cornwall. I am for- 
tunately enabled to follow him there. Among the 
manuscripts of sir Robert Cotton I have found a letter 
written to that learned antiquary some few days after 
his arrival. It is in many points of view interesting. 
It is a happy specimen of Eliot's style; and it proves, if 
such proof were wanting^ that this great statesman had 
embraced the public cause with the deep fervour of a 
private passion. 

" How acceptable your letters are," he writes, ^^ and 
with what advantage they now come, I need not tell you ; 
when, besides the memorie of my owne losses (which can 
have no reparation like the assurance of your favour), I 
but acknowledge the ignorance of these partes, almoste as 
much divided from reason and intelligence as our island 
from the world. That the session is ended we are gladd, 
because to our understandinges it implies a concurrence in 
the general], and intimates a contynuance of the parlia- 
ment, — having not the notion of particulars by which 
we mighte compose ourselves to better judgment. The 
souldier, the mariner, the shipps, the seas, the horse, the 
foot, are to us no more than the stories of the poetts, 
either as thinges fabulous or unnecessarie, entertained 
now only for discourse or wonder, not with the appre- 
hension of the least feare or double ! Denmarke and the 
Sound are taken rather for wordes than meaninges; and 
the greatnesse and ambition of Austria or Spain are to ns 
a mere chimera. Rochell and Dunkirk are all one. 
What friends we have lost or what enemies we have 
gained {more than that enemie which we have bredd our-' 
selves) is not soe much to us as the night shower or sunne- 
shine ! nor can we thinke of anie thinge that is not pre- 
sent with us. What they doe in Suffolk with their 
sojorners wee care not, while there are none billeted on 
us ; and it is indifferent to our reasons, in the contest- 
ations which they have, whether the straunger or the 



SIR JOHN BLIOT. 8? 

oouDtiyman preyaile. Onlie one tiling gives us some 
rexnembraunce of our neighbours^ which is the greate 
resorte of Irish dailie comminge over^ whoo^ though, 
they begg of us, wee doubte maie take from others, and 
in the end give us an ill recompense for our charitie. 
This is a bad character, I confesse, which I give you of 
iQQy country, but such as it deserves. You onlie have 
power to make it appeare better, by the honor of your 
letters, which come nowhere without happinesse, and are 
m satisfaction for all wantes to me. Your affectionate 
servant, John Eliot." ^ 

Stirring events, however, soon reached Eliot in his 
retirement, such as must have moved even those 
stagnant waters, which he describes so well. The 
** self-bred '' enemy of England was no more — Buck- 
ingham had fallen by the hand of an assassin.^ 
But the service of despotism which the king had lost 
promised to be replaced by a more dangerous, because 
a more able, counsellor. Wentworth had gone over to 
the court. ^ Weston, a creature of the late duke's, had 
been created lord treasurer. Other changes followed. 
Laud was made bishop of London, and, with Laud's 

1 Cottonian MS& c. iii. p. 174. 

> Very interesting notices of this event and the circumstances which 
follcwed it, vill be found in the third volume of Ellis's Original Letters, pp. 
S56— S82. Second edition. The funeral of the so brilliant duke was the 
most melancholy winding up of all. The king had designed a very grand 
one, — " Nevertheless," says Mead to Stuteville, ** the last night, at ten of 
of the clock, -his Aineral was solemnised in as poor and confused a manner 
aM hath been seen, marching ft-om Wallingford House, over against White- 
liall, to Westminster Abbey; there being not much above 100 mourners, 
who attended upon an* empty coffin, borne upon six men's shoulders ; the 
duke's corpse itself being there interred yesterday, as if it had been doubt- 
ftil the people in their madness might have sur{>rised it But, to prevent all 
disorder, the train bands kept a guard on both sides of the way, all along 
from Wallingford House to Westminster Church, beating up their drums 
iomdf and carrying their pikes and muskets upon their shoulders, as in a 
march ; not trailing them at their heels, as is usual at a mourning. As 
•oon as the coffin was entered the church, they came all away without 
giving any voUey of shot at all And this was the obscure catastrophe of 
that great man."— i/ar/. MSS. S90. 

3 Eliot, it may be presumed, was perfectly prepared for this event The 
expression I have elsewhere used of Wentwortii's having ** basely aban. 
doned*'the popular cause, is somewhat has^. I think I shall be able to 
ahow that he never in reality was attached to it. Pym appears to have 
thought so, but Eliot had watched more closely. 

4 The memoir of Pym will be a more proper occasion than this for a. 
detailed expression of the exact state of opinions in religion, and the na- 
ture of their influence on political questions. 

o 4 



88 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

elevation^ arminianism reared its head formidably. ^ 
Arminian prelates were the favourites of the court ; the 
royal favour shone exclusively on arminian clergy- 
men ; and Montague^ obnoxious as he had proved him- 
self by the arminian tendency of his works^ was raised 
to the bishopric of Chester. On this subject Eliot felt 
strongly. He had already from his place in the house 
of commons denounced the tendency of those arminian 
doctrines^ whose essential principle he had justly de. 
scribed to be that of claiming for the king, as absolute 
head of the churchy a power resembling the pope^s infaUi^ 
bility^ — an independent state supremacy — a power over 
the liberty and property of the subject. His acute 
perception had already detected in Laud that resolution 
towards new ceremonies in the protestant church which 
should raise her out of the apostolic simplicity to a 
worldly equahty with the church of Rome; and in 
Laud's fervid sincerity on this point he saw the deepest 
source of danger. It was even now indeed in action^ for 
further news soon arrived that Charles^ as supreme go. 
vernor of the churchy had published an authorised edition 
of the articles containing the objectionable clause (J' the 
church hath power to decree rites and ceremonies^ and 
hath authority in matters of faith,)'* and with an order 
that no doctrine should be taught that differed from 
those articles, that all controversies respecting outward 
policy should be decided by the convocation, and that 
no man should presume to explain the article respecting 
justification contrary to its plain meaning, or to take it 
in any other than the literal and grammatical sense. ^ 
Nor was this aU. The terrors of the Star Chamber and 
high commission had followed close upon Laud's new 
powers ; and the cases of Burton^ Prynne, and Gill, 
their zeal and their frightful sufferings, afflicted the 
country. The political application of these doctrines 
had received, at the same time, a fatal illustration in 
various flagrant violations of the petition of rights. A 
copy of the statute itself reached Cornwall, printed by 
the king's order (a shameless attempt at imposture, 

/ 1 Bibliotheca Regia, 213. See Lingard'g History, vol. ix. p. 400. 



SIB JOHN ELIOT. 89 

which is scarcely to be credited !)^ with the addition of 
his first and rejected answer. Tonnage and poundage 
had heen recklessly levied. Richard Chambers^ Samuel 
Vassal^ and John Holies^ three distinguished merchants^ 
the last named of whom was a member of the house of 
commons^ had submitted to a seizure of their goods, 
rather than become parties to a violation of the pubHc 
liberties, and the judges had refused them protection. ^ 
Such was the news that travelled day by day to the seat 
of sir John EHot. To crown the whole^ Richelieu^ 
laying aside his hat for a helmet^ had^ by his personal 
appearance at Rochelle^ finally reduced that ill-fated 
place and driven back the disgraced English fleet. ^ 

But now^ bad news having spent itself^ the time fixed 
for the parliament approached. Eliot left his home^ to 
ivhich he was never to return^ and hurried up to London. 

Parhament met^ having suffered an intermediate pro- 
rogation^ on the 20th of January, 1829. The spirit 
-with which they reassembled was evidenced by their very 
first movement. They revived every committee of 
grievance. Sir John Eliot then moved a call of the 
house for the 27th, when vital matters, he said^ would be 
brought into discussion. It was further ordered, on 
his motion^ that '' Mr. Selden should see if the petition 
of rights^ and his majesty's answer thereunto, were 
enrolled in the parliament rolls and courts at West- 
minster, and in what manner." Selden having reported, 
almost immediately after, the gross fraud that had been 
practised, Pym rose and moved an adjournment of 
the debate ''by reason of the fewness of the house, 
many being not then come up." Sir John EHot's con- 
duct was characteristic. '' Since this matter," he 
said ^'is now raised, it concerns the honour of the 

> The conduct of the judges in this case showed how carefully they had 
attended to the significant suggestions of the king. " Vassal pleaded to the 
information the statute de t^iagio non concedendo. The court of exche. 
quer over.ruled hi; plea, and would not hear his counsel. Chambers sued 
out a replevin to recover possessioQk of his goods, on the ground that a 
seizure for tonnage and poundage, without grant of parliament, was 
against law ; but the writ was superseded by the court of exchequer.'* 

2 See History from Mackintosh, vol. v. p.' 110. 



90 BRITfSH STATESMEN. 

house^ and the liberties of the kingdom. It is true^ it 
deserves to be deferred till a fuller hoase^ but it is good 
to pr^are things ; for I find this to be a point of great 
consequence. I desire^ therefore^ that a select committee 
may both enter into consideration of this^ and also how 
other liberties of this kingdom have been invaded. I 
found, in the country^ the petition of right* printed 
indeed^ but with an answer that never gave any satis- 
faction. I desire a committee may consider thereof^ 
and present it to the house ; and that the printer may be 
sent for^ to be examined about it, and to declare by 
what warrant it was printed." Eliot's influence with 
the house was paramount ; what he proposed was in- 
stantly ordered, and the disgrace of the attempted im- 
position indelibly fixed upon the king. ^ 

£liot followed up this blow. The seizure of the goods 
of Mr. Rolles came into question ; some attempt was 
made to narrow the inquiry ; and sir Robert Philips pro- 
posed to refer the matter to a committee.. Sir John rose 
sharply. ^' Three things, sir," he said, " are involved 
in this complaint ; first, the right of the particular gen- 
tleman ; secondly, the right of the subject ; thirdly, the 
right and privilege of the house. Let the committee 
consider the two former ; but, for the violation of the 
liberties of this house, let us not do less than our fore- 
fathers. Was ever the information of a member com- 
mitted to a committee ? Let us send for the partieifl Is 
there not here a flat denial of the restitution of the goods? 
Was it not also said that if all the parliament were con- 
tained in him, they would do as they did ? Let them 
fe sent for" ^ The sheriff' of London, Acton, who seized 
the goods, was in consequence sent for, appeared at the 
bar on his knees, and was ordered to the Tower. The 
officers of the customs were, at the same time, punished.^ 

The fiery decision of Eliot had its usual effect upon 
the court.. The king sent a message to the house to 

^ See Parliamentary Hist, vol. viilM. 245, 246. The proceedings of this 
session are but imperflectly reported in Rusliworth's Collections. 
« Pari. HisL, vol. vlii. p. 255. 
3 Pari Hist, vol. vili. p. 287. 



SIR JOHN EXilOT. Ql 

desire them to forbear all further proceedings until he 
should have addressed both houses next day at White- 
hall as he purposed. His speech was an entreaty that 
they should not be jealous of him^ and an endeavour to 
impose upon them a self-evident absurdity — that he took 
tonnage and poundage^ as a '^ gift of the people," but 
as a gift^ forsooth^ for his life^ according to the custom 
of his predecessors; which he desired thero^ therefore^ 
to embody in a bill, since they had no discretion to with- 
hold it.^ This speech was not noticed by the commons. 

The 27th of January, the day fixed for the call of 
the house on Eliot's motion, arrived. The house was 
in debate on religious grievances. I have already alluded 
to the encouragement given to arminianism by the 
court, and to the justifiable alarm it had been viewed 
with by the popular party. Sir John Eliot's present 
purpose was to break the power of Laud, and to this full 
house he now presented himself in all the confidence of 
an eloquence which worked its greatest influence on 
minds of the greatest order, which could sway them at 
will to high excitement or wrap them in deepest ad- 
miration. The reader will perceive with what a sober 
dignity the opening passages of this speech are conceived. 

'^ Sir," he began, taking advantage of a rest in the 
debate which had been caused by Mr. Coriton, " I have 
always observed, in the proceedings of this house, our 
best advantage is in order ; and I was glad when that 
noble gentleman, my countryman, gave occasion to stay 
our proceedings j for I feared they would have carried us 
into a sea of confusion and disorder. And now having 
occasion to present my thoughts to you in this great and 
weighty business of religion, I shall be bold to give a 
short expression of my own affection ; and in that order 
that, I hope, will conduce best to the effecting of that 
work, and direct our labour to an end. To enter, sir, 
into a particular disquisition of the writings and opinions 
of divines, I fear it would involve us in a labyrinth that we 
riiall hardly get out of; and perchance hinder that way, 
and darken that path, in which we must tread. Before 

1 Pari Hut, ToL viil p. 256. Riuhworth, toI L p. 6K 



92 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

we know^ however^ what other men have declared^ it is 
necessary that we should presently ourselves lay down 
what is truth. I presume^ we came not hither to dis- 
pute of religion. Far be it from the thoughts of that 
church that hath so long time confessed it^ now to dis- 
pute it. Shall posterity think we have enjoyed our 
religion fourscore years sdmost^ and are we now doubtful 
of the defence }' God forbid. It may be, however^ sir^ 
and out of some things lately delivered I have not un- 
necessarily collected, that there is a jealousy conceived^ 
as if we meant so to deal with matters of faith^ that did 
not perhaps belong unto us^ as to dispute of matters of 
faith. It is our profession. They are not to be disputed. 
Neither will that truth be receded from, thi^^ long time 
held. Nor is that truth decayed. It is confirmed by 
parliament, because it was truth. And this, sir, before 
I come to deliver myself more particularly, give me leave, 
that have not yet spoken in this great cause, to give some 
apprehension I have of fear ; for it is not in the par- 
liament to make a new religion, neither, I hope, shall it 
be in any to alter the body of that truth which we now 
profess." 

Eliot now alluded to the declaration which I have 
alrea^ described as published in the king's name, but 
which had issued from the hand of Laud. *^ I must 
confess,, sir, amongst all those fears we have contracted, 
there ariseth to me not one of the least dangers in the 
declaration, which is made and published in his majesty's 
name : and yet, sir, this conclusion exclusively let me 
state, that I may not be mistaken, — whatever in this, or 
other things, shall appear to make mention of his ma- 
jesty, we have not the least suspicion of jealousy of him. 
I hope it is by those ministers about him^ which not 
only he, but all princes are subject to.*' The speaker then 
adduced various precedents which coverdy aimed at 
Laud. " As it was in that," he continued, " so it may- 
be in this. I speak to this end to draw it to this con- 
clusion, that if there be any thing that carrieth the title 
of his majesty, it may be the fault of his ministers. Far 
be it from me to have suspicion of him. And now to 



SIB JOHN ELIOT. QS 

that particular^ in that declaration ; wherein^ I confess^ 
with me^ is an apprehension of more fear than I have of 
all the rest ; for in the last particulars we heard what 
is said of popery and arminianism. It is true our faith 
and religion have before been in danger ; but it was by 
degrees. Here^ sir^ like an inundation^ it doth break 
in at once. We are in danger at once to be ruined and 
overwhelmed. For, I beseech you mark, the ground of 
our religion is contained in these articles. If there be 
any difference of opinions concerning the sense and in. 
terpretation of them, the bishops and clergy in convoca- 
tion have a power admitted to them here to do any thing 
which shall concern the continuance and maintenance 
of the truth professed ; which truth being contained in 
these articles, and these articles being different in the 
sense, if t}iere be any dispute about that, it will be in them 
to order which way they please ; and, for aught I know, 
popery and arminianism may be a sense introduced by 
them, and then it must be received. Is this a slight 
thing, that the power of religion must be drawn to the 
persons of those men ? I honour their profession and 
honour their persons ; but, give me leave to say, the 
truth we profess is not men's, but God's ; and God 
forbid that men should be made to judge of that truth I" 
This passage wrought upon the house ; and Eliot, 
throwing out a sarcasm with his usual skill and effect, 
thus continued: — *^'I remember a character I have seen 
in a diary of Edward VI., that young prince of famous 
memory, wherein he doth express the condition of the 
bishops and clergy in his time, and saith, under his own 
handwriting, ' that some for sloth, some for ignorance, 
some for luxury, and some for popery, are unfit for 
discipline and government.^ Sir, I hope, it is not so 
with us ; nay, give me leave to vindicate the honour of 
those men that openly show their hearts to the truth. 
There are amongst our bishops such as are fit to be 
made examples to all ages, who shine in virtue, like 
those two faithful witnesses in heaven, of whom we 
may use that eulogy which Seneca did of Caius — that 
to their memories and merits, ' Nee hoc quidem obstet 



94 BRITISH 8TATE8MBN. 

quod nostria temporibus nati sint ; ' and to whose me- 
mory and merit I may use the saying, that the others* 
faults are no prejudice to their virtues; who are so 
industrious in their works, that I hope postmty shall 
know there are men that are firm for the truth.* But, 
sir, that all now are not so free, sound, and orthodox in 
religion as they should be, witness the men complained 
of — and you know what power they have. Witness 
those men nominated lately — Mr. Montague, for in- 
stance. I reverence the order ; I honour not the man. 
Others may be named as bad. I apprehend such fear 
that, should it be in their power, we may be in danger 
to have our whole religion overthrown. 

'^ But," £Uot exclaimed, as he saw the excitement 
rising in the house, ^' I give this for testimony, and thus 
far do express myself against all the power and oppo- 
sition of these men ! Whensoever any opposition shall 
be, I trust we shall maintain the religion we profess, for 
in that we have been bom and bred — nay, sir, if cause 
be, in that I hope to die ! Some of these, sir, you know, 
are masters of ceremonies, and they labour to introduce 
new ceremonies in the church. Some ceremonies are 
useful ! Give me leave to join in one that I hold neces- 
sary and commendable, — that at the repetition of the 
creed we should stand up to testify the resolution of our 
hearts, that we would defend that religion we profess. 
In some churches it is added that they did not only 
stand upright with their bodies, hut with their swords 
drawn ! and if cause were, I hope, to defend our prince, 
country, and religion, we should draw our swords against 
all opposers !" ^ 

This speech, it has been remarked, was a light that 
fell into a well laid train. Its result was a '^ vow, " 
made on the journals, that " the Commons of England 
claimed, professed, and avowed for truth, that sense 
of the articles of religion which were established in 
parliament in the 13th year of queen Elizabeth, which, 
by the public acts of the church of England, and 

1 Pari. Hist, voL viU. p. £68. 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. 9^ 

hj the general and current exposition of the writers 
of that cburchj had heen declared unto them ; and that 
^ey rejected the sense of the Jesuits, Arminians^ and 
of all others^ wherein they differed from it." ^ Eliot 
did not fail to follow up this advantage. Some days 
afterwards he fastened upon Laud by name. '^ In this 
Laud^" he exclaimed, <^ is contracted all the danger that 
we fear 1 and I douht not but that his majesty, being 
informed thereof, will leave him to the justice of this 
house." 2 His majesty, meanwhile, was sending message 
after message to hasten the tonnage and poundage bill, 
every one of which, with admirable skill, was foiled by 
£liot and his friends.^ In vain the king continued 
his messages. Those were commands, they replied, 
and commands were inconsistent with their privileges* 
'* The heart-blood of the commonwealth," added Eliot, 
" receiveth life from the privileges of this house." * 

The question of religion surrendered to a sub-com. 
mittee, — the popular leaders had engaged themselves in 
a conclusion of the inquiry into the seizure of merchants' 
goods, with a view to the prevention of such future wrongs, 
by the infliction of some stringent punishment on the de- 
linquents concerned in the present. The chancellor of the 
dutchy threatened the displeasure of the king, and a 
close to the parliament. Eliot, cutting short his threat, 
quietly observed, '^ The question, sir, is, whether we 
shall first go to the restitution, or to the point of delin- 
quency. Some now raise up difficulties, in opposition to 
the point of delinquency, and talk of breach of parlia- 
ments. And other fears I met with, both in this and else- 
where. Take heed you fall not on a rock. I am confident 
to avoid this would be somewhat difficult, were it not 

1 Rushworth, vol. i. p. 649. ; Journals, Jan. 29. The 13th of Elizabeth 
was selected, becauKe the legislature had then ordered the clergy to suly 
Khbe the articles, and to read them in the churches, yet neither the Eng. 
Krii nor the Latin edition of that year contained the clause respecting 
the authority of the ministers of the church. 

« ParL Hist., vol. viii. p. 284. 

3 Evidences of this will be found throughout the debates; On one occa« 
•ton poor old secretary Cooke fell under a sharp rebuke A-om Eliot, and 
narrowly escaped a heavier censure. FarL Hist, vol. viii. p. S7S. 

« Pari Hist, voJ. viii p. 311. 



96 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

for the goodness and justice of the king. But let us do 
that which is just^ and his goodness will he so dear that 
we need not mistrust. Let those terrors that are threat- 
ened us^ light on them that make them. Why should 
we fear the justice of a king when we do that which is 
just ? Let there he no • more memory or fear of 
breaches ; and let us now go to the delinquency of those 
men. That is the only way to procure satisfaction/' ^ 
Upon this the king sent word that he was the delin- 
quent^ for that what the accused did, <' was by his own 
direct orders and command." ^ This brought matters to 
a crisis, and the house adjourned itself for two days. 

On the 25 th of February, when they reassemhled^ 
the committee of religion had concluded its report, and 
a long list of formidable charges, levelled against Laud, 
was agreed to be presented to the king. The question 
of the king's offence against the privileges of the house, 
in the seizure he had avowed, was thus judiciously 
avoided, — yet an opportunity given to Charles, by some 
redemption of the recently violated liberties, of receiving 
from the patriot leaders, without betrayal of their trust, 
a power of raising new subsidies. The king shoived 
his appreciation of this conduct by sending an instant 
command to both houses to adjourn to Monday, the 2d 
of March. ^ 

Eliot now saw what was intended, and prepared for it 
with a fearless composure. He drew up a remonstrance 
concerning tonnage and poundage. In this able docu- 
ment, nothing that is essential to a just opinion of the 
conduct of the Commons respecting the bill that had 
been proposed, is omitted. The delay is shown to have 
been necessary, and the purposes of the leaders of the 
house are nobly vindicated.- It concludes with a solemn 
statement, that '^ the commons had so framed a grant of 
subsidy of tonnage and poundage to your majesty, that 
you might have been the better enabled for the defence 
of your realm, and your subjects, by being secured from 

» Pari. Hist, vol. vili. p. 317. » Pari. Hist., vol. viii pu 318. 

» Pari HUt, voL viii. p. 326. Rushworth, vol i. p. 660. 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. 97 

M undue charges^ be the more encouraged cheerfully 
to proceed in their course of trade; but not being, now^ 
able to accomplish this their desire^ there is no course left 
unto them^ without manifest breach of their duty both 
to your majesty and their country^ save only to make 
this humble declaration, that the receiving of tonnage 
and poundage^ and other impositions not granted by 
parliament^ is a breach of the fundamental liberties of 
this kingdom^ and of your majesty's royal answer to the 
petition of rights."^ £liot, at the same time, drew up 
three articles of protestation, which ran thus: — " 1. 
Whoever shaU bring in innovation in religion^ or by 
favour seek to extend or introduce Popery or Arminian> 
ism^ or other opinions disagreeing from the true and 
orthodox church, shall be reputed a capital enemy to 
this kingdom and commonwealth. 2. Whosoever shall 
counsel or advise the taking and levying of the subsi. 
dies of tonnage and poundage^ not being granted byi 
parliament, or shall be an actor or instrument therein^ 
diall be likewise reputed an innovator in the govern- 
ment, and a capital enemy to this kingdom and com- 
monwealth. 3. If any merchant or other person 
whatsoever shall voluntarily yield or pay the said 
subsidies of tonnage and poundage^ not being granted 
by parliament ; he shall likewise be reputed a betrayer 
of die liberty of England, and an enemy to the same." ^ 
With these documents sir John £liot entered the 
bouse of commons on the morning of the 2d of 
March 'i629,/i>r the last time. , 

He waited only till prayers had been said^ and then 
arose. For the last time^ on that fatal day^ this great 
statesman struck, with daring eloquence, at a pro- 
fligate courtier and a dishonest churchman. '^ Buck- 
ingham is dead^'* he said^ ■ " but he lives in the bishop 
of Winchester and my lord treasurer Weston ! " 
(Weston^ it was understood^ had been a party to the dis- 

1 PbxL Hiii, ToL viii. p^ 927.; and lee the information afterwardt ex. 
bibitcd in the Star Chamber. Rushworth, vol L pp. G65, GG& 
s Rothworth, toL L pp. 6G0and 666. 

VOL. II. H 



98 bhitish statesmen. 

astrous advice by which> Eliot had anticipated too surely, 
they were now about to be dissolved. '^ In the person 
of the lord treasurer^" the orator continued^ amidst 
the interruptions of some, and the enthusiastic cheering 
of others, — ^^in his person all evil is contracted, for the 
innovation of religion, and for the invasion of our 
liberties. He is the great enemy of the commonwealth. 
I have traced him in all his actions, and I find him 
building on those grounds laid by his master^ the great 
duke. He, secretiy, is moving for this interruption. 
From fear, these men go about to break parliaments, lest 
parliaments should break them.*' £liot concluded^ as 
if by a forecast of the future, with these memorable 
words. " / protest, as I am a gentleman, if my Jbr^ 
tune be ever again to meet in this honourable assembly, 
where I now leave, I will begin again ! " ^ Advancing^ 
to the speaker, sir John Eliot then produced his re> 
monstrance, and desired that he would read it. The 
speaker refused. He presented it to the clerk at the 
table. The clerk also refused. With fearless deter- 
mination Eliot now read the remonstrance himself, and 
demanded of the speaker, as a right, that he should put 
it to the vote. Again the speaker refused. '' He was 
commanded otherwise by the king." A severe repri* 
mand followed from Selden, and the speaker rose to 
quit the chair. Denzil Hollis and Valentine dragged 
him back. Sir Thomas Edmonds and other pri\'y 
councillors made an attempt to rescue him, but '' with 
a strong hand " he was held down in die chair, and 
Hollis swore he should sit still, till it pleased them to 
rise. The house was now in open and violent disorder. 
The speaker weepingly implored them to let him go ; and 
sir Peter Hay man in reply renounced him for his kins- 
man ; — as the disgrace of his country, the blot of a noble 
family, and a man whom posterity would remember 
with scorn and disdain. Every moment increased the dii. 
order, till at last it threatened the most serious con- 
sequences. Some members, involuntarily, placed their 

1 Pari. Hut vol. vui. p. 326. 



SIB JOHN ELIOT. 99 

ftands upon their swords. Above the throng was again 
heard the voice of the steady and undaunted Eliot. 
*' I shall then express by my tongue what that paper 
should have done I *' He flung it down upon the floor, 
and placed the protestations I have described into the 
hands of Hollis. '^ It shall be declared by us/' he ex- 
claimed^ " that all that we suffer is the eflfect of new 
cout^ls^ to the ruin of the government of , the state. 
Let us make a protestation against those men^ whether 
greater or subordinate, that may hereafter persuade 
tlie king to take tonnage and poundage, without grant 
of parliament. We declare them capital enemies to 
the king and the kingdom ! If any merchants shall will- 
ingly pay those duties, without consent of parliament, 
they are declared accessories to the rest ! " Hollis in. 
stantly read Eliot's paper, put it to the house in the 
character of speaker, and was answered by tremendous 
acclamations. During this, the king had sent the 
Serjeant to bring away the mace, but he could not obtain 
admission ; and the usher of the black rod had followed, 
with the same ill success. In an extremity of rage, 
Charles then sent for the captain of his guard to force an 
entrance. But a later and yet more disastrous day was 
reserved for that outrage; for, meanwhile, Eliot's resolu- 
tions having been passed, the doors were thrown open, and 
the members rushed out in a body, carrying a king's 
officer that was standing at the entrance '^ away before 
them in the crowd." ^ Such was the scene of Monday 
the 2d of March I629, '^ the most gloomy, sad, and 
dismal day for England, that had happened for 500 
years." 2 

The king instantly went down to the house of lords, 

1 I state this on the authority of a MS. letter in the Sloane collection, 
(4178). The writer adds, " It is said that a Welsh page, hearing a great 
noise in the house, cried out, ' I pray you let hur in ! let hur in ! to Rive 
hur master his sword, for they are all a fighting.'*' Letter to Paul 
D'Ewes, dated March '5. 1628. 

s MS. diary of sir Symonds D'Ewes. For the various accounts of. this 
remarkable scene, from which I have drawn the above description, see 
Rufthworth, vol. i. p. G60.; Pari. Hist, vol. viii. pp. 3-26— 33a See also 
t&e inforauitton lodged against Eliot in the Star Chamber (Rush worth, i. 
p. 663.), and the pruceeding^ on the subsequent information in the King's 

H 2 



].0P BRITISH STATESMEN. 

called the leaders of the commons ^' vipers " who should 
have their rewards, and dissolved the parliament. ^ 

Two days afterwards, sir John Eliot received a 
summons to appear before the 'council table. This 
memorable scene closed his public life, and closed It 
worthily. He was asked " whether he had not spoken 
such and such words in the lower house of parliament, 
and showed unto the said house such and such a paper?" 
Keenly and resolvedly he answered, " that whatsoever 
was said or done by him in that place, and at that time^ 
was performed by him as a public man and a member 
of that house ; and that he was, and always will be, 
ready to give an account of his sayings and doings in 
that place, whensoever he should be called unto it by 
tliat house, where, as he taketh it, it is only to be 
questioned; and, in the meantime, being now but a 
private man, he would not trouble himself to remember 
what he had either spoken or done in that place, as 
a public man." He was instantly committed ; his study 
was entered by the kings warrant, and his papers 
seized. 2 

Much time elapsed before his case was finally ad- 
judged. I will present, however, in as few words as 
possible, the course of the proceedings that were taken. 
I am able to illustrate it by the help of letters of the 
lime. 

Eliot sued for his habeas corpus. An answer was. 

Bench ; State Trial«, vol. iii.; or Rushwortb, vol. i. pp. 679->691. The ex. 
aminations before the council table (Pari. Hist, vol. viiL p. S5x) will be 
found highly interesting. Sir Miles Hobart said, *' He would not stick to 
confess that it was he that shut the door that day ; and when he bad locked 
the door, put the key in his pocket [and he did it because the houi^e de-. 
manded itj.** Denzil Hollis, finding '* his majesty was now oSbnded with' 
Mm, humbly desired that he might rather be the sul^ect of his mercy than 
of his power.** To which the lord treasurer answered, ** You mean rather 
of his majesty's mercy than of his justice." Mr. Hollis replied, ** I say 
of his majesty's power, my lord." 

1 Pari. Hist, vol. viii. p. 333. ; and see Whitelocke*s Memorials, p. 13. ^^ I 
must needs say," observed the king, " that they do mistake me wonder, 
fblly, that think I lay the fault equally upon all the lower house ; for as I 
know there are many as dutifVil and loyal Kubjects as any are in the world, 
CO I know that it was only some vipers amongst them that had cast this 
mist of diflRsrence before their eyes." 

s Rushworth, vol L pi 661. 'the same was done with the studies of Sd. 
4en and Hollis. 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. 101 

returned in the shape of a general ivarrant, under the 
king's sign manual. The insufficiency of this return 
"was so clearly shown hy Eliot*s counsel in the course of 
tlie argument^ that the judges, " timid and servile, yfet 
desirous to keep some measures with their own con. 
sciences, or looking forward to the wrath of future 
parliamepts/' wrote what Whitelocke calls a " hurhhle 
and stout letter ^ " to the king, stating that they were 
bound to hail Eliot, hut requesting that he would send 
his directions to do so. This letter was not attended 
to ; the judges in consequence deferred" the time for 
judgment ; and Eliot was continued in custody. M^en 
the day at last arrived that judgment could no longer he 
deferred, the hody of Eliot was not forthcoming. In 
▼ain his counsel called for judgment; the judges, in the 
absence of the prisoner, declined. Eliot had been re- 
moved hy the king's warrant, the evening before the 
meeting of the court, from the custody of the keeper to 
whom his writ had been addressed ! Some days after, 
however, Charles consented that he should be brought 
up for admission to bail, on condition that he presented 
a petition declaring he was sorry he had offended. 
The condition was spumed at once. The offer was 
repeated by the judges ; but Eliot *' would do nothing, 
but resolutely move for his habeas corpus. Whereat 
one of the judges said, ^ Comes he to outface the 
court?*" and the severity of his imprisonment was 
ordered to be increased. ^ Some months passed away, 
and the question still remained unsettled. Charles then 
offered Eliot his privilege of bail, if he would give 
sureties for good behaviour. Eliot at once declared in 
answer, that he would never admit the possibility of 
o£^nding the law by liberty of speech in parliament. 

1 Whitelocke*! Memorials, ]). 14. The conduct of the judges was execrable ; 
and notwithstanding the eflbrts of Whitelocke to exculpate his father, judge 
Whitelocke, (in which he succeeded with the Long Parliament,) it is impos- 
' aible to discern a material (Ufference i^tween him and the rest 

s Sloane, MSS. 4178. Various striking accounts of the proceedings, as 
. tbey afl^ted all the prisoners, will be found in this vo1ume-~one nf those 
transcribed by Dr. Birch,— especially under dates June 10., June 25., June 
£8L, and October 15. 1629. See also p. 92. of the same volume. 

H 3 



102 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

The judges are described upon this to have suggested 
to him the possibility of bis remaining in prison even 
seven years longer. ^ He answered that he was quite 
prepared ; his body would serve to fill up the breach that 
was made in the public liberties as well as any other. 
The king now showed himself equally resolute ; and, 
refusing an enormous sum that had been offered for his 
bail '^y ordered the attorney-general to drop the proceecU 
ings in the Star Chamber^ and to exhibit an information 
against him in the King's Bench for words spoken 'in 
parliament. As member of a superior court at the 
period of the alleged offence^ he pleaded to the jurist- 
diction^ and thus brought in issue the great question of 
the privilege of the house of commons^ — the question^ 
in point of fact^ upon which the character of ^^ the 
English constitution " altogether depended. The battle 
was fought bravely by his counsel^ but vainly. The 
court held that they had jurisdiction; Eliot refused to put 
in any other plea; and judgment was finally given, that he 
'* should be imprisoned during the king's pleasure, should 
not be released without giving surety for good behaviour 
and making submission^ and, as the greatest offender and 
ringleader in parliament, should be fined in s€2000." ^ 
This iniquitous judgment found Eliot cheerfully 
prepared. He immediately sent to the lieutenant of 
the Tower " to provide him a convenient lodging, that 
he might send his upholsterer to trim it up." On 
being told of the fine, he smiled, and said, '^ that he 
had two cloaks, two suits, two pair of boots and ga- 
lashes ; and if they could pick 2000/. out of that^ much 
good might it do them.*' (I have already mentioned the 
course he had taken to provide for the worldly welfare 

* Letter, dated 15th of October. 

* It ig said by Mr. D'Israeli, on a private authority, that 10,0(XV. had been 
oflbred. This was vast indeed. Mr. D'Israeli doubts, however (Coin, 
nientaries, vol. ii. p. 281.), whether any bail could be tendeied, since Lliot 
was condemned to be imprisoned at the king's pleasure. Mr. I)' Israeli 
forgets that the bail was tendered during the proceedings, and not at theiv 
close. 

3 The arguments will be found in the State Trials, vol. lii. ; and in RutHu 
worth, vol I p. 67&— 691. The judgment was reversed by the Long Far. 
Uament 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. 103 

ttf his sons. His extensive estates were at present held 
by i^elatiyes in trust for their use.^) '' When I was first 
committed close prisoner to the Towei," he added, " a 
oommission was directed to the high sheriff of Cornwall^ 
and ^ve other commissioners^ my capital enemies^ to in. 
quire into my lauds and goods^ and to seize upon them 
for the Idng; hut they returned a nihil." ^ 1 could 
multiply the evidences of his easy, and even gay, hu* 
in0ar at this moment. He is described, for instance, 
to have '^ laughed heartily*' at receiving a message from 
the judges complaining of the '^misbehaviour of his 
page and servant, who, with others, had been tossing 
doga and cats in a blanket, in the open street of South-^ 
wark, near the King's Bench prison^ saying> ' We are 
judges of these creatures, and why should not y:e take 
GOT pleasure upon them, as well as other judges upon 
our master.?'" After some short delays, he was con- 
ducted to the Tower, where he had twice before under- 
gone imprisonment, and from which he never stirred 
again. A mau named Dudson, the under-marshal of 
the King*s Bench, who guarded him there, appears to 
have considered his person the peculiar property of a 
dungeon. '' Mr. lieutenant/' he said, on delivering 

1 Botcawen was one of the trustees. A letter to him, written by Eliot 
during his imprisonment, is preserved among the Eliot MSS. (fol. 56.), and 
tetc this beyond a doubt ** Having a great confidence in your worth, as I 
And you to have been selected by my father.in-law, I have presumed also 
for myself to name you in a trust for the management of that poor fortune 
which, through the disturbances of these times, I may not call my own. 
Your trouble will only be for the sealing of some leases now and then, upon 
eompositioiis of my tenants ; for which, as there is occasion, I have ap- 
pointed this bearer, my servant, Maurice Hill, to attend you, to whom 

Jour dispatch in that behalf shall be a full satisfaction of the trust" Sir 
ahn continued, nevertheless, as this extract intimates, to manage his pe- 
cuniary affairs himself as long as he was able, and in the early pare of hit 
Imprisonment he arranged with his own hand many of his tenants' leases. 
He was liberal in acts of kindness, and strict in matters of justice. He- 
grants his eldest son 9001. a year for the expenses of travelling abroad, a 
▼ery large allowance ; and writes back his opinion on a request flrom one 
of his tenants to have a wall rebuilt, to which he (Sir John) was not 
fiable, *' There would be more charity than wisdom in this." Maurice 
Hill was an invaluable servant to sir John in these extremities, and 
deserved the kindness with which the latter often subscribes himself" your 
loving .master." Mr. D'Israeli has given these interesting circumstances 
fit>m lord Eliot*s admirable communication. See Commentaries, vol. iv. 
p. 507. et seq. 

* I have derived the above fVom a letter in the Sloane coUection. Mead 
to StuteviUe, dated Feb. 27. 1629-30. 

H 4 



104 BBITIgH STATE8MBN. 

Eliot^ '^ I have brought you this worthy knight^ wliom 
I borrowed of you some few months ago^ and now do 
repay him again/'j 

A " convenient lodging" had not been prepared. 
The only accommodation that could be had was *^ a 
darke and sraoaky room." But he was not denied the use 
of books^ and writing materials were^ upon his earneist 
solicitation,, granted to him. Some of the letters 
written at this period from his dungeon have fortu- 
nately been preserved.^ A great philosophical work^ on 
which he employed himself, has also come down to us.^ 
These present sir John Eliot, in this last scene of all, not 
simply unshrinking in fortitude, true to himself, mag^ 
nanimous, and patient AH this he was ; — but something 
yet greater than this. It would seem certain that, soon 
after his imprisonment, a secret feeling possessed him that 
his active life had closed. He did not acknowledge it to 
himself distinctly, but it is not the less apparent. Daily, 
under his confinement, his body was sinking. Daily, 
as his body sank, his soul asserted independent 
objects and uses. " Not alone," says the poet, whose 
genius has just risen amongst us ^ — 

" Not alone ivhen life flows still do truth 
And power emerge, but also when strange chance 
Affbcts its current ; in unused conjuncture 
Where sickness breaks the body— hunger, watching. 
Excess, or languor — oftenest death's approach— 
Peril, deep joy, or woe." 

and now, as death approached Eliot — for, from the 
first month of his present imprisonment, it approached 
with the steadiest and surest step — a new world revealed 
itself, to be rescued and regenerated by his virtue ; a 
new tyranny to conquer, which needed not the physical 
aid that had deserted him in his struggle with the old ; 
a new government to establish which was within the 
control and accompUshment of all ; — " the monarchy of 

1 Mead to Stuteville, March 13. 1629-^. 
.' ^ Among the Eliot family papers. 

3 It may be seen in the Harleian collection, No. S228. 

* The author of Paracelsus, Mr. Robert Browning. There would be 
little danger in predicting that this writer will soon be acknowledged as a 
flnt-ratepoet Hehasalready proved himself one. 



- SIB JOHN ELIOT. 105 

man." He resolved to occupy the hours of his impri- 
sonment with a work that should have for its object the 
establishment of the independence of man's mind ; of 
its power over the passions and weaknesses of humanity^ 
of its means of wresting these to the purposes of its 
own government ; — the Illustration of the greatest good 
that could be achieved on earthy man's monarchy over 
bimself, a perfect and steady self-control. Such a 
plan, while. it. embraced the lofty thoughts that now 
sought freedom from his over.informed and sinking 
body, would enable him also to vindicate the course 
he had pursued in his day of strength and vigour ; and, 
in leaving to his countrymen, finally, an unyielded pur^^ 
pose, an unquailing endurance, a still unmitigated hatred 
of oppression, would teach them, at the same time, 
that these great qualities had victories of their own to 
achieve, in which no worldly power could foil them ; 
and that, supposing the public struggles of the time 
attended with disastrous issue, it was not for man, with 
his inherent independence, to admit the possibility of 
despair. If greater virtue, and beauty, and general 
perfectness of character, have at any time, in any age or 
coantry, been illustrated, I have yet to learn when, and 
by whom. 

These thoughts and purposes of Eliot soon broke 
upon his friends. Hampden was watching his im- 
prisonment with the most anxious solicitude. It is one 
proof of the virtuous character of this great man having 
already dawned, that Eliot had entrusted to him the 
care of his two sons. Soon after the commencement of 
his imprisonment, Hampden, who discharged this duty 
with afiectionate zeal, received from Eliot a long letter 
of advice and counsel for them, which sufficiently in- 
dicated the studies that already engaged himself. The 
opening of it shows the last lingering of the struggle 
which was soon to settle to a perfect composure. ^ 
'' Bonns," he begins, " if my desires had been valuable 

' All the extracts firom letters that follow, unless otherwise specified, ate 
npn the EUot family papers, already referred to. 



106 BRITISH BTATESMtK. 

for one hour, I had long since written to you — -whieh^ 
in little^ does deliver a large character of my fortane, 
that in nothing has allowed me to be master of mysdf* 
I have formerly been prevented by ^nployment, whidi 
was so tyrannical on my time^ as all minutes were anti- 
cipated; now my leisure coittradicts me, and is soe 
violent on the contrary, soe great an enemy to all action, 
AS it makes itself unuseful; — both leisure and bunness 
have opposed me either in time or liberties that I have 
had no means of expression but my praiers^ in which I 
have never failed to make God the witness of my love, 
whose blessings I doubt not will deduce it in some evi-* 
dence to you. And now having gotten a little oppor- 
tunity (though by stealth), I cannot but give it some 
testimony from myself, and let you see my dearest 
expectation in your good." He goes on to say with 
what delight he will always hear ^* of the progress of 
your learning, of your aptness and diligence in that^ of 
your careful attendance in all exercises of religion, and 
the instruction and improvements of your minds, which 
are foundations of a future building." Some of the 
philosophy of his own life he then presents to them. 
'^ It is a fine history, well studied, — the observation of 
ourselves." He describes to them the many evils he has 
endured, the continuity of his sufferings, ^^ of which 
there is yet no end. Should those evills/' he continues, 
" be complained ? Should I make lamentation of these 
crosses ? Should I conceave the worse of my condition 
in the study of myself that my adversities oppose me ? 
Noe ! I may not — (and yet I will not be so stoical as 
not to think them evils, I will not do that prejudice to 
virtue by detraction of her adversaries). They are 
evills, for I doe confess them, but of that nature and 
soe followed, soe neighbouring upon good, as they are 
noe cause of sorrow, but of joy ; seeing whose enemies 
they make us, — enemies of fortune, enemies of the world, 
enemies of their children; and knowing for whom we 
suffer, — for him that is their enemy, for him that can 
command them whose agents only and instruments theyi 



SIB JOHN ELIOT. 107 

are to work his trials on us, which may fender us taott 
jierfect and acceptable to himself. Should these enforce a 
eonrow, which are the true touches of his favour^ and 
not affect us rather with the higher apprehension of our 
happiness ? Amongst my many obligations to my Crea* 
tor, which prove the infinity of his mercies that like a 
full stream have been always flowing on me, there is 
none concerning this life, wherein I have found more 
pleasure or advantage, than in these trialls and afflictions 
(and I may not limitt it soe narrowly within the con- 
fines of this life which I hope shall extend much further)^ 
— the operations they have had, the new effects they 
worke, the discoveries they make upon ourselves, upon 
others, upon all." Nobly and beautifully he subjoins, 
*^ This happiness in all my trials has never parted from 
me. How great then is his favour by whose means I 
have enjoyed it ! The days have all seemed pleasant, nor 
nights have ever been tedious, nor fears nor terrors have 
possest me^ — ^but a constant peace and tranquillity of the 
mind^ whose agitation has been chiefly in thanks and 
acknowledgments to him by whose grace I have sub* 
sisted, and shall yet I hope participate of his blessings 
upon you. I have the more enlarged myself in this, 
that you might have a right view of the condition which 
I suffer, least from a bye relation, as through a per- 
spective not truly representing, some false sence might 
be contracted. Neither could I tbinke that altogether 
unusefuU for your knowledge which may afford you 
both precept and example. Consider it, weigh it duly^ 
and when you find a signe or indication of some error, 
make it an instruction how to avoid the like ; if there 
appears but the resemblance of some virtue, suppose it 
better, and make it a president for yourselves ; when 
you meet the prints and footsteps of the almightie, 
magnify the goodness of his providence and miracles 
that makes such low descents ; consider that there is a 
nature turns all sweetness into venom, when from the 
bitterest hearbs the bee extracts a honie. Industry and 
liie habit of the soule give the effect and operation upon 



108 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

all things, and that to one seems barren and unpleasant 
to another is made fruitful! and delightsome. Even in 
this^ by your application and endeavour^ I am confident 
'may be found both pleasure and advantage. This comes 
only as a testimony of my love (and soe you must accept 
it^ the time yielding noe other waie of demonstration), 
and by this expression know that I daily praie for your 
happiness and felicity as the chief subject of my wishes, 
and shall make my continual supplication to the Lord, 
-that from the riches of his mercie he will give you such 
influence of his graces as your blessing and prosperitie 
may satisfy, and enlarge the hopes and comforts of your 
most affectionate father." 

This is the nature which turns venom into sweetness. 
Hampden hastens to assure him that the present con- 
duct of his sons is all he could desire. " If ever you 
live/' he writes, ^* to see a fruite answerable to the pro- 
mise of the present blossoms, it will be a blessing of 
that weight as will turn the scale against all worldly 
afflictions, and denominate your life happy." His affec- 
tion had spoken with too generous a haste. The elder son, 
John £liot, who had been sent, by his father's desire, to 
Oxford, fell into many irregularities, and greatly offended 
the superiors of his college.^ This was afterwards only 
slightly intimated to his father, but it cost him much 
pain. The younger boy, Richard £liot, remained at 
Hampden's seat, and pursued his studies under Hamp- 
den's care. He appears to have interested his illustrious 
tutor extremely. Delicately, however, Hampden is 
obliged to intimate to ^ his friend, at last, that even 
Richard is somewhat remiss in his studies. Eliot im- 
mediately writes to the boy. He begins by a slight 
reproach for his not having written to his father. ^^I 
had no little doubt, after so long a silence, where you 
were, or whether you were or no.** He desires him to 
forego the temptations of his young acquaintance ; to 

1 This ycuth afterwards, as I have already noticed, ** ran off** with a 
ward in chancery. He became, ultimately, a hanger-on in the court of 
Charles II. Evelyn mentions him. 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. , 109 

forego, indeed, all society for the present, '^tbat eaca 
malarum, as Cicero calls it,'* and to retire wholly to 
himself. ^' Virtue," he continues, '^ is more rigid than 
to be taken with delights ; these vanities she leaves, for 
these she scorns herself; her paths are arduous and. 
rough, but excellent, and pleasant to those who once 
have past them. Honour is a concomitant they have 
to entertain them in their journey, nay it becomes their 
servant, and, what is attended by all others, those who 
travel in that way have it to wait on them. And this 
effort of virtue has not, as in the vulgar acceptation ; its 
dwelling on a hill ; it crowds not in the multitude, but 
extra conapectum, as Seneca says, beyond the common 
prospect." He illustrates this further by some quota- 
tions from his favourite Tacitus. That there was no 
pedantry in this habit is proved by such familiar resort 
to it in an affectionate advice to his boy. At this time, 
indeed, as I qhall presently show, he was living in the 
world of the illustrious thinkers of old, and had entitled 
himself to it as his own. He concludes his letter with 
the following eloquent and earnest remonstrance : '^ How 
comes it that your tutpr should complain you are care- 
less and remiss? It cannot he, when there is true 
affection, there should be indiligence and neglect; when 
studie is declined the desires are alienated from the vir- 
tue ; for no ends are attained without the means, and the 
neglect of that shows a diversion from the other. If it 
be since my last, I must resume my fears, that though 
your own judgment did not guide you, my cautions 
should be lost. If it should be hereafter, when that 
advise, those reasons, and the commands and authority 
of a father (a father most indulgent to the happiness of 
his child), which I now give you, — to redeem the time is 
spent, to redeem the studies you have missed, and to 
redeem yourself who are ingaged to danger, or that 
hazard and adventure, — if these make no impressions, 
and these must be read in the characters of your course ; 
if they work not an alteration ; if they cause not a new 
diligency and intention ; an intention of yourself, and in- 



110 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

tention of the object, virtue ; an intention of the means, 
your study, and an exact intention of the time to im- 
prove it to that end ; — I shall then receive that wtmnd, 
which I thank God no enemy could give me, sorrow 
and affliction of the mind, and that from him from whom 
I hoped the contrary. But I still hope, and the more 
confidently for the promise which your letters hare 
assured me. Let it be bettered in performance by your 
future care and diligence, which shall be accompanied 
with the prayers and blessings of your most loving 
father. 

Ultimately Eliot, having been much entreated to it by 
his son John, consents that he shall go abroad, and writes 
to Hampden mentioning this, adding his desire^ that, 
before the youth's departure, he should endeavour to 
obtain his " licence," or d^ree, at Oxford. He forwards 
at the same time a letter of advice and instruction, re- 
specting a course and object in travel. He is particular 
in his directions as to the places to be visited, in what 
order, and with what puipose. He shows in this a 
lively knowledge of the state of politics on the Conti- 
nent. " Be careful," he urges in conclusion, " in your 
religion, make your devotions frequent, seeke the bless- 
ing from above, drawe your imitation to goode pattemes, 
lett not vaine pedantries deceive you, prepare your esti- 
mation by your virtue, which your own carriage and 
example must acquire, wherein you have assistants in 
the most earnest prayers and wishes of your loving 
father." In the same communication to Hampden, Eliot 
sends an expression of his views respecting his younger 
son, Richard. He considers that the best mode of em- 
ploying with a good purpose his quick and vivacious 
humour, will be to send him to the Netherlands, to learn 
the art of war, in the company of sir Horace Vere. A 
passage from Hampden's reply on these points, which is 
charmingly written, wiU properly close this subject. " I 
ame so perfectly acquainted," he says, *' with y^ cleare 
insight into the dispositions of men, and ability to fitt 
them with courses suitable, that had you bestowed sonnes 



8IB JOBN ELIOT. Ill 

•f mine as you have done y' owne^ my judgm^ durst 
hardly have called it into question^ especially when in 
laying downe y^^ designe you have prevented the ohjec 
tions to be made ag^ it : for if Mr. Richard Eliot will^ 
in the intermissions of action^ adde study to practice^ 
and adome that lively spiritt with flowers of contempla* 
tion^ heUl raise our expectations of another sir Edward 
[Horace] Vere^that had this character^ all summer in the 
fields all winter in his study/ in whose fall fame makes 
this kingdome a great looser : and having taken this reso- 
lution from counsaile with the Highest Wisdom (as I 
doubt not but you have), I hope and pray the same 
Power will crown it with a blessing answerable to your 
wish." 

It is a great privilege to be thus admitted to tl^ pri- 
vate thoughts and conduct of such men as Eliot and 
Hampden. The secret of their public exertions is here 
expressed. It is by the strength and right direction of 
the private affections^ that we are taught the duty of 
serving mankind. The more intense the faculty of 
enjoyment and comfort in the narrow circle of family 
regards, the more readily is its indulgence sacrificed in 
behalf of the greater family of man. The severity of 
Eliot in the house of commons is explained by the 
tender sweetness of these letters from the Tower. 

Without a hope of release^ Eliot's imprisonment 
continued. The whole county of Cornwall^ I learn from 
a manuscript letter^ petitioned the king for his freedom ^^ 
but no answer was deigned. Sustained by the genius 
of Wentworth, Charles's tyranny was now open and 
undisguised ; and^ in a royal proclamation^ he had for- 
bidden even the name of parliament to pass the lips of 

1 Mead to Stuteville, Sept. 26. IG2a MS. letter. Nor was Eliot without 
tiw sympathy of men of learning, correspondents of sir Robert Cotton, in 
London, at the universities, and on the Continent *' I should gladly heare 
•ome cheerful news of sir John Eliot," writes the learned Richard James. 
** Will the tide never turn ? Then God send us heaven at our last end ! " 
Nor is it to be supposed that any possible exertion was wanting on the part 
of his friends. Sir Bevill Orenville, in a letter to his wife, " his best friend, 
the lady Grace Grenville," goeaks of Eliot, as " being resolved to have him 
out of hia imprisonment." {Nugent*s Memoriais.) £very exertion failed. 



112 BRITISH BTATE8UBN, 

the people.^ Eliot was not even suffered to remain 
quietly in his wretched lodging. He was removed from 
place to place, each one as " darke and smoaky" as the 
first. " The lodging which I had upon my first re- 
remove hefore Christmas^" he writes to sir OHver Luke^ 
*' heing again altered^ I may sale of my lodgings in the 
Tower as Jacob for his wages^ ' 'Sow, then^ ten times 
have they chaungedit;' but, I thank God, not once haslt 
caused an alteration of my mind — so infinite is that 
mercie which has hitherto protected mee, and I doubt not 
but I shall find it with mee." He concludes iSy refer- 
ring to some " light papers'* which seem to have engi^ed 
him in the intervals of his greater work. '^ When 
you have wearied your good thoughts with those light 
papers that I sent you, return them with the corrections 
of your judgment. I may one day send you others of 
more worth, if it please God to continue me this leisure 
and my healthy but the best can be but broken, and in 
patches from him that dares not hazard to gather them. 
Such thinges, from me, falling like the leaves in autumn 
soe variously and uncertainly, Aat they hardly meet 
again — but with you I am confident what else my 
weakness shall present will have a faire acceptance." 
This allusion to his health was ominous. Sickness had 
already begun to threaten him. 

Some days after this, he writes to his kinsman 
Knightley (whose son afterwards married one of Hamp- 
den's daughters)^ a description of what he conceives 
to have been the commencement of his disorder^ the 

1 Rushworth. vol ii. p. 3. In thia extraordinary document, the king 
took occasion also to attack Eliot In reference, it niay be supposed, to his 
commissioners of inquiry into E9iot*s property havins had a ** nihil" re- 
turned to them, Charles observes, ** Notwithstanding his majesty's late de-. 
claration, for satisfying the minds and affections of his loving subjects, 
some ill-disposed persons do spread false and pernicious rumours abroad ; 
as if the scandalous and seditious proposition in the house vf commons, 
made by an outlawed man, desperate in nUnd and forhme, tmnultuously 
taken by some f!ew, after that by his majesty's royal authoritv he had com- 
manded their adjournment, haa been the voice of the whole house, wh«e- 
as the contrary is the truth." I'hc words I have printed in italics are not 
in Rushworth, but Rymer supplies them. (Fodera, xix. 62.) The in- 
fiituated king continues, ** This late abuse having for the present driven 
his majesty unwillingly out of that course, he shall accomt itpresumption 
for any to prescribe any time to his mi^jesty for pariiaments ; the calling, 
cootinuing, and dissolving of them bdng always in the king's own power.** 



. BIB J^HN ELIOT. 113 

colds of his prison. " For the present I am wholly at 

a standi and have been soe for this fortnight by a sick- 

nesse which it has pleased my master to impose^ in 

whose hands remain the issues of life and death. It 

comes originally from my colds^ with which the cough 

having been long upon me causes such ill effects to 

follow it^ that the symptoms are more dangerous than 

the grief ; it has weakened much both the apetite and 

concoction^ and the outward strength; by that some 

doubt there is of a consumption, but we endeavour to 

prevent it by application of the means^ and^ as the great 

physition^ seek the blessing from the Lord." Good 

humour and easy quiet, however, did not desert him^ 

though his disease steadily advanced. A week after the 

date of the foregoing, he writes to Hampden, — '' Lately 

my business hath heen much with doctors, so that, but 

by them, I have had little trouble with myself. These 

three weeks I have had a full leasure to do nothings and 

strictly tied unto it either by their direction or my 

weakness. The cause originally was a cold, but the 

symptoms that did follow it spake more sickness ; a 

gradual indisposition it begot in all the faculties of the 

bodie. The learned said a consumption did attend it, 

but I thank God I did not feel or credit it. What 

they advised as the ordinance that's appointed I was 

content to use, and in the time I was a patient, suffered 

whatever they imposed. Great is , the authority of 

princes, but greater much is their's who both command 

our purses and our wills. What the success of their 

government wills, must be referred to him that is master 

of their power. I find myself bettered, though not 

well, which makes me the more readie to observe them. 

The divine blessing must effectuate their wit — it is 

that medicine that has hitherto protected me, and will 

continue me amongst other affairs to remain your faithfull 

friend." It is affecting to observe, even in his manner of 

writing, a characteristic of the fatal disorder that had 

seized him. 

As his illness became more determined, the severity of 

VOL. II. I 



114 BRITISH STjAeSMEN. 

his imprisomnent was increased. Pory the letter writer^ 
indeed, remarked^ about this time, " I heare sir J<dm 
Eliot is to remove out of his darke smoakey lodging 
into a better ;" but I can find no evidence of the re- 
moval. On the contrary, shortly before his last letter 
to Hampden, he had written to Bevil GrenviHe (who 
then opposed the court, but afterwards, with no sus- 
picion of his virtue, died fighting for the king at 
Landsdowne) a statement of increased restraint. His 
friend had by letter alluded to some rumours that 
were then abroad^, and on the faith of which Pory 
seems to have gossiped, as above, of his probable liber* 
ation. '^ The restraint and watch uppon me," Eliot an. 
swers, '' barrs much of my intercourse with my friends ; 
while their presence is denied me, and letters are soe 
dangerous and suspected, as it is little that way we 
exchange ; soe as if circumstances shall condemn me, 
I must stand guiltie in their judgments; yet yours, 
(though with some difficultie I have received, and monie 
times when it was knocking at my door, because their 
convoy could not enter they did retire again, wherein I 
must commend the caution of your messenger, but at 
length it found a safe passage by my servant) — made mee 
happie in your favour, for which this comes as a, retri- 
bution and acknowledgment For those rumours which 
you meet diat are but artificial, or by chance, it must 
be your wisdom not to credit them. Manie such false 
fires are flyinge dailie in the ear. When there shall be 
occasion, expect that intelligence from frends ; for which 
in the meene time you do well to be provided ; though I 
shall crave when that dispute falls, properlie and for 
reasons not deniable, a change of your intention in par- 
ticulars as it concerns myselfe, — in the rest I shall con- 
cur in all readiness to serve you, and in all you shall 

1 These rumours previdled strongly at one time. They arose out of whit^ 
pers of a possibility of a parliament ; and I find it stated in a letter among 
the Harleian MSS., 7000., dated Dec. 14. 1631.2, that ** Sir John Eliot had 
lately been courted and caressed in his prison by some great men who are 
most in danger to be called in question." If any such overtures were 
made to him. it is certain that he continued immoveabla Rapin, indeed, 
•avs distinctly (vol. x. p. S63. note), ** Sir John Eliot had been tampered 
with, but was found proof against all temptation.** 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. Il5 

command me who am nothing hut as you Tepresent." 
His concluding words are affecting. " My humhle 
service to your ladie, and tell her that yet I douht not 
to kisse her hand. Make much of my godson." 

Immediately after this^ instead of any evidence of 
better treatment^ I have to furnish proof of an acces. 
non of the most savage and atrocious severity. Eliot 
hitherto had heen permitted^ under certain restrictions^ 
to receive visits from his friends. This poor privilege 
was now withdrawn^ and — it is well that this is to he 
offered on the best authority^ or I could not have asked 
the reader to give credence to it — the comfort of a 
fire^ necessary to life in a damp prison^ whose inmate 
already struggled with a disorder brought on by cold^ 
was, in the depth of winter, wholly, or almost wholly, 
denied to Eliot! On the 26th of December, l631, 
he thus writes to Hampden : — '' That I write not to you 
anything of intelligence, will be excused when I do let 
you know that I am under a new restraint, by warrant 
from the king, for a supposed abuse of liberty, in ad- 
mitting a free resort of visitants, and under that color 
holding consultations witii my friends. My lodgings are 
removed, and I am now where candle-light may be 
suffered, hut scarce fire. I hope you will think that 
this exchange of places makes not a change of minds. 
The same protector is still with me, and the same con- 
fidence, and these things can have end by him that gives 
Ihem heing. None but my servants, hardly my son, 
may have admittance to me. My friends I must desire, 
for their own sakes, to forbear coming to the Tower. 
You among them are chief, and have the first place in 
this intelligence. I have now leisure," he continues, 
with affecting resignation, ^^ and shall dispose myself to 
business ; therefore those loose papers which you had, I 
wotdd cast out of the way, being now returned again 
uoto me. In your next give me a word or two of note ; 
for those translations you excepted at, you know we are 
blind towards ourselves ; our friends must be our glasses ; 

I 2 . 



Il6 BBITISH STATESMEN. 

therefore in this I craye (what in all things I desire) 
the reflection of your judgment." 

Thus, in the midst of his worst sufferings^ Eliot had 
the consolation and sustainment of the philosophical work 
in which be had engaged. His own study^ as I hare 
described, had been plundered of its papers and sealed 
up by the king; but his friends supplied him with 
books ; and in this office, as in every other care and 
kindness, Hampden was most forward. ^ Sir Robert 
Cotton's library would have proved of inestimable value 
to Eliot at this time, as some few years before it had 
served a kindred spirit^, but the atrocious tyranny that 
now prevailed had reached its learned owner. Accused 
of having furnished precedents to Selden and Eliot, sir 
Robert Cotton's great library was seized and held by the 
king ; and, unable to survive its loss, the great scholar 
died.^ I have spoken of a kindred spirit with that 
of Eliot. It is impossible, in describing Eliot's labours 
at this moment — when. 



■active still, and unrestrain'd, his mind 



Explor'd the lon^ extent of ages past 

And with his prison hours enrich'd the world. 

— not to recollect sir Walter Raleigh. Kindred they 
were, at least, in magnanimity of spirit and lai^.-* 
ness of intellect. If it were worth while, I could 
point out other resemblances. Their faces, in portraits 

1 I shall have a more proper opportunity (in the notice of Hampden) 
of eliciting a number of delighttXil personal characteristics tram his present 
conduct to his friend. 

a Sir Walter Raleigh. See an interesting letter in the Biograpbia Bri. 
tannica, vol. v. p. 3485. 

3 The following extract from sir Symonds D'Ewes' diar^ is decnly af. 
fecting: — *' When I went several times to visit and comfort him [sir Robert 
Cotton] in the year 1630, he would tell me, * they had broken his heart, 
that had locked up his library from him.* 1 easily guessed the reason, be. 
«au8e his honour and esteem were much impaired by this fatal accident; 
and his house, that was formerly frequented by great and honourable per- 
sonages, as by learned men of all sorts, remained now, upon the matter, 
empty and desolate. I understood ftrom himself and others, that Dr. 
Neile and Dr. Laud, two prelates that had been stigmatized in the first 
[last ?3 session of parliament in IQSS^ were his sore enemies. He was so 
outworn, within a few months, with anguish and grief, as his face, which 
had formerly been ruddy and well colored, was wholly changed into a 
grim and blackish paleness, near to the resemblance and hue of a dead 
visage.*' Within a " few months " more he died. 



■^ 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. 117 

I have seen, were strongly like. They were hoth of old 
Devonshire families ; hoth were new residents in Com. 
wall ; and, through the Champemownes, one of whom 
had given hirth to Raleigh, their families were in a de- 
gree related. ^ They hoth died victims of the grossest 
tyranny, hut not till they had illustrated to the world 
examples of fearless endurance, and left, for the world's 
instruction, the fruit of their prison hours. In one 
particular here, or rather accident, the resemhlance 
fails ; for Raleigh's intention of henefit was fulfilled hy 
the puhlication of his labours, while Eliot's have re- 
mained to the present day unpublished, disregarded, 
almost unknown. I shall shortly endeavour to remove 
from literature at least a portion of this reproach ; and, 
in doing so, an opportunity will be given to EUot him- 
self to complete this allusion to Raleigh, by one of the 
finest tributes that has yet been paid to that gallant and 
heroic spirit. 

The health of the imprisoned philosopher sank day 
by day. His " attorney at law,** however, told Pory 
that he was the same cheerful and undaunted man as 
ever. His friends now appear to have resolved to make 
a desperate effort to save him. I quote from one of 
Pory's manuscript letters to sir Robert Puckering. 2 
" On Tuesday was se'nnight, Mr. Mason of Lincoln's 
Inn made a motion to the judges of the King's Bench 
for sir John Eliot, that, whereas the doctors were of 
opinion he could never recover of his consumption until 
such time as he might breathe in purer air, they would, 
for some certain time, grant him his enlargement for 
that purpose. Whereunto my lord chief justice Richard- 
son answered, that, although sir John were brought 
low in body, yet was he as high and lofty in mind ae 
ever, for he would neither submit to the king, nor to 
the justice of that court. In fine, it was concluded by 
the bench to refer him to the king by way of petition." 

Eliot refused to do this, proceeded still with his 

i See a statement at p. 2. of this memoir: and Biog. Brit vol. v. p. 3467. 
* Sloane MSS. 4178. 

I 3 



118 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

treatise, and uttered no complaint. Hampden con- 
tinued to send him books, and, with delicate good sense^ 
rallies him to his labours. *^ Make good use of the 
bookes you shall receive from mee, and of jour time ^ 
be sure you shall render a strict account of both to 
your ever assured friend.*' As the work progressed, it 
was sefit in portions to Hampden, who criticised it^ 
and, as I shall show, gave value to his praise by 
occasional objection. '* And that to satisfy you, not 
myselfe, but that by obeying you in a command so 
contrary to my own disposition, you may measure how 
large a power you have over John Hampden." Very 
little political allusion passed in these letters. It was a 
dangerous subject to touch, for Eliot's correspondence 
was never safe from exposure. ^ Some time before, he 
had mentioned this, as we have seen, to Grenville ; 
and he wrote to Denzil Hollis a letter which bears 
upon political affairs, but only in dark hints, which he 
might not express more plainly. '^ Through a long 
silence," he says, " I hope you can retaine the confidence 
and memoire of your frende. He that knows your 
virtue in the generale cannot doubt any particular of 
your charitie. The corruption of this age, if no other 
danger might occur, were an excuse, even in business, 
for not writing. The sun, we see, begets divers mon- 
sters on the earth when it has heat and violence ; time 
may do more on paper ; therefore the safest intercourse 
is hy harts ; in this way I have much intelligence to 
give you, but you may divine it without prophesie." 

Nearly four years had now passed over Eliot in his 
prison. Those popular leaders who had been sub- 
jected to confinement at the same time, had all of them, 
within the first eighteen months, obtained their release. ^ 

1 Many of Hampden's most beautiful letters never reached him. 

^ Before Valentine had obtained his bail, £liot began to suspect him of 
juggling for release; and he writes of him to a firiend; Thomas Godfrey, 
** This is all I can tell you of him, unless by supposition I could judge 
him in his reservations and retirement, knocking at some back door of tlie 
court, at which if he enter to preferment, you shall know it from your 
faithful friend." I could fUmish many such proofs of the jealous care with 
which Eliot watched the vixtue of his friends. 



SIB JOHN ELIOT. 119 

JEIiot only was detained* After the eonclasion of the 
treatise that had so long served to keep up his interest 
9Skd attention^ he appears to have sunk rapidly. Almost 
wome out by his illne^s^ his iriends at last prevailed 
upon him to petition the king. The account of his 
" manner of proceeding " is affecting to the last degree. 
I give it in the words of a letter from Pory to sir 
Thomas Puckering. '^ Hee first presented a petition to 
his majesty^ by the hand of the lieutenant his keeper^ 
to this effect : — ' Sir^ your judges have committed mee to 
prison here in your Tower of London^ where^ by reason of 
the quality of the ayer^ I am fallen into a dangerous 
disease. I humbly beseech your majesty you will com- 
mand your judges to sett mee at liberty^ ,that for 
recovery of my health I may take some frei^ ayer^' &c, 
Whereunto his majestie's answere was^ ' it was not 
humble enough.' Then sir John sent another petition 
by his own sonne to the effect following : -~ ' Sir^ I am 
hartily sory I have displeased your majesty^ and^ having 
80 said^ doe humbly beseech you once againe to comand 
your judges to sett me at liberty^ that when I have 
recovered my healthy I may returne back to my prison^ 
there to undergoe suche punishment as God hath 
allotted unto mee,' &c. Upon this the lieutenant came 
and expostulated with him^ saying, it was proper to him^ 
and common to none else^ to doe that office of delivering 
petitions for his prisoners. And if sir John^ in a third 
petition, would humble himselfe to his majesty in ac- 
knowledging his fault and craving pardon, he would 
willingly deliver it, and made no doubt but hee should 
obtaine his hberty. Unto this sir John's answer was 
— * I thank you, sir, for your friendly advise, but my 
spirits are growen feeble and faint, which when it shall 
please God to restore unto their former vigour, I will 
take it farther into my consideration.' ** ^ 

That this is a perfectly correct account, cannot be 
doubted. Pory collected the particulars after the death 
of Eliot, and giires us his authority. ^^ A gentleman," he 

1 Harleian MSS. 7000. 
I 4 



120 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

says, " not unknown to sir Thomas Lucy^ told me from 
lord Cottington's mouthy that sir John Eliot's late man- 
ner of proceeding was this." Moreover^ in one of 
lord Cottington's own despatches to Wentwortb^ the 
savage satisfaction with which the court had received^ 
and with which they knew lord Wentworth would also 
receive, the assurance of the approaching death of the 
formidable Eliot, is permitted to betray, itself. ^' Your 
old dear friend sir John Eliot," observes the chancellor 
of the exchequer to the lord deputy of Ireland, winding 
up a series of important advices with this, the most 
important of all, '' is very like to die." ' 

Within two months from that date lord Cottington's 
prediction was accomplished. Eliot, however, had yet 
a duty of life left, which he performed with character- 
istic purpose. He sent for a painter to the Tower, and 
had his portrait painted, exactly as he then appeared, 
worn out by disease, and with a face of ghastly paleness. 
This portrait he gave to his son, that it might hang on 
the walls of Port Eliot near a painting which repre- 
sented him in vigorous manhood, — a constant and vivid 
evidence of the sufferings he had unshrinkingly borne, 
'^ a perpetual memorial of his hatred of tyranny**^ 
These pictures are at Port Eliot still. I have been 
favoured with a loan of the earlier portrait, by the 
courtesy of lord St. Germains. It represents a face 
of perfect health, and keenly intellectual proportions. 
In this respect, in its wedge-like shape,' in the infinite 
majesty of the upper region, and the sudden narrowness 
of the lower, it calls to mind at once the face of sir 
Walter Raleigh. Action speaks out from the quick 
keen eye, and meditation from the calm breadth of the 
brow. In the disposition of the hair and the peaked 
beard, it appears, to a casual glance, not unlike Van- 
dyke's Charles. The later portrait is a' profoundly 
melancholy contrast. It is wretchedly painted, but it 
expresses the reality of death-like life. It presents Eliot 
in a. very elegant morning dress, apparently of lace, and 

» StrafR)rd»8 State Papers, voL L p. 79., dated October 18. 163£. 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. 121 

bears the inscription of having been " painted a few 
days hefore his death in the Tower." 

In the last moments of his life^ Eliot presented the 
perfect pattern of a Christian philosopher. I quote the 
last of his letters to Hampden. — '^ Besides the ac- 
knowledgment of your favour that have so much com- 
passion on your frend^ I have little to return you from 
him that has nothing worthy of your acceptance^ hut 
the contestation that I have between an ill bodie and 
the'aer^ that quarrell^ and are friends^ as the summer 
winds affect them. I have these three dales been 
abroad^, and as often brought in new impressions of the 
colds^ yet, body and strength and appetite^ 1 finde my- 
self bettered by the motion. Cold at first was the 
occasion of my sickness^ heat and tenderness by close 
keepinge in my chamber has since increast my weakness. 
Air and exercise are thought most proper to repaire it^ 
which are the prescription of my doctors^ though noe 
physick. I thank God other medicines I now take not^ 
bat those catholicons^ and doe hope I shall not need 
them. As children learn to go^ I shall get acquainted 
with the aer, practice and use will compasse it, and now 
and then a fall is an instruction for the future. These 
varieties He does trie us with^ that will have us perfect 
at all parts, and as he gives the trial he likewise gives 
die ability that shall be necessary for the worke. He has 
die Philistine at the disposition of his will, and those that 
trust him, under his protection and defence. O ! infinite 
mercy of our master, deare friend, how it abounds to us^ 
that are unworthy of his service ! How broken \ how 
imperfect ! how perverse and crooked are our waies in 
obedience to him ! how exactly straight is the line of 
his providence to us ! drawn out through all occurrents 
and particulars to the whole length and measure of our 
time ! how perfect is his hand that has given his sonne 

^ Tbe precincts of big prison, it is unnecessary to add, enclosed the 
" abroad " of Eliot The ** air and exercise" he aftetwards mentions, as 
having somewhat ** bettered" him, were only what be could win Arom a 
few narrow paces within the walls of the Tower. It is easy to conclude 
from this, that a sight of his native county, the greeting of one healtbflil 
Cornish breeze, would almost instantly have restored him. 



122 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

unto us^ and through him has promised likewise to give 
us all things — relieving our wants, sanctifying our 
necessities^ preventing our dangers^ fi!eeing us from all 
extremities^ and dying himself for us ! What can we 
reader? what retrihution can we make w(»rtfay see 
great a majestie ? worthy such love and favour ? We 
have nothing but ourselves who are unworthy above all^ 
and yett that^ as all other things, is his. For us to offer 
up that^ is but to give him of his owne^ and that in 
far worse condition than we at first received it^ whidi 
yet (for infinite is his goodnesse for the merits of his 
Sonne) he is contented to accept. This^ dear frend^ 
must be the comfort of his children ; this is the physic 
we must use in all our sicknesse and extremities ; this 
is the strengthening of the weake^ the nuriching of 
the poore^ the hbertie of the captive^ the health of the 
diseased^ the life of those that die^ the death of the 
wretched life of sin ! And this happiness have his saints. 
The contemplation of this happiness has led me almost 
beyond the compass of a letter ; but the haste I use 
unto my frends, and the affection that does move it, 
will I hope excuse me. Frends should communicate 
their joyes : this as the greatest^ therefore, I could not 
but impart unto my frend, being therein moved by the 
present expectation of your letters, which always have 
the grace of much intelligence, and are happiness to 
him that is trulie your's.'^ 

I add to this an extract from one of Pory's letters, 
dated November 15. l6S2. — ^^ The same night, 
Monday, having met with sir John Eliot's attorney in 
St. Paul's Churchyard, he told me he had been that 
morning with sir John in the Tower, and found him 
so far spent with his consumption as not like to live a 
week longer." 1 

He survived twelve days. On the 27th of November, 
1632 y sir John Eliot died. Immediately after the 
event, his son (Richard, as I presume, since he did 
not go abroad as he purposed) '^ petitioned his majesty 

1 HarleUn MSS. 7000. 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. 123 

once more^ hee would bee pleased to permitt his body 
to be carried into Cornwall^ there to be buried. 
Whereto was answered at the foot of the petition^ ^ Lett 
sir John £liot'8 body be buried in the church of that 
parishe where he dyed.'" ^ This attempt to wreak aa 
indignity on the reniains of £liot was perfectly in ac- 
cordance with Charles's system. A paltry piece of 
heartless spite on the lifeless body of a man^ appro- 
priately doses a series of unavailing attempts to reduce 
his living soul. What remained of the great statesman 
was thrust into some obscure comer of the Tower 
churchy and the court rejoiced that its great enemy was 
gone. 

Faithful and brave hearts were left to remember 
thisj and the sufi^ings of Eliot were not undergone in 
vain. They bore their part in the heat and burthen of 
the after struggle. His name was one of its watch- 
words, and it had none more glorious. His sufferings^ 
dien^ have been redeemed. The manner of his death 
was no more than the completion of the purposes of his 
life. Those purposes^ and the actions which illustrated 
and sustained them^ I have described in these pages^ for 
the first time^ with fidelity and minuteness. In doing 
this^ I have dso endeavoured to exhibit his personal and 
intellectual qualities so fully^ that any reiteration of 
them here might be tedious^ and is certainly un- 
necessary. In estimating his character as a statesman^ 
our view is limited by the nature of the political 
struggle in which he acted. We have sufficient evidence^ 
however^ to advance^ from that^ into a greater and more 
independent field of achievement and design. His genius 
would assuredly have proved itself as equal to the per- 
fect government of a state^ as it showed itself supreme 
in the purpose of rescuing a state from misgovernment. 
As a leader of opposition^ he has had no superior in 
history, probably no equal. His power of resource 
in cases of emergency was briUiant to the last degree, 
and his eloquence was of the highest order. The 

1 Har]eian MSS. 7000. 



124 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

moral structure of his mind was as nearly perfect, as 
that of the most distinguished men who have graced 
humanity. It ranks with theirs. 

Yet this is he, whose memory has been insulted by a 
series of monstrous slanders flung out against it by 
political opponents with a recklessness beyond parallel ! 
The time for such slanders^ however^ has happily 
passed away^ and the name of John Eliot may now be 
preserved, unsullied^ for the affection and veneration of 
his countrymen. 

What remains to be said of this great person^ I shall 
subjoin as an appendix to this memoir. I am 
about to examine his philosophical treatise for^ I believe^ 
the first time. It has been mentioned certainly by 
more writers than one^ and about twenty lines have been 
quoted from it ; but this is the utmost extent of appre- 
ciation it has received. No one has yet shown any 
evidence of other than the most superficial glance at 
its contents ; none of its passages of mingled sweetness 
and grandeur have been quoted ; no attempt has even 
been made to describe them. I am about to remove 
this reproach from literature^ and to enrich it with 
several specimens of thought and style^ which might 
give an added lustre to the reputation of our loftiest 
writers in prose — to a Hooker^ or a Milton. 



125 



APPENDIX. 



Some Account of an unpublished Philosophical Treatise, 



ENTITLED 



THE MONARCHY OF MAN, 

WRITTEN BY SIB JOHN ELIOT DURING HIS LAST 

IMPRISONMENT. 



A CONSIDERATION of such affecting interest is so immediately 
and vividly excited in looking at the first page of this manu- 
script, that I have had it carefully copied for the reader. It 
« presents at once the scene of £liot*s imprisonment, and the 
lonely and weary hours this cherished work may have lightened. 
The pure exaltation of the philosopher is approached most 
nearly by the simplicity of a child ; and how touching is the 
child'like care and interest, which, to while away the lingering 
time, has so elaborately wrought itself within every letter of 
this exquisite title ! Crouching under the T and the M, two faces 
will be detected — rather ungain indeed, but still sufficient to 
remind the solitary prisoner of the more ** human face divine." 
I leave the rest to the imagination of the reader, which is, in 
many respects, silently and deeply appealed to. I will only 
add, that the omission of the word " fecit," in the truly and 
touchingly noble motto, appears to me to be in the highest 
taste. It reads, as it stands, like an abridged motto on a shield. 



126 



BRITISH STATESJfEir. 



chivalrousand significant. It is uo proof of the judgment of the 
only two writers who have given the title of this treatise^ that 
they undertake to repair £liot*s omission in this respect. 





^j^^^ 






VCm (MUM 

fe msi}m\& of m 



♦ l l ¥ i W i» 




St A -^u^ O^^^mfm £^^. 






CVtn*hir**v* 



ii^i^:Mm\.mm:m'^^ 



aaQaaoDooacc 



^T^^ 



This wood-cut, it is to be observed, is very considerably 
reduced from the original, which is of a folio size. The 
Treatise itself occupies two hundred and forty folio pages, which 



SIR JOHN EUOT. 127 

ire written over with extreme closeness, and by no means so 
legibly as the specimen before the reader. Eliot was fond of 
abbreviations ; and the key of his style, in that particular, has 
grown something rusty, and tries the patience. 

The Treatise opens with a general- proposition in favour of 
vhat Eliot calls the covenant of monarchy. The example of* 
man's monarchy follows, the monarchy of the mind, as the 
greatest of those covenants, after that of the government of 
nature, of God. 

** Of all covenantes, kingdomes are the best, answering to 
the first and highest, both of institutions and examples, either 
in the policie of man or the president of his maker. Next to 
that great monarchie and kingdome, quod sub Jove nomen habet, 
in which the microcosme, the whole world, is comprehended, 
is the monarchie of man, that little world and microcosme, 
coming the neerest, both in order and proportion, for excellencie 
of matter and exquisitnes of forme. In tyme and order nothing 
makes to question it ; it beeing the instant and imediate suc- 
cessor of that greater, wherein, the Creation being accomplisht, 
man was made a governour. In excellency and proportion 
what paralell may it have ? — what similitude can be given it ? 
its forme beeing like the disposition of the heavens, soe geo- 
metrical! and exact, that each part, each orbe, hath his owne 
motion, in his^own tyme, to his owne • ends, genuine and 
proper." 

The course of each <* orbe and member*' is pursued in terms 
of exalted eulogy, and the << matter*' is next handled. By this 
is meant the subject matter of the proposed government, 
which embraces nothing extraneous, nothing connected with 
creatures that are inferior, in point of grandeur, to man himself. 

" The excellence of the matter likewise does appear, in that 
it is not an invention of humanitie, a fabrike of art, but of 
a substance heauenly, the perfection of all creatures, the true 
image of the Deity. *Twere too lowe, too narrow, for he 
founder to reduce the gouemment to beasts and to confine it 
to that compasse, which yet likewise was cast within mans will, 
and those things submitted to his use. This were unworthie 
the originall, that transcendent greatnes from whence this ex- 
cellence is derived, to applie it onely to such things. And 



1S8 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

much more were it unworthie the ends, the glory and the hcmor, 
of that greatnes which reflects from purer obiects. *T is latter, 
'tis better. *Tis of man chiefly this govemmoit consists. 
Man, to be the goumour of himselfe, an exact monarcfaie within 
hiro, in the composition of which state, nothing without him 
may have interest, but all stands subservient to his use, hee 
only to his maker." 

Eliot then proposes to consider the component parts of this 
monarchy, and the relative duties they sustain. 

" In this monarchie of man, to make the excellence con- 
spicuous, first is requisite a description of the parts, then the 
knowledge of there duties ; — that, euery member beeing seene, 
and the office it sustaines, it may then appear of what use and 
advantages they are, what severall meritts they implie, both in 
degrees and simplie, what conference they have, of how much 
importance to the generall, what correspondence and relations 
with themselves. 

« In the parts, the minde doth sitt as soveraigne, in the 
throne and center of the heart, the station of most aptnes both 
for intelligence and comand. Two sorts of servants doe at- 
tend him, daily administring in that court ; — the one for use 
and businesse, as Plutarke has it of Craterus, friends and 
servants to the Kino ; — the other, like Hephestion, for plea- 
sure and delight, friends and servants unto Alexander. These, 
the rationall and bruite faculties of the soule, are both necessarie 
in theire kinds, both usefuU to Uieir soveraigne, though differ- 
ing in theire service, and differing in the way. 

** Of the first a senate is compos'd, a solid body for councill 
and advice, still intent on the gouemment. Such are memorie, 
judgement, fancie, and theire like. The second are the waiters 
and followers, which respect not the affaires, but the presence, of 
theire king, as the will and affections that accompanie him. 
Subservient to these, and according to these principles, all other 
things are mov*d, every part and member in his place ; the 
great officers beeing the sences ; and ministers subordinate, the 
organs ; the subiect, the body, in which all these subsist, — and 
though the most unactive part it be, yet it is truely called the 
center and foundation of tlie rest. 



. SIR JOHN ELIOT. 129 

" This is the frame and constitution of this monarchie, and 
of these parts it does consist." 

The question follows of the several offices and duties of these 
▼arious parts, and, « On this point," Eliot observes, with an 
allusion of extreme elegance, ** wee shall endeavour to expresse, 
as young painters doe rare beauties, some lines and slight re- 
semblances, though, in the exactness, wee come short of the true 
figure and perfection." 

** There is one common duetie of them all, to which all are 
equally obliged ; prince as well as subiects, subiects as theire 
prince ; all offices are directed to this end, and all are accompt. 
able for that trust ; proportionably indeed to Che quallities they 
are in ; geometrically, and ad pondus, though not arithmetically 
and alike. The greater and more dignified, for more, as more 
advantage has been given them ; the lesse, and all, for some- 
what to the capacities they have. Which is for the conservation 
of the whole, the publike utilitie and good, wherein all indea- 
Tours must conterminate as theire absolute and true end. 

" And the reason is binding in this point. For if the whole 
fabrike be desolved, how can a part subsist? Be it the 
chamber of the councill, the head ; or the king's throne, the 
heart ; or yet, which is more excellent, what they both containe, 
the king himself and councell, the mind and faculties of 
reason ; — what subsistance can they have, or what being can 
they hold, without that frame and body of which they are king 
and councell ? A father is soe called, but in relation to a child • 
and if that childhood cease, he ceases to be a father. It is igno- 
rance, madness, to think that in a disjuncture they can stand * 
either the prince or the subiect; when the prince is such but in 
referrence to the subiect, and the subiect has not being without 
the subsistance of the state. Adeo mardfestum est (as an 
emperour speaks in Tacitus) neqj perireneqs salvos esse, nisi 
vna, ^c. The coniuncture is so strict, that in the dissolution of 
the generall, noe particuler can be fast ; and, without preserv- 
ation of the members, the body cannot stand; therefore each part 
must strive for the conservation of the whole, and that whole 
intend the preservation of the parts." 

£liot then reduces to two heads, the division and limitation 
of their respective duties. The passage is striking. 
TOL. n. K 



130 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

" The king is to command ; the subiect to obey. Both* 
however, with like readines in theire places ; and like affection 
to each other. The subiect must not make his center in him- 
self, and direct onely his indeavours to that end as if there 
they were to terminate ; but they must alwaies be with respect 
unto his souenugne, and to the publike good, therdn inclining 
his will. As the king is to answere this observance ip cor- 
respondency thereof, he must not retire his thoughts to private 
purposes and designes, — ^respects that are particuler, peculier 
interests of his owne ; — but his authori^ roust move as it has 
been appointed, in ordiney for his subiects, for the common use 
and benefit, for the safety and tranquillitie of the state, for the 
singuler advantage of each member, and the universall hap« 
pinesse and good.*' 

The treatise now flows naturally into an examination of the 
analogies of civil government. 

" And in this, generally, this monarchic is agreeable to all 
others, of the same frame and constitution ; and what is true in 
them is conclusive upon this, their reasons being alike ; as con- 
versively from this, may be argued to the rest Wee vtdli 
therefore consider them together, to see how the authority does 
arise, and what powers and judgments have been giuen them. 
That done, wee will discend to exercises and corruption^ with 
the effects and consequences that are incident, from whence, by 
comparison, the knowledge wille be easie. Where the advantage 
rests, that shall be an evidence to iustifie the right. £ven 
the fruite and proffit shall be made arguments to prove it. 
Wherein, notwithstanding all disguises to the contrarie, the 
true vtile shall be seen, like the heliotropium, that beautie 
of the gardens, always converting to the sunne, the honesium, 
to which it shutts and opens, as that is present or removed." 

The original of civil monarchy Eliot seeks for in the heavens. 
From the solitude of his dungeon, into that clear region, << above 
the thunder," it was some consolation to pass ! 

« To finde out tlie originall of these excellencies, die begin- 
ning of these monarchies and monarchs, wee must first search 
the heavens, and, by ascending thither by thought and specula- 
tion, bring down the knowledge of that truth. Wee shall there 
see them, from before all etemitie, written in the councells of 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. 131 

the court, the great ruler there haueiDg so decreed it, in con- 
formity to his gouernment. From his owne excellence and 
perfection was theire idea taken, the patterne and example 
being himselfe, the worke his owne, the institution and inven- 
tion his, and the end and scope for which it was ordained. 
Soe thence wee shall finde theire originalls derived; there 
they haue beginning; from thence they haue continuance; 
there both their Genesis and Exodus are inroU'd. All their 
degrees, periods, and revolutions, their remissions, and intentions, 
are guided by this influence. lyide est imperatoTf (saithTertullian), 
fmde et homo : inde potestas, vnde et spiritus. The same power 
which first created man gave their originall to princes. He 
who of nothing gave being unto all things, — - he that to man 
whilst he was yet but clay, that unactive piece of element, in- 
fused a spirit and fire to give him life and motion, — from him 
proceeds this power.*' 

Aristotle, Dion, Plato, and Pliny give the strength of their 
authority to the writer ; and, pursuing various monarchical ana- 
logies, in a manner much resembling that of Sydney's treatise, 
through families, cities, and so on, he arrives at the government of 
the " great globe itself,'* in considering which, he says, the reason 
sinks, for, since it cannot ascend up to " nature, which is but 
the daughter of the world," much less should it compass ** the 
world, the universall mother of all nature." Eliot then ex- 
claims, with a passing eulogy on Cicero, which, considering the 
many points of literary resemblance between them, is very in- 
teresting — " Without a maker the world had not been at first, with- 
out a ruler it would haue no continuance. The varieties and 
contrarieties that are in it, beyond the understanding of weake 
man, so reconciled to order and agreement, give it a full ex- 
pression. O the height of this gradation, which none but Cicero 
could climbe !" And thus he proceeds through a laboured praise, 
considering the accomplished Roman in all his aspects, *' re- 
sorting to the person from the cause, from the client to the ad- 
vocate,*' till he knows not, as he expresses it, ** whether his 
truth or eloquence be more admirable.** 

The next passage I shall quote, is beautiful and characteristic. 
Eliot proposes to examine tt^e authority of princes, their powers 
and judgments, with their controlling rules and limits. In the 

s 2 



132 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

course he lays down towards this, I recognise an admiiable 
sense of the proprieties in argument, with a feeling of the pro- 
bable public appearance of his labours ; a glance at the strange 
aspect of the times, and an endeavour to sare his woiic, as it 
were, from the severities that had fallen on himself; — which will 
not be read without much interest. It is full of delicate beauty. 
I subjoin to this the commencing passages of the argument 
which follows it, bespeaking toleration for the objects and in- 
tentions of man, on the ground of the wretched dependency and 
infirmity of his acts. 

« Thus then wee see how the authority does rise, and from 
whence princes have originall, both in particular, for ours, and 
generally, for all nature, therein assenting. Our next view must 
be of the powers and judgements that are giuen them ; wherein 
'likewise there is community. Then their rules and limits wee 
will touch, with some notes of advantage and disadvantage from 
the use. Which done, wee will draw the application to ourselves, 
to our owne monarchic, the mind, and shew the propriety of 
that ; handling by the way the questions most in controversie, 
touching the exercise of that power ; which wee will take, as they 
are emergent from our subject, and arise naturally in discourse ; 
not compelling, not coveting, any that does not voluntarily come 
in, and readily accost us ; nor balking those which the occasion 
shall present, for any fear or difficulties. Only this favor wee 
petition, which candor will allow us for our encouragement in 
the worke, that no prejudice may impeach us in the censure of our 
reason, — if it tide contrary to the tymes, if it oppose the stream 
■ and current wee are in, either in dilating or contracting the 
interests and pretentions, superior or inferior. Wee shall im- 
partially deliver it, if not to the truth of the cause, which may 
exceed our judgement, yet to the truth and identity of our sense ; 
and if in that we fail, though it be an error, 'tis not a crime 
unpardonable, uncapable of remission. Yet we shall be careful 
to avoid it, and are not unhopefuU in that point, having our 
affections on a right level, so equally disposed as nothing but 
ignorance can divert them. 

*' First then, to take the just height and latitude of this power, 
we must begin our consideration at the end — the end and scope 
.^for which it was ordain*d, which is the perfection of all workes 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. 133 

and the first thing always in intention. Acts may have diverse 
inclinations and effects, from the accidental inte'rcurrence of new- 
causes contrary to their institution and design, whereon no sound 
judgement can be grounded. To an act of virtue there may be 
a concurrency of vice, through the corruption and infirmitie of 
the object. A charity may be interverted to ill uses, as not 
seldom happens thro* the depravity of men, and so lose the fruit 
of virtue. The council of Achitophell may be follie, though 
an effect of wisdom. Equity may be converted to iniquity* 
Justice into injury, or into cruelty of extremity. No virtue, 
indeed, in operation is so sacred, but circumstance may corrupt 
it, diverse effects may follow it, as from new causes and intentions 
intervenient Thus we see it in the motion of the spheres, the 
perfection of whose course revolves from east to west, and yet all 
the lesser and lower orbes run a counter course to that,, turning 
from west to east. Their natural motions and inclinations are 
irregular, ad raptum. So, in the acts of virtue, oblique inten- 
tions may occur to corrupt it in particulars, though the viritue 
be the same. Therefore, as the intention must be the indication 
of the act, the end must shew the intention. For as a good 
act may be ill done in respect of the intention, so the intention 
of what purity soever may be corrupted by the end. If our 
descent and end shall terminate in the east ; if our horoscope 
and ascendant shall be placed in the period of the west ; if we 
shall then, as Strato saith, seeke the sunne itself rising in the 
west, — we cannot conclude properly, or right. For the end 
of the great workman must direct us, not the effect and oppera- 
tion of the worke. Fmis operantis, the end and the proposition 
of the first mover, the maker of those powers ; not Jinis operis, 
the practice and exercise of man, who, like those lower orbes, 
has no regularity, but ad raptum,^* 

The authority to be committed to princes, with the assistance 
of their deliberative and executive governments, and the duties 
required of them, are then treated by Eliot. He tempers the ap- 
parent remoteness of such an authority by many familiar 
analogies, and illustrates the dangers that beset a prince in the 
example of the pilot of a ship : — *' The leaks," he says, ** are 
infidelity and treachery in ministers ; the rocks, inequality and 
distemper in the gouemment ; the sands and synks, are fiictions 

K 3 



134 BRITISH. STATESMlfiN. 

and divisions ; the winds and waves, the attempts and invasions 
of the enemie ; the pyratts are the false and subtil underminersy 
that would robb and steale away all law, liberty, and religion.** 
A singular passage follows, but it is too long for my present 
purpose. Eliot takes up the power to be given to ministers 
as a tbing to be limited, invariably, and in all things, by rule ; 
** secundum artem, according to certainty ; ** that it should be, 
in fact, a princIfle, or the man to whom it is entrusted will 
turn, as he says, " a sophister and impostor.** He then ranges 
through several chemical analogies, combining and condensing 
them, with a rich facility and skill. He that desires to have 
" the ^old and quintessence** at last, must search laboriously 
from " metal to metal, element to element ;** and so, in the 
view of Eliot, must the course of that man be laid, who seeks 
the true understanding of government, " emergent and resultant 
from the world.'* Govemment,-he proceeds to reason, is called 
" supreme,** but it is only so *< for the good and welfare of the 
subject. The latter part of which definition, though it be not 
expressly in the words, is included in the sense, as the end and 
object of all such authority and power. And it follows likewise 
by inference and reason, if the use and interest be not sever*d. 
For, as Cicero says, respublica is but respopuli ; and if the right 
and interest be the people's, so should the benefit and use.** 
This supreme power of the state Eliot now reduces to two di- 
visions ; *' the first concerning the exercise of that power as it 
is distributive to others," the ministers of princes, — which he 
ties down, with much strong sense and argument, to a strict 
obedience of the laws ; " the other reflecting particularly upon 
princes, and the privilege and prerogative of their persons,** 
which, when he comes to discuss, he introduces with a melan- 
choly application to himself. Nothing, at the same time, can 
be more quiet or firm. I have not found, indeed, in the whole 
of this remarkable work, one touch of querulous impatience. 
" The next thing that comes to meet us in our way is the 
second question we expounded, whether the laweshavean oper- 
ation upon princes. And this with more difiSculties is involved, 
as lying within that mysterie, the prerogative of kings, wliich is 
a point so tender as it will hardly bear a mention. We may not 
therefore handle it with any roughness, lest it reflect some new 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. 135 

of terror on ourselves ; but with what caution we may, 
yet without prejudice to truth ; — that in what freely we have un- 
dertaken we may faithfully be delivered, and safely render the 
opinion which we gave without suspect of flattery." 

In the next sentence Eliot sets such a suspicion at rest ! With 
m sudden and indignant sense that the claims set up for princes 
in that day are even too absurd for argument, he exclaims — 
" It falls not into question whether laws have an influence 
on kings, but conclusive and in right / It is to question how 
far such persons should be subject to the laws, what bounds 
and circumscriptions they have given them, and in what 
compass and degrees they ought to be limited and confined.** 
He then continues (following up a prec^ent passage of elabo- 
late eulogium on the law, which I ought to have mentioned, 
and which is so nobly carried out in Pym*s great speech 
against Strafford, that I cannot help imagining Fym to have 
been admitted to some knowledge of the composition of this 
treatise by his imprisoned friend) — ** Two things occur in 
this — the laws, and priviledges, of each country, in both which 
the subject has like interest. By the priviledge^the prince is 
free from all things but the law ; by the law he craves in all 
things to be regulated. By the priviledge he has a propriety of 
consent in the sanction of all lawes ; by the lawes he has a 
certain rule and level by which to square his actions. By the 
priviledge all approved customs are received in the strength 
and vigour of the lawes ; by the lawes no actual repetitions 
shaU create a custom, without acceptation and allowance. 
The law is rex omnium, as Pindarus says, the king and go- 
▼emour of all things; the other is regi similis, something like 
unto a king, as Bodin has it,— as absoli^te, though less known.** 

£liot, in the next passage, brands the slavish sycophancy of 
his time. ** Of these laws and priviledges, '* he says " (which we 
shall join together, making butone joint subject of this question), 
the discussion will be easier if we turn our disquisition, and thus 
state it. What power the king has upon them ? Wherein there is 
such a confluence of flattery, conducing to our prejudice ; — such 
labour to make monarchic unlimitted, an absoluteness of go- 
vernment without rule ; — so much affection, or corruption ra- 
thety specified ; — such distortion and perversion of authorities 

K 4 



136 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

to that end ; — learning made prostitute to fallacy ; — religion 
turned to policie ; — heaven brought down to earth ; — light 
transformed to darkness ; — as to attempt against it, is now to 
row against the tide ! against the stream and current of these 
times to seek a passage unto truth ! " Not the less did the 
philosophic patriot seek it, and he could afford pity, from his 
dungeon, to the hollow meanness of the slaves w^ose doctrines 
kept him there. " Some would insinuate,'* he says, pointing 
to the sermons of Sibthorp and Laud, ** from the dehortation 
of the Israelites, a warrant and authority for the extention o£ 
that power. What then was said in terrour, they now make 
it a conclusion of the right ! Others inferr from the confesaon 
made by David, * Against thee only have I sinned,' that 
princes offend not men, and therefore have a liberty upon them 
to do what acts they please. Which judgements we shall rather 
pity than contest ! The heathens, likewise, both Greeks and 
Latins, have been search't to have their attestations fpr this 
sense; — but how truly we shall, in a few general instances, soon 
shew ! '* Eliot then brings up to his aid what P^nne would 
have called ** squadrons ** of authorities. " Flinie shall be firs^ 
who in direct terms avers, turn est princeps supra legeSf sed 
leges supra principetn, — noe prince is without the regulation of 
the laws, but they are far above the authority of princes. We 
know in what time and state that author wrote, where monar- 
chic and empire had not their meanest exaltation. No princes 
had a power beyond the authority of the Romans — no 
Romans greater than the princes of that age. Yet of them he 
speaks it, who were the masters of all others, that the laws and 
statutes of their country had a mastery upon them. And so 
Tacitus does expresse it, of the first laws at Rome." Va- 
lentinian follows, and Plato, and all are shown to be emphatic 
assertors of the great principle, that *< nothing but ruin can be the 
fortune of that kingdom where the prince does rule the laws, 
and not the laws the prince. Aristotle, in the same way, and 
with the same spirit and wisdom, does confirm it, speaking of 
the miseries and fatalities of those states which happen, as he 
says, where kings endeavour more than is fitting in the govern- 
ment." A very sharp and masterly dissection of a disputed 
passage in Aristotle follows, when Eliot shows that the ** court 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. 137 

parasites '* of the day have basely abused the text. Several 
fine quotations from various parts of Cicero are next brought 
forward, which, as if exultingly, Eliot exclaims, <<make it 
against the law and principles of nature for one man to act his 
pleasure on another ! * To detract any thing from any man' 
(says he), 'and this man to draw a benefit to himself from the 
hurt and prejudice of that, is more contrary to nature than all 
poverty and sorrow, than whatever can happen to the body, 
not death itself excepted, or to the outward condition of a man.' 
What more fully or more plainly can be spoken ? What greater 
authority can be had, either for the persons or the reasons ? The 
Greeks, the most excellent of them, and from whom the contrary 
is insinuated (but how truly have we observed by the way), 
the Latins likewise, and not the meanest of their kind, whose 
judgements no posterity can impeach, — we have really and 
actually on our side. Princes and emperors consenting! We 
may confirm it by the examples of some others, if number be 
more valuable than weight ; yet not such as shall lessen the 
esteem ; for if no other were produced, their worths might 
serve for a counterpoise to all opposites." 

I do not know if every reader will agree with me, but, in this 
picture of a great mind, forcing itself, as it were, in obedience 
to the sad necessity of the time^ to appear to need satisfaction 
for the penetration of its own genius in the authority and 
reverence of past ages, I recognise an object of very deep and 
affecting interest. The treatise, indeed, is scarcely so remark- 
able to me for the power it exhibits, great and truly valuable 
as that is, as for the evidences of a wider power which it re- 
strains. It will be seen, however, as Eliot emerges from the 
fetters of political discussion, into what beauty and grandeur 
he ascends, mastering, moulding to his immortal purpose, 
and impregnating with his own intellectual power, his variously 
fine attainments. I may with propriety furnish the reader at 
this moment with a passage of the criticism of Hampden, written 
on receiving the first rough draft of this portion of the treatise. 
*' When you have finished the other parte, I pray tbinke mee 
as worthy of the sight of it as the former, and in both to- 
gether I *ll betray my weakness to my friend by declaring 
my sense of them. That I did see is an exquisite nosegay, 
composed of curious flowers, bound together with as fine a 



158 BRITISH 8TATE9^EN. 

thredd. But I must in the end expect honey from mj Mend. 
Somewhat out of those flowers digested, made his owne, and 
giyinge a true taste of his own sweetnesse. Though for that 
I shall awaite a fitter time and place.'* And again, of other 
extracts from this portion of the manuscript, with no less deli- 
cate expression, Hampden says, *< This I disoeme, that 'tis as 
complete an image of the patteme as can be drawne by lines ; 
a lively character of a large mind ; the subject, method, and 
expressions, excellent and homogeniall ; and, to say truth 
(sweete heart), somewhat exceeding my commendations. My 
words cannot render Ihem to the life ; yet (to show my inge- 
nuousness rather than witt) would not a lesse model have 
given a full representation of that subject ? Not by diminu- 
tion, but by contraction, of parts. I desire to learn ; I dare 
not say. The variations upon each particular seem many ; all, 
I confesse, excellent The fountaine was full ; the channel 
narrow ; that may be the cause. Or that the author imitated 
Virgil, who made more verses by many than he intended to 
write, to extract a just number. Had I seene all his, I could 
easily have bidd him make fewer ; but if he had badd mee tell 
which he should have spared, I had bine apposed. So say I of 
these expressions." It is very truly and beautifully said, 
and, as we advance, the reader will see ample reason for the 
more exalted and enthusiastic praise, which Hampden after- 
wards bestowed on his friend's labours. Meanwhile, he will 
pardon this digression. 

Eliot, producing his examples of princes who have willingly 
ranged themselves on his side, in acknowledgment of the 
supremacy of law, proceeds : -— *< Plutarche relates it of An- 
tiochus, that great king of Asia, the third of his name, but the 
first in honour and accomplishment, that he, in conformity of 
this duty, sent despatches to his princes for prevention of the 
contrary ; — intimating that if any letters or commands should 
be brought in his name, adverse or incongruous to the 
laws, they should believe that {ignaro te) they were given 
without his knowledge and consent, and therefore that no other 
obedience should be yielded, than was challenged by that rule. 
For which Gratian, on the like occasion, gives a reason, and 
thereupon deduced it to a law." The words of Gratian are 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. 139 

then given. I may here observe that Eliot is scrupulously 
exact in his method of quotation ; that where the words of the 
original authority are used in the text, the book and chapter 
are carefully written down in the margin ; and that where the 
sense only of the authority is employed in the treatise, a note 
generally supplies the exact quotation and its reference. He 
must have had at least the companionship of many books in his 
prison. The majority of his extracts from Plato and Aris- 
totle are given in latin, evidently to help himself on the faster, 
for the original editions are always referred to, and when he 
uses the greek letters he writes them with too much neatness 
and labour to have permitted himself their constant use. 
Other authorities follow Gratian ; and the writer then trium- 
phantly appeals, to the opinion of a master among <<both 
emperors and civilians,** — to an edict of prince Theodosius. 

<* By him it was thus written for posterity. * It is the 
majesty of him that govemeth to confesse himself bound to the 
laws ; so much doth authority depend on law, and so much 
is submission to the laws greater than authority. And that 
'we will not to be unlawful, we shew it unto others by the oracle 
of this present edict.' In this,*' Eliot continues, " a conclu- 
sion is laid down, not only that all princes are subject to the 
laws, but that it is their majestie, their honor and exaltation, so 
to be ! And the reason follows it, that the law is the ground 
of authority, all authority and rule a dependant of the law. 
This edict was not only an edict for that time, but for the ge- 
nerations of succeeding ages, and for all posterity to come. 
Rightly, therefore, and most worthily, stiled an oracle. And 
in correspondence to this, is the modeme practice of these 
times. Almost in all the states of Europe, princes at the 
assumption of their crowns, assume and take an oath for the 
maintenance and observation of the laws. So, if we look 
either into authority or example, the use and practice of all 
times, from the modeme to the ancient, the reason is still 
cleare, without any difficidty or scrapie, de jure, in right, that 
princes are to be regulated by the laws, and that the laws 
have an operation on the prince." 

** Yet two things," Eliot observes in a passage of much 
interest, and which illustrate an opinion I have expressed 



1 

I 



140 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

above, « we are told, do oppose, and are made arguments agsunst 
this : — the honor and the profit of the king, which are said 
to have some prejudice by this rule. Many pretensions there 
are made, by those that are enemies to law, to inculcate this 
doctrine unto princes, which in particular to convince were 
not a task of hardness, if the danger exceeded not the trouble. 
But the infection of tliese times is uncompatible of such 
labours, when scarce the least disease is curable. We shall 
therefore follow them as wee did in the strength and assistance 
of authorities, which, in point of profit, do conclude that there 
is no fruit or advantage in injustice. Ubi turpUudOf says Cicero, 
ibi utUitas esse non potest — where shame and dishonesty 
inhabit, there profit cannot sojourne. And that dishonestie 
he puts for the violation of a dutie. Againe,' nihil utile qtiod 
non idem honestumt et nunquam, potest utilitas cum honestcUe 
contendere*" 

Some historical examples, very graphically told, are now ad- 
duced in illustration of the last noble maxims, and Eliot hints at 
the contrast they present to the examples of modern days. 
" And yet how much more should those conventions be ob- 
served, which are ratified by oath, and made with friends and 
citizens, fellow-citizens and brethren, of the same mother ! '* 
He then handles the question of the position in which a king 
is placed by having the authority of the law upon him ; 
whether or not it is a failure of dignity. The following is 
subtilly expressed. ** In reason first, how can it be dishonour 
to a king to be subject to himself? No man repines at the 
motions of his will ; no man thinks those actions dishonorable 
which flow from his own intentions; nor holds that phisicke 
vilifying which works his health and safety. Yet all these 
must be granted to infer dishonor from the laws. Fhysicke 
that works a safety must have a vilified reception ; actions 
free and voluntary must be in antipathy with our thoughts ; 
affections must displease ; and so, too, the inclinations of the 
will (not as they are depraved, but simply as affections) ; and 
kings must hold it base to be governed by themselves, before 
it be concluded that there comes dishonor by the laws ; — which 
are but the promulgations of royaltie ; the proper motions and 
dispositions of that power ; the special acts of princes ; their own 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. 141 

influences and intentions ; a health-giving composition of their 
o^vrn, either made actually by their hands, or prepared for them 
by their fathers, their predecessors, and accepted by themselves, 
so that they become their own ;— and in being subject unto them 
they are but subject to themselves, which cannot be dishonor- 
able. No man can be said to be inferior to himself, yet this 
must be granted in this case. Upon this honorable punctilio, 
kings must become inferior to themselves, and a loyal king 
must be less than an illegal. Yet all power has root but 
in the wills of men. Vis omnis impery in consensu obedientium 
constaiy — all empire and authority rests in the obedience of the 
subject, and the true forme of all obedience is comprehended 
in the lawes. For those services are false, imposed by fear 
and terror, and so is that maxim that procures them — Oderint 
dum m^uant / Let them hate so that they fear. That versus 
execrabilisy as Seneca calls it ! for he gives it this operation on a 
prince, and therefore it is well termed execrable. By it he is 
driven from extremity to extremity. He is hated because 
£eared, and will maintain that fear because he is so hated. ^ 

The greater value of love, far beyond this, is next shown, 
in the example of an affectionate people. Eliot then looks 
back upon his arguments ; and, in summing them up, en- 
forces them again with new authorities, and shows great 
learning in the Fathers. He also refers to the great text book 
of constitutional law in that day, the famous treatise of For- 
tescue. <* Fortescue, that learned chancellor of England, calls 
it impotencie and non-power to do things contrary to the laws ; 
and therefore the laws, he says, are no restriction to pow^r, 
for to do contrary to them is no act of power; as it is no power 
to sinne, or to do evil, or to be sick, or old ; for all these are 
instances that he gives, and in these respects he says they 
are contingent unto men. Men are less perfect than the 
angels, who have not libertie^in those, and therefore those 
laws that regulate the will cannot be dishonourable. Comines, 
that wise Frenchman, has also a question to this purpose, 
upon the restraint of Lewis XL , when in the distraction of 
his sickness." 

Before closing this branch of his subject finally, Eliot 
devotes some space to an exposure of the false constructions 



142 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

that had been placed upon writings of authority by various 
prerogative-men* I r^pret that I cannot give an extract, as it 
exhibits a very searching vigour. With the following severe 
similitude he closes. 

'< He that governs not after the laws and customs of his 
country, is to be held a tyrant. To him Tacitus has applied 
the fable, Quod qtdtqtds viscera humatuh turn aliarum tnctimo- 
rum viscerUms forte gusteret, lupus Jieri cogitur. That whoever 
shall taste the interior of a man, though but by chance in the 
mixtures of the sacrifices, he transforms into a wolf. Those 
human entraiU in the morall are but the public rights and 
priviledges ; — the devouring whereof, though but by mixture 
and confusion, is like that cruelty in the proverb, Aomo 
homini lupus, man a wolf to man, a transformation of 
humanity into the beastly nature. In the psalms it has an 
expression that is higher, to which no aggravation can be 
added, no accumulation can be given. And that likewise 
proceeding from a king, who, enumerating some acts of op- 
pression and injustice (which are the effects of an arbitrary 
and unlimited dominion, a tyranny, as elsewhere he does call 
it) — accepting of persons, not defending of the poore, destroy- 
ing of their rights, want of preservation and protection to the 
people, — for these, he says, all the foundations of the earth 
are out of course ! as if the whole frame of nature had a de- 
pendance upon justice, and that the violation of the one 
threatened the dissolution of the other ! *' 

The next division of the treatise is devoted to a consider- 
ation of the power of government, and the qualities necessary 
for its legitimate exercise. Here, under one of many heads, 
a severe education is insisted on, with great force, as abso- 
lutely necessary to a prince. Eliot contrasts vividly Cyrus 
and his sons. <' But the accession of Cyrus to the crowne was 
from a harder fortune, which fitted him with virtue. His 
sonnes had a softer education, being brought up by women, 
eunuchs, and the like, who infused principles of weakness, and 
with their flattery and adulations taught nothing but the doc- 
trine of greatness. No man was suffered to oppose them in 
any exercise or purpose ; but all was praising and commending 
of all they said or did ; (as who dares yet do othenvise in the 



SIR JOUN ELIOT. 143 

&imliarity of princes ! ) " Dismissing tliis, however, Eliot pro- 
ceeds to argue — with something like an uneasy sense of the 
absurdities in abstract reasoning, which are unquestionably 
connected with the monarchical principle — that, taking kings 
at the very best, as models of temperance and fortitude, they 
must be allowed to need something more. ** Princes might 
have that plenitude of temperance as should restrain them from 
all license, and exorbitance. That likewise should be accom- 
panied with a fortitude to manage and subdue all loose appe- 
tites and affections, and make them impenetrable in that part. 
Tet there would be wanting one thing more necessary to 
perfection, nay, most necessary for the perfection of a king,— 
which is a kind of all knowledge and omniscience, a vast and 
general! comprehension of all things in his government, with 
their several incidents, emergents, and contingents, their con- 
junctures, disjunctures, relations, and dependencies.*' 

This is a formidable list, and the passage which follows it is* ' 
striking. Eliot revives, from his favourite author, the image 
of that Roman tyrant, which at the impeachment of Bucking- 
ham had struck such dismay into Charles, for the purpose of 
proving that there have been princes in the old time, who, 
affecting a love for parliaments, were wont to commence 
projects by that authority, and to carry them on without it ! 
" In this we have the confession of Tiberius, not the unwisest, 
though not the best, of princes, who saith, non posse prindpem 
sua eonsdentia cuncta complectU — ft prince cannot have that 
universality of science to comprehend all things in his braine. 
A senate therefore was thought necessary to be auxiliar and 
assistant, wherein that emperor did concurre. With all the 
wisdom of his elders, squaring his profession out to justice, 
though his actions spake the contrary. Cuncta per consules 
tncipiebati says Tacitus, ^ he began all things by the consuls. 
In relation to the senate, indeed, and in a publick oration to 
that court, he did declare the necessity of their counsell, 
saying, experiendo didicisse quam arduuf/it quam suhjectum 
JbrtuTUB, regendi cuncta onus, — that by experience he had found 
the danger and difficulty of sole government." The hypocrisy 
of Tiberius is afterwards shown, and at the same time wrested 
to a finer purpose in argument than sincerity itself could have 



^■^ 



144 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

illustrated. Eliot closes with some noble passages out of 
Plato. 

The nature of parliaments themselves, granting the necessity 
of their existence, is next examined. The powers which were 
granted them among the Jews at their sanhedrim, at Athens, 
in ^tolia, at Rome, in Carthage, and Sparta, are alluded to. 
The base purposes of those men who poison the ears of princes 
with jealousy of parliaments, are bitterly exposed, and some of 
the doctrines of Machiavell held up to scorn. A vast number of 
authorities are quoted, and much use is made of the argu- 
ments of Philip de Comines. Eliot, in his course, speaks 
highly of the genius of Sallust, and bursts into a fine eulogium 
at the mention of Aristotle, " that stupendum hominis, that 
wonder and miracle of reason ! " He closes with some general 
arguments out of Bodin, and, winding up his parallel between 
a tyrant and a king, strikes heavily at the recent exactions of 
royalty. ** This feeds on the affection of his subjects, the other on 
their fears. This has his fears principally for them ; the other has 
them for the objects of his fears. This takes nothing from ^is 
subjects, but on publick warrant and necessity ; that drinks, 
carouzes in their blood, and does fatt him with their marrow, 
to bring necessity upon them." The entire subject of the civil 
government of man is then wound up in the following broad and 
satisfactory proposition. ** Monarchy is a power of govern- 
ment and rule for a common good and benefit; not an 
institution for private interests and advantage. To this runs 
the confluence of all authority and reason, either grounded on 
the end, or the definition and examples of the order." 

Eliot now advances to the grander purpose of his treatise, 
•<— the consideration of the monarchy of the mind. He opens 
with some general comparison of the civil with the metaphysi- 
cal relations in this government. He treats of the "councillors 
of the mind,** and carries tliem up t^ their final aims, << the 
end and perfection of all empire, the bonum pubUcum of the 
politicks ; that summum bonum of philosophers, that ne ultra 
in felicitie." From this inquiry, however, he intimates that we 
must exclude at once the vanity of ambition, with its " heap- 
ings of Pelion on Ossa ; " and, in working the inquiry out, we 
must be prepared for the weaknesses of man in many points. 



Sm JOHN ELIOT. 145 

fince eren the wisest men, the philosophers of the old time, 
ba^e not been able to agree. ^ This carries Eliot into an inter- 
esting expression of their differences. He describes them hj 
the fiible of Menippus. 

** He found nothing but confusion upon earth, nothing but 
inoertaint^ with men. Doubt and ambiguity in some; 
dissent and contradiction among others ; difference and dis- 
agreement amongst all. Then soe the philosophers, at least 
their sects in controversie, if not the particulars of all kinds, 
yet the kinds of all particulars. The Stoicks and Epicureans 
opposed. The Peripatetickes varying from both. The Acade- 
mickes differing from all. And these divided between the 
old and new, the Eretrians, Megarians, and Cyrenians, all in 
opiniodus separate and distinguished. Like Heterogenialls, 
imther, and things contrary ; not as professors of one science, 
masters of philo6<^y, lovers of truth and wisdom ! " 

Thisgis well said. In their differences, however, Eliot dis- 
cerns elements of the truth. He proposes therefore to examine 
them. *' It may be we shall draw some advantage for the 
information of ourselves, by contraction of their fancies ; as 
was thought by a concursion of the atoms, towards the 
making and creation of the world. Wee will therefore take 
a short survey of them, and try what they will yield ; judging, 
not by number but by weight, what estimation may be given 
them. . And as we find their true worth and value, so will 
we rate them in our book, casting the profit which they bring 
in the accompt of our own endeavours. To which we shall add 
what in reason or authority we shall find necessary for the 
<^ning of this secret ; this end of all our labour ; this scope 
and object of our hopes ; — that summum bonum in philosophie, 
that bimum puAiicum in our policy, the consumation and per- 
fection of our happinesse ! " 

In acoMrdance with this design Eliot plunges at once into the 
various schools of ethicks that prevailed among the ancients, 
describes them all, aoid discusses their respective doctrines. At 
every step he gives proof of the profound scholar, of a man of 
wide compass of thought, and of that peculiar power in the ap- 
plication of learning, which stamps it with the creative genius. 
A trail of light runs along the track of the old systems as we 
YOL. n. Ii 



146 BRITISH STATESMEK. 

fpUow them in his pages. The Peripatedcks first appear, the 
Academicka next, and the Stoick^ follow, with the thunder of 
Aristotle striking down their systems from beyond. The Eretnans 
are afterwards introduced, and to them the Epicureans, in open 
opposition. And thus we follow all in turn, the genius of Eliot 
quickening these dead systems into an active present knowledge. 
Suddenly he exclaims, ** But let us draw nearer to the light, 
and dispel those mists that shadow and obscure it, by the 
beames and radiance of the sun, that so we may find the 
summum bonum which we look for." 

<< Seneca, * Romani nominis et sapentiae magnus sol,* as Lip- 
sius stiles him, * tliat great glory of the Roman name, and wisdom,* 
thus compounds it : — * Ex bon& conscientia, ex honestis consiliis 
ex rectis actionibus, ex contemptii fortuitorum, ex pladdo vitm 
et continuo tenore, uuam prementis viam.' < Of a knowledge 
and intentions uncorrupted, of council liberal and just, of ac- 
tions rectified and exact, of scorn of accident, of a propitious 
and even course and constancie of life, its diameter and 
straightness kept without reflection or transition.* Where these 
are met in a true diagram and mixture, where these ingredients 
are consolidate, there he makes that summum bonum^ that great 
happinesse, the term of man's perfection, the true end and 
object of his hopes." 

Following up the principle of this moral system, Eliot defines 
with an exquisite clearness the relations of virtue. In the 
midst of this, while borrowing an illustration from Seneca, he 
breaks into a magnificent eulogy of the <* wisdom and sublimity 
of his etbicks. His speculations in philosophies* exclaims Eliot 
with an intense fervor and beauty of expression, ** doe preach 
divinitie to us, and his unbelief may indoctrinate our faith ! 
Is it not shame,'* he afterwards asks, ** that we that are pro* 
fessors in the art, should have less knowledge than those that 
never studied it? — diat their ignorance should know that of 
which our knowledge is still ignorant ? at least in the exercise 
and practice ! ** In the following I recognize the sublimity 
and sweetness of Hooker. ** In this he puts that summum 
bqnum, and chiefe good, Deo parere, to be obedient unto (rod, 
t o be obsequious to his will. Hocfacy ut vives, as was the motto 
oC the law. Doe this and live. Live in aU happinesse and fe« 



SIB JOHN. ELIOT*. 147 

licity; in all felicity of mind, in all felicity of body, in all felicity 
of estate ! For all these come from him ; he only has the dis- 
pensation of these goods; and he that serves him shall have the 
fruition of them all. This was the notion of that Heathen, 
which, what Christian can heare and not admire it ? It strikes 
a full diapason to the concord of the Scriptures, and concents 
with that sweet harmony ! O let us Then apply it to ourselves, 
and make his words our works ! Let us endeavour for the be* 
nediction in the gospel, knowing these things to be blessed, 
that we do them ! " 

Suddenly Eliot checks himself :»<* But to return to our own 
charge and province, that we be not taxed for usurpation in 
intruding on another ; to resume the disquisition we intended 
for the end and object of our government, the perfection of our 
monarchy ; -— which our divine Seneca doth determine in that 
axiome and theoreme, Deum sequu** Several neat touches of ' 
statement and description succeed, with the object of a wider 
direction to Seneca*s maxim, after which Eliot remarks : — 
^ We will now endeavour, upon all that has been said, to 
extract a quintessence from the variety of expressions and opi- 
nions which we have mentioned; —>to make one solid globe, one 
entire and perfect conclusion.'* In the course of this, the moral 
and physical relations of the world are surveyed, and from them 
is shown, the possibility of the attainment of a firm and inde- 
pendent position for the mind. 

« This habit and position of the mind, to constitute perfect 
bappinesse, must be both cleare and firme ; — cleare without 
doud or shadow to obscure it ; and firm in all constancy. 
Immoveable like the centre ! Add then to this that it does 
come from God -^ that it is munus DeU his free gift and 
faff]§|esaff — and then we see what is this choice happiness and good, 
that summum bonum in philosophy, that bonum publicum in 
our policy, the true end and object of the monarchie of man f 
It is a cleare and firm habit and position of the mind by 
knowledge, rectifying all the actions and affections to the rule 
^d conformity of reason. It is to be happy. Not in greatness, 
and honor, riches, or the like, but in any state or quality, 
diat elixar may be found. From the most simple being of 
ijoankind, that quintessence may be drawn. The mind being 

L 2 



148 BBirnB sTATSSMmr. 

brought to that quality and condition, the faculty woriung oa 
the object, not the object on the faculty, there is in any static 
how mean or low soever, an equal passage and ascoit to that 
great height and exaltation ! " 

The elements by which the proposed monarchy of the mind 
may be constructed having been thus established, and the 
possibility of its construction shown, Eliot mentions with 
exultation the great virtues which, once it is constructed, 
shall tend to its immortal sustainment. But then he restrains 
himself. Before we triumph, we must subdue. Through 
sorrow, it may be necessary to advance to joy. ** We murt 
do as ^neas did with Dido, through sad storys of tragedies 
and disasters make a transition unto love. As marines in 
rowing look contrary to their courses, so wee, in the search 
of happiness and felicity, must have our eyes upon the 
fubject of our misery. Those we must first behold which 
are enemies of our state, and from them make a passage to 
our government. Wherein if, by knowledge of the adver- 
saries, we can find means to conquer and. subdue tbem,- — 
if, by the strength and opposition of the vertues, we can over- 
come and subjugate the affections, — then we may triumph 
in our victorie, and in all security and peace erect that trophy 
of felicity, that tummum bonum and chief happiness of 
man.** 

The impediments to man's happiness are accordingly 
treated, and, from this onwards, with such a union of power 
and sensibility, of sweetness and grandeur, as I do not 
think has ever been surpassed by the best prose writers in 
our language. It is the privilege of true intellectual great- 
ness to glorify itself in what the world calls adversity, and 
never did it employ a means more noble than this of £liot*s. 
Rewarded with a prison for the service of active years devoted 
to bis country ; the tyranny apparently triumphant, to oppose 
which, he bad surrendered fortune and freedom ; a disease 
induced by the foul air of his dungeon making rapid strides 
upon his life, yet only in its prime ; — it is impossible to detect 
in this illustrious person the quailing of a single nerve. He 
rises superior to all extremities, in simply continuing equal to 
himself. The philosopher of the Tower is no more and no less 



6IB JOHN ELIOT. 149 

than the statesman of the bouse of commons. The essential 
object of his exertions is in both cases the same, and I look 
upon these exalted meditations as only a continuance, in in- 
tense expression, of the active energies of his life. The steady 
mvasion of disease foibade him to hope that the latter could 
ever be renewed; and, thus excluded from the spliere of virtuous 
public action, he left an example of even greater value to the 
world, -^ an example to console them in temporary defeat, to 
oairy ardoiu* and enthusiasm unhurt through trial,— an example 
tfiat should multiply their powers of action and resistance, 
by strengthening their moral purposes. I see no unnatural 
contrast therefore in any portion of Eliot's life. I recognise 
his old iHave fearlessness, in his present inculcation of a per- 
fect restraint and self command ; I trace the rapid grandeur of 
bb younger days, in the composed magnanimity of morals 
which sustains him through this ** last scene of all.'* 

Through the impediments that obstruct man's happiness in 

sdf-govemment, Eliot, as I have said, proceeds. Henmied 

in as the mind is shown by him to be, he undertakes to point 

out the passage of escape from this " bondage and captivitie."- 

The first impediment he notices is « feare.** He goes through 

the Tarious chances that may occasion it, with a pregnant per<* 

tonal reference ; he describes the *< effects of power, sudden, 

various, and fearful ; wherein imprisonment, wounds, and death, 

and that in a thousand forms, are threatened ; in which both 

sickness and poverty are involved :** but in none of these, he 

nys, is there real cause of fear. He concludes his masterly 

examination thus : *< Feare must yield to happinesse, or hap- 

pyiesse to feare." 

EUot then passes to what he calls, " the next link of this 
chaine of our unhappinesse, another part of the fetters that we 
beare,*' to that << inexplicable piece of vanity, our hope." This 
be considers in many respects a great evil. *' But not to be 
mistaken," he says, '< for want of some distinction in this case, 
all hopes are not like, nor all enemies of our government, 
tfaoa^ all have one incertainty, by the trouble of expectation, 
and the dependance upon lime. All have this vanity and weak- 
ness, that their rest is upon others, not in themselves, and in 
ifaat respect they ace obnoxious, unto fortune. Yet all have 

L 3 



150 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

not a participation in the evil ; all are not sharers in the giult ; 
some are natural, and have their principles in nature." The 
exceptions are occasionally treated, and with a prodigious mass 
of learned allusion. In conclusion, Eliot dwells with much 
intenseness on the perpetual agitations in which hope keeps a 
man ; the fear to lose, the jealousy, the satiety ; and all the in^ 
cidents that fall to it. 

Sorrow approaches next, and this is described as the worst 
and least excusable of the impediments yet named. For ye^ 
£liot says, fear has some resource of safety, hope has some 
desire of happiness. *' These,*' he strikingly continues, " have 
somewhat for Justification and apology, at least for excuse and 
extenuation of their evils. But sorrow only is inferior to them 
all. No argument can be made for her defense; she can 
pretend neither to happiness, nor safety, nor to what might be 
subservient to either. As the professed enemie to both, her 
banners are displayed. She fights against all safety, and bids 
defiance unto happiness. Her ends, her arts, are in contest- 
ation of them both. Reason has nothing to alledge why sor^ 
row should be used ; it propounds no advantage in the end, 
no advantage in the act, but the mere satisfaction of itself, the 
sole expletion of that humour ; therefore, is it the most improper 
of all others, as incomparably the worst, and that likewise the 
effects and consequence on the body will show.'* The con- 
clusion of the subject is a subtle treatment of the selfishness 
of sorrow. It is not called fortli, he says, by the misfortunes 
of our friends, for that feeling is pity ; nor by the triumphs 
of our enemies, for that is envy. '* Sorrow is selfishness.*' For 
the " privation of whatever we hold dear, of whatever is in a 
tender estimation,** Eliot suggests nobler and better remedies. 

Pleasure follows. *' And thus we see how these enemies 
doe threaten us. Fear does anticipate, hope divert, sorrow 
overturn, the happiness we look for; or, rather, they fight 
against the happiness itself; fear secretly undermining, hope 
circumventing, sorrow charging it at full. But, above all, the 
most dangerous is behind, — ilsasurx!** The reason of 
the peculiar danger that attends the indulgence of pleasure, is 
then shown to consist in the so false resemblance it bears in 
itself to happiness, that it is like to steal through all the 



SIR JOHN ELIOT« 151 

^' ^ards and watches" that we keep, into our strongest '< re- 
treats and strongholds." Nothing, Eliot observes, in the 
course of much splendour of eloquence and reason, ** nothing 
is so petulant and refractory, so exorbitant and irregular, as 
pleasure. No rule, no law, no authority can contain it ; but, 
like Semiramis, admit her government for a day, she usurps 
tile rule for ever." 

Having considered these impediments to happiness, these 
obstructions to the monarchy of man, Eliot, indulges a spe- 
culation on the design of Providence, in thus appearing to have 
opposed, by the creation of such unworthy passions, its own 
vast and pure design. 

<< But here an objection or wonder may be made, how, from 
one fountain, such different streams should flow ; how, from 
the self same headj such contraries should derive themselves ; 
and that greater wonder may arise, how the great architect 
and workman, who gave being to all things in his divine wis- 
dom, did so create the mind by the infusion of such principles, 
that the contrariety of their motions should threaten the de- 
struction of his work ! For faction and division imply this, and 
the dissension of the parts hazards the confusion of the whole; 
It 's a great cause of wonder, in the thing, that it is so, but of 
tar greater admiration in the reason. That he, thus wise, thus 
willing, thus able to give perfection to his art, should, in the 
masterpiece thereof, in his own portraiture and image, leave it 
with imperfection ! This is enough for wonder and admiration 
(if it were so). But yet the next has more the inscrutability of 
that reason ; — which turns these imperfections to perfections ; 
which in these contrarities makes agreement; by these dif- 
ferences, these divisions, these dissentions, works unity and 
concord ! This is a cause of wonder and admiration so tran* 
soendent, as human capacity cannot reach. O ! the incom^* 
prehensible glory of th6 wisdom, by which such secrets are 
disposed ! We may see it almost in every thing, as the effect 
gives illustration to the cause ; and so in fact confirm, though 
we c&unot penetrate, the reason itself. All things, almost 
generally, will demonstrate it. If we look into the univer- 
yality of the world, or the concurrence of its parts, are there 

L 4 



152 BBinBH STATBDUBK. 

more contraries than in the comon materials tfaey consist 
Can there be more antipathy than the elements sustain ? What 
greater enemies than fire and water can be fomd? What 
more violent than their wars ? And so with the air and earth. 
I>r3me8s and moisture are opposed ; than which no things can 
be more diflferent; yet amongst these what a sweet league and 
amitie is contracted ! What mutual love and oorrespondencj 
they retain ! Fire agrees with water, earth with air, the latter 
with the former, each severally with other, and so respectively 
with all ! and that which is the perfection of them all, the 
composition which they make, the frame of those materials^ 
the body so compounded, has its being and existence by the Tery 
mixture and diagram of these ! Nay, by the want of either, 
their dissolution is enforced. So necessary is the contraritj 
of the parts, and the opposition which they make, that, without 
it, the whole cannot subsist. As thus as in the geoeralsy so in 
the particulars from thence. In the immense infinitie of crea-- 
tures, amongst the dead or living, are their antipathies to be 
numbered ? Can arithmetic define the contrarities they haive ? 
Stone opposing stone, metal against metal, platft against plant; 
all war ! And animate beasts contrary to beasts, fowls against 
fowls, fishes against fishes; in bate, in cruelty opposed, killing 
and devouring each other ; and yet all made serviceable to 
man ! Amongst men, too, what contestations are there extant; 
what wars, what quarrels, what dissentions ! Nation in antipathy 
with nation, kindred opposed to kindred, family against iamily, 
man against roan ! And, besides, how infinite is their difip^- 
rence and variety in temper, in affection, in condition ; so that 
reconciliation seems impossible, and, without it, their subsist 
ence. Yet in the revolution of that wisdom these things are 
so turned, in the divine wheel of providence their conversions 
are so made, that all move directly to one end ! The alloy 
and contestation of the parts work the conservation of the 
tvhole." 

Eliot now sums up the character and objects of the 
monarchy he seeks to establish ; ranging against it its 
various impediments, that he may enlarge on the means of 
their removal. . This is beautifully done, by an exhibition of 
the utter vanity of the causes to which, in general, they owe 



silt JOBS BLIOT. 153 

their existence. Poverty, for instance, he begins with, as a 
tiling which provokes fear, but in which there is no essential 
cause for fear. He treats this at great length, and with much 
fervor. Don Guzman himself never said finer things in 
behalf of poverty. " Are riches," he asks, " of that virtue that 
their want should seem so terrible? How many have they 
sold to misery and unfaappiness ! What worlds of men have 
diey corrupted and betrayed! Corrupted in manners and 
afiections, betrayed of their liberties and lives!" Out of 
liiese reflections he plunges into a praise of poverty. He tells 
the poor what they escape. He sums up the diseases of the 
rich, famous for their excruciating pains ; and contrasts with 
them the << privileges of poverty, the immunities of want.** 
He Uien drags forth from antiquity a long list of illustrious 
poor; he speaks of the lives of Fabricius, Curio, Menenius, 
Valerius, and Seneca ; and holds them up as the best of all 
examples to comfort and to teach. ** Who more valiant than 
Ifiltiades?" he exclaims; "who more wise than Cymon? 
who than Aristides more just? who more temperate than 
Phodon ? Yet all these the poorest as the best of all their 
limes!" 

Sickness is treated of by Eliot next, as no just cause of fear. 
From sickness, — suggested by his own sufferings, he advances 
through the various effects of power, to imprisonment, to death, 
iMit in none can he find *' just cause of feare.*' He acknow- 
ledges their aspects to be startling. ** To dispel the feare of 
that which power and greatness may impose, requires a harder 
labour, because the dangers seem far greater, and are more 
various, and more sadden. For — not to reflect on poverty 
floid sickness as incidents to this (which wounds and confisca^ 
tions do imply), those too frequent and .two known effects of 
power — but to look forward and to view it in the other issues, 
which it has ; disgrace, imprisonment, dkath, and those in all 
their ugliness and deformity. This last is that tyrant which 
cur apinehensions do so fear ; that monstrum korrendum informef 
which strikes us with such terror; this is that dire aspect, at 
which our resolutions do so fly ; this is that traitor that makes 
audi sedition in our government, and which we must the more 
carefully oppose for the vindication of our happiness. In this 



154 BRITISH gTATESVEX. 

place, therefore, we will only deal with it, and with the reit 
hereafter." 

Into these passages respecting death Eliot throws all his 
eloquence : — " Death," he says, " has its consideration but in 
terror ; and what is assum*d from that, is like the imaginations 
of children in the dari^e, a meere fancie and opinion." With 
a melancholy fondness, the anticipation of their approaching 
intimacy, he defends death as a friend might be defended. It 
has been slandered, he says, by those who cannot have known it, 
« most untruly, most unjustly slandered.'* " For either happi- 
ness it contains, or it repels calamity, or gives satiety and 
weariness an end, or does prevent the hardness of old age ! A 
conclusion *t is to all ; to scnne their wish ; but to ^one more 
meriting and deserving, than to whom it comes uncalled for ! It 
frees from servitude, dissolves the chains of captives, sets 
all prisoners at liberty, and restores the banished to th^r 
country. All their sorrows and disasters have termination in 
this point. It has been called hwnanis tempestatUnis porttig, 
the harbour o£ human miseries, the sedation of our troubles. 
Implying thus the comparison of our life to a fluctuation on 
the seas, we as poor mariners sailing in the weak vessels of 
our nature and fortune, the wind tossing us by the continual 
agitation of her tempests, trouble being instant and upon u^ 
danger most iminent and before us, hope fled, safety nowhere 
to be found, — Death only is the haven to receive us, where there 
is calmness and tranquility, where there is rest from all these 
storms and tempests ! In that port all fluctuations of our life 
are quieted and composed ; nor winds nor seas have power 
upon us there ; fortune and time are excluded from that road ; 
there we anchor in security, without the distractions of new 
troubles; there without danger or hazard do we ride.'* 

With a slight shade of humour, such as issues so naturally 
out of a subject of this sort, and suits with it so well, Eliot 
next calls for the evidence of men who have themselves died, as 
to the character of death. « No great variety," he observes^ 
« can be looked for in this strange kinde of proof, men sm 
seldom returning from the dead." This is simply an intro^ 
duction to the story of that Athenian whom Plato raised to 
ii^eak of the terrors below the earth. $uch terrors were only 



JSltt JOHK ELIOTi 15b 

for << the oppressors of maBkind, such as had made their wills 
their laws, tyrants, Arideus and his followers, whom hell 
itself abhorred ! " Far different was the lot of the good, " the 
servants unto virtue." Life is afterwards beautifully presented 
by Eliot, in contrast with its] dark neighbour, as only *< an 
inne to rest in, a lodging for the night, an hostelry in our 
travels, in our continual journey to the mansion of our 
fathers ! " Nay, life itself, he exclaims, taken at the best, is 
<Hily made up of various deaths, one passion dying, another suc- 
ceeding but to die. " So that our whole life is but an eiercise 
of dying, and all the changes and vicissitudes of nature, deadi, 
in a measure and degree ! Why then should death be thought 
so terrible ? where is the reason of that fear ? " Rather, he 
afterwards suggests, should it be made a matter of triumph 
and of glory. " What martyrs have there been even in the 
work of dying ! More joying, more rejoicing, than in all the 
acts of life ! The glory of the Deity, the incarnate majesty of 
the Son, those incomprehensible misteries of divinity, then 
appearing to them, by revelation to their sense, or by illumin- 
ation of the fancy, — the heavens opening to give free passage 
to their view, — these as it were descending unto them, giving 
them the possession here of that happiness, that eternal happi- 
ness and felicity, which is the chief object of all hopes ; — 
not that happiness we treat of, the summum bonum of this life, 
the bonum puUicum, of our monarchy, but the supernatural 
felicity to come, the transcendant happiness hereafter ! " 

Nor will Eliot rest at these examples of the victorious ago- 
nies of martyrdom, since they are sustained as it were by 
the divine presence. There is a bravery which corned nearer 
to his own, a grandeur of moral courage which needs no 
miracle to help it. '* I will resort," he says, << to patterns of 
morality. Then, to see the conBdence in them» the willingness 
and cheerfulness of dying, — take it from those Grecians, 
^ose three hundred at Thermopolis, who, for their country^ 
opposed themselves to all the power of Xerxes — to those many 
millions of the Persians, whose thirst scarce seas could satisfy, 
nor whole regions for one day find provisions for their hunger ! 
Yet unto these, those Grecians could expose themselves, so few 
against so many, for the safety of their mother* The clouds 



156 

of darts diat fell on then, they teanB*d an umbrell for the satine ; 
Ifaeir danger they made glory; their death they thought tfaek 
life ; 80 fiur from terror was it that they made it the subject of 
their hopes. . O hap^py men ! tiius for their country to have 
died ! Most happy country, to have brought forth such men ! 
whose death became the character of her life, and was to her and 
them a patent of immortality ! " Among the crowding thoughts 
of many examples of this kind, Eliot kindles into a greater fer- 
vour, and be fills the sdlitary recesses of his dungeon with men 
of Rome, of Athens, and of Sparta, — « fellows, whom death 
itself might fear, sooner than be fearful unto them. ACirrars 
of men," he finely continues, *'are chronicled for a feee accept- 
ance of that fate ; women did scorn their children that did not 
acorn to flie it ! " And as Eliot thus recalls the past, an ex- 
ample nobler than all the others rises up, because com« 
pleter in the elements of moral grandeur, in the perfection 
of self-control, the monarchy of man. Hie philosopher 
Ramus stands before him, ** who died not as Cato, to avoid 
the dying by his enemies, nor suddenly, to prevent the tor- 
ment of the time, nor as those Grecians, in the heat of blood 
and danger, when death does come untbought, — but giving it 
all leave of preparation, admitting all circumstance of terror, in 
that form which his enemies had cast, to (he extremitie of 
their malice, .— so he encounters, so he receives and meets it, 
even in its very contemplation ! His speculations were upon 
it, it was the subject of his thoughts, and in that he valued it 
more precious than his life.*' 

To this illustrious shadow of the past, sia Waltsk Ralkiob 
succeeds! His image, indeed, bad scarcely vanished fitnn 
those dark walls that now surrounded Eliot, and his spirit 
remained in the magnanimity of Eliot's soul. '* Shall I not 
add, as parallel to this, a wonder and example of our own? 
«uch as if that old philosopher were yet living, without dis- 
honor he might acknowledge, as the equal of his virtue. Take 
it in that — else unmatched — fortitude of our Ralxioh! the 
magnanimity of his sufferings, that large chronicle of fortitude 1 
All the preparations that are terible presented to h» eye— 
guards and officers about him— fetters and chains upon him-*- 
the scaf^ld and executioner before him-— ftnd ihea the axe^ and 



BiR sotar BLiOT. 157 

more cniel expectation of bis enemies ! And what did all this 
work on the resolution of this worthy ? Made it an impression 
of weak fear ? ora dutraction of hit reaton f Nothing so little 
did that great soul suffer! but gathered more strength and 
advantage upon either. His mind became the clearer, as if 
already it had been freed from the cloud and oppression of 
the body ; and the trial gave an illustration to his courage, so 
that it changed the affection of his enemies, and turned their 
joy to sorrow, and all men else^ it filled with admiration ; — 
leaving no doubt but this, whether death were more acceptable 
to him, or he more welcome unto death ! '* 

How nobly expressed this is ! ^ The style of Eliot, un- 
cramped by the authorities to which he chose at times to link 
it, was as free and grand as his own free thoughts. These 
his friend Hampden, as the treatise advances, alludes to with 
a profound defa«nce. << Your apprehensions, that ascend a 
region, above those clouds which shadow us, are fitt to pierce 
9uch heights ; and others to receave such notions as descend 
from thence ; which, while you are pleased to impart, you 
make the demonstrations of your favour to become the rich 
posse8sionsH>f your ever faithful friend.** 

Eliot betrays a melancholy reluctance to let the subject of 
death pass from him. Assuming that these examples of fear* 
lessness in dying are of too exalted a character for the emula- 
tion of all men, that all have not the same motives, or means, 
of sustainment, he very beautifully says : *< There is no affec- 
tion within man but has given examples in this case. Hope, 
joy, sorrow, fear itself, has conquered it, the weakest . of all 
others ! Fear of death has forced men to act the thing they fear. *' 
And, after some very subtle reasoning to this point, he pro- 
ceeds : *' therefore, that truth so known, we may in a gene- 
rality conclude, that death and fear are conquered both by love. 
Sorrow can do as much. And we have it in the* infirmest of 
ber daughters, pity, which is the tenderest of all thoughts, 
jet that subdues this fear, as Tacitus notes it of the multitudes 
after the fall of Otbo.*' Yet Eliot concludes not even here. 
Still he lingers on the praise and the privilege of death. « I 
shall then no more be sick ; I shall then no more be bound ; 
I shall then leave off to fear; I shall then not die again* If 



158 BUTUH STAtlfiSlUBir. 

death were an eril at the first, then it shall be no moxe All 
the crosses and disasters, all the calamities and afflictions, all 
things that are feareful and eril in this life, then shall I be free 
from ! No death shall thenceforth be an interruptimi to my 
happiness, therefore why should I fear it ? But if death have 
all these priviledges, why then do we lire? why do we not, as 
Cleombrotus, hating read Plato's discourses of the inunortality 
of the soul, precipitate ourBeWes? hasten to that excellence? 
press to that rich magazine of treasures ? why do we bear such 
miseries in life, there being such felicity in death? and die 
transition in our power, so facile and so ready? The an- 
swer with the ethicks is emergent: mort non debet etaejuga 
acUonumf ted actio. Death must not be a flight from action, 
but an action. Subterfuge is the property of a coward ; blowa 
and wounds are the honor of a soldier. Dangers must not 
afiright, but harden him, where the cause requires his hasard.** 
And through much eloquence he proceeds, impressin|f over 
again, and with an increased fenrour, the necessity of subduing 
fear, ** though the sun itself should tremble — though the im* 
mense fabric of the world should shake ; " and at last con-> 
eluding by praying of all men, in all cases, to " expect calmly 
that issue which time and virtue have appointed. Thus we 
must look for death ; not as an enemy, but a friend ; which in 
his own hours visits us, expects no invitation, may not.be 
compelled, but has a free liberty before him« When he comes, 
he comes attended by many priviledges, decked with flowers of 
happiness, rest, and sweetness, and exemption of all the evils 
of life. Therefore there is not the least cause to fear it, or to 
raise that jealousy and distraction in our government." 

The duty of opposing the desires is the next matter dis- 
cussed. Eliot, after a delicate handling of the bodily passions, 
points out the jealousy and restless irresolution of desire, 
agitated between the doubt of attainment and the doubt of 
loss, hindering even its own satisfaction, and joined with sor* 
row. ** Shall this, then,** he asks, " have entertainment in 
the heart, where happiness and felicity should dwell? That it 
is a vanity and mere nothing, either the act or the consequence 
do prove it ; for, in itself, what is it more than an imagination 
and light fancy ? In the effect and consequence, does any maiv 



SIB JOHN ELIOT. 159 

ocmceive tbere is the least advantage in the thought? Does 
the most affectionate in this case think that the object is drawn 
nearer by his wish ? 'T is true, of faith *t was said, < believe 
and then thou hast,' but never of this desire. We may desire 
and want ; nay, that want is but desire. * Desire does make the 
want. As it is nothing in itself, nothing but want does follow 
it— -a Taine and fruitless issue, like the mother. Nor is this 
all for which wisdom does oppose it, that it is, thus, a vanity 
and mere nothing. No ! as an evil likewise she contests it ; 
nay, as the ground and root of all our miseries, the spring and 
fountain of cidamity ! ** Wielding, then, vast knowledge with 
the most perfect ease, giving freshness to old truths, and 
binding together by living ties the rude materials of dead 
learning, — Eliot goes through the dangers that are in desire ; 
'^ the cares, anxieties, and doubts ; the thousand troubles and 
distractions, which men in hope and men in love are charged 
with ; for these in the notion arp but one, though distinguished 
in tiie expression. Pardon me. Love,** interposes Eliot here, 
** that soe hardly I have matched thee ! it is my reason, not my 
sfiection, that does speake it.'* He passionately continues, 
-— '^ What tlieatre or amphitheatre will serve to represent the 
tragedies it has acted ? In tragic scenes of blood, what exe- 
cutions have been done by the hand of this affection ! Man 
a butcher upon man, acquaintance on acquaintance, familiar 
on familiar, friend upon friend, kinsman upon kinsman, 
brother upon brother, father upon son, the son upon the father ! 
drinking up blood like leaches; nay, making sacrifices of 
themselves, to eternal horrour and confusion ; and, with their 
own hands, forcing a passage to that darkness^ which even hell 
itself does tremble at ! What numberless examples of this 
kind have love, covetousness, ambition, and their like, almost 
every day exhibited, and are still contriving, to threaten, as it 
were, the destruction of mankind ! " 

In accordance with his general plan of showing in the 
profoundest view the vanity of the particular passion, by 
showing the objects that usually excite it to be vain, Eliot now 
treats the ordinary motives to love. In a portion of his pre- 
vious discussion of it, he had reduced it simply, in its volup-^ 
tuous form, to *' what is pleasant ; " and " pleasure'* he bad 






l60 BRITIBB STATKSMBN. 

shown to be unworthy. « The feUdtie we look' for is as 
actioQ : not a thought, not a dream, or imagination of Ae 
fancte ; it is an action of virtue ! " As of one of the inotiTes to 
the passion, he then speaks of the vanity of beauty. ** What,** 
be asks, ** can be found in beauty — the object that love has ~- 
so to possess the affection«of the mind, and cause a defectioa 
from reason? The description that was given it by that 
unfortunate piece of merit, who died where now I live, may 
be a resolution in this point, who has it in that idea of bis wile, 
that—. 

'* -^ canud beauty it but skin^eep, 
But to two MDvet known ; 
Short even of pictures, shorter liT*d than lifie. 
And yet survives the love that 's built thereon ! ** 

« wherein there is such a latitude of sense, such a perspicuity 
of truth, that if all other fancies were collected, this might be 
the judgment of them all. Here, in an abstract, is a full 
comprehension of their natures, with all plainness, yet ele- 
gantly, rendered." 

The name of this " unfortunate piece of merit** may have 
already suggested itself to the reader. It is sir Thomas Over<« 
bury. Keen was Eliofs sympathy for oppression in all cases ; 
and here, — in his love of literature (which Overbury's writings^ 
as I have before had an opportunity of saying, had, in that age* 
most delicately adorned), and in some circumstances of his own 
condition, — much conspired to sharpen even that sharp sympathy. 
He dwells for some time with fondness on this quotation from 
Overbury*s poem, and then, in a passage of lively interest^, 
apologises as it were to the reader. " Let it not,*' he says, 
** seem a wonder that I write this fancy for authority, bein^ so 
new, and borne amongst ourselves. I must confess my ignor- 
ance, if it be so. I esteem it not the less as begotten in this^ 
age, and as it is our own I love it much the more. *Tis 
truth which I do look for, and the propriety of expression to 
endear it, not only to ihe judgment, but the affections. Mak- 
ing an insinuation also by the language for the sense and 
reason of the thing. This I find here, in this Theoreme, in 
as great fullness, and as succinctly rendered, as the exoticks can 
pretend. Why then we should not value it to the truth and 



SIB JOHN ELIOT. l6l 

merit which it bears, is a wisdom past the apprehension of mj 
weakness. I must declare my folly in that point. As it is of 
my country, I honour it the more ; and as it was the pro« 
diiction of this, place, my admiration is the greater, that in 
nich solitude and darkness, where sorrow and distraction 
mostly dwell, such happy entertainments and such minutes 
were enjoyed." 

I am not acquainted with any passage in the language which 
expresses, in a few admirable words, a sounder canon of cri- 
ticism than is to be observed in the course of the above. It 
is unnecessary to direct the reader's attention to the deep 
meaning of the closing lines. I may add, that the feeling so 
strongly intimated here, of opposition to a prevalent fashion of 
that age, — a fashion which belongs, perhaps, to the literary 
coxcombry of all ages, — is in many other parts of his work 
emphatically urged by Eliot. 

Another object of desire — ^riches — is now discussed. The 
passage is a beautiful companion to that of the deprecation 
of poverty as an object of fear. His opening reasons against 
the avarice of wealth are strongly stated. *' Preposterous 
and absurd,** are the mildest epithets he affords to it at last. 
He describes riches to be " deceitful in their nature — whereas 
we think them somewhat, when truth does speake them no- 
thing ; deceitful in their qualities — being flitting and uncer- 
tain, without any constancie or stabilitie, always wing*d, and 
flying from one subject to another ; deceitful in their use — as 
we take them to be helpful to our happiness, though working 
the contrary by continual! anxieties and cares ! Why should 
we then desire them, being no way to be trusted, but in 
all consisting of fallacie and frauds ? " Very beautiful are 
the series of questions that follow. << Hast thou worth or 
meritt that might challenge them as due ? That is a mysterie 
to them. They cannot discerne it. The worthless and the 
worthy are equal in their sense.'* << They are the maine 
occasion,** he continues, " of all differences, the ager contefUi- 
oaus, as it were, the field of quarrel and contention, as that 
antiently neare Berwicke to the English and Scotch -nations.** 
Nobly Eliot sums up their high demerits. << If these be their 
proprieties, how can we then desire them ? If they be but 

TOL. II. U 



l62 BRITISH 8TATBSMEK. 

•errioeable to thete, — -if they hftve no feUowihip with hoofisty 
— - if they disaoWe the powers of reason end of virtue-^ if tiiey 
be distractiTe and contentious — blind, mad» deceitfult and 
uncertain, — what is it that should make that attraction in our 
hearts, and disturb our self-sovereignty and command ? " The 
subject is closed with a very fine allusion to the only one 
mode of converting the dross of riches into true gold, bj the 
alchemy of virtue. You may have riches, Eliot says, yoo 
may desire them, if your purpose is to convert them to good. 
** But how b that? '* he aaks ; *< by what means must it be 
done ? The poet does ezpiesse it — 

**divitiM prate 

Virtatit iostnimenta finite. Sic 
Boni credimiai, et vitam beatam 
Degere poteritii !*' 

** Make riches instruments of virtue, let them be servants to 
that mistress. Soe you may live happily and welL'* 

Honour is the next subject treated by Eliot as an object of 

desire. This, in the worldly acceptation, is regarded by him 

with an extreme scorn. *^ Something still may be said for 

beautie and for riches; but the honour and glory that the 

world so names, have noe reality or substance, noe solidd 

being or existence, but are suppositious and imaginarie, like 

those essences of philosophers, qwf quasi sunt, as they say, which 

are but as if they were.** *< Let the description of that author,'* 

Eliot continues, having indulged a severe censure upon the 

worldly cause of honour, fitme, — ** let the description of that 

author speake the nature of the subject. Let Fame, from 

which honour is deduced, shew what this Honour is, it being 

the daughter of that mother. In that mother, take the qualitie 

of the daughter. Of which Virgill thus : — 

<* Illam Terra parens, iia inritata deorum,* 
Extremam, ui pnhibent, Cabo Enceladoque sororem 
Progenuit, pedibus celerem, et pemicibiu alia. 
Monstnun horrendum, ingent : cui, quot sunt oorpore plumse. 
Tot vigUes oculi subter, mirabile dictu, 
Tot linguae, totidem ora sonant, tot subrigit auris. 
Node f olat cceli medio terrseque, per umbram 
Stridens, nee duUA declinat lumina somna 
Luce sedet custo8,aut sununi culmine tecti, 
Turribus aut idtis, et magnas territat urbis : 
Tain Acti pravique tcnax, quam nuntia verL** 



UB. JOHN EUOT. l63 

— which Eliot transbtes with freedom) -~ « < First, as sis- 
ter to the GyaDts, the Earth produced it in malice of the 
Gods, -> swift-footed, light- winged, a huge and horrid monster; 
having that strange thing to be told under each feather of her 
body, a prying watchful eye; and unto that both ears and 
tongues as many ; and mouths not fewer ; — always in sound, 
and motion. All night it flies through the middle of the 
heavens, and divides the darkness, giving no place to rest* 
And in the day, it sits on the supreme tops of houses, or in 
high turrets, a terror to whole cities, being as well the herald 
of lies and mischiefs, as a reporter of the contrary ! ' This 
Virgill makes both her nature and descent." 

Adopting the suggestion of the Latin poet, Eliot now works 
out a very fine contrast between the huge, but incapable, ener- 
gies of the Titans, and the calm accomplishing grandeur of 
the Gods. In the eyes of the latter, he says, and to the per- 
ceptions of philosophy, fame is nothing. The following pas- 
sage succeeds. It is a masterly dissection of one of the things 
denominated honour, in shape of an inquiry into the claim of 
hereditary rank ; whichjfor sober satire, joined to exalted reason, 
could with difficulty be excelled. It calls to my memory some 
forcible and eloquent things, which are urged in a style precisely 
similar, by one of the most original thinkers of thisor of any 
age, 'Mr. Walter Savage Landor, in his delightful *' Examin- 
ation of Shakspeare for Deer-stealing.** ** And now to see," 
says Eliot, « whether this 'honor' be confined within an 
order, limitted topersonsand degrees, or left promiscuously to all, 
as their worths and qualities shall deserve it ? Wherein let reason 
be the judge. Is it the reward of virtue or of fortune they 
would make it ? Let them answer who so magnify this pretence. 
Do they apply that honor to their houses or theniselves ? Is it 
the distinction of their families, or the guerdon of their merits ? 
If they will take it for distinction, 'tis but a name, and the 
poorest. The basest have as much, and small cause there is 'to 
glory in that subject. If it be the distinction of their families, 
the character of their houses, though it once implied a glory, 
what can it be to them more than treasures are to porters ? But 
they will say, it is the glory of their ancestors, the acquisition 
of their virtues, * and from them it does descend hereditarily to 

M 2 



l64 



BRITISH STATESMBN. 



US.' So may the porter say. That treasure is his master^s, ami 
by his will imposed upon his shoulders ; but to whose use, aod 
in whose right, has he received it ? in his owne, of to his owne 
profit and advantage? Masters would take this ill, if tfadr ser- 
rants should usurp it ; and all men would condemn them, both 
of falshood and ingratitude. So is it, in the other, an injury 
to their ancestors, if they pretend that honor to be theirs. They 
can but carry it to their use, as a monument of their Yirtued 
that acquired it, not in their own interest and right, to the glory 
of themselves ; nay, not without the!r shame, whose purchase 
cannot equal it, being but the sole inheritors of the fortune, not 
the worth. But if they waive their families, and reduce it to 
themselves, — between their virtues and their fortunes, how will 
they divide it ? If fortune do appropriate it, — then the most 
vicious, the most ignorant, the most dishonorable, may be 
honorable ; slaves, and they, may be equal in this kind ; for not 
seldom have they tasted the liberality of fortune, and this honor 
none will envy them. If virtue be the loadstone that procures 
it, where is it ? Let them shew it in the effect, and then I hope 
they '11 grant, that all so qualified may be honorable. All 
men that have the virtue may participate. Where, then, is the 
propriety they challenge ? where is that peculiar interest they 
claim ? Certainly not in this. This honor will not bear it^ 
which is the crown of virtue ! All persons, all orders, all de- 
grees extant, may be capable thereof. They are without ex- 
ception or exclusion, and, for such other honors as are fancied, 
let them enjoy an immunity therein, I shall rather pity than 
malign them ! *' 

After this, as it were to while away the time, Eliot brings 
up in aid of the general question new ** squadrons of autho- 
rities ;** — disputing some, exalting others. " In one word," he 
subsequently says, " honor is no other than to follow goodness. 
To be a servant unto virtue, is to be master of true honor, and 
without that service no honor can be had. Therefore the Ro- 
mans, those most honorable above all men, in the temples which 
they dedicated, joined those of virtue and honor to each other, 
and to that of honor left no entrance or accession but through 
the gate of virtue; shewing by that symbol where true honor rests, 
and how it is attained, which is by following virtue. But how 



SIR JOHN KLIOT. l65 

IB that ? how is Turtue to be followed ? in a fair and easy pace ? 
will that conduce to honor? can honor be so had?" Eliot 
answers these questions with elaborate care, and closes the sub- 
ject, — after a strong reiteration of his protest against the heredi- 
tary claim, that honour should not be " appropriated to any 
order or degree, as is pretended,*' for that "to be gotten and 
descended even of princes is an accident,"^ with an allusion 
to those enemies of Roman tyranny, whose honour, because it 
was true, outshone the worst envy of the times. Eliot had a 
peculiar right to call to mind these men, for in his own nature 
be presented some of their noblest qualities — the fiery energy of 
Cassias, and Brutus* brave philosophy. ** Tacitus," he says, 
« notes it upon the funeral of Junia, where so many famous 
images were exhibited, the glory of their families, that Brutus 
and Cassius being omitted through the envy of those times, 
they outshined the rest because their statues were not seen. 
• JEo ipso guod effigies eorum non mehantur prefudgebant,* as he 
has it. They being so concealed, their glory was the greater. 
Which shews that honor is most had, when it is least affected. 
Why, then, should this disturb us with ambition ? why should 
it make a faction in our government? why should it cause 
the distraction of our hopes ? Ambition cannot purchase it, 
the hope thereof is vain ; no art, no practice, can acquire it, but 
by the rule of virtue. And so only, as the virtue is intended, 
let virtue be our aim. Leave that desire of honor. Let it 
not be a worke of our affections, for in that case we must fight 
with honor as with enemies.*' 

The reader will have remarked with what a steady purpose, 
in how close a vice of logic, the main object and argument of 
the treatise is kept Eliot now examines his position. — <' And 
thus we see from the several objects of desire, how little cause 
there is for that disturbance and impulsion. Honor contains 
no reason, being rather an enemie than friend to that affection, 
flying and not following it. Beauty has as little, consisting 
but of vanity. Riches much less, that are but instruments of 
corruption. Also for fear, poverty, death, sickness, and the 
like, which have as small warrant and authority for that passion* 
Let us now search what more there is in Pleasure, that coun- 

M S 



l66 BRITISH BTATESMBN. 

terfeit of bappinefse, and apply our laws to that. For, being 
the most dangerous of our adversaries, it must the more cao-» 
tiously be dealt with." To the subject of pleasure, accordingly, 
Eliot reYerts, witb the intention of impressing more emphatically 
in that regard the duty of self-restraint. A vast number of 
authorities are brought to bear upon it, and Bliot takes occa- 
sion to express the most exalted admiration of Homer. He 
calls him a << prophet and a poet." He amuses himself at tbe 
same time with notices of Ludan's comments upcm Haaoastf 
and pursues at great length the analogy between the reusft- 
ance of Ulysses to the Syrens, and a perfect self-restraint in man. 
He bound himself, he says, he restricted his liberty. <* But 
wherewith was that done ? What were the obligations he in* 
curred ? How shall this come to us ? Most properly and most 
readily, if we will endeavoiur but that means, if we will use 
the example of that worthy. The same safety is for us, which 
was then wrought to him, and that, that great prophet has de- 
livered, with all sincei^ty and fulness. You know he makes 
Vlysses then on ship board. And that much experienced 
man, most curious of all knowledge, would needs add to that 
the musick of the Syrens, the perception of that excellence, 
though not trusting to himself for the resistance of their powers, 
in which both danger and destruction were implied. To avoid 
this, he feigns to be fastened to the mast ; . his men, meanwhile, 
do intend their labours, having their senses stopped (vulgar ap- 
petites being not capable of such dainties). Now, as this mu- 
sick was but pleasure, those Syrens tlie occasion, so the virtue 
were the cords that did restrain and bind him, reason the mast 
to which he was so fastened, philosophy the ship in which he 
sailed and went; — and in this ship, thus fastened to that mast, 
having had both the occasion and delight, he escap't the dangers 
threatned, and in that preserved the safety of his course. But 
what was that ? the same that is our government, — the way 
to happiness and felicity ! — this was his Ithaca, this was that 
course intended, and with these helpes, notwithstanding all the 
difficulties, this he accomplished and performed ! Now is not 
this a plain direction unto us ? Is not our remedy, our de- 
liverance from this danger, aptly expressed in this mirror and 
eitample? Our syrens are not more, their harmonies not 



gm JOHN ELIOT. 167 

Stronger ; the tame flhip we have, with the same tackle ; the 
same ropes, the same mast, continue still. Cannot our course^ 
then, be the same ? Is not the same safety yet before us ? If 
we doubt that tackle will not hold us against those strong en- 
chantments, let us stop our senses, as Vlysses did with his 
men, and first avoid the occasions. Nothing is lov*d, not 
known. Let us^ then, stint our curiosity herein, and the desire 
will leave us. But how is that ? how shall that work be done? 
Is it to shun all pleasure, all occasions ? That cannot be, nor 
is it requisite to this. For virtue in the concrete is not absolute, 
nor to be so expected in our monarchy.** 

All this is subtly and well expressed ; and its deep spirit 
of philosophy has further vent in the following remarkable 
passage: — ** We daily see it in experience, that those who 
have least affections are most violent (least, I mean, exten- 
sively, in respect of number, and the object) ; their passions 
being impetuous as contracted to that narrowness, and master- 
less in that. As Tacitus notes it in Tiberius, who, being 
most reserved and hidden unto all men, to Sejanus yet was 
open and incautious. So it is likewise unto others. The 
heart, being straightened by some objects, growes more violent 
in those passions; the affection does inlarge, as the scope 
thereof is lessened. Therefore, we thus expose that precept of 
division. That pleasures may be a remission to the mind, not 
an intention — that we may taste, not swallow them — that 
the appetitioxi may be obtemperate to reason, wherein only true 
pleasures doe consist.*' 

Carrying out his plan of reverting to the more dangerous 
impediments 'in the way of man*s monarchy, Eliot now 
resumes the subject of sorrow : — ** Sorrow,^* he again insists, 
^ is a perfect enemy, standing in such antipathy with happiness, 
that it is irreconcileable for our government. Therefore, to 
this also we must oppose all the resistance we have ; for this 
moves most violently against us ; and, if it get possession of 
our hearts, if it once enter on that fort, all our happiness is 
gone; our monarchy is subverted! For it destroys the end, 
the felicity we look for, and then the means is uselesse. It 
dissolves it in the principle, and so brings it to confusion. 
For where sorrow is, no felicity can be, and a mind so affected 

If 4 



168 



BRITISH 8TATE8MKK. 



can have no taste of happiness. To encounter it, therefoire, as 
phisicians do diseases, we will first meet it in the cause ; for, 
if that can be removed, the effect forthwith will follow it. 
The object being gone, the affection must fall after it.** £liot 
then points out, with renewed earnestness, the fallacy and 
folly of supposing, that things whii:h assume at times the 
aspects of sorrow are in reality sorrowful. He argues the 
great principle of the poet of nature, that " There 's a Proyi- 
dence that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we will.** 
Above all, however, he impresses the virtue of opposing what- 
ever appears in sorrow's shape. The exercise, he says, will be 
great, a discipline of humanity, and an invaluable example to 
others. " For, are not soldiers sometimes heightened in thor 
courage by the valour of their fellows? Do not the valliant 
often receive new fortitude and spirits by the acts of magn»- 
nimitie of others? Has not admiration, has not emulation, 
this effect, to work the likeness of that virtue which it has seen 
before it ? To reduce to act the image of that idea, which the 
apprehension has conceived, and, from the excellence of the 
'pattern, to draw an antitype thereof. Wherefore were exhibited 
those bloody spectacles at Rome — those butcheries of men — 
those tragic representations to the people — but to inure them 
to blood, to harden them in dangers, to familiar them with 
death? And shall not better acts, to better ends directed, 
have the like power and operation ? Shall not divinity, by the 
works of divine men opposing their afflictions, have as great 
force in precedent and example, as these Romans had by that 
fighting with beasts, or contesting one another, to harden, to 
eacourage, the minds of the more virtuous, against all diffi- 
culties, all dangers ? ** 

Eliot, further, after remarking on Plato*s noble commentary 
cf the inscriiition on the Delphic oracle, yvwBi atavroy, urges 
this consideration : — ^< It is required of man, that he should 
profit many. It is a common duty of mankind, as far as 
ability may extend, still to do good to all, or, if not that, to 
some, as opportunity shall be granted him. Or, if he fail in 
that, yet to his neighbours, or at least unto himself. But here, 
here, in this act of passion and wrestling with calamities, there 
is advantage given for all. In this contestation of those things 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. l69 

f 

we call miseries, there is a performance of all these. First, to 
diyself, thou'pro6ttest through the favor of the Gods, that give 
thee this instruction, this education, this trial, this knowledge 
of thyself, this confirmation of thy virtue. Then to thy neigh- 
bours, and all others, thou art profitable by thy precedent and 
example. Thy fortitude adds courage unto them, stout and 
valiant. How, then, — how, in this excellence of duty, in this 
great duty of advantage — of advantage to ourselves, of ad- 
vantage to our neighbours, of advantage unto all — we should 
repine and sorrow, as *t is a prejudice to our happiness, it 's a 
wonder unto reason ! ** With much beauty, Eliot afterwards 
disposes of the last and best plea that would seem to remain 
for sorrow — a friend at the grave of his friend. " Let me 
first ask this question of the sorrower. For whose sake that 
passion is assumed ? For his that is so lost, or for thine own 
diat lost him ? Answer to this, and make a justification for 
thyself. If thou wilt say for his, where is the evil that he 
suffers ? Wherein lies the reason of that grief? Design it 
out ; give it some character to express it. Is it in that he is 
dead ? in that he has made a transition to the 'elders ? That 
cannot be ; for death contains no evil, as our former proofs 
have manifested; but is a priviledge of immortality, an eternity 
of happiness. Is it for that he is not ? that he is not numbered 
with the living ? That were to lament, but because he is not 
miserable. Thou canst not but acknowledge the distraction of 
thy fears, the anxiety of thy cares, the complexion of thy 
pleasures, the mixture of thy sorrows ! With all these, and 
upon all, no rest, no quiet,; no tranquility, but a continual 
vexation of thy thoughts, a servile agitation of thy mind from 
one passion to another ! And wilt thou grieve for him, that 
has his freedom, his immunity from these ? On the other side: 
is that sorrow for thyself , that thou hast lost a friend, — the 
sweetness, the benefit of his friendship — thy comfort in so- 
ciety .— the assistance of, thy business — the sublevation of thy 
cares — the extenuation of thy griefs —the multiplication of 
thy joys — thy castle — thy counsel — thy sword — thy shield — 
thy store — thy health — thy eye — thy ear — thy taste — thy 
touch — thy smell — the catholicok of thy happiness (for all 
these are attributes of friendship)? — consider, first, whether 



170 BRITISH STATmCSN. 

ftiendship may not change^ whether a breach and enmitj may 
not follow it, as not seldom happens in the most strict conjonc- 
tions, with which then no enmity may compare! Then 't were 
better thus to have lost it, that evil being prevented, and the 
obligation, the virtue, kept intire ! But, if that doubt prevails 
not ; if thou supposest a perpetuity in that friendship, an assar- 
ance of that love ; is it not envy in thee, and unworthiness 
thereof, for these respects, those temporary benefits to thyself, to 
grudge at his happiness and felicity, which is infinite and celes- 
tial ? Justice may resolve how far this is from ftiendship, bow 
unworthy of that name ! " This sorrowing, Eliot afterwards ob- 
serves, is variously applied. '' Marcellus wept whoi he had taken 
Syracuse; Alexander, to have no more worlds to conquer.'* 
Concluding with 'the phrase of the Etbicks, that to conquer 
what might be fancied real calamities <* not only makes a man 
a conqueror, and wise, but equal, nay superior, to the Gods," 
—Eliot, in a passage of great eloquence, banishes sorrow from 
his government. 

Having thus disposed of the impediments to the monarchy 
of man — of the obstructing passions ^- Eliot now turns ' to the 
elevation of the monarchy itself/to the virtues by whose exercise 
and operation, condensed into two great purposes, the structure 
is to be raised. " Our next care must be how to obtain the 
virtue, how to possess the means, which must procure that 
end. And if that can be acquired, then is our felicity conw 
plete, then we have that perfection of our government the 
summum bonum in philosophy, the bonum publicum in 
our policy, the true end and object of the monarchy of man. 
Two parts it has — action and ccmtemplation. Of which the 
first divides itself into two branches, as the virtue agendo and 
dicendo, doing and saying, both which concur to action. 
By doing, is intended those travels and motions of the body 
that are necessary in the performance of ihose works which 
the duty and office of our callings require; — by saying, is 
meant that expression of the tongue^ whereby the intelligence 
of the heart is made communicable to others, and the thoughts 
are conveyed to the understanding of the hearers. In these 
two all action does consist, and so that part of the virtue 
and perfection. Both these have a rule, and level, and di- 



SIB JOHN EUOT. 171 

nedon, which we did touch before, as the comon duty of 
numkind. In that duty their office is implied, which is that 
it be profitable to many. In the general good and benefit it 
must be extended, first to all, then, after, to ourselves. ** 
Here Eliot interposes in a parentheds this valuable re- 
minder : — " For all right of ofiice is destroyed by the inversion 
of this order. To reflect first upon ourselves, our own par- 
ticular interests, and then upon the general, is the contrary 
of duty, the breach of office and relation. Therefore to the 
publick, both our words and actions must first move, without 
respect, without retraction, for our private. They must first 
intend the common good and benefit, and so descend by degrees 
unto ourselves. For as members are in bodies for the perfec- 
tion of the man, so men in bodies polliticke, as parts of these 
sodeties, and for the conservation of the whole, and to that 
end their chief endeavotir must incline.** Eliot then,' with a 
noble fervour, inculcating the practice of his own life, thus 
resumes : — '' Here some questions will arise ; — how far this 
shall engage us? what lattitude it imports? what cautions and 
exceptions it admits ? Difficulties may occur, and then involve 
us in anxieties, with troubles and perplexities disturbing our 
tranquilities, distracting the quietness we are in. And shall 
we forsake that sweetness? shall we neglect that fatness of 
our'peace (as the fig and olive said of old) for the publick use 
and service ? for the profit and commodity of others ? Yxs ! 
no difficulties may retard us, no troubles may divert us, no 
exception is admitted to this rule ! but where the greater good 
is extant, the duty and office there is absolute, without cau- 
tion, or respect. That greater good appearing, nothing may 
disswade us from the work — no respect of ease, no respect of 
pleasure, no respect'of the troubles we may meet, — but in 
performance of that duty, in accomplishment of that office, 
our troubles must seem pleasant, our labours must seem facile, 
all things easy, all things sweet therein ; — for the rule is, 
Qfficium mm frudum tequi, to observe the duty, not the 
benefit, to seek that end which is propounded in the general, 
not to propound an end and reason of our own. But dangers 
may be incident ? it may betray our safeties, and expose our 
fortunes, expose our liberties, expose our lives, to hazard ?— 



172 BAITI8H STATESMEN. 

and shall we, then, adventure upon these ? — shallVe forsake 
our safeties ? shall we incur those dangers, for foreign interests 
and respects, ^for that which concerns but others, which is 
foreign unto us? Yes, — this likewise we are bound to, our 
obligation lies in this. No danger, no hazard, may deter us. 
The duty and office stand intire.** 

In this first division of materiel for £liot*s grand structure, 
the reader will recognise the old principle of the ancients, in 
their separation of the characteristics of wisdom. The on^ 
which we have just seen described, comprehending the beginning 
and end of all things to be done, ^p6vuns, prudentia ; the other, 
which Eliot is now about to subjoin, compassing the manner and 
ways conducing to those ends, tro^ia, sapientia. *' The rest," 
he says, describing the latter, " all, follow this, and are but ser- 
vants to this mistress,— several operations of this faculty having 
their appellations from their works. If wee would ask what 
fancy does intend, what is the signification of that name, the 
answer is, 'T is wisdom, — the divine spirit^ of the mind, that 
hunts out all intelligence. If we may enquire what memory 
does import, the same answer serves, 'T is wisdom, the influence 
of that faculty. For where the fancy cannot keep all things 
upon intention, memory is suggested for supply of that 
defect, and so makes up the wisdom. If we would know 
what judgment does implie, the resolution is the same. *Tis 
but an act of wisdom, the operation of that power. There- 
fore in this consists the perfection of all theory, the sum of 
all contemplation, and so that other part of virtue." Very 
beautiful is the passage that follows : — " But how may this 
wisdom, then, be had ? Where may we seek and find it ? 
The answer is most obvious, — in the doctrines of philosophy. 
For philosophy is the introduction to this wisdom ; so both 
the word and reason do import ; for by the word is signified 
only a love of wisdom, a love of that wisdom which we speak 
of; and that love will be accompanied with an endeavour to 
attain it, which is intended in the common sense and notion. 
For that science of philosophy is but a guest of wisdom, the 
study of that excellence. And so Plato gives it in his gradations 
unto happiness. Philosophy is the first step he makes, as the 
desire of wisdom; — to which he adds the study, and contempla- 



SIB JOHN ELIOT. 173 

tion to attain it. From that study and speculation he arises 
unto wisdom, from that wisdom unto happinesse. So that 
philosophy is the principle. Wisdom does there begin, which 
has its end in happinesse, and happinesse in this order is the 
production of philosophy. In sum, all contemplation is 
but this, but this study of philosophy. If it ascend the 
heavens to view the glory of that beauty, philosophy does 
direct it. If it descend to measure* the centre of the earth, 
philosophy goes with it. If it examine nature and her secrets, 
philosophy must assist it. If it reflect on causes or effects, 
tiiat turn is by philosophy. The contemplation of all ends, 
all beginnings, all successes, is propounded by philosophy. 
So that philosophy, in contemplation, is as prudence in the 
virtues, the architect and chief workman, that gives motion 
und direction to the rest. • Great is the excellence of phi- 
losophy, as it is chief in contemplation, and the accompaniment 
of that virtue. Greater much it is, as it is a principle to 
wisdom, and an instructor to the counsell. But beyond all 
comparison it is greatest, as it is the first degree to happinesse, 
as it leads on to that perfection of our government ! No words 
can sufficiently expresse it, nor render a true figure of that 
worth. Being in contemplation, contemplation only must con- 
ceive it ! *' 

The question then occurs — Which of these great divisions 
of the virtues is to be considered the highest and most 
perfect? — And Eliot answers . it. As an exercise of the fa- 
culties, in pure and single grandeur, he pronounces at once 
in favour of philosophy, of contemplation ; but is careful to 
modify this immediately after, by pronouncing no wisdom 
complete without the active practices of virtue. Speaking on 
the first head, he urges the superior greatness of the contem- 
plative philosopher, in regard that his thoughts are fixed on 
the final intelligence : — *' And he that levels at that mark, 
though he come short, yet shoots higher than he that aims but 
at man. Besides, there is this advantage in it ; that nothing 
can be contracted from the president to prejudice or corrupt 
it, which lower examples may induce ; but much perfection 
may be added, by the elevation of the mind. As chemicks in 
the disquisition of the elixar, though the wonder be not 



174 BBinSH 8TATC8MSN. 

found, yet hmve extracted great yarieties by^that labour, 
excelleiit demonstrations by that woi^ It is the way in part 
to resume the image wee have lost, for that was not an out- 
ward figure, but a resemblance in Tirtue. If that simititude 
was laid in virtue, it cannot so aptly be repaired as by the 
imitation of the Deity, in whom the exactness of all virtue 
does remain. This help philosophy does give us in the specu^ 
lation of eternity ;— and likewise it derives to our present view 
and prospect the knowledge of all antiquity, in what their 
happiness consuted, what were the ingredients of that com* 
pound, and how it was lost at first, whence the judgement may 
resolve, what is true happinesse to us." On the second head» 
however, Eliot immediately subjoins : -— ** But if so, — if phi- 
losophy and contemplation have this fruit, — that these degrees 
of happinesse be in them, and so direct a way to happinesse 
itself, — how is it that we involve us in such toils, such 
anxieties and perplexities, to acquire it? It is a vanity, and 
folly, by such hard labour to effect, when a less trouble, a less 
travail, comes so near ? If philosophy and contemplation can 
procure it, — thote sweet and gentle motions of the souly — 
what need the co-c^erations of the body, those actions and those 
passions, which virtue does require, and which so often ibrce 
distraction, nay, destruction upon men ? Tet they are needful, 
fbr without virtue, true happinesse cannot be, and these (im- 
pose the other half of virtue. For contemplation and action 
make the whole. Virtue consists only in both, and in part 
there is no perfection. Therefore to contemplation, action 
also must be joined, to make a compleat virtue, and^by that 
virtue only true happinesse may be had.'* And, careful not 
to be misunderstood in what he had said before of the suprem- 
acy of contemplation, he adds (with an intimation that be will 
discuss the matter more fully in a future treatise — a project 
stopped by death ! ) that contemplation must be considered the 
chiefe, for << contemplation is the beginning of all action, 
the principle of that motion : action but a derivative of ^that, 
and no derivation can be equal to the primative, no second 
comparable with the fii^st All actions are but the emanation 
of the will, and the will receives her instance from the ap- 
prehension of the mind. But still,*' he adds, <^ both must 



SIB JOHN fiUOT. 175 

be concurrent, "^^ue is a composition of them both. Con* 
templation must prepare the matter of our happinesse, action 
diqpoae, and order it*' 

£liot*s great purpose now accomplished, be closes his la^ 
hours with an exalted eulogy on the Independence and Su- 
periority of the Mind« X present it to the reader entire. It 
is worthy to have closed a work of such nobility in conceptioot 
and power in execution. 

« Thismakesupthatperfectionof our monarchy — that hap* 
pinesse of the mind, which, being founded upon these grounds, 
built upon these foundations, no power or greatness can im- 
peach. Such- is the state and majesty, that nothing can ap* 
pioadk it, but by the admission of these servants ; such is the 
safety and security, that nothing can violate or touch it, but by 
these instruments and organs ; such is the power and digni^, 
that all things must obey it All things are subject to the 
mind, which, in this temper, is the commander of them all. 
No resistance is against it It breaks through the orbes and 
inunense circles of the heavens, and penetrates down to the 
centre of the earth ! It opens the fountains of antiqui^, and 
runs down the streams of time, below the period of all seasons ! 
It dives into the dark counsels of eternity, and into the abstruse 
secrets of nature ! It unlocks all places, and all occasions are 
alike obvious to it ! It does observe those subtil passages in the 
air, and the unknown paths, and traces, in the deeps ! There 
is that great power of operation in the mind, that quickness and 
Telocity of motion, — that in an instant it dees passe from ex- 
tremity to extremity, from the lowest to the highest, from the 
extremest point of the west, to the horoscope and ascendant in 
the east It measures in one thought the whole circumference 
of heaven, and by the same line it takes the geography of the 
earth. The air, the fire, all things of either, are within the 
comprehension of the mind. It has an influence on them all, 
whence it takes all that may be useful, and that may be help- 
ful in its government No limitation is prescribed it, no r^ 
atriction is upon it, but in a free scope it has liberty upon all. 
And in this liberty is the excellence of the mind, — in this power 
and composition of the mind, is the perfection of th#fnan,— -in 
that perfection u the happinesse wee look for,— when in all 



176 BBITI8H STATESMEN. 

gorereignty it reigns, coman^ng, not commanded, — when at 
home, the subjects are subject and obedient, not refinactory and 
factious, — ^when abroad, th^ are as servants, senriceable and in 
readiness, without hesitation or reluctance, — ^when to the resolu- 
tions of the counsell, to the digests of the laws, the actions and 
aflfecUons are . inclined — this is that summum boniimy and 
chiefe good, which in this state and condition is obtain'd ! Hie 
mind for this has that transcendence given it, that man, though 
otherwise the weakest, might be the strongest and most excel- 
lent of all creatures. In that only is the excellence vre have, 
and thereby are we made superior to the rest. For in the habits 
of the body, in all the faculties thereof, man is not conaparable 
to others, in sense and motion far inferior to many. The 
ancients suppose it the indiscretion of Epimetheus, having the 
first distribution of the qualities, to leave us so defective, when 
to the rest he gave an excellence in their kinds. As swiftness 
and agility to some, strength and fortitude to others ; and whom 
he found weakest, these he made most nimble, as in ihe fowls 
and others it is seen ; and whom he found most slow, to these 
he gave most strength, as bulls and elephants do expresse it ; 
and so all others in their kinds have some singularity and ex- 
cellence, wherein there is a compensation for all wants ; sonn^ 
being armed offensively and defensive, and in that having a 
provisional security. But man only he left naked, more un- 
furnished than the rest : in him there was neither strength nor 
agility, to preserve him from the danger of his enemies — mul- 
titudes exceeding him in either, many in both ~ to whom he 
stood obnoxious and exposed, having no resistance, no avoid- 
ance for their furies ! But in this case and necessity, to relieve 
him upon this oversight and improvidence of Epimetheus, 
Prometheus, that wise statesman, whom Pandora could not 
cozen, having the present apprehension of the danger by his 
quick judgement and intelligence, secretly passes into heaven, 
steals out a fire from thence, infuses it into man, by that in- 
flames his mind with a divine spirit and wisdom, and therein 
gives him a full supply for all ! For all the excellence of the 
creatures he had a far more excellence in this. This one was 
for them all. No strength nor agility could match it. All 
motions and abilities came short of this perfection. The most 



SIR JOHN ELIOT. 177 

choice armes of nature, haue their superlative in its arts. AU 
the arts of Vulcan and Minerva have their comparative herein. 
In this divine lire and spirit, this supernatural influence of the 
mind, all excellence organical is surpast.; it is the transcendant 
of them all ; nothing can come to match it ; nothing can impeach 
it ; but man therein is an absolute master of himself; his own 
safety and tranquility by God (for so we must remember the 
Sthicks did expresse it) are made dependant on himself. And 
in that self-dependance, in the neglect of others, in the entire 
rule and dominion of himself, the affections being composed, 
the actions so directed, is the perfection of our government, 
that summum bonum in philosophy, the bonum publicum in 
our policy, the true end and object of this Momarcht or 
Man." 



▼OL, II. 



IJS BRITISH STATESMBN. 



THOMAS WENTWORTH, EARL OF 
STRAFFORD. 

1593—1641. 

Thomas Wentworth was born on the 13th of April, 
1593, in Chancery-lane, at the house of liis mother's 
father, Mr. Robert Atkinson, a bencher of Lincobi^s Inn.^ 
He was the eldest of twelve children, and the heir of 
" an estate, which descended to him through a long 
train of ancestors, who had matched with many heir- 
esses of the best families in the North, worth at that 
time 6000/. a year." 2 His father, sir William Went- 
worth, continued to hold a manor which his ancestors 
had held from the time of the Conquest downwards.^ 

The youth of Wentworth was passed, and his mind 
received its earliest and strongest impressions, in the 
midst of the aristocratic influences. And he was by no 
means taught to disregard them. He must have con- 
sidered the various ramifications of the family pedigree 
with a very early pride and zeal, to have been so 
well prepared, on his sudden elevation to the peerage, 
with the formidable list of progenitors that were cited 
in his patent. It was there set forth, among other 
grand and notable things, that he was lineally descended 
from John of Gaunt, and from the ancient barons of 
Newmark, Oversley, and so forth ; and that his an- 
cestors, either by father or mother, had matched with 
divers houses of honour; as with Maud countess of 

1 Radcliffe'fl ** Essay towards the Life of my Lord StraflFbrde/* published 
as an appendix to " The Earl op Strapfordb's LsrrERS and Dis- 
patches," S vols, folia Dublin edit 1740. voL iL p. 4S9. Biograf>hia 
Britannica, vol. vii. p. 4172. 

* Knowler's Dedication to the Letters. 

9 All account of the Wentworths will be found in Collins; and see 
Thoresby's Ducatus Leodiensis. 






EARL OF STRAFFORD. 179 

Cambridge, daughter to the lord Clifford of Westmore^ 
landj with Margaret^ daughter and heir to the lord 
Philip de Spencer ; the lords D* Arcy of the North ; 
liatimer, Talboys, Ogle; Ferrers earl of Digby; Quincy 
earl of Winchester; Beaumont earl of Leicester; Grant- 
mesnil baron of Hincley and lord high steward of Eng- 
land ; Peveril earl of Nottingham ; Leofric earl of 
Mercia; and Margaret duchess of Somerset, grandmother 
of Henry VII. ^ It was from the high conventional 
ground of such proud recollections, that Thomas Went- 
worth looked forward to the futurel 

Little account of his early education has been pre- 
served^ but he s^terwards proved that no accomplish- 
ment suited to rank and lofty expectations had been 
omitted, and it is characteristic of the encouragement 
given by his father to his aristocratic tendencies, that 
the college selected for the completion of his studies 
should have been that which was founded by the illus. 
trious grandmother of Henry VII., whom he claimed 
as one of his ancestors. He was sent to St. John's 
college^ Cambridge.^ Here he soon gave evidence of 
the powers of a fine intellect, and of that not ungenerous 
warmth of disposition which is lavish of gratitude and 
favour in return for personal service. He met with a 
tutor, Mr. Greenwood, whose useful attentions to him 
at this time were secured for the future by a prompt 
appreciation of their value ; he availed himself of them 
through his after life, and never at any time failed, 
faithfully, and even affectionately, to remember and 
reward them.^ I may add, in further proof of this 
characteristic quality, that we find him shortly after 
profiting by the active service of a person named Rad- 
cliffe^, connected with his family by some claims of 

1 Collins' Peerage of England, vol il pp. SO, 21. 

• Radcliflfb*8 Essay. 

3 I shall have other occasions to allude to this. It may be worth while 
to add, that Greenwood was himself a man of ancient 'family, and not 
likely, on that account, to prove less suitable to V^entworth. See Biog. 
Brit voL vii. p. 4173. note C. 

* Strallbrd P^>er8, vol i. p. 9L 

N « 



180 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

clanship^ and that^ from this time^ Raddiffe never left 
his side. He had heen found useful. 

Wentworth left his college while yet very young ; 
he cannot have heen more than eighteen. But he had 
received henefits from his residence there^ and he did 
not fail to exhihit his recollection of these also^ when 
the power and opportunity arose. ^ Not that it required^ 
in this particular case, the circumstance of service ren- 
deredj to elicit Wentworth's return. The memory of 
his proudly recollected ancestress was abundantly suf- 
ficient to have called it forth ; ^^ being," as he himself^ 
shordy after this, writes to one of his country neigh, 
hours, " I must confess, in my own nature, a great 
lover and conserver of hereditary good wills, such as 
have been amongst our nearest friends." 2 When a 
hereditary good will happened to be associated with one 
of his greatest' ancestral glories^ it ran little chance of 
being liessened or lost. 

The next circumstance I trace in the scanty me. 
morials of this portion of his history, is his acquisition 
of the honour of knighthood.'^ This title was then to 
be purchased at a reasonable rate of money ; doubtless 
Wentworth so purchased it ; and the fact may be taken, 
along with the evidences I have already named, in 

1 Strafford Papers, vol i. pp. 125. 189. ; ii. p. d9a I may allude to this 
again. On bis promotion to the earldom, two years before his death, he 
acknowledged, in warm phrase, the congratulations of the provost and 
fellows of his old college:—** After my very hearty commendations, so 
mindful I am of the ancient favours I received in that society of St John's, 
whilst I was a student there, and so sensible of your present civility towards 
me, as I may not upon this invitation pass by either of them unacknow. 
ledged. And therefore do hereby very heartily thank you for renewing to 
me the sense of the one, and affording me the favour of the other. And 
in both these regards shall be very apprehensive of any occasions, wherein 
I may do any good offices either towards that house or yourselves, the 
provost and fellows thereof." 

a StrafiFbrd Papers, vol. i. p. 25. 

3 The writer in the Biog. Brit, and Mr. MacDiarmid, assign a later 
period to this, but without authority. Radcliffe distinctly, in his Essay, 
names the year 1611 ; and there is extant a letter of sir Peter Frecheville's 
to Wentworth *s father, sir William Wentworth, dated in this year, which 
commences thus :— ** I do unfeignedly congratulate the honourable fortunes 
of my cousin, your eldest son ; "— in reference, as must be supposed, to 
the youth's new title While on this subject I may add, that Mr. Mac- 
Diarmid has also fallen into error in attributing certain praises fvol. i. p. 1. 
of the Strafford Papers) to Thomas Wentworth : — they distincUy relate to 
his brother William, then educating for the bar. 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 181 

farther corroboration of the development of the aristo. 
cratic principle. Though still extremely youngs this 
remarkable person had been left to all the independence 
of mature manhood ; was treated with deference by his 
father ; and even now^ having not yet passed his eight- 
eenth year^ aspired to the hand of Frances^ eldest 
daughter of the earl of Cumberland^ whom he married 
before the close of l6ll.^ If it has seemed strange to 
the reader^ that the immediate successor to an ancient 
baronetcy should have sought to feed his love of rank 
by the purchase of a paltry knighthood^ here is the 
probable reason that influenced him. A title of any 
sort matched him more fittingly with a lady of title. 
Immediately after his marriage, in November, I6II, he 
went into France. Mr. Greenwood, his former tutor, 
joined him there, and remained with him. 2 

Strange events at that moment shook the kingdom 
of France. Henry IV. assassinated, the parliament 
invaded and beset, Marie de' Medicis regent. Sully 
disgraced, Concini in favour ! These things sunk deep 
into the mind of Wentworth. ^' II put faire des lors," 
exclaims the comte de Lally-Tolendal, *^ de profondes 
reflexions sur les horreurs du fanatisme, sur les abus 
du pouvoir, sur le malheur d'un pays depourvu de ces 
loix fixes, qui, dans Timpossibilite d'ann^antir les pas- 
sions humaines, les balaucent du moins Tune par I'autre, 
et les for cent par leur propre interet a servir, meme en 
d^pit d'elles, Tinteret general."** Without adopting 
M. de Lally-Tolendal's exact construction, it is certain 
that the events I have named, occurring as it were in 
the immediate presence of Wentworth 4, were not cal- 



1 Radcliffe'8 Essay. '^ Ibid. 

3 This is the only remark with any pretension to originality I have been 
able to find through the course of a long " Essai sur la Vie de T. Went- 
worth, Comte de Strafford," which the comte de Lally-Tolendal (pene- 
trated with profound disgust at the patriotic party in Lngland, and with 
the striking resemblance between Straffbrd's fate and that of his own 
unfortunate father) undertook to write for the instruction uf his country- 
men. He perpetrated a very ridiculous tragedy on the same subject. 

* He does hot appear to have visited France only, at this period, as has 
been supposed. He went on to Venice, where he formed a friendship with 
sir Henry Wotton. We find him afterwards, in his correspondence, con- 

N 3 



182 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

Ciliated to weaken his impressions in favour of strict 
establishment^ and in soom of popular regards. The 
image of a Ravillac, indeed, haunted his after life ! ^ 

Meanwhile events^ in themselves not so startliii^ and 
painful as these, but not the less ominous of a stormy 
future, were occurring in England. In the biography 
of Eliot I confined myself strictly to an explanation of 
the circumstances of general history under wbich he 
entered his first parliament: I must now retrace my 
steps. 

James I. had many reasons to be weary of his own 
kingdom, when the death of Elisabeth seated him on 
the English throne. He came to this country in an 
ecstasy of infinite relief. Visions of levelling clergy and 
factious nobles had vanished from his aching sight. In 
hopeful conceit he turned to his Scotch followers^ and 
remarked, they had at last arrived in the land of pro- 
mise. 

His first interviews with his English counsellors were 
no less satisfactory. " Do I mak the judges ? do I 
mak the bishops ? " he exclaimed, as they pointed out 
to his ^lelighted attention the powers of his new do- 
minion — " then, Godis wauns ! I mak what likes me 
law and Gospel." There is enough of shrewdness in 
this remark to express James's character in that respect. 
He was not an absolute fool, and little more can be said 
of him^ It is a pity he was not, since he was deficient 
in much wisdom. It is the little redeeming leaven 
which proves troublesome and mischievous; the very 
wise or the very foolish do little harm. His " learn- 
ing,'' such as it was — though not open to the serious 
censure which is provoked by his preposterous vanity 
in the matter of '^ kingcraft," his disgraceful love of 
personal ease, and his indecent and shameless fondness 
for personal favourites — never furnished him with one 

trasting to his friend the ambassador, ** these cold and sluggish climates,** 
with " the more sublimated air of Italy.*' — Pajocr*, vol. L p. A Wottoa 
continued his ardent friend and admirer. 
> His letters afford very frequent evidence of this. 



•^ 



ifABL OF 8TKAFF0RD. 183 

mefiil thought, or a suggestion of practical henefitJ 
He wrote mystical definitions of the prerogative^ and 
polite '' CounterUasts to Tobacco;" issued forth dam- 
nation to the deniers of witchcraft ^^ and poured out the 
wraths of the Apocalypse upon popery ; hut whenever 
an obvious or judicious truth seemed likely to fall in his 
way^ his pen infallibly waddled off from it. He ex- 
pounded the Latin of the fathers at Hampton Court ^^ 
bat avoided the very plain and intelligible Latin of 
Fortescue. 

Not so the great men, his opponents, who were now 
preparing for a constitutional struggle, of which Europe 
had as yet given no example. At the close of Eliza- 
beth's reign they had risen to a formidable party, they 
had wrung concessions even from her splendid despot- 

* Baeon*8 opinion has been urged asainst this, as evidence ]of genuine 
pmise or of the basest sycophancy. He dedicated his greatest work, the 
** Advancement of Learning," to James. It is worth while, however, to 
quote the exact words of this dedication. They are very curious. If they 
were meant seriously, never was so much flattery ingeniously mixed up 
with so much truth. They savour much more of irony. ** 1 am weU 
asaured," writes Bacon, "that this whioh I shall say is no amplificiv- 
tion at all, but a positive and measured truth ; which is, that there hath 
not been, since Christ's time, any king or temporal monarch, which hath 
been so learned in all literature and erudition, divine and human. For 
let a man seriously and diligently revolve and peruse the succession of 
the emperors of Rome, of which Caesar the dictator, who lived some years 
before Christ, and Marcus Antoninus, were the best learned ; and so 
descend to the emperors of Orscia, or of the West, and then to the lines of 
France, l^ain, t^gland, Scotland, and the rest; and he shall find his 
judgment is truly made. Fur it seemeth much in a king, tf by the conu 
pendious extractions of other nien*$ wits and labour^ he can take hold of any 
tmpejficial ornaments and shows cf learning, or if he countenance and 
pr^er learning and learned men : but to drink indeed qf the true fountain 
gleaming, nay, to have such a fountain of learning in himself in a 
6ng, and in a king bom, is almost a miracle.** This makes out too for. 
mioable an exception to be quite complimentary, and perhaps James's 
irreverent joke about the book itself was not unconnected with its dedi. 
cation. ** It is like the peace of God," he said, ** it passeth all under, 
atanding ! " It was a fair retort upon the sycophancy of James's more 
profligate flatterers, when Henry IV. of France admitted that he might be 
" Solomon — the son qf David.** 

* See the preface to his '* Daemonolc^ie." 

3 An extraordinary account of the indecent conduct of James at this 
conference is given by Harrington, an eye-witness (Nugae Antique, 
▼oL i. p. 181.) and is worth referring ta Barjow, a partial observer of the 
king and bishops, gives a long account of the discussion in his Phoenix 
Britannieus, p. 140. et sea. edit 1707. See also Winwood's Memorials, 
p. 13. James and his eighteen abject bishops boasted that they had 
thoroughly beaten their four puritan adversaries ; and beat them, it must 
be confessed, they did, with the rudest and most atrocious insults ; certainly 
not with learning. In the latter respect. Dr. Reynolds, the puritan leader, 
bad the advantage of perhaps any other man in England. See Hallam's 
Const Hist. vol. L p. 40& 

N 4 



184 ' BRITISH STATESMEN. 

ism^ and won for themselyes the oonrteoas title of 
'^ mutineers." ^ They soon found that they had little 
to fear from her successor. He had no personal daims 
on their respect ^, no dignity to fence in royalty. They 
buckled on the armour of their privileges^ and awaited 
bis ludicrous attacks without respect and without fear.^ 
James soon commenced them^ and with a hand doubly 
defenceless. He had impoverished his crown^ by con- 
ferring its estates on his needy followers ; he had de- 
prived it of the sympathy and support of the wealthier 
barons^ in disgusting them with his indiscrimihate 
peerage creations.^ From this feeble hand^ and a head 

r 1 Sloane MSS. 4106. Letter of Sir E. Hoby to Sir T. Edmonds, dated 
Feb. 12, 1605. See also Hallara's Constitutional Hist vol i. p. 401. A 
curious tract in the Sloane MSS. 827. confirms the loss of Elizabeth's 
popularity, and states its cause, in a short history of the queen's death, and 
the new king's accession. See, too. the proceedings in the case of Peter 
Wentworth (a Cornish Wentwortn), ParL Hist vol. iv. p. 186l <f/ seq. 
The name of Wentworth fills up more than one illustrious era of the 
English history. 

3 The news of the progress of his journey from Scotland had travelled 
before him I ** By the time he reached London," says Carte, a friend of 
the Stuarts, *' the admiration of the intelligent world was turned into con. 
tempt" The reader will find good reason for this in Harrington's Nugae 
Antiquse, vol. i. p. 180. ; Wilson, in Kennet, voL IL p. 667. ; Neal, p. 40S. 
quarto edit ; . Fuller, part ii. p. 22. ; Hallam, vol i. pp. 402, 403. Nor is it 
likely that this contempt should have been diminished by his personal 
aspect, which Weldon (quoting Balfour) has described, and Saunderson 
(in his Aulicus Coquinarise — an answer to Weldon 'shook) has not dared to 
contradict " He was of a middle stature," says Balfour, '* more corpulent 
throghe his clothes then in his body, zet fatt enouch ; his clothes euer 
being made large and easie, the doubletts quilted for steletto proofe ; his 
breeches in grate pleits and full stufibd : he was naturally of a timorous 
dispositione, which was the gratest reasone of his quilted doubletts : his 
eye large, euer roulling after aney stranger cam in his presence ; insomuch 
as maney for shame have left the roome, as being out of countenance ; his 
beard was werey thin ; his toung too large for his mouthe, vich euer made 
him speake full in the mouthe, ^nd made him drinke werey uncomelie, as 
if eatting his drinke, wich cam out into the cupe in eache syde of his 
mouthe ; his skin vaa as softe as tafta sarsnet : wich fett so becausse he 
neuer washt his bands, onlie rubbed his fingers' ends slightly vith theSrett 
end of a napkin. His legs wer verey weake ; having had, as was thought, 
some foule play in his youthe ; or rather, befor he was borne ; that be was 
not able to stand at seuin zeires of age ; that weaknes made him euer 
leaning on other men's shoulders."—'* His walk," subjoins Wilson, •* was 
ever circular." The satirical Francis Osborne has certainly completed this 
picture : ~ " I shall leave him dressed for posterity," says that writer, ** in 
the color I saw him in, the next progress after his inauguration ; which 
was as green as the grass he trod on; with a feather in his cap, and a horn, 
instead of a sword, by his side. How suitable to his age, calling, or person, 
I leave others to judge from his pictures.*'— Trad. Mem. c. xvii. 

3 An ominous hint of relative advantage may be quoted from the JOur. 
nals, voL i. p. 1.56. " That a people may be without a kiftg, a king cannot 
be without a people." 

4 See Bolingbroke on the History of England, pp. 237,238. Harris's 
Life of James, pp. 69. 71. " A pasquil," says Wilson, " was pasted up at 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 185 

stuffed with notions of his royal ^^ divinity^" he issued 
the first of his proclamations for the assemhling of par- 
liament. It contained a deadly attack on the privileges 
of the house of commons^ in an attempt to regulate 
the parliamentary elections. This was resented^ and 
defeated, and so the fight began, i 

The popular party proclaimed their intentions at 
once, with boldness, and in explicit language. They 
warned the king of his imprudence ; they spoke of the 
dissolute and abandoned character of his court expenses. 
They did not refuse to assist his wants, but they main- 
tained that every ofier of money on their part should 
be met with corresponding offers of concession on the 
J)art of the crown. . They brought forward a catalogue 
of grievances in the practice of the ecclesiastical courts, 
in the administration of civil justice, and in the conduct 
of the various departments of the government. For these 
they demanded redress.^ Artifice and intrigue were the 
first answers they received, and a prorogation the last. 

James had now sufiicient warning, but, nevertheless, 
plunged blusteringly forward. With no clear hereditary 
right to the crown ^, he flouted his only safe pretension 
— the consent and authority of the people. With no 
personal qualities to command respect, he proclaimed 
himself a '^ lieutenant and vicegerent of God," and, as 
such, adorned and furnished with ^^ sparkles of di- 

St. Paul's, wherein was pretended an art to help weak memories to a com. 
petent knowledge of the names of the nobility." — p. 7. 

» See Commons* Journals, p. 147. et sea. 16a ; Carte, vol. iii. p. 730. ; 
WinwQod's Memorials, vol. ii. p. 18.; fiolingbroke's Remarks, p. 250. 
Hume observes that "the facility with whi6h he departed from this pre- 
tension is a proof that his meaning was innocent." (vol. v. p. 12.) Fear, 
his saving characteristic, is the more obvious solution. 

2 They tried to ^et the upper hpu^ to join them in these complaints, 
but vainly. Their lordships refused. See Somers Tracts, vol ii. p. 14. ; 
Commons' Journals, pp. 199. 235. 238. Fw the principal grievances, see 
Journals, pp. 190. 215. 25). &c ; Hallam's Court Hist Vol. i. pp. 412. 415. ; 
and Lingard's History, vol. vi. pp. 23. 27. 88 — 'dS. quarto edit 

3 Mr. Hallam has admirably and fully discussed this point. Const Hist 
pp. 392-'400. I have no doubt the king was able to feel his waht of clear 
pretensions acutely ; but his blundering shrewdness taught him no better 
mode of concealing it, than by magnifying the inherent rights of primo. 

Senitary succession, as something indefeasible by the legislature. We 
Dd him frequently, with much testiness, reminding the commons — "you 
all know, I came from the loins of your ancient kings" — a sure proof that 
he feared they did not know it See Pari. Hist vol. v. p. 192. 



186* BRITISH STATESMEN. 

vinity/' In total ignorance of the nature and powers of 
government^ nothing could shake his vain conceit of the 
awe to be inspired by his regal wisdom. The comroona, 
however^ left no point of their claims unasserted or un- 
certain ; they reserved no '^ arcana imperii^" after the 
king's fashion. They drew up in committee a '* Satis- 
faction'' of their proceedings^ for the perusal of James^ 
who makes an evident allusion to it in a letter of the 
time. * It is vain to say, after reading such documents 
as this^ that liberty^ a discrimination of the powers and 
objects of government^ was then only struggling to the 
light, or had achieved no distinct form and pretension. 
It was already deep in the hearts and in the understand- 
ings of men. " YTliat cause," they eloquently said, *' we 
your poor commons have, to watch over their privileges, 
is evident in itself to all men. The prerogatives of 
princes may easily, and do daily, grow. The privileges 
of the subject are, for the most part, at an everlastii^ 
stand. They may be, by good providence and care, 
preserved ; but being once lost, are not recovered but 
with much disquiet." 

Another session succeeded, and the same scenes were 
again enacted, with the same results. In vain were 
monopolies cried down, and the merchants lifted their 
voices unavailingly against the inglorious peace with 
Spain. After this prorogation, James's obstinacy held 
out for upwards of two years, when want of money 
overcame it. 



1 This remarkable paper will be found at length in Petyt** Jua Parlku 
ment ch. x. p. 227. ; and hs extracted into Mr. Hatsell's first vcA. of Pre- 
cedents, Appendix, Na 1. Hatsell states, that it was not entered on the 
Journals. This is partly a mistake, for at p. 243. the first paragraph will 
be found. Rapin alludes to it ; and Mr. Hallam has made very spzritcil 
use of it (vol. i. p. 418.), though he seems to labour under misapprehensioD 
in stating that Hume was ignorant of its existence. Hume, on the com. 
trary, makes special allusion to it (vol. v. p. 15.) ; quotes a passage from 
it ; speaks of it as drawn up *' with great force of reasoning, and spirit of 
liberty ; '* attributes it to Bacon and Sandys ; and inclines to think that it 
had not been presented to the monarch by the house The last supposition 
is certainly incorrect ; and Mr. Hallam produces a letter which appears to 
indicate the feelings with which the king regarded it (vol. L p. 419.). 
About this time, it may be added, mention is made in the Journals, that 
f!resh seats were required for the extraordinary attenduace of members. — 
p. 141. 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 187 

The session of I6IO was a most distinguished one^ 
and called the unjust prerogatiye to a rigorous reckon- 
ing. James had most illegally^ in the face of two great 
charters^ and twelve other parliamentary enactments^ 
imposed certain duties on imports and exports. Bates, 
a Turkey merchant, refused payment of one on cur- 
rants, and carried his case into the exchequer.^ The 
judges there refused him justice, in terms more dis- 
graceful and subversive of liberty, than even the ini- 
quitous decision. Against this, and in no measured 
terms, the commons now protested. Lawyers, more 
learned than the judges, exposed, in masterly reasoning, 
the ignorance and corruption of barons Fleming and 
Clark. Sir Francis Bacon appealed with all his elo- 
quence to the reverence of past ages, and the possession 
of the present ; but Hakewill proved 2, in an argument 
of memorable deamess and vast knowledge, that the 
only instances adduced were on forbidden articles, and 
therefore false as precedents ; and Bacon appealed in 
vain. Still more vain was the rage of the monarch, 
who hastened to the house to lay his arrogant commands 
upon them. He told them, after a comparison savour, 
ing of blasphemy, that it *^ was seditious in subjects to 
dispute what a king may do in the height of his power." ^ 
They answered in a remonstrance of great strength and 
spirit, and of much learning.^ After producing a host 
of precedents, they passed a bill against impositions ; 

* A very learned preface to the report of the case of Bates in the State 
Trials, comprising the entire argument on the question, has been written 
by Mr. Hargrave. Coke, in his 2d Inst p. 57.. proves the illegality of the 
dacision ; though, in his Reports (p. IS.), he had indined to its fkvour, on 
other grounds than those stated by the judges. See also Birch's Negoti- 
ations, and an eloquent and very learned note on the subject of impositions, 
ia Mr. Amos's Fortescue, pp. S8— 31. 14S, 143. I cannot leave the latter 
work without adding, that various and extensive as is the learning dis. 
Itteyed in it, it is for those only to appreciate Mr. Amos*s profound ac 
quaintance with constitutional law and history, who, like myself, have 
to acknowledge, with the deepest gratitude, information personally com. 
municated. 

3 See his s|.ieech. State Trials, vol. iL p. 407. Mr. Hallam's statement 
of the discussion is interesting, vol. i p. 433 4 3 8. 

' It is worth referring to this speech, as given in King James's Works, 
up. 529. 531. The discontent it provoked will be found by referring to 
Winwood's Memorials, voL iiL p. 175. ; Commons' Journals, p. 430. ; and 
Miss Aikin'a James, vuL i. p. 350. 

't It will be found at length at Somers* Tracts, vol ii. p. 159. 



188 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

but^ to use Hume's phrase^ '^ the house of lords^ as is 
usual^ defended the barriers of the throne^" and threw 
out the billJ 

I may allude a little further to the proceedings of 
this distinguished session, since they illustrate forcibly 
the exact relative positions of the crown and parliament 
at the period of Wentworth's return. 

Unwearied in exertion^ the house of commons now 
fastened on a work that had been published by Dr. 
Cowell, one of the party of civilians encouraged against 
the common lawyers, and which contained most mon- 
strous doctrines on the subject of kingly power .2 They 
compelled James to suppress the book. The wily Cecil 
had striven to effect a compromise with them^ by the 
proposition of a large yearly revenue- to the crown^ in 
return for which he promised that the liberality of the 
sovereign in the matter of grievances should be com- 
mensurate. He had entreated, however, without success, 
that the subsidies should have priority : the commons 
were resolute in enforcing the condition before yielding 
the grant. The fate of their impositions' bill bad in- 
structed them. Cecil now pressed again for the sub- 
sidies; they persisted in the further entertainment of 
grievances. They complained of the ecclesiastical high 
commission court, and its disregard of the common law; 
they protested against the recent system of substituting 
proclamations for laws; they sought redress for the 
delays of the courts in granting writs of prohibition and 
habeas corpus ; they questioned the right of the council 
of Wales to exclude from the privileges of the common 
law four ancient English counties ; they remonstrated 

1 Hume, referring to this measure, obseryes : — *< A spirit of liberty had 
now taken possession of the house. The leading members, being men of 
independent genius and large views, began to regulate their opinicms more 
by the future consequences which they foresaw, than by former precedents 
which were laid before them; and they less aspired at maintaining tbe 
ancient constitution, than at establishing a new one, and a freer, and a 
better." (vol. v. p. 34.) However true this may be in reference to fUture 
proceedings, it is certainly incorrect as applied to the present 

2 See Roger Coke's Detection, vol. i. p. 50. edit. 1694. These passages 
have since been suppressed, and it is now considered a useful book. See 
Hume's admirable note, vol. v. p. SJ. 



EABL OF STRAFFORD. 189 

against patents of monopolies^ and a late most unjust 
tax upon victuallers ; but^ above all^ they strove to 
exonerate the country from the feudal burthens.^ They 
did not dispute that these in right belonged to the 
crown ; but they negotiated for their abolition ; for they 
never then insisted on a right, except with proofs and 
precedents in their hands for claiming it as such. In that 
particular stage of the contest^ the necessity and justice 
o£ such caution is apparent^ and forms an important 
feature of their struggles. 

The negotiation now commenced. James did not 
care to abolish purveyance ^, which was sought for ; 
but with that was coupled a demand for the exchange 
of every other kind of tenure into that of free and 
common socage.^ " What ! " said James^ " reduce all 
my subjects^ noble and base^ rich and poor^ to hold 
their lands in the same ignoble manner ? " The indig- 
nant '^ father of his people" would not listen to it ; and^ 
after some delay, a compromise wn struck. The tenure 
by knight service was retained ; '^Imt its most lucrative 
and oppressive incidents, such as relief, premier seisin^ 
and wardship, were surrendered, along with purveyance. 
Still the commons delayed; for Cecil's demands were 
exorbitant. They resolved to pause some short time 
longer, that they might ascertain the best mode of levy- 
ing so large a sum with the least distress to the nation. 
The session had already been protracted far into sum- 
mer ; a subsidy was granted for immediate wants ; and 
a prorogation took place. 

The loss of the Journals of the ensuing session renders 
it difficult to follow their proceedings. It is certain, 
however^ from other sources^ that the events of the 
interim had resolved the leaders of the house on aban- 
doning the terms proposed. They saw no signs of greater 
justice at the outports, or in the proclamations^ or in the 

1 See the ParL Hi8t toI. ▼. pp. 2i5—245. Also, the Commons' Journals 
for 1610. 'Winwood, vol. iii. p. 119. 

'An admirable note on purveyance will be found in Amos's Fortescue, 
pp. 134, 1S5. 

3 ParL Hist vol ▼. p. 229. «l seq. 



190 BRITISH STATEgXEN. 

ecclesiastical courts. The most important of th^r pe- 
titions on particular grievanoes had been refosed^ and 
now^ when they sent one up to the throne for the al- 
lowing prisoners on a capital charge to bring witnesses 
in their own defence^ the king protested to them^ that 
in his conscience he could not grant such an indulgence. 
*' It would encourage and multiply forgery^" he said : 
'^ men were already accustomed to forswear themselves, 
even in civil actions ; what less could be expected when 
the life of a friend was at stake ? '' ^ Such was the 
exquisite philosophy of James. A coolness ensued ; 
threats followed ; a prorogation was again the interme- 
diate argument, with a dissolution within nine weeks 
as the final one. Those nine weeks were employed in 
vain in the purpose of weakening the popular party ; 
and, on the day threatened, seven years from their first 
assembling, the dissolution took place.^ 

The interval which ensued was one of profusion, 
debauchery, and riot in the court •% and of attempted 
oppression and wrong against the people. Fortunately^ 
the spirit of liberty had strengthened to resistance. 
*' The privy seals are going forth," says a contemporary 
writer"^, '^ but from a trembling hand, lest that sacred 
seal should be refused by the desperate hardness of the 
prejudiced people." It was refused ; and the shameful 
expedient was abundantly resorted to by the court^ of 
selling the honours of the peerage, and of creating a 
number of hereditary knights, who should pay tribute 
for their dignity.^ All would not serve, however ; and 

^ Commons* JournaU, p. 451. Lord's Jouraab, p. 658. Winwood, 
Tol. iii. p. 193. 

3 A curious letter of the king, illustrative of the angry feelings that pre. 
vailed at the dissolution, exists in Marden's State Papers, p. 813. See 
Hallam, vol. L p. 451. 

3 Observe the account in Fulke lord Brooke's Five Years of King 
James } Mrs. Hutchinson's Memoirs; Weldon, p. 166. ; Coke's Detection, 
vol i. pp. 42-48. The court presented, at this moment, a disgusting scene 
of profligacy. It requires a strong stomach even to get through a perusal 
of the details. Ladies rendered themselves especially notable, not merely 
fqr laxity of virtue, but for the grossest drunkenness. See Nugae Antiquae, 
vol i. p. 348. 

* In Winwood's Memorials, voL iiL 

^ An account of this proceeding will be found in Lingard's History, 
vol tL quarto edit from Somers* Tractfl. See also Hallam, voL i. pi 461. ; 



EABL OF STRAFFORD. IQl 

Bacon, reckoning somewhat unduly on his own skill ^, 
prevailed upon the king to summon another parliament. 
At this eventful moment Wentworth came hack to 
£ngland, and was immediately returned knight of the 
shire for Yorkshire.^ It is now my duty to follow him 
through the commencing passages of bis public life^ and 
I hojie to do this faithfully. I have felt very strongly 
that tlie truth lies (as it generally does in such cases) 
somewhere between the extreme statements that have 
been urged on either side^ by the friends and the foes 
of Wentworth. 

One of his latest biographers 3, who brought to his 

task a very amiable feeling and desire — which wasted 

itself at last, however, in an excess of sweetness and 

candour — sets out with a just remark. '^ The factions 

which agitated his contemporaries," Mr. Mac-Diarmid 

observes, " far from ceasing with the existing generation^ 

divided posterity into his immoderate censurers, or 

unqualified admirers ; and writers, whether hostile or 

friendly, have confounded his merits and defects with 

those of the transactions in which he was engaged. 

£ven in the present day, an undisguised exposure of 

his virtues and vices might be misconstrued by many 

into a prejudiced panegyric, or an invidious censure of 

man^ as well as of the cause." Now, from this I shall 

certainly, in some measure, secure myself by the course I 

propose to adopt. The collection of documents known 

by the title of the ^^ Strafford Papers," seems to me to 

Aikin, voL i. p. 389. The project appears to have been the suggestion of 
SalUbury. See Baker's Chronicle, p. 416. edit 1679.; Guthrie, vol. iU. 
p. 704w ; and Macaulay's History, vol. t. p. 75. 

1 MS. in the possession of Mr. Hallara, Const Hist vol L pp. 461, 46S. 

* The writer in the Biographia Britannica, and Mr. Mac-Diarmid, reject 
air George RadclifTe's dates without the slightest scruple, but without the 
smallest excuse. Thev are all of thetn extremely accurate, and it is quite 
certain that Wentworth sat in the parliament of 1614. The writers in the 
BiofT. Brit plead in apology that Radcliff^'K own statement—** my memory 
is (of late especially) very bad and decayed"— quite warrants their freedom 
with his dates ; but they seem to have overlooked the fart, that Radclifib 
distinctly restricts the decay of his memory to facts he has altogether for. 
ffotten. ** Seeing my unfaithful memory," he subseauently says, *' hath 
KMt part of the occurrences which concerned my lord, 1 am loth to let slip 
that, tvA/cA yet remaitu." 

> Mr. Mac-Diarmid, Lives of British Statesmen, 2 vols. 



n 



192 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

contain within itself every material necessary to tlie 
illustration of the public and private character of this 
statesman^ on an authority which few will be disposed 
to contest, for the record is his'own. The general his. 
torical statement I have already given^ was necessary to 
bring Wentworth more intelligibly upon the political 
scene ; but hereafter I mean to restrict myself^ almost 
entirely^ to the authorities^ illustrations, and suggestions 
of character^ that are so abundantly furnished by that 
great work. The letters it contains, extending over a 
period of more than twenty years^ comprise'the notices 
of the country gentleman, the anxieties of the parlia- 
ment.man^ the growing ambition of the president of 
the North, the unflagging energy of the lord deputy, 
the intense purpose and reckless daring of the lieo^ 
tenant-general, and the cares, magnanimously borne^ of 
the ruined and forsaken aspirant, about to render the for* 
feit of that life, which three kingdoms had pronounced 
incompatible with their well-being. Their evidence is the 
more unexceptionable, that they are no hasty ebullitions^ 
the offspring of the moment, a sudden expression of sen- 
timents to be disavowed in succeeding intervals of calm. 
With a view, as it would seem, to guard against the 
inconveniences of a naturally flery and uncontrollable 
temperament; Strafford wrote with singular deliberation; 
and his perspicuous and straightforward despatches ^ 
deliver the results of a thorough conviction. "^ He 
never did any thing of any moment," remarks sir Greorge 
Radcliffe, '^ concerning either political or domestical 
business, without taking advice; not so much as a 
letter written by him to any great man, of any business, 
but he showed it to his confidents if they were near 
him. The former part of his life, Charles Greenwood 
and myself were consulted with ; and the latter part, 
Chr. Wandesford came in Charles Greenwood's room, 

1 It \» much to be regretted that Mr. Brodie, whose work cbntaiiM 
•everal valuable sufrgestions towards the life of Straffbrd, should suflfter 
himself to depreciate so strongly the merit of his letters and despatches, 
and his intellectual attainments generally. I shall have ample occasion to 
refute this. 



EARL OP STRAFFORD. 193 

Charles Greenwood desiring not to be taken away from 
his cure ; they met almost daily, and debated all busi- 
nesses and designs^ pro et contra ;. by this means his 
own judgment was very much improved^ and all the 
drcarostances and probable consequences of the things 
consulted were discovered and considered.*' ^ From the 
high praise which is given by sir George to this prac- 
tice^ it is to be inferred^ moreover, that it was no cheap 
expedient to obtain an obsequious and all-approving set 
of counsellors ; for he complacently subjoins^ that such a 
course '' is very efficacious to make a wise man^ even 
though he advise with much weaker men than himself: 
for there is no man of ordinary capacity^ that will not 
often suggest some things which might else have been 
let slip without being observed ; and in the debatings of 
things, a man may give another hints and occasions to 
observe and find out that, which he that speaks to it, 
perhaps^ never thinks on ; as a whetstone^" &c. ; con- 
cluding with that very original simile. It may also be 
remarked here, that, of his more important despatches to 
the king, Wentworth was accustomed to transmit dupli- 
cates to the leading members of the council. Thus, in 
a letter to secretary Cooke, he writes : 'Mlaving such 
confidence in your judgment and good affection both 
towards his majesty's service and myself, I hold it fit 
to give you a clear and particular understanding of all 
my proceedings in these affairs ; to which end I have 
sent you the duplicates of all my despatches to his 
majesty and others, as you will find in the pacquet this 
bearer shall bring unto you ; only I desire you will be 
pleased not to take notice thereof, unless it be brought 
unto you by some other hand. These businesses have 
cost me a mighty labour, having been at first written 
over by my own hand. And I have been as circum- 
spect and considerate therein as possibly I could. And 
now, I beseech you^ help me with your judgment, in 
any thing you shall find amiss ; and let me clearly and 
speedily be led into the right path, in case I have erro. 

1 Essaj. 
VOL. II. O. 



194 BRITISH STATESMEN* 

lieously^ in any things swerved from that which is best 
and honourablest for our roaster ; for it would grieve 
me more than any other thing, if my weakness should 
lead him into the least inconvenience: and this you 
ever find in me, — that no roan living shall more promptly 
depart from an error than myself, that have, in good 
faith, no confidence in my own judgment, how direct and 
intent soever my affections may be." What these letters 
want, therefore, in those sudden and familiar outbreaks 
which are to be looked for in a less guarded corre* 
spondence, is amply made up in the increased authority 
of the matter thus carefully elaborated, and cautiously 
put forth. Nor are instances altogether wanting, in 
which the curb is set aside, and the whole nature of the 
writer has its resistless way. 

I have remarked on the aristocratic influences which 
surrounded Wentworth's youth. Every thing had tended 
to foster that principle within him. His ancient lineage, 
extending, at no very distant period, to the blood royal 
— the degree of attention which must have early at- 
tached itself to the eldest of twelve children — his 
inheritance of an estate of 6000/. a year, an enormous 
fortune in those days — his education — all the various 
circumstances which have been 'touched upon — contri- 
buted to produce a character ill fitted to comprehend or 
sympathise with '^ your Prynnes, Pyros, Bens, and the 
rest of that generation of odd naroes and natures,^" 
who recognised, in the struggling and oppressed Many, 
those splendid dawnings of authority, which others were 
disposed to seek only in the One. Froro the first we 
observe in Wentworth a deep sense of his exact social 
position and its advantages. This is explained in a 
passage of a remarkable letter, written at a later period 
to his early tutor, Mr. Oreenwood, but which I shall 
extract here, since it has reference to the present time. 
'' My sister Elizabeth writes me a letter concerning my 
brother Mathew's estate, which I know not how to 

I Straffbrd Papers, vol. 1 p. 344. Such was Wentworth's ill-judged clas- 
•jfication. ** Ben " may be presumed to have meant sir Benjamin Kudyard. 



EARL OF STBAFFORD. 19^ 

answer till I see the will ; nor do I know what it is she 
claims — whether money alone^ or his rent-charge forth 
of my lands^ or hoth. Therefore I desire the copy of 
the will may he sent me, and her demand, and then she 
shall have my answer. This hrother, that she saith 
was so dear unto her, had well tutored her, or she him, 
heing the couple of all the children of my father that I 
conceived loved me least; it may he they loved one 
another the hetter for that too. However it prove, I 
know not ; hut this I am most assured, — that in case 
any of the three brothers died without issue, my father 
ever intended their rent-charge should revert to me, and 
not lie still as a clog upon my estate; or that any 
daughter of his, whom he had otherwise provided for 
forth of the estate, should thus intercept his intentions 
towards his heir. But how often hath he been pleased 
to excuse unto me the liberal provisions taken forth of 
my estate for my brothers and sisters ? And as often 
hath been assured by me, I thought nothing too much 
that Ite had done for them ; and yet I can make it con- 
fidently appear, that he left not my estate better to me 
than my grandfather left it to him, by 200/. a year ; nay, 
some that understand it very well have, upon speech 
had with me about it, been very confident he left it me 
rather worse than better than he received it. But I 
shall and can, I praise God, and have heretofore, pa. 
tiently looked upon their peevishness and frowardness 
towards me, and all their wise and prudent councils and 
synods they have held against me, as if they had been 
to have dealt with some cheater or cozener, not with a 
brother, who had ever carried himself justly and lov- 
ingly towards them ; nor do I, or will I, deny them ' 
the duties I owe unto them, as recommended unto my 
care by my father. Nay, as wise as they did, or do, 
take themselves to have been, I will say, it had not been 
the worse for them, as I think, if they had taken less of 
their own foolish empty fancies, and followed more of my 
advice, who, I must needs say, take myself to have 
been full as able to have directed their course, as they 

o 2 



196 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

themselves could be at that age."^ Here the remark. 
cannot but occur^ of the very early age at which these 
extraordinary " excuses*' from a father to a son most 
have been proffered and accepted ! Sir William Went-* 
worth died in l6l4^^ shortly after his son^ irho had 
scarcely accomplished his twenty-first year, was returned, 
to parliament from Yorkshire. This patriarchal au- 
thority, then, this strong sense of his hereditary rights 
of property, was of no late assumption ; and in after life 
it was Wentworth's proud satisfaction that he came not to 
Ireland " to piece up a broken fortune."^ — " For,'* says 
he elsewhere, '* as I am a Christian, I spend much more 
than all my entertainments come unto ; yet I do not com- 
plain ; my estate in England may well spare me something 
to spend.'* At his so early maturity, being called to 
the family inheritance by the death of his father, a 
new charge devolved to him in the guardianship of his 
elder sister's children, the issue of sir George Savile, 
which trust he faithfully discharged. His own account 
of his family regards, generally, given in the passage 
quoted, appears to me to be perfectly just. His dis- 
position was kind, but exacting. Those of his relations 
who paid him proper deference, received from him at- 
tentions and care. And it is remarkable to observe, in 
those brothers, for instance^ who continued attached to 
him through all his fortunes — one an intimate coun- 
sellor, another a ^'humble poster in his affairs" — 
the complete deference they at all times cheerfully paid 
to him. 

Such was the new member for Yorkshire, who took 
his seat in the parliament of I6l4. I have described 
the condition of affairs. They had arrived at such a 
point, that not to declare in favour of the popular party, 
was to exert an influence against them. The liberal 
strength had not declined in the present assembly. . The 
confederacy of *' undertakers "*," banded for the purpose 

1 Strafford Papers, vol. i. p. 484. s Radclifib s Essay. 

3 Stra£Fbrd Papers, vol. i. p. 138. and see vol i. p. 79. 
* For the origin of these ** strange ugly kind of lK»asts," as the king, in 
his subsequent confession of their existence, oddly called them, see W'ilaoB, 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 197 

of influencing the elections, had pursued their vile avo- 
ications without effect. The new memhers were staunch ; 
resumed complaints against monopolies and other unjust 
grmnts ; called the bishop of Lincoln to account for dis. 
respectful words; and received the tribute to their honesty 
of a dissolution after two months' sitting', and of im. 
prisonment, in many cases, afterwards.^ During these 
two months, Wentworth had continued silent ; — not un- 
observed, but silent. I have examined the Journals^ 
and find no trace of his advocacy of either side in the 
great struggle.^ 

At the close of the session he returned to Yorkshire, 
and a year passed over him at his country residence^ 



in Kennet, vol il p. 696. For James's present false denial of their having 
been employed, see Carte, voL iv. pp. 19,20. ; Bacon's Works, vol. i. p. 605.; 
Commons' Journals, p. 462. 

A ** This house of commons," says Hume, *' showed rather a stronger 
spirit of liberty than the foregoing, so little skill had the courtiers for ma- 
ni^ing elet^ions." (vol. v. p. 49.) It subsequently received from the politer 
courtiers the title of the " addle " parliament, firom the circumstance of its 
not having been allowed to pass a single bilL Aikin, vol i. p. 439. See a 
carious fact mentioned in D'Israeli's Character of James, p. 158., and th^ 
king's assertion, in his remarkable commission for the dissolution. 

* The comi)ilers of the Parliamentary History have denied this : but see 
d^ate on it in Journals of Feb. 5. 12. and 15. 1621 ; and Hatselrs proof, 
▼ol. i. p. ISS, l;^ edit. 1796. Hume auraits the statement, vol v. p. 50. 

3 In some of the less precisely accurate histories, — in Echard's, Old. 
mixon's, and Mrs Macaulay's — Wentworth had been erroneously ranked 
as one of the " factious" members of this session, who had earned im- 
prisonment after the dissolution by a violent personal attack on the king. 
Mr. Brodie set the mistake completely at rest, by showing its origin. A. 
Mr. Thomas Wentworth, a very popular member, represented Oxford in 
all the parliaments of James, and iii the two first parliaments of Charles. It 
was be who spoke violently, and was imprisoned. It was he also who took the 
active part against Buckingham in the second parliament, which had been 
ascribM to sir Thomas Wentworth (who did not sit in that parliament at 
all), even by Rushworth. In expressing great surprise at this mistake on 
the collector's part, however, Mr. Brodie overlooks the circumstance of its 
having arisen ft-om a mere error of the press. Had it been otherwise, it 
would have been difficult (considering that Rushworth attended the house 
blmself, and was necessarily acouainted with the persons of the different 
members) to have received even Mr. Brodie's authority and that of Went- 
worth 's own letters, against the indefatigable collector. But the context 
ot Rushworth shows the error to have been merely one of thepress. He 
is stating the argument of the lavoyen of the house on the difference be- 
tween ** common fame" and " rumour ;" and observes, " It was declared 
\M sir Tho. Wentworth, Mr. Noy, and other lawyers in the debate." &c.— 
Now Mr. Wentworth was a lawyer, and an eminent one, the author of a 
l^al treatise of great merit on Executors, and recorder of Oxford ; but sir 
Tnomas Wentworth was none of these things. The mistake does not occur 
again. See Rushworth, vol. L p. 217. The author of the History con. 
tinued firom Mackintosh has fallen into Rushworth's error, vol v. p. SSb 

o S 



198 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

engaged^ to all appearance^ in no pursuits less innocent 
than his favourite sport of hawking. Let the reader 
judge, however, if his personal amhitions had been for. 
gotten. Sir John Savile, the father of the afterwards 
lord Savile — and not, as has been invariably stated by 
modem writers, the lord Savile himself ' — at this time 
held an office of great esteem in the county, — that of 
custos rotulorum, or keeper of the archives, for the 
West Riding. So strong an influence, however, had for 
some time been moving against Savile in the county, 
that the lord chancellor Ellesmere was induced to in- 
terfere. It is instructive to observe that sir Thomas 
Fairfax, a near kinsman of Wentworth's, was the most 
active against Savile. I quote a passage of a letter from 
Sheffield, the lord president of the north, to £llesn)ere : 
— ''I desired much to have waited upon you myself, to 
present an information lately made unto me, of the evil 
carriage of one sir John Savile, a gentleman of York- 
shire, one of the principal in commission, that maketh 
use of his authority to satisfy his own ends, if sundry 
complaints be true, which of late have been made unto 
me, touching one particular, which in my opinion is a 
matter of foul condition, and which I am bold to in treat 
your lordship to give me leave to make known unto you 
by the relation of sir Thomas Fairfax, a gendeman of 
good worth, to whom the particulars of that matter is 
well known." The result was, that in l6l5 Savile was 
removed, and sir Thomas Wentworth appointed to the 
office. The court had not forgotten the good services 
of his silence, and Wentworth was not ungrateful. 
^* Calling to mind," he afterwards writes to Weston, 
*^ the faithful service I had the honour to do his majesty, 
now with God, how graciously he vouchsafed to accept 

1 It u singular that thi< mistake should have occurred ; for occasionally, 
in the Papers, he is called *' the old knight," " old sir John,** &c. (tcI. i. 
p. 38. &&) ; and in his own letter to the lord chancellor EUesmere, on which 
the whole of the present business turns, he expressly alludes to ** serrioe 
of forty yean under the late queen of gracious memory.** — StrqjB^d Papert^ 
▼ol. i. p. 2. But so incorrectly are circumstances looked at, which do net 
•eem to bear immediately on the matter in band, yet are to illustrate it 
afterwards not unimportantly. 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 199 

and express it openly and sundry tiraes^ I enjoy within 
myself much Gomfort and contentment. . . . You can 
best witness the opinion^ nay, I might say the esteem^ 
bis late majesty held of me." 

But a new actor now appears upon the scene, in whose 
hands James had hecome a puppet, and to whose shame- 
less influence he had surrendered all his esteems and 
regards. Having discharged the duties of his new office 
for nearly two years, Went worth received (near the close 
of 1617) a startling notice from no less a person than 
bis grace the duke of Buckingham. Old Savile had 
been busy with him. '* These are to let you understand, 
that, whereas his majesty is informed that sir John Savile 
yielded up his place of custos rotulorum voluntarily 
unto you, whom now his majesty hath received into 
favour again, and purposeth to employ in his service, 
bis majesty will take it well at your hands, that you re-- 
sign it up again unto him with the same willingness, and 
will be mindful of you to give you as good preferment 
upon any other occasion." 2 Buckingham, however, had 
committed a mistake here. Wentworth replied to this 
notice in a letter which has unfortunately been lost, but 
whose import may be gathered from some passages in 
Buckingham's reply : — " The reasons set down in your 
letter are so substantial to prove that sir John Savile 
made no voluntary resignation of the place to you, but 
yielded it up rather out of a necessity to avoid that which 
otherwise would have fallen upon him, that I see it was 
a misinformation given to his majesty and to me, which 
occasioned the writing of my letter unto you." Other 
grounds of apology are added, and Buckingham pro- 
ceeds : — '^Upon these grounds 1 thought it cou!d neither 
be any wrong nor disgrace to move you in that business ; 
but I pray you believe, that 1 am so far from doing the 
least indignity to any gentleman of your worth, that I 
would be ready upon any occasion to do you the best 
tervice I could. Therefore I desire you not to trouble 

1 Letter, dated 1686, Straffbrd Papers, vol i. p. 85,^6. 
s Strafibrd Papers, toL L pu 4. 

O 4 



200 BRITISH BTATE8MBN. 

yourself either with any doubt of further proceeding m 
this matter^ which went so far only upon miflnmder- 
standing, or with so long a journey to give me eaHe/mc» 
tion, seeing I have fully received it by your letter , and 
have acquainted hie majesty with the true state of ihe 
business, as you have set it down." Buckinghani sub. 
scribes himself his '' very assured friend,'' and then^ m 
a very curious and significant postscript, betrays good 
reason for his sudden change of style, and sufficiently 
explains the shrewd and determined course that had been 
adopted by Wentworth : '* I beseech you to excuse me 
to my lord of Cumberland and my lord Clifibrd, that I 
write not to them now, as I purpose to do at more leisure; 
for now I made haste to signify that which I have to 
you, that I might spare you so troublesome a journey." 
So Wentworth continued in his place; and old Saviie^ 
eaten up with mortified spleen, waited his first oppor- 
tunity of retaliation. 

Wentworth foiled him at that game too, by striking 
the first blow ! A new parliament was spoken of^ and 
a strong opposition from the Savile party against Went- 
worth significantly indicated. He went instantly up 
to London ; spoke carelessly, it may be supposed, to his 
friends at court, of his indifierence about standing any 
contest ; and so won from the ministerial party an in- 
treaty that he would stand, and endeavour to bring in 
one of the secretaries of state along with him.^ Went- 
worth then consented, returned to Wentworth Wood- 
house, and commenced his election exertions. In these 
his character had full play ; and here, in the first great 
efibrt of his public life, were amply vindicated his 
achievements of a later period. The energy and activity 
he exhibited, amounted almost to a marvel ! Every 
difiiculty sank before him. Doubts were satisfied, 
jealousies put to shame, indifference moved to action, 
enmity even to friendship, dishonesty foiled in its own 
way, friends stimulated, the opposition of those who 

• 

' *' T was at London much intreeOed, and indeed at last enjoined^ to stand 
with Mr. Secretary Calvett."~'StrffJJbrdFaperst voLi. p. 10. 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 201 

ttiH continued enemies diverted. I mean to quote these 
letters at some length hereafter^ in immediate illustration 
of the character of the lord president and lord deputy^ 
to the right understanding of which they appear to me 
to offer a remarkahle assistance. Wentworth of course 
triumphed^ for nothing could withstand his vigour and 
resources. He went to the poll^ after all^ on the day of 
his election, with Calvert^ in no vain reliance on friendly 
professions, but with positive lists, furnished him by the 
petty officers of the several hundreds, of the names of 
those voters who had distinctly engaged to support his 
interests.^ 

It may he supposed into what a deadly feud the hatred 
of the Saviles bad now been provoked. From this time 
we hear little more of the father : the son, sir John 
Savile the younger, supplies his place. He was a per- 
son of mean intellect ; but he had a restless ambition, 
and was active in intrigue. He had ^' suck'd in with 
his milk," as Clarendon says, a particular malice to 
Wentworth ; and through his life he had* many oppor- 
tunities of showing how steadily he remembered that 
'^ Strafford had shrewdly overborne his father.'^ ^ 

Disgraceful occurrences had fiHed up the interval be- 
tween the last parliament and this parliament of 1 621. 
The exaction of benevolences^ ; the usurpations of the 
8tar.chamber ; the deaths of the unfortunate Arabella 
Btuart, of the promising youth prince Henry ^, and of 

» Strafford Papers, toL i. p. 13. ' 

* Clatendon*8 History of the Rebellion, vol. it p. 1.^. folio edit. 

3 ** The benevolence goes on. A merchant of London, who had been a 
cbeesemonger, but now rich, waa sent for by the council, and required to give 
the king 200/., or to go into the Palatinate and serve the army with cheese, 
being a man of eighty years of age. He yielded rather than pay, though he 
might better have given nine subsidies according as he stands valued. 
Thia was told tome by one that heard it Arom his owne mouth. They talk 
also of privy seals. His majestie at Theobald's, discoursing pulJicly how 
be meant to goveme, was heard to say he would governe according to the 
good of the comraon.weale, but not according to the common will** Such 
u an extract from a MS. letter pf that day. Harl. MSS. 389. It is partly 
qiutted in £Uis*s Original Letters, 2d series, vol. iii. p. 241. It is very cha. 
racteristic. 

* For some account of the strange circumstances attending the death 
of this prince, see Osborne, p. 531. ; Burnet, voL i. p. 10. ; Winwood, 
voL iii. pi 410. : Harris's Life of James, p. 301, 302. Fox, in his letter to 
lord Lauderdale, stated his conviction that Henry had been poisoned. Thd 
report of the physicians, however, is unanimous on this point, and un- 



202 BRITISH STATCSMBN. 

the accomplished Overhury ; the rapid rise of ViBien ; 
the pardon, and dark allusions of Somerset^ ; the dis- 
grace of Coke ; — these are some of the events which 
had hlotted the history of the nation. And these were of 
home growth. Abroad, mischief had been equally busy; 
for the small remnant of foreign policy in the govern- 
ment disapi)eared with Cecil. The weak and unas- 
sisted Frederick, son-in-law of the English king, had 
been ignominiously driven from his new dominions by 
Spinola ; Prague had furnished its disasters ; and the 
protestant interest — the faitb, of which, as he had 
abundantly assured Vorstius, James conceited himself 
the defender — was trampled down every where. 

Proportioned to the disgust and indignation with 
which these things had been contemplated by the po- 
pular party, were the feelings with which they now 
assembled in this parliament of 16*21. The early sit- 
tings were distinguished by active and resolute steps in 
behalf of privilege. It is not necessary to allude to theoi 
at any length here. Some great state criminals were 
subsequently struck down ; and after a few months, the 
parliament was dissolved by proclamation, and the king 
committed himself in many acts of foolish violence.^ 

Wentworth had taken little or no part in these pro. 
ceedings. He avoided the nsk of endangering a ceruiil 
show of country independence, by active opposition to 
what was called the country party, and held the most 
moderate of courses between the court and the people. 



favourable to the suppoeition. See Comwallis's Memoir, in the 2d toL of 
Somers' Tracts ; and the admirable remark of Hume, vol. v. p.4S. 

1 Sec Oaborne, p 534. ; Welrion, pp. 95. 168. 1S5. ; and Harris, pp. 8&~ 
86. ; for certain remarkable points in the character of James. With respect 
to the allusions of Somerset, see Weldon, pp 118. ; the king's letters to 
Bacon, 'm the Cabala ; Birch's edition of Bacon, vol. iii. ; and Von Rau. 
mer's 63d letter, in his Illustrations of History. Sir Walter Scott haa a 
curious note, in his edition of Somers* Tracts (fol.iL p. 488.), on this mys. 
terious afikir. See also Somers' Tracts, vol. ii. pp. 335, 336. ; and Brodie** 
History, pp. 15—19. I have no inclination to venture an opinion on so 
extremely unpleasant a subject; but if suspicions reasonably prevailed 
before, the publication of Von Raumer's work on the history or the six. 
teenth and seventeenth centuries is not likely to lessen them. Dr. Lingaid 
has put forward objections, which see in his History, vol. vi. p. 116l quarts 
edit 

* See Ruihworth, vol L ppi 59-5& 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 20S 

The service he bad already rendered to the former in 
the matter of Calvert's return^ he had heen enahled to 
render palatable to his county by the circumstances of 
the Savile feud ; and it now left him to a convenient 
kind of neutrality in other respects^ which might be 
felt^ in secret quarters, as no less serviceably intended 
to the court. I find him acting on committees in this 
parliament^ but never putting himself forward as a 
speaker. Short;}y after, he explained his policy in this 
respect, in a letter to his brother-in-law lord Clifford. 
Alluding to parliaments, he says^ — '^ For my opinion 
of these meetings your lordship knows sufficiently, and 
the services done there coldly requited on all sides^ and, 
nrhich is worse, many times misconstrued. I judge 
fttrther, the path we are like to walk in is now mor^ 
narrow and slippery than formerly, yet not so difficult 
but may be passed with circumspection, paiiencef and 
PRINCIPALLY SILENCE."^ The present dissolution 
Wentworth regretted ; but he made silence chiefly serve 
to assist him in this also. " As for the disaster," he 
writes to lord D'Arcy, '' fallen upon this so hopeful a 
parliament, albeit I should take pleasure to relate it, 
yet the enclosed proclamation for dissolution might well 
save me the labour; much more then^ when 1 cannot 
think a thought of it but with grief^ will it well become 
me to be silent." 2 

He had moved his family up from Wentworth 
Woodhouse before the session ; and they resided, during 
its continuance, in Austin Friars. Here his body first 
hegan to show its extreme frailty. He had '' a great 
ftTer," says sir George Radcliffe ; one of those pestilen- 
tial fevers, it is to be presumed, which so often ravaged 
the close and crowded streets of London ; and which at 
the same time (l62£) struck his wife more fatally. 
He removed from London, but too late to save the lady 
Margaret. She died shortly after^ leaving no issue, 
but a memory which he held in respectful regard. 

In his intercourse with his court friends at London; 

ft. 

< atxBttOid PapeiB, vol, L pi 19. ' Ibid. p. 15. 



204 BAITIBH STATESMEN. 

Wentworth had zealously interested himself in bdialf of 
two or three of his brotbersJ The anxiety with which he ^ 
sought to get them fairly <' settled" somehow, was ex- 
tremely characteristic. The first thing we now find him 
engaged in at Wentworth Woodhouse after hia domestic 
loss, is the'foUowing-out of these exertions for the youths 
of his family. He writes to sir Edward Conway, one of 
the king's principal secretaries of state^ to remind him of 
his promises in behalf of *' the bearer, my fifth brother, 
who, intending to try his fortune in the wars, desires 
more than in any place else to serve as a gentleman of 
the company under my cousin your son." He apologises 
for not having seen the secretary before leaving X«on- 
don, on the score of the sudden necessity of his illness. 
''If you would vouchsafe him," he continues, "so 
much of your favour, as to recommend him by your 
letters in such sort, that my cousin may be pleased to 
a£fbrd him his good direction and counsdi, and cast his 
eye upon him as a kinsman (if his carriage may be such 
as may deserve it), I should judge myself much bound 
unto you for this, as for other your many noble curtesies 
bestowed upon me. And this I will be answerable for, 
— that he shall approve himself, by God's grace, religious, 
honest, well governed, and daring enough. I conceive, 
likewise, (if it might stand with your good pleasure) 
that a letter of recommendation to sir Horace Vere 
might stand him in good stead, which I humbly submit 
to your wisdom, and myself to your honourable censure 
for this my boldness." This is the same thought, the 
reader will perceive, as that which suggested itself to 
Eliot when writing to Hampden of his younger son. 
Sir Edward Conway at once granted the request, and 
Michael Wentworth was sent off to the wars. Not 
without a letter from his brother, however, of excel- 
lent purpose and advice. Among many sound sug- 
gestions for his professional advancement, he observes, 
— " Methinks it were good to keep a journal, book of 
all that passeth during your being in the army ; as of 

1 See Strafford Papery, vol. i. pp. 14. 16. IQ. > 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 205 

your removes^ your skirmishes^ your io campings^ the 
order of your marches^ of your approaches^ of your 
retreats, of your fortifications, of your batteries, and such 
like ; in the well and sound disposal whereof, as I con- 
ceive, consists the chief skill and judgment of a soldier." 
The letter concludes admirably : — " Only let me add 
this one counsel, — that if you come in person to be 
brought on in any service, I conceive you shall do well 
to go on with the sober and stayed courage of an under* 
standing man, rather than with the rash and ill-tem- 
pered heat of an unadvised youth. In which course 
too, I conceive^ you may sufficiently vindicate yourself 
from the opinion of fear and baseness, and gain a good 
esteem among the wiser sort. And, indeed, a man that 
ventures himself desperately beyond reason (besides that 
thereby he too much undervalues himself) shall by men 
of sure and sad brains be deemed, without doubt, unfit 
for government and command, that exerclseth none oi^ 
it first over his own unruly and misleading passions." 
This conduct, so deprecated here by Wentworth, is a 
description of that very conduct which it is the general 
custom to ascribe to the earl of Strafford ; but incor- 
rectly, as I trust I shall be able to show. 

His health had now strengthened, and with it a flow 
of good spirits came. Sir George Calvert, the king's 
secretary of state, was selected for the first advantage of 
these. *' Mr. Tailor telling me," Wentworth writes, 
** he would see you before the end of this week, I might 
not omit to present my service unto you in these few 
lines. Matter worthy your trouble these parts afford 
none, where our objects and thoughts are limited in 
looking upon a tulip, hearing a bird sing, a rivulet 
murmuring, or some such petty, yet innocent pastime, 
which for my part I begin to feed myself in, having, 
I praise God, recovered more in a day by an open 
country air, than in a fortnight's time in that smother- 
ing one of London. By my troth I wish you, divested 
of the importunity of business, here for half a dozen 
hours^ you should taste how free and fresh we breathe^ 



206 BBITm fTATESXEZr. 

and how proeui metu fruimur modeHis opUnu, — a 
wanting sometime! to persons of greater eminency in 
the administration of commonwealths. Bat seeing this 
is denied to you in your course^ and to me as part o£ 
ray misfortune, I shall pray you may ever receive as 
full contentment in those more weighty as we do ia 
these lighter, entertainments.*' ^ 

This " innocent pastime^" nevertheless^ did not with- 
hold him from the parliament^ which was now summoned. 
Its proceedings have heen described in the life of Eliot. 
Wentworth played his usual cautious part, and returned 
to Wentworth Woodhouse, at its adjournment^ a better 
friend than ever, more playful and more confidential, to 
his majesty's '* principal secretary of state/' Calvert 
himself had gone to his country seat at Thistleworth, 
and is congratulated by his correspondent with many 
classical similitudes and quotations, on having ^^ retired 
to the delights of his Tusculanie, ereptus gpeciow efu9 
damnoy An amusing anecdote of James, then hunting 
with his court at Rufford, concludes the letter. '^ The 
loss of a stag, and the hounds hunting foxes instead of 
a deer, put the king, your master, into a marvellous 
chaff, accompanied with those ordinary symptoms bet- 
ter known to you courtiers, I conceive, than to tis 
rural swains ; in the height whereof, comes a clown 
galloping in, and staring full in his face : His blood I 
(quoth he) am I come forty miles to see a fellow? and 
presently in a great rage turns about his horse, and 
away he goes faster than he came ; the oddness whereof 
caused his majesty and all the company to burst out 
into a vehement laughter; and so the fume for that 
time was happily dispersed." 

Seven days after this, the '^ rural swain" of Wood- 
house writes again to his selected confidant. He b^ins 
by a laughing mention of having written some politics 
recently to his '^ cousin Wandesford, as being a statist" 
a politician, a meddler in state affairs; '^but here 
with you," he adds, " I have matters of other guesa 

> Strailbrd Papers, vol i. pt 16. 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 207 

staff to relate^ — that our harvest is all in^ a most fine 
season to make fish-ponds^ our plums all gone and 
past^ peaches, quinces, and grapes almost fully ripe^ 
'which will, I trow, hold better relish with a Thistle- 
worth palate, and approve me how to have the skill to 
serve every man in his right cue. Thes^ only we 
countrymen muse of, hoping in such harmless retire- 
ments for a just defence from the higher powers, and^ 
possessing ourselves in contentment^ pray with Dryope 
In the poet, — 

' Et siqua est pietas, ab acutae vulnere falcis 
£t pecoris monu, frondes defendtte iMWtrac* 

— Thus, you see, Ovid serves us at every turn. How bold 
we are with you since you entred our list ; and how we 
take time, while time serves ! For, Michaelmas once 
come, and your secretary's cloak on your shoulders, I 
trust, you shall find us better manner'd than to Interrupt 
your serious hours with our toys." On the arrival of 
Michaelmas, however, the parliament was again ad- 
journed, for the purpose, as it afterwards appeared, of a 
final dissolution. Our rural swain, in consequence, 
despatches with an airy sauciness to his state friend, in 
a tone between jest and earnest, some slight shades of 
significant advice, dashed with a sort of reminder that 
the writer — though given to looking at tulips, and 
hearing . birds sing, and rivulets murmuring, and keep- 
ing sheep from biting his hedges, and such like innocent 
pastime — might yet be called upon, as an effect of 
want of employment, to play the part of an " unruly 
fellow in parliament." The words of this letter are 
eminently happy and well chosen. '' Now," says 
Wentworth, " that you have given us a put-off till 
February, we are at good ease and leisure to pry (the 
true effects of want of employment) saucily out of our 
own calling into the mysteries of state ; to cast about 
for a reason of this sudden change. In a word, we 
conclude, that the French treaty must first be consum- 
mate before such unruly fellows meet in parliament, 



SOS BRITISH STATKSMEN. 

lest they might appear as agile against this^ as that other 
Spanish match. For my part I like it well^ and con* 
ceive the bargain wholsom on our side^ that we save 
three other subsidies and fifteenths. Less could not 
have been demanded for the dissolving of this treaty^ 
and still the king your master have pretended to suffer 
loss (no doubt for our satisfaction only)^ which cer- 
tainly we should have beheved^ an|d reputed ourselves 
great gainers^ and that rightly too. For is it a small 
mattery trow you, for poor swains to unwind so dex~ 
trously your courtly true-love knots 9 You think we 
see nothing ; but believe it, you shall find us legislators, 
no fools ; albeit, you of the court (for by this time Iam> 
sure you have, by a fair retreat from Thistleworth, quit 
your part of a country life for this year J think to blear 
our eyes with your sweet balls, and leave us in the suds, 
when you have done. Thus much for the common^weal* 
For your own self, I am right glad for your ague 
recovered ; hoping it will cleanse away all bad-disposed 
humours^ and give entrance consequently unto a set- 
tled continuing healthy wherein no man alive shall be 
more pleased. In the alacrity of which faith^ and out 
of an earnest desire to be made an eye-witness thereof^ 
you shall have (God willing) within these few weeks to 
attend you^ your honour's ever most humbly^ most 
readily to be command^ Thomas Wentworth." 

It is just possible that these hints might have been 
taken at last by the court party^ but that Wentworth's 
proposed journey was retarded by a sudden return of 
illness. In the springs Ratcliffe observes^ '' as I take it^ 
he had a double tertian ; and after his recovery^ a relapse 
into a single tertian ; and^ a while after, a burning 
fever." On his recovery from these afflicting disorders, 
he came instantly up to London. Charles now sat 
upon the English throne, and Buckingham's influence 
reigned over the royal councils more absolutely than 
even in James's time. This^ it is probable (for he bad 
had good reason to suspect a personal dislike on Bucking- 
ham's part), induced Wentworth to venture more openly 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. ^OQ 

among the popular party^ and by that means convey to 
the king^ inaccessible through his minister^ the import, 
ance of his talents and services. I shall show very 
soon how extremely anxious he was to exhibit himself, 
as it were^ personally to the king. We find him now, 
accordingly, in frequent communication with Denzil 
HoUis, and others of the popular men. He had, from 
the first, provided a convenient organ of communication 
with them, in the person of his kinsman Wandesford, 
who subsequently proved so accommodating a patriot. 
Soon after this (one of the results of his visits to the 
house of Hollis's father, the earl of Clare), he married 
the lady Arabella HoUis, " younger daughter of the earl, 
a lady exceeding comely and beautiful, and yet much 
more lovely in the endowments of her mind." ^ 

Wentworth now began to be talked of as an acces- 
sion to the liberal party, and the court grew somewhat 
alarmed. On the meeting of parliament, his election 
for Yorkshire came into dispute, and, as I have 
shown in ithe memoir of Eliot, the ministerial men 
supported his claims. No doubt this arose from a 
desire, by some little sacrifice in a matter of no essential 
concern, to nip slightly the budding patriot. Eliot's op- 
position threw him out. What has been already suggest- 
ed on this subject^, is corroborated by some occasional 
allusions in the StrafTord papers. Wentworth's friend, 
sir Richard Beaumont, for instance, writes in answer 
his earnest request : — '^ My occasions are, and have 
been such, as with no convenience I can come up to 
London ; for which I am very sorry, that I shall not 
enjoy your good company this summer, and give what 
assistance I could to make good our York election, which 
I hold as clear as the noon sun, for if it be tolerated 
that men shall come six, seven, nay, ten apprentices 
out of a house, this is more like a rebellion than an 
election. The gentry are wronged, the freeholders are 
wronged."jp Sir Richard Beaumont goes on to allude to 

> Radcli(Ri*8 Essay. ^ Memoir of EUot, PP.31, S2. 

f • StraflfbTd Papers, vol. I p. 157. 

• YOIi. II. P 



SIO BRITISH 8TATE8MEK. 

the borough of Pontefraet, observes that he is iBud 
beholden for the honour of having been elected thei^ 
bat hints a private reason which will prevent his ac- 
cepting, and suggests the name of another friend to be 
returned on a new writ. " I should have been willini^ 
to have kept your place for you, or for any friend of 
yonrs^ and served in it, and yielded it up of an boor's 
warning to have done you service ; but as it is," &c. 
It would appear from this, that Wentworth had ahready, 
against the chance of defeat^ secured a seat to fall ba^ 
upon, in the borough of Pontefract.^ 

When the parliament commenced proceedii^, Went- 
worth partly showed gratitude to the court, and partly 
redeemed his new alliance. He spoke with ex- 
treme moderation, and advised a grant of subsidiesi, 
while at the same time he intimated opposition to 
Buckingham. The adjournment to Oxford then took 
place; but, on their re-assembling, while Eliot and others 
were dooming the minister to impeachment, WentworA 
continued silent. The cause of this will very soon 
appear. 

He returned to Yorkshire. Necessity, in a few months^ 
called together another parliament. He set to work 
instantly to prepare for his election ; but, in the midst 
of his arrangements, to the infinite surprise of himself 
no less than of his friends, an announcement reached him 
that his name was among those of the men disabled from 
servings by Buckingham's notable scheme of pricking 
them sheriffs of their respective coimties. Wentworth 
was now sheriff of Yorkshire. Sir Arthur Ingram, a cau- 
tious friend^ writing to him at this moment, gave him 
one consolation i^-^^It was told me by two eounselhrs, 
that in the naming of you, the king said, you were an 
honest gentleman, but not a tittle to any of the rest. 
This mvLch advantage have you that way" He had 
previously said that every exertion to prevent the step 
had been used, but added, ^^ I think, if all the council 
that was at court had joined together in request for you, 
it would not have prevailed : for it was set and resolved 

, > See Letter to the Mayor of Pontefract, vol. i. pi S& 



EABL OF gTBAFFO&D. 211 

w|iat should be done before the great duke's going over, 
and from that the king would not change a tittle." > 
Baddngbam had gone by this time into Holland ; and 
it would thus appear tliat Charles^ though inclined 
Davoarably to Wentworth^ did not dare to oontrayene 
the order of his minion. 

Be that as it mighty here was a great occasion. It 
was soon announced to Weiitworth that the pricked 
men were resolved to make a struggle^ to defeat the un- 
usual tyranny that had sought to disable them from 
parliament " I met with sir Francis Seymour here^ 
at Readings" writes the cautious Ingram; *' I find by 
him that he is very desirous to be of the house, not- 
withstanding he is chosen sheriff; he hath taken, as he 
telleth me, very good advice in it ; and he hath been 
resolved, that he may be returned, and serve for any 
town or city that is out of his own county. He would 
gladly that you would favour him so much as to get 
him chosen for some place in the north, and he will, if 
it stand with your good likings have you chosen in the 
west. This he did desire me to write to you of,, and 
that you would send him or me an answer so soon as 
you can. This, his desire, I have by these few lines 
made known unto you, leaving it to your own wisdom 
to do therein what you shall think good. For my own 
poor opinion, it is a thing that no doubt will displease 
the king exceeding much, and, therefore, to be well con- 
Hdered of. On the other side, I think the house would 
he exceeding glad of it, and would hold you in, in spite 
of any. That which induceth sir Francis the rather in 
this is, that he knoweth that sir Edward Coke, and sir 
Robert Philips will be both returned. But, good sir, 
out of the love I bear to you, I dare not give you any 
encouragement in it."^ Went worth's conduct upon this 
was decisive of the character I am endeavouring to re- 
present. With the ready and resolved purpose of a 
man who is already decided on the main course to be 
poTBued, yet is not unwilling that it should receive cor- 

^ StraffiN^ Pap«n> toL L p.8gL > Ibid. p. SO. 

P 2 



212 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

roboration or modification from his friends^ lie instantly 
consulted several of them. Observe how characteristi- 
cally this is conveyed^ in a letter from his father-in-Iamr^ 
lord Clare : " You resolve^ in my opinion of (his parti- 
eular, rightly ; for we live under a prerogative govern- 
mentj where book-law submits unto lex loquens ; then 
be these extraordinaries, that rely rather upon inference 
or interpretation than the letter^ too weak staves for such 
subjects to lean upon. This is a novelty and a stranger^ 
that a sheriff^ who, according to the received rule of our 
forefathers, is tied to his county as a snail to his shelly 
may cause himself to be chosen a burgess^ or servant 
for a borough^ and so in a sort quit the greater and the 
king's service for a subject*s and a less : therefore, as a 
novelty, it is rather to be followed than to begin it, and 
as a stranger to be admitted as a probationer^ and to be 
embraced upon further acquaintance. For my part^ I 
shall be glad if sir Edward Coke and sir Robert Philips 
can make their undertaking good ; and I could wish sir 
Francis Seymour were a burgess, so you were not seen 
in it : and if any of them, without your knowledge and 
consent, shall confer any such place upon you, you are 
no way in fault thereby ; and yet Cesar's wife must be 
free from suspicion ; so as I may conclude^ it is not 
good to stand within the distance of absolute power. 
But I see the issue: the question will fall between the 
king and the parliament ; the house will demand her 
member^ and the king denies his officer^ and the king*8 
election was prior^ so as in conclusion some drops of 
displeasure may fall upon the borough, whose charter i» 
always in the king's reach. But this is my chimera^ 
and the lion may be less terrible than the picture. 
Howsoever this well succeeding would put the courtier 
out of his trick, secure the parliament better, and the 
subject in general, and make great ones more cautious 
in wrestling with that high court. Yet as you write, son, 
this business is of such a nature, as it is much better to 
he a spectator than an actor, and in this I give you no 
opinions I only confirm yours" ' His resolution now 

^. * Straffbrd Papers, vol. i. p. 31. 



EARL OF STRAFFOBD. 215 

perfectly assured^ Wentworth writes in playful confidence 
to his kinsman^ Wandesford, whose services he relied 
OB to keep him as well as possible with the popular 
members. He begins by a pleasant piece of hu- 
mour : ''Retuma brevium is the office of a sheriff 
indeed, — but in this, that in this high calling (and now 
sworn too,) I answer your long letter, is more *han in 
justice^ scarcely in favour, you could expect from me ; 
and little less than incivility in you thus to abuse a 
simple gentleman in his place, and put me beyond the 
length of my tether, it being my part this year, 
Ictconicum agere, as becomes best, to say truth, a man 
of affairs, — attendant upon justices, escheators, juries, 
bankrupts, thieves, and such kind of cattle. Well then, 
still to pursue, as a good officer should do, the duties of 
my vocation, I will tell you, my purpose is to carry 
myself in such a temper, that for my expense it shall 
participate of moderation and sobriety, without the least 
tincture of wantonness or petulancy, which will both 
better express the sense wherewith I take it from above, 
and be more suiting with that just regard I owe the 
gentry of this country, to whom I have been so much 
beholden ; of whom I should be too much forgetful, 
and of my own modesty too, if I did any ways intend 
(at least as far as my indiscretion could go,) to bring 
the former licentious custom in again so much to their 
prejudice. Therefore^ in a word, come king, come 
judge, I will keep myself within the articles made when 
sir Guy Palmes was sheriff; and run dog, run cat, 
drink a red ryal by the place at least, by God's leave." 
He goes through many topics very amusingly, and then 
obflerves, " You will partly see by the enclosed, how the 
pulse beats above/* — which I take to be an allusion to 
letter (he afterwards desires it to be enclosed back to the 
him,) of his friend Ingram, in which the king's feeling 
had been so favourably expressed. ^' For my own part" 
he continues, "I will commit others to their active heat, 
myself, according to the season of the year, fold mysdf 
up in a cold silent forbearance, apply myself cheers 

p 3 



814 BRITISH tTATESHEN. 

fitUy to the dutiet of my pktce, and heartUy prop ft> 
Ood to hioM sir Francis Seymour. For^ my rale, whieh 
I will not transgess, is, ' Never to contend wiU^ the pre^ 
rogatiffe out qf a parUament ; nor yet to contest miiM m 
king but when I am constrained thereunto.' "^ 

Wentworth faithfully adhered to these intentiom; and 
while ''the great^ warm, and ruffling parliament'* in 
London was infusing, hy the boldness of its acts and 
words, new spirit and strength into the country, he 
remained quiet in Yorkshire, discharging his duty, aa 
his humourous classification had descrihed it, among 
'' justices, escheators, juries, bankrupts, thieves, and 
such like cattle.** It is true he had found time to attend 
in London for certain purposes that are speedily to 
be explained, but he did not meddle with parliament 
matters there, returning to Yorkshire again as quiet 
as before, and^ indeed, a little more contented.^ 

Soon afterwards, before the proceedings of the parlia- 
ment had closed, and while attending a county meeting 
in his office of high sheriff, a paper was handed to 
Wentworth. It was the king's warrant dismissing him 
from the office he had so ardently desired to hold of 
custos rotuloram ! Giving way to momentary astonish- 
ment and indignation, he publicly told the meeting in 
what manner he had just been discharged, and that bis 
successor was to be old sir John Savile. " Yet I could 
wish," he added, " they who succeed me, had forborne 
this time this service, a place in sooth ill chosen, a 
stage ill prepared, for venting such poor, vain, insultbig 
humour. I leave it," he concluded, " not conscious of 
any fault in myself, nor yet guilty of the virtue in my 
successor, that should occasion this removal." ^ 

This was admirable for a public display. As soon 
as he had arrived at Wentworth Wood House, however^ 
be dispatched the following letters, one almost imme* 
diately after the other, to " the right honourable sir 
Richard Weston, knt., chancellor of his majesty's ex. 
chequer!" They fully explain, it will be seen, the 

» StraflFo*d Papers, vol i. pp. 32— 3i > Ibid. p. S5. > Ibid. p. 38. 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 215 

whole ootnne of Wentworth's recent conduct. '^ I hare 
bees beholden onto yon/' he begins^ " for many conr- 
lencsy which in your own particular I will undoubtedly 
erer thankfully acknowledge. Give me leave then to 
yat you in remembrance of some things wherewith you 
formerly have been acquainted ; as also to give you an 
acooont of some things which have happened since. 
At the dUsdlved parliament in Oxford, you are privy how 
I was moved from and in behalf of the duke of Buck- 
Inghatmj with promise of hie good esteem and favour ; 
you are privy that my answer urns, I did honour the 
duke'e person, that I would be ready to serve him in the 
quaUty of an honest man and a gentleman; you are privy, 
that the duke took this in good part, sent me thanks ; as 
for respects done him, you are privy, how during that sit- 
ting T performed what I had professed. The consequence 
of aU this was the making me sheriff the winter after* 
It is true, the duke, a little before Whitsuntide last, at 
Whitehall, in your presence, said, it was done without 
his grace's knowledge, that he was then in Holland, At 
Whitehall, Easter term last, you brought me to the duke, 
his grace did before you contract {as he pleased to term 
it) a friendship with me, all former mistakes laid asleep, 
fbrgotten. After, I went, at my coming out of town, to 
receive his commands, to kiss his grdces hands, where I 
had all the good words and good usage which could be 
edfpeeted, which bred in me a great deal of content, a full 
security. Now the consequence here again is, that even 
yesterday I received his majesty s writ for the discharge 
ing me of the pdor pletce of custos rotuhrum which I held 
here, whose good pleasure shall be cheerfully obeyed ; 
yet I cannot but observe as ill luck of it^ that the reward 
of my long, painful, and loyal service to his majesty in 
that place^ is to be thus cast off without any fault laid 
to my chai^ that I hear of, and that his grace too 
was now in England. I have therefore troubled you 
with this unartificial relation to show you the singleness 
of my heart, resting in all assurance Justly confident^ 
you shall never find that I have for my own part in a 

p 4 



216 



BRITISH STATESMEN. 



tittle transgressed from what had passed hetwixt us. 
All which I confess, indeed^ to this hare intent and pur- 
pose and no other^ that I might preserve myself in your 
opinion a man of plainness and truth. Which ohtained 
I have fully my end^ and so I rest in the constant con- 
dition of your truly affectionate friend to dispose of^ 
Thomas Wentworth." The courteous conclusions of 
Wentworth's letters have a significancy at times. Xhe 
next letter to Weston^ following up the purpose of the 
last, runs thus : '^ Calling to mind the faithful service I 
had the honour to do his majesty now with God, how 
graciously he vouchsafed to accept and express it openly 
and sundry times, I enjoy within myself much comfort 
and contentment. On the other side, albeit therein still 
strongly dwell entire intentions (and by God's goodness 
shall^ with me to my grave) towards his sacred majesty 
that now is^ yet I may well apprehend the weight of his 
indignation, being put out of all commissions, wherein 
formerly I had served and been trusted. This makes 
me sensible of my misfortune, though not conscious of 
any inward guilty which might occasion it ; resting in- 
finitely ambitious^ not of new employment, but much 
rather to live under the smile than the frown of my 
sovereign. In this strait, therefore^ give me leave to 
recommend to you the protection of my innocence ; and 
to beseech you, at some good opportunity, to represent uiito 
his majesty my tender and unfeigned grief for his dis^ 
favour, my fears also that I stand before his justice and 
goodness clad in the malevolent interpretations, and pre- 
judiced by the subtle insinuations, of my adversaries j 
and lastly, my only and humble suit> that his majesty 
will princely deign^ that either my insufficiency or fault 
may be shown me ; to this only end, that if insuf- 
ficiency, 1 may know where and how to improve my^- 
self, and be better enabled to present hereafter more 
ripe and pleasing fruits of my labours in his service ; 
if a faulty that I may either confess my error and beg 
his pardon, or else^ which I am most confident I shall 
do^ approve myself throughout an honest well-affected 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 217 

loyal subject^ with full plain and upright satisfaction 
to all that can^ by the greatest malice or disguised un. 
truths be objected against nie. The contentment of 
others in my actions is but subordinate^ and consequently 
neither my principal study nor care. Thus have I pre- 
sumed upon you^ further than any particular interest 
of mine can warranty out of a general belief in your 
wisdom and nobleness^ the rather too because I conceive 
you can best witness the opinion, nay I might say the 
esteem, his late majesty held of me. All which^ never- 
theless, as in good manners and discretion I ought, I 
submit wholly to your best pleasure, without importu^ 
nately pressing further herein than may stand with your 
conveniency, your other respects, and, however, retain 
with me the lasting truth of your honour's most humbly, 
most readily to be commanded, Thomas Wuntworth." ^ 
It did not suit with Weston's convenience to answer 
these letters at the time, but it is probable that no word 
of them was withheld from the king. Buckingham 
was still too powerfid to be in any thing gainsayed, and 
it was clear that he had formed a violent dislike to 
Wentworth. He sought now to mortify him as much 
as possible through the means of Savile. The son of 
the ^'old knight,'' or the '^old cavalier," as one of 
Wentworth*s correspondents ^ calls him, was promoted 
to a barony and an office in the household. It is not 
difficult, on mature consideration, to assign an intelligi- 
ble reason for these proceedings by Buckingham, though 
at first they appear startlingly gratuitous. He had> in 
truth, an equal motive to be jealous of Wentworth, in 
the way of favour, as in that of opposition. While it 
is possible that he did not very clearly understand the 



1 Straffbrd Papen, vol. i. pp^ S4^ S5. 

s Lord MansHcId, who appears to have remonstrated with the duke of 
Buckingham hintiself. while wentworth thus remonstrated, as it were, with 
tlieking, respecting the late proceedings. *' I writ my mind," says Mansfield 
to Wentworth, " at ftill to my lord dulce ; and, I protest to God, no more 
sparing the old cavalier or his nature than I would speak of him to you, 
nor mincing my desires or my nature, which is not to do curtesies for in. 
juries." It is most probable that this was done at Wentworth*! desire. 
See Papers, vol L p. 43. 



818 BRITISH STATESJfBJf. 

polioy that had been shown by Wentworih in 
ease^ it is more than probable that he feared to be 
undone by him in both. In faTour^ he might already 
hare received occasion to suppose Wentwortk likely to 
prove a formidable riral^ (not dreaming that a large 
capacity could never so impose upon Charles as a mean 
toe) ; and in opposition, he may still have thought him 
too likely to lie dangerous^ for a perfect trust. Nor was 
he without reason for suspicion^ at least^ on the latter 
score. Wandesford^ the most intimate friend and kins- 
man of the quiet sheriff^ had been one of the most 
active managers of the impeachment in the last session. 
And thiere were other causes of dread. Wentworth 
had had some communication with the intriguing arch- 
bishop Williams^ and worse than aU, was known ts 
have frequently visited the person whom the duke more 
deeply feared, the archbishop Abbot. I quote from 
Abbot's narrative " concerning his disgrace at courts" a 
passage elucidatory on this point. In describing the 
three of his acquaintances to whom exception had been 
taken by Buckingham^ ("I know from the court, by a 
friend^'* he interposes^ *' that my house for a good space 
of time hath beei! watched, and I marvel that they have 
not rather named sixty than three,'*) the archbishop 
observes, " the third was §ir Thomas Wentworth, who 
had good occasion to send unto me, and sometimes to 
see me, because we were joint executors to sir George 
Savile ^, who married his sister, and was my pupil at 
Oxford ; to whose son also sir Thomas Wentworth and 
I were guardians, as may appear in thfe court of wards, 
and many things passed between us in that behalf; yet, 
to my rememberance, I saw not this gentleman but 
once in these three quarters of a year last past; at 
which time he came to seek his brother-in-law, the lord 
Clifford, who was then with me at dinner at Lambeth.^ 
The second parliament dissolved, privy seals were 
now issuing. Savile, still hot against his old opponent, 

* Sir George, It may be remarked, was not a " Yorkahire Savile.** 
s Rmhworth, vol L p. 451. Written about the year 16S8-9. 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 219 

ivrevailed vnth the court to send Wentworth a privy 
leal. The latter received it while his recent overtures 
to Weston remained yet unaccepted. It had the ap- 
pearance of a cold rejection of them.^ Still he hesi- 
tated as to his course. '^ I have heen here now some 
two or three months," writes lord Baltimore to him, 
" a spectator upon this great scene of state, where I 
have no part to play ; hut you have ; for which your 
fiiends are sorry. It is your enemies that hring you 
on the stage, where they have a hope to see you act 
yonr own notahle harm ; and therefore keep yourself ofi^ 
I beseech you, et redimas te quam queas minimo** ^ A 
letter from lord Haughton followed. *' It was supposed," 
he informs Wentworth, '* this humour of committing 
had been spent, till that your antagonist did revive it ; 
who, I hear, brags he hath you in a toil or dilemma ; 
*/ you refu9ey you shall run the fortune of the other 
delinquents ; if you come in at the last hour into the 
iHneyard, he hopes it will lessen you in the country," * 
Such was indeed the dilemma, the toil, in which Went* 
worth found himself; — but he hesitated still! His 
friends now hecame extremely anxious, and letter upon 
letter was dispatched to him. Their general' cry was 
one of dissuasion, but in all events of immediate decision.^ 
Lord Clifford wrote several times in anxious solicitude. 
** Your friends here do think, you take the best course 
in writing to the commissioners and coming up instantly, 
if you are not yet resolved to lend : but that heing the 
point we all wish you would grant us; for, without 
that, we can have no hope of your safety for your health 
or person. Then, the deferring of the answer will so 
lessen the gift, as the acceptance of it would he but faint 
and cold. Whereas, if you would now assent to slip the 
money into some commissioner's hand, you might wave 
ihe trouble to appear, either in the country or here. I 

^ In the Ufe of Eliot, I have sufficiently explained the court practicet 
.at this time. Privy seals were generally addressed to the " disaffected ** 
only. 

* Straffbrd Papers, vol. i. p. 57. ^ Ibid. 

* See the Papers, vol. L pp. 37^40. 



220 BRITISH statksAen. 

must tell you, that I have met here with many that 
are persuaded that you struck a tally here yourself when 
you were at London, and my answer to such was igno- 
rance. Another sort there are, who inquire much after 
your coming up, and these I conceive not out of any 
good affection, because some of them have relation to 
old sir John." Lord Baltimore wrote more earnestly 
still. ^Mf you resolve betimes to take this course^ 
which I would to God you would, it may be yet inter- 
preted obedience to your sovereign, and zeal to his 
service ; and whatsoever slackness hath been in it hitherto 
may be excvLsed by your friends here, either by indis^ 
position of health, or some other reason, which your own 
judgment can better dictate unto you than my advice. 
I should say much more to you were you here, which 
is not fit for paper ; but never put off the matter to 
your appearance here, for God's sake : but send your 
money in to the collectors in the country without more 
ado. Your friends are much perplexed and in fear of 
youy and none more than I" Wentworth, thus driven^ 
made up his mind, at last, to refuse to lend. He could 
no longer conceal from himself that a crisis had 
arrived, and he was not ignorant of a means (though 
he might have hitherto wished to avoid some incidents 
attached to it,) that would possibly force from it a 
perfect triumph. He refused the loan, and was sum- 
moned to the council table at London. He did not 
omit an opportunity to his main purpose that seemed 
to offer itself here. Wandesford describes it in a letter 
written to him after his committal to the Marshalsea. 
^^ Now that you are reckoned with the afflicted, a man 
may pray safely for your deliverance; and, seeing it 
would be no better, I am glad you come in so fair, and 
80 handsomely upon the point itself. Sir Arthur teUs 
me, the president reports well of your carriage at the table, 
I shall be glad to hear of you in your present confine- 
ment, lest that prison and diis season give you a night- 
cap in earnest." 

1 Straffbrd Papers, vol. i. p. S9. 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 221 

He only remained six weeks in the Marshalsea. He 
was then removed to Dartford in Kent^ where^ RadclifFe 
observes, he " was not to go above two miles from that 
town." This was an easy imprisonment, and, easy as 
it was^ was still more alleviated by the presence of the 
lady Arabella. She had already presented him with a 
boy^ and, during his present restriction, ^ave birth 
to a girl. The letters of her brother, Denzil Hollis, 
written at this period to Wentworth, are very delight- 
ful in many respects ^, and, in the disastrous news 
of the court schemes which they supplied, may have 
served to strengthen his present patriotic purposes. 
'* I am most glad," he writes, " to hear my sister is 
in so fair a way of recovering strength, since she 
last made you the second time a father : I wish she 
may many times do it to both your comforts, and every 
time still with more comfort than the former ; that yet 
in our private respects we may have some cause of joy, 
since the public affords us so little ; for you see how 
that goes on de mal en pis, as the French say." He 
then gives a vivid account of the melancholy Isle of 
Rhee expedition, and describing the numbers that had 
been lost, pleasantly concludes thus : — '< In the mean 
time we have lost many good men, yet let us make the 
best of it, and, I hope, it will make our wives, instead 
of bearing wenches, which of late you say they have 
been much given to, fall to bringing of boys, young 
soldiers for the reincrew of our army : and I know no 
reason but mine should begin ; and she had as good do 
it at first, for if she do not, at her peril, I hope to make 
her go again for it ; and when my sister Arabella shall 
see how mine is served, I hope she will take fair warn- 
ing, and do as she should do ; but I fear not her so 
much, for she has begun pretty well already. And 
now I will close my letter as you do yours (with thanks 
by the way for it, as also for the whole letter), heartUy 
praying she may so continue, to make you a glad father 
of many goodly and godly boys, — and some wenches 

1 See Straffbrd Papers, vol. L pp. 40^-4S. 



1 



S22 BRITISH 8TATIS8MEN. 

among, lest the aeventh work miracles, as old wivea viU 
tell us,-— and herself to he a joyful and good mother^ aa I 
know she is a good and loving wife, and long may she 
so he to your comfort and her own." 

Wentworth and the other recusants released, they met, 
under the circumstanoes of extreme excitement which 
have heen already described, in the famous third parlia- 
ment. It is scarcely necessary to remark here, that the 
under current of intrigue which had been set in motiim 
by Wentworth, was only known to his convenient friend 
Wandesford. It is not likely, from the tone of HoUis s 
letters, that he had ever been made acquainted with it. 
For the rest of the patriots, with the exception of the 
keen-sighted Eliot, they all held well with Wentworth, as 
a great and valuable supporter of the popular cause. He 
had long been known for his talents ; their outburst in 
behalf of liberal principles had long, by a certain sectioa 
of the leaders, been anxiously watched for ; and now, 
disappointing none, even of those who had known them 
longest, and looked for them most impatiently, they 
burst forth amidst the delighted cheers of the house, 
and with a startling effect upon the court. 

On the discussion of the general question of griev- 
ances, Wentworth rose. '^ May this day's resolution,'' 
he solemnly began, ^^ be as happy, as I conceive the 
proposition which now moves me to rise, to be season- 
able and necessary I For whether we shall look upon 
the king or his people, it did never more behove this 
great physician, the parliament, to effect a true consent 
amongst the parties than now. This debate carries 
with it a double aspect; towards the sovereign, and 
towards the subject ; though both be innocent, yet both 
are injured ; both to be cured. In the representation 
of injuries I shall crave your attention ; in the cure, I 
shall beseech your equal cares, and better judgments. 
In the greatest humility I speak it, these illegal ways 
are punishments and marks of indignation. The raising 
of money by loabs ; strengthened by commission, with 
unheard-of instructions ; the billeting of soldiers by the 



EARL OF BTBAFFOBD. 228 

lieutenants; — haye been as if they could bare persuaded 
Christian princes^ nay worlds^ that the right of empire 
was to take away goods by strong hand ; and they haTe 
endeavoured^ as far as was possible for tbero, to do it. 
This hath not been done by the king (under the pleas- 
ing shade of whose crown, I hope we shall ever gather 
the fruits of justice), but by projectors; these have 
extended the prerogative of the king beyond its just 
limits, so as to mar the sweet harmony of the whole." 

Wentworth then burst suddenly, and with great 
dfamatic effect, (he studied this at all times) into the 
following rapid and passionate invective. " They have 
rent from us the light of our eyes ! enforced companies 
of guests worse than the ordinances of France ! vitiated 
our wives and daughters before our faces ! brought the 
crown to greater want than ever it was, by anticipating 
the revenue ; — and can the shepherd be thus smitten, 
and the flock not be scattered ? They have introduced 
a privy council, ravishing, at once, the spheres of all 
ancient government! imprisoning us without bail or 
bond ! They have taken from us — what shall I say ? 
Indeed what have they left us ? They have taken from 
us all means of supplying the king, and ingratiating 
ourselves with him, by tearing up the roots of all pro- 
perty ; which, if they be not seasonably set again into the 
ground by his majesty's hand, we shall have, instead of 
beauty, baldness ! " 

For this, in the noblest language, the orator pro- 
posed his remedy. ** By one and the same thing hath 
the king and people been hurt, and by the same must 
they be cured: — to vindicate — ^what? New things ? No! 
our ancient, lawful, and vital liberties! by reinforcing of 
the ancient laws made by our ancestors ; by setting such 
a stamp upon them, as no licentious spirit shall dare 
hereafter to enter upon them. And shaJl we think this 
a way to break a parliament ? No ; our desires are 
modest and just. I speak truly, both for the interest of 
the king and people. If we enjoy not these, it will be 
impossible to relieve him : therefore let us never fear 



9^4f BRITISH STATESMEN. 

bat they will be accepted by bis goodness. Wherefore 
I shall descend to my motion^ which consists of four 
parts : two of which have relation to the persons, and 
two to the property of our goods. 1st. For our per- 
sons^ the freedom 'of them from imprisonment^ and from 
employments abroad^ against our own consents^ contrary 
to the ancient customs of this kingdom. 2d. For 
our goods, that no levies may be made, but by parlia- 
ment ; and no billeting of soldiers. It is most necessary 
that these be resolved, and that the subjects may be se- 
cured in both. Then, for the manner, it will be fit to 
determine it by a grand committee." ^ 

Wentworth sustained, through the short but import- 
ant proceedings of the session, the reputation he had 
achieved by this speech in the house and the country. 
He spoke on all the great questions and emergencies 
that occurred. Only two of his speeches, however, 
remain in any completeness. The second was delivered 
on one of secretary Cooke's pressing applications for the 
subsidies. *' I cannot help lamenting," he said, '^ the 
unlawful courses and slights, for which the only excuse 
is necessity. We are required to give ; but before we 
can resolve to give, it must be determined what we have 
to give. What heavy fogs have of late darkened our 
hemisphere, and yet hang over us, portending our ruin, 
none is so weak as to be ignorant of ! What unsteady 
courses to dispel these mists, have been pursued^ and 
thereby raised near us great storms, I take no pleasure 
to remember, — yet, in all bodies diseased, the knowledge 
precedes the cure. I will shortly tell the principals ; 
next their remedies. I must reduce them into two 
heads: 1. whereby our persons have been injured; 2. 
whereby our estates have suffered." 

'' Our persons have been injured," continued Went- 
worth more earnestly, ^' both by imprisonment without 
law — nay, against law, boundless and without bank! — 
and by being designed to some office^ charge, and em- 

1 From a MS. in the Harlcian Library. See Pari. Hist vol vii. pp. 369 
^371. 



EABL OF STRAFFORD. '225 

ployment^ foreign or domestic^ as a brand of infamy 
and mark of disgrace. Oh ! Mr. Speaker, when it may 
not be safe to deny payments upon unjust exactions^ 
but we must go ,to prison for it, — nor in this place^ to 
speak our consciences, but we must be stamped to un« 
willing and unfitting employments ! Our estates have 
been racked two ways ; one in the loan, wherein five 
subsidies were exacted; and that by commission of 
men of quality, and instructions to prosecute the same, 
with an asperity which no times can parallel ! And 
hence the other consideration^ of the projectors and 
executioners of it. Nay, this was not all^ but ministers, 
in their pulpits, have preached it as gospel, and damned 
the refusers of it — so then we are already doomed to 
damnation ! 

'^ Let no man," he said, in conclusion, after propos- 
ing a committee for grievances, ^^ judge this way a 
break-neck of parliaments : but a way of honour to the 
king, nay of profit ; for besides the supply which we 
shall readily give him, suitable to his occasions, we give 
him our hearts. Our hearts, Mr, Speaker, a gift that 
God calls for, and fit for a king ! " ^ 

There may have been more passion than logic in these 
speeches, but they had their effect. The court now saw 
more thoroughly the man they had discarded, and Weston 
hastened to answer his last letter ! He reasoned here not 
unjustly — that it could scarcely be too late at any time 
to answer a letter, which in its terms so clearly proved 
the non-existence of any lasting obstacle, such as a firm 
point of principle. The present conduct of Wentworth, 
to Weston at least, could appear no other than a tem- 
porary resource. Even Buckingham's continued objec- 
tions were therefore set aside, and, before the conclusion 
of the session, a negotiation with Wentworth had opened ; 
— nay, almost before the burning words which have just 
been transcribed, had cooled from off the lips of the 
speaker, a transfer of his services to the court was decided 
on ! We have indisputable evidence, that, on the 28th of 

1 Pari Hist., voL viL ^ 44a 
VOL. II. Q 



226^ 



BRITISS BTATESMEN. 



May^ Finch was acting as a go-between.^ On the 26th 
of June the parliament was prorogued. On the 14th 
of July sir Thomas Wentworth was created Baron 
Wentworth, and called to the privy council. It is 
clear, however, that at the same time he had stipulated 
to be made a viscount, and lord president of the North ^, 
but this apparently could not be done, till the death of 
Buckingham had removed a still lingering obstacle.^ 

I have thus endeavoured to trace at greater length, 
and with greater exactness than has been attempted 
hitherto, the opening passages in the political history 
of this extraordinary man. The common and vulgar 
account given by Heylin ^ has been, it is believed, ex- 
ploded, along with that of the no less vulgar Hacket.^ All 
Wentworth's movements in the path which has been fol- 
lowed, appear to me to be perfectly natural and intelli- 
gible, if his true character is kept in view. From the very 
intensity of the aristocratic principle within him, arose 
his hesitation in espousing at once the interests of the 
court. This, justly and carefully considered, will be 
found the solution of his reluctant advances, and still 
more reluctant retreats. The intervention of a favourite 
was hardly supportable by one whose ambition, as he 
felt obliged to confess to himself even then, would be 
satisfied with nothing short of the dignity of becoming 
^^ the king*s mistress, to be cherished and courted by 

1 Straflfbrd Papers, vol. i. p. 46. 
' s See Papers, vol. iL pi 390. 

3 A passage in Rushworth (toI. viiL p. 768.) is corroborative o^ the 
view which I have presentefl of Wentworth's public conduct The coL 
lector professes to give all those parliamentary speeches **ln which mj 
lord of Straffbrd so discovered his wit and temper, that the court took par. 
ticular notice of him," and gives only the speeches that were delivered in 
this third parliament It is clear that he had not rendered hitnself at sJH 
formidable before. Rushworth, indeed, subsequently sets this at rest, by 
adding,— " Now he began to be more generally taken notice of by all vaea, 
and his fame to spread abroad, where public afifkirs, and the criticisms m 
the times, were discoursed by the most refined judgments; those who 
were mfected with popularity flattering themselves that he was inclined 
to support their inclination, and would prove a champion on that account; 
but such discourse, as it endeared him to his country, so it begot to him 
an interest in the bosom of his prince, who (having a discerning judgment 
of men) quickly made his observation of Wentworth's, that he was a 
person iVaroed for great affairs, and fit to be near his royal person and 
councils." 

« Life of Laud, p. 194. . * Scrinia Reserata. 



BARL OF STRAFFORD. 227 

none but himself." He was to be understood^ and 
then invited^ — rather than forced to an explicit decla. 
ration, and then only accepted. The purpose of the 
alternating attraction and repulsion of his proceedings^ 
such as I have described them^ submissive and refrac 
tory^ might have been obvious, indeed^ to an obtuser 
perception than Buckingham's^ but that mediocrity will 
always find its little account in crushing rather than 
winning over genius^ and is rendered almost as un- 
comfortable by an uncongenial coadjutor as by a 
strenuous opponent. Wentworth's conduct^ at the 
last^ was forced upon him by circumstances : — but his 
energetic support of the Petition of Rights was only 
the completion of a series of hints^ all of which had 
been more or less intelligible; and^ even now^ un- 
willingly understood as this was by the minister^ it 
was yet more reluctantly acted upon^ for by Buck* 
Ingham's death alone, as we are informed^ the ^^ great 
bar" to Wentworth's advancement was removed.* It 
may be added^ that^even in all these circumstances^ when 
many steps were forced upon him, which his proud 
spirit but poorly submitted to^ and wronged itself in 
submitting to^ it is yet possible to perceive a quality 
in his nature which was afterwards more fully de- 
veloped. He was possessed with a rooted aversion^ 
from tile first, to the court flies that buzzed around the 
monarchy and as little inclined to suffer their good 
offices as to deprecate their hostility. The receipt, 
shortly after this^ of divers ill-spelt and solemn silli- 
nesses from the king, seems to have occasioned a deep 
and enduring gratitude in him, for the dispensing with 
a medium that had annoyed him. '^ I do with infinite 
sense,*' writes he, " consider your majesty's great 
goodness, not only most graciously approving of that 
address of mine immediately to yourself, but allowing 
it unto me hereafter, which I shall rest myself upon 
as my greatest support on earth, and make bold to 
practise^ yet I trust without importunity or sauciness." 

» Biog. Britt, vol vii. p. 417a 

Q 2 



228 BBrri«H btateimen. 

The few attempts to ingntitte bimself wiA the qwen, 
which were ultimfttelj forced on Wentworth 1^ Ui 
dKlining fbrCuoM, were ittended with btit faint nte- 
eeu, and he appears to have impreMed her, on Ibe 
whole, with little beyond the prettinets of his handa, 
which ihe allowed to be "the ftneat in the worid '— ' 
to the prejudice of bis head, which she was not so in. 
dined to preserve. 

In one word, what it ii de«i[«d to imprcM npon 
the reader, before the delineation of Wentworth in hla 
after jrears, ie thiB — thai he mat eotuUlent to hinit^f 
throughout, I hare always considered that much good 
wrath is thrown awaj upon what is nsually called 
" apostscy." In the m^ority of cases, if the cireum- 
aCandes are thoroughly examined, it will be found that 
there baa been " no such thing." The position on which 
the acute Roman thought fit to base his whole theorj 
of Esthetics — 



— is of far wider application than to the exigencies of 

an art of poetry ; and thoK who carry their researches 

into the moral nature of mankind, cannot do better 

than impress upon their minds, at the outset, that in the 

legions they explore, they are to expect no monsters — 

no easentially discordant termination to any "mulier 

formosa supem^." Infinitely and distinctly various at 

appear the shifting hues of our common nature when 

subjected to the prism of otHOUMSTANCB, each ray into 

which it is broken is no lees in itself a primiuve coloar, 

susceptible, indeed, of vast modification, hut incapable 

m. Indolence, however, in its delight 

»tion8, finds its account in overlookiDg 

the remits, none it more conapieuona 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 229 

than the long list of apostates with which history fur* 
nishes us. It is very true, it may be admitted, that; when 
we are informed by an old chronicler that^ " at this 
time, Ezzelin changed totally his disposition," — or by a 
modem biographer that, '^at such a period, Tiberius 
first became a wicked prince," — we examine too curi. 
0U8ly if we consider such information as in reality re- 
garding other than the act done, and the popular in- 
ference recorded ; beyond which it was no part of the 
writer to inquire. But such historians as these value 
themselves materially on their dispensation of good or 
evU fame ; and as the " complete change/* so dramati*- 
cally recounted, has commonly no mean influence on the 
nature of their award, the observations I have made 
may be of service to the just estimate of their more 
sweeping conclusions. 

Against all such conclusions I earnestly protest in the 
case of the remarkable personage whose ill-fated career 
we are now retracing. Let him be judged sternly, 
but in no unphilosophic spirit. In turning from the 
bright band of patriot brothers to the solitary Strafford 
— *' a star which dwelt apart " — we have to contem- 
plate no extinguished splendour, razed and blotted 
from the book of life. Lustrous, indeed, as was the 
gathering of the lights in the political heaven of 
this- great time, even that radiant cluster might have 
exulted in the accession of the ^' comet beautiful and 
fierce," which tarried a while within its limits ere it 
*' dashed athwart with train of flame." But it was 
governed by other laws than were owned by its golden 
associates, and — impelled by a contrary, yet no less 
irresistible force, than that which restrained them within 
their eternal orbits — it left them, never to ^' float into 
that azure heaven again." 

Before attending Wentworth to his presidency in the 
North, we may stop to consider one of those grand fea- 
tures in his character, on which many subordinate con- 
siderations depend, and a proper understanding of which 

Q 3 



230 BB1TI8H STATESMEN. 

ought to be brought, as a first requisite^ to the just ob. 
servation of his measures. 

I cannot believe Wentworth to have been the vain 
man popular opinion has pronounced him^ nor dis- 
cover in him any of that overweening and unwarranted 
self-confidence^ which friends no less tfapji foes have 
laid to his charge. An arrogance, based on the sup' 
posed possession of pre-eminent qualities which have 
no existence, is one thing ; and the calm perception of an 
undoubted superiority, is another. Wentworth, indeed, 
** stood like a tower " — but that unshaken confidence 
did not ^' suddenly scale the light.'* Its stately propor- 
tions were slowly evolved ; its eventual elevation un- 
avoidable, and amply vindicated. We have met with 
no evidences of a refractory or self-sufficient disposition 
in the youth of Wentworth ? His studies at Cambridge 
had a prosperous issue, and he ever remembered his 
college life with affection. " I am sorry to speak it, 
but truth will out," writes he to Laud concerning an 
episcopal delinquent, " this Bishop is a St. John*s man 
— of Oxford, I mean, not Cambridge ; our Cambridge 
panniers never brought such a fairing to the market."^ 

* StrafTord Papers, vol. L p. 189. Laud makes merry upon this' happy 
phraie of (he lord deputy's. I'he passages are characteristic of the cor> 
respondence, and therefore worth quoting. ** And so your Lordship," he 
writes, '* is very sorry to tell the truth, but only that it will out A St 
John's man you say he is, and of Oxford — your Cambridge panniers never 
brought such a fiiiring to the market Yes, mv good lord, but it hath ; for 
what say you of dean Palmer ? Who, besides his other virtues, sold all the 
lead off from the church at Peterburgh j yet he was brought in your Cam- 
bridge panniers ; and so was bi«hop Howland too, who used that bishop, 
rick, as well as he did the deanary. I must confess this man's baseness 
hath not many fellows, but his bribery may have stora And I pray, is 
that ever a whit the less fhult, because it is geutleman.Iike for hundreds 
and thousands ? Whereas this man deals for twenty shillings and less. 
I hope you will not say so, and if you do not, then I pray examine your 
Cambridge panniers again, for some say such may he found there, but I 
for my part will not believe it, unless your Iord>hip nSake me." Went, 
worth appears to have contested this point in Laud's own humour. The 
bishop retorts by asking him what his ** Jonnism," means. " Now you are 
merry again. God hold it And what? Dr. Palmer acted like a king? 
Be it so. But he was another card in the pack. As for bishop Howland. 
you never heard of him. What ? Nor of Jeames his wife neither ? Good 
Lord, how ignorant you can be when vou list Yea but you have taken 
St John's Ox. Flagrante criminet and I put you to your memory. Is it 
so ? Come on then : vou know there is a cause in the Star-Chamber : some 
were to answer, and they brought their answers ready written. If the 
bishop of Lincoln sent them ready for his turn, hath he not an excellent 



EARL OP 8TBAFF0RD. 231 

His deep esteem for his tutor. Greenwood, reflects 
honour on both parties* I have said that it was ori- 
ginated by good services performed, and so, perhaps, it 
is necessary to limit all Strafford's likings — all, ex- 
cept the fatal one which cost him life, his liking for 
the weak and unworthy king, which had its origin in 
that abstract veneration for power, which (or rather, as 
he afterwards too late discovered, the semblance of 
which) we have just seen him by some practices beneath 
his nature, climbing up to, and in the exercise of which, 
we are to view him hereafter. But his esteem for 
Greenwood, whatever its origin, was not to have been 
provoked by truckling sycophancy. Nothing of that 
sort would have succeeded in impressing its object with 
so profound a respect as dictates the following paragraph 
in an interesting letter to his nephew and ward, sir W, 
Savile. 'Mn these, and all things else, you shall do pass- 
ing well to consult Mr. Greenwood, who hath seen much, 
is very well able to judge, and certainly most faithful 
to you. If you use him not most respectively, you 
deal extreme ungrateful with him, and ill for yourself. 
He was the man your father loved and trusted above all 
men, and did as faithfully discharge the trust reposed 
in him, as ever in my time I knew any man do for his 
dead friend, taking excessive pains in settling your estate 
with all possible cheerfulness, without charge to you at 
all. His advice will be always upright, and you may 
safely pour your secrets into him, which, by that time 
you have conversed a little more abroad in the world, 
you will find to be the greatest and noblest treasure this 
world can make any man owner of ; and I protest to 
God, were I in your place, I would think him the 
greatest and best riches I did or could possess.^" In 
5ie same letter, Wentworth assures this youth — ^'you 
cannot consider yourself, and advise and debate your 



forge ? What If this appear ? I hope you will not then say I put you to 
your memory. 'Tis now under examination, and is not this if, &c. fla* 
grant e crimine f Go brag now. " 
1 Papers, vol i. p. 170. 

Q 4 



252 BRITISH STATBSXEN. 

actions with your ftiends too much ; and, till snch time 
as experience hath ripened your judgment, it shall be 
great wisdom and advantage to distrust yourself, and to 
fortify your youth by the counsel of your more aged 
friends, before you undertake any thing of consequence. 
It was the course that I governed myself by after my 
father's death, with great advantage to mysdf and 
affairs; and yet my breeding abroad had shown ms 
more of the world than yours hath done, and I had 
natural reason like other men ; only I confess I did in 
all things distrust myself, wherein you shall do^ as I 
said, extremely well, if you do so too.^" There is no 
self-sufficiency here ! 

Wentworth's method of study has been transmitted 
to us by sir George Radcliffe, and I quote it in strong 
corroboration of the view which has been urged. '^ He 
writ," Radclifie assures us, *^ as well as he spoke : this 
perfection he attained, first, by reading well penned aiH 
thors in French, English, and Latin, and observiiig 
their expressions; secondly, by hearing of eloqueit 
men^ which he did diligently in their sermons asd 
publick speeches ; thirdly, by a very great care aid 
industry, which he used when he was young, in penni^ 
his epistles and missives of what subject soever ; but 
above all, he had a natural quickness of wit and fancf, 
with great clearness of judgement, and much practice, 
without which his other helps, of reading and hearing, 
would not have brought him to that great perfection to 
which he attained. I learned one rule of him, whicli 
I think worthy to be remembered : when he met widi 
a well penned oration or tract upon any subject or que^ 
tion, he framed a speech upon the same argumerd, 
inventing and disposing what seemed fit to he said upon 
that subject, be/ore he read the book ; then reading the 
book, compare his own with the author, and note his 
own defects, and the authors art and fulness ; whereby 
he observed all that was in the author more strictly, 
and might better judge of his own wants to supply 

» Papers, vol i. p. lea 



EAAL OF STBAFFOBD. 23S 

them." ^ Now this early hahit of oonfrondng, so to 
speak, the full grown wits of other men— -of satisfying 
himself of his own precise intellectual height by 
thoroughly scanning the acknowledged stature of the 
world*s giants — is as much removed from a rash assump. 
tion as from the nervous apprehension of mediocrity. 

Wentworth*s temper was passionate; and it is 
curious and instructive^ in the present view of his 
character, to mark the steps he took in relation to this. 
I have already spoken of his extreme cautiousness ; of 
the select council that canvassed his business, suggested 
his measures, and revised his correspondence; of his 
deference to advice, and indeed, submission to reproof, 
from his assured friends. '^ He was naturally exceed- 
ing choleric," says sir George Radcliffe, '^ an infirmity 
with which he had great wrestlings ; and though he 
kept a watchftdness over himself concerning it, yet it 
could not be so prevented, but sometimes upon sudden 
occasions it would break. He had sundry friends that 
often admonished him of it; and he had the great 
prudence to take in good part such admonitions : nay, 
I can say that I, one of his most intimate friends, 
never gained more upon his trust and affection, than by 
this freedom with him, in telling him of his weaknesses. 
For he was a man and not an angel, yet such a man 
as made a conscience of his ways, and did endeavour to 
grow in virtue and victory over himself, and made good 
progress accordingly." This " good progress " brought 
him eventually to a very efiicient self-control. In 
cases where he would seem to have exceeded it, and to 
have been transported beyond decency and prudence, 
it would be hasty to assume, as Clarendon and other 
writers have done, that it was in mere satisfaction of 
his will. These writers, it will not be difficult to show, 
have not that excuse for the failure of their principles 
in Wentworth's person. The truth was that, as in the 
case of Napoleon and other great masters of the des- 
potic art, anger was one of the instruments of his 

1 Papers, toL ii. p. 436. 



234 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

policy. He came to know when to be in a passion^ 
and flew into a passion accordingly. '^ You gave me 
a good lesson to be patient/' he writes to old secretary 
Cooke, ^' and indeed my years and natural inclinations 
give me heat more than enough, which however, I 
trust, more experience shall cool^ and a watch over 
myself in time altogether overcome ; in the mean 
space, in this at least it will set forth itself more par- 
donable, because my earnestness shall ever be for the 
honour, justice, and profit of my master ; and it is not 
always anger, but the misapplying of tf, that is the 
vice 80 hlameahley and of disadvantqge to those that let 
themselves loose thereunto} " 

In the same despatch to the secretary from which I 
have taken the above, he had observed, immediately 
before, — " Nor is it one of my least comforts that 
I shall have the means to resort to so wise and well 
affected a friend to me as I esteem yourself, and to a 
servant that goes the same way to my master's ends 
that 1 do ; and therefore let me adjure you, by all the 
interests that I may or would have in you, that as you 
will (I am sure) assist me when i am right, so by your 
sensible and grave counsel, reduce me when I may 
happen to trea(i awry." 2 ^^d thus, from the first, is 
Wentworth found soliciting the direction of others in 
all important conjunctures ; not, indeed, with the vague 
distress of one unprovided with expedients of his own, 
and disposed to adopt the first course that shall be pro- 
posed, but with the calm purpose of one decided on 
the main course to be pursued, yet not unwilling that 
it receive the corroboration, or undergo the modifica- 
tion, of an experienced adviser. This has been occa- 
sionally illustrated in the business of his nomination by 
the king for the office of sheriff*, where, having already 
chosen his party, he submits his determination to his 
father-in-law, the earl of Clare, whose answer has been 
quoted. I have mentioned also his practice of trans- 

» Strafford Papers, vol i. p. 87. « Ibid. 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. ^35 

mitting tLuplicates of his despatches on all urgent occa* 
sions to Laud^ Cooke^ and Cottington. 

No passage^ indeed^ in the career of Wentworth 
proves him to have been a vain roan. His singular skill 
is never satisfied^ without an unremitting application of 
means to any desired end^ and the neglect of no cir- 
cumstance^ the most minute and apparently trivial, that 
may conduce to its success. Would he ensure his own 
return for a county^ and smuggle in a ministerial can- 
didate under the wing of his own popularity? — He 
proceeds as though his personal merits could in no 
way influence the events and all his hopes are founded 
on the activity of his friends^ which he leaves no stone 
antumed to increase. In one and the same day^ sir 
Thomas Gower, high sheriff of York, is informed that 
— ^^ Beings at the entreaty of some of my best friends, 
resolved to try the affections of my countrymen in the 
next election of knights for the shire, I could do no less 
than take hold of this fit occasion to write unto you 
these few lines. Wherein I must first give you tlianks 
for the good respect you. have been pleased to show 
towards me^ to some of my good friends who moved you 
for your just and equal favour at the time of the elec 
tion; which, as I will be found ready to deserve and affec- 
tionately to requite, so must I here solicit you for the 
continuance of your good purposes towards me ; and 
lastly desire to understand from you, what day the 
county falls out upon (which is to be the next after the 
receipt of the writ), that so I may provide myself and 
^ends to give our first voices for Mr. Secretary, and 
the second for myself." — Sir Henry Bellasis assured 
that — *' Presently upon my return from London, I 
find by Mr. Carre, how much I am beholden unto you 
for your good. affection. In truth I do not desire it out 
of any ambition, but rather to satisfy some of my best 
friends, and such as have most power over me. Yet, 
if the country make choice of me, surely I will zealously 
perform the best service for them that my means or 
understanding shall enable me unto. And having thus 



236 9RITISH BTATBgMEN. 

far upon this occasion declared myself, must take it as 
a great testimony of affeation in tbem that shall afford 
me their voices, and those of their friends for Mr. secre- 
tary Calvert in the prime, apd myself in tlie second 
place. Particularly am I hereby to give you therefore 
thanks^ and will so settledly lodge this favour in my 
heart, that I will not fail to remember and deserve it. 
In my next letters I toUl likewUe let Mr» Secretary 
know your good respect and kindness towards him, 
whereof I dare assure you he will not he unmindful. 
The election day will fall out very unhappily upon 
Christmas-day ; but it is irremediless, and therefore 
must be yielden unto. If you will please to honour 
me with the company of yourself and friends upon that 
day at dinner, I shall take it as a second and especial 
favour : in retribution whereof you shall find me still 
conversant, as occasion shall be ministered, in the un- 
feigned and constant offices of your very assured and 
affectionate friend." — Sir Henry Savile instructed that 
— '* I have received your two letters, and in them both 
find matter to thank you for your respect and kindness 
towards me. The later of them I received just the 
ililternoon I came out of town, hut I write effectually to 
Mr. Secretary for a burgess-ship for you at Richmond, 
in regard I knew my lord of Cumberland was partly 
engaged : but I will amongst them work out one, or I 
will miss far of my aim. So soon as I hear from Mr. 
Secretary, I will give you further certainty herein; 
in the mean time, methinks it were not amiss if you 
tried your ancient power with them of Aldborow^ which 
I leave to your better consideration, and in the mean 
time not labour the less to make it sure for you else- 
where, if these clowns chance to fail you. The writ, 
as I hear, is this week gone to the sheriff; so the next 
county day, which must without hope of alteration be 
that of the election, falls to be Christmas- day, which 
were to be wished otherwise; but the discommodity of 
our friends more upon that day than another makes 
the favour the greater, our obligation the more, and 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 23? 

therefore I hope they will the rather dispense with it. 
If the old knight should but endanger it^ 'faitb^ Wte 
might be reputed men of small power and esteem in 
the country ! but the truth is^ I fear him not If your 
health serve yOu^ I shall wish your company at York, 
and that yourself aqd friends would eat a Christmas 
pie with me there : I tell you there would be a hearty 
welcome, and I would take it as an especial favour, 
so value it, and as such an one remember it." — Sir 
Matthew Boynton reminded that — " The ancient and 
near acquaintance that hath been betwixt us causeth 
me to rank you in the number of my friends; and 
being moved by my friends to stand second with 
Mr. secretary Calvert for knight of the shire at 
this next parliament, I assure myself I might confi- 
dently address myself unto you for the voices of your- 
self and friends in the election, which falls out unfor- 
tunately to be upon Christmas-day. But as the trouble of 
my f iends thereby will be the greater^ so doth it add to 
my obligation. I hope likewise to enjoy your company 
and friends that day at dinner. You shall be in ^no 
place better welcome." — And Christopher Wandesford 
given notice that — ^' the writ will be delivered by Mr. 
Radclifie within these two days to the sheriff, to whom 
I have written, giving him thanks for his kindness, 
desiring the continuance thereof. And now, lest you 
should think me forgetful of that which concerns your- 
self, I hasten to let you know that I have got an abso- 
lute promise of my lord Clifford, that if I he chosen 
knight y you shall have a burgess- ship (reserved for me) 
at Appleby, wherewith I must confess I am not a Htth 
pleased, in regard we shall sit there, judge, and kmgh 
together'* 

The reader will remember that all these, with many 
other letters, are written and despatched on the same 
day. No apology is necessary for the length at which I 
quote them ; since, in rescuing them from false and 
distorted arrangement, much misconception is prevented. 



238 BRITISH 8TATBSHEN. 

«i)d ft very valuable means of judgment furnished on 
Wentwortli*s general conduct 

He goes on to let sir Thomas Fairfax know^ that — 
" I was at London much intreated^ and^ indeed^ at htst 
enjoined^ to stand with Mr. Secretary Calvert for to he 
knight of this shire the next parliament^ both by my 
lord Clifford and himself ; which^ after I had assented 
unto^ and despatched my letters, I perceived that some 
of your friends had motioned the like to Mr. Secretary 
on your behalf, and were therein engaged, which was 
the cause I writ no sooner unto you. Yet^ hearing by 
my cousin Middleton that, he moving you in my be- 
haJf for your voices, you were not only pleased to give 
over that intendment, but freely to promise us your 
best assistance, — I must confess I cannot forbear 
any longer to write unto you how much this courtesy 
deserves of me ; and that I cannot choose but take it 
most kindly from you, as suitable with the ancient 
affection which you have always borne me and my house. 
And presuming of the continuance of your good respect 
towards me, I must entreat the company of yourself 
and friends with me at dinner on Christmas-day, being 
the day of the election, where I shall be most glad of 
you, and there give you further thanks for your kind 
respects." — ^And thus reports progress to Mr. Secretary 
himself : — " May it please you, sir, the parliament writ 
is delivered to the sheriff, and he by his faithful pro- 
mise deeply engaged for you. I find the gentlemen of 
these parts generally ready to do you service. Sir Thomas 
Fairfax stirs not ; but sir John Savile, by his instruments 
exceeding busy, intimating to the common sort under 
hand, that yourself, being not resiant in the county, 
cannot by law be chosen, and, being his majesty's se- 
cretary and a stranger, one not safe to be trusted by the 
country ; — ^but all this according to his manner so closely 
and cunningly as if he had no part therein ; neither 
doth he as yet further declare himself than only that 
he will be at York the day of the election ; — and thus 
finding he cannot work them from me^ labours only to 



EABL OF STRAFFORD. 239 

supplant you. I endeavour to meet with him as well 
a9 I may, and omit nothing that my poor understanding 
tells me may do you service. My lord president hath 
writ to his freeholders on your hehalf, and seeing he 
will be in town on the election day, it were I think very 
good he would be pleased to show himself for you in 
the Castle-yard, and that you writ unto him a few lines, 
taking notice you hear of some opposition, and there. 
fore desire his presence might secuie you of fair carriage 
in the choice. / fuive heard, that when sir Francis 
Darcy opposed sir Thomas Lake in a matter of like 
nature, the lords of the council writ to sir Francis to 
desist. I know my lord chancellor is very sensible of 
you in this business ; a word to him, and such a letter, 
would make an end of all. Sir, pardon me, I beseech 
you, for I protest I am in travail till all be sure for you, 
which imboldens me to propound these things, which 
notwithstanding I most humbly submit to your judg- 
ment. When you have resolved, be pleased to dispatch 
the bearei* back again with your answer, which I shall 
take care of. There is not any that labours more heartily 
for you than my lord Darcy. Sir, I wish a better 
occasion wherein to testify the dutiful and affectionate 
respects your favours and nobleness may justly require 
from me.*' — Sir Arthur Ingram is then apprised, in a 
letter which is full of character, that, <^ as touching the 
election, we now grow to some heat; sir John Savile's 
instruments closely and cunningly suggesting under 
hand Mr. Secretary's non-residence, bis being the king's 
servant, and out of these reasons by law cannot, and in 
good discretion ought not, be chosen of the country ; 
whereas himself is their martyr, having suffered for 
them ; the patron of the clothiers ; of all others the fittest 
to be relied on ; and that he intends to be at York the 
day of the election, — craftily avoiding to declare himself 
absolutely. And thus he works, having spread this jea- 
lousy, that albeit I persuade myself generally they would 
give me their prime voice, yet in good faith I think it 
very improbable we shall ever get the first place for 



240 BRITISH STATESUEN. 

Mr. Secretary; nay, I protest we shall have need of our 
strength to obtain him a second election : so as the like* 
liest way, so far as I am able to judge^ to secure both^ 
will be for me to stand for the prime, and so cast all 
my second Toices upon him, which, notwithstanding, we 
may help by patting him first in the indenture. I am 
exceeding sorry, that the foulness and length of the way 
put me out of hope of your company ; and therefore I 
pray you, let us have your advice herein \>y the bearer. 
Your letter to your friends in Halifax admits some 
question, because you desire their voices for Mr. Secre- 
tary and myself the rather for that sir John Savik 
stands not ; so, say they, if he stand, we are left to our 
liberty. You will therefore please to dear that doubt 
by another letter, which, delivered to this messenger, I 
will get sent unto them. I fear greatly they will give 
their second voice with sir John. Mr. Leedi promised 
me he would procure his lord's letter to the freeholdeis 
within Halloroshire and the honor of Pontefract ; that 
my cousin LasceUs, my lord's principal agent in these 
parts, should himself labour Halloroshire ; Mr. Banister, 
the learned steward of Pontefract, do the like there ; 
and both of them be present at the election, the better 
to secure those parts. I hear not any thing of them. 
I pray you, press Mr. Leech to the performance of his 
promise ; letting him know sir John Savile's friends 
labour for him, and he declares in a manner he will 
stand ; and get him to send the letters by this my ser- 
vant. I desire likewise he would intreat my cousin 
Lascells, that he would take the pains to come over, 
and speak with me the Monday before Christmas-day 
here at my house. Sir, you see how bold I am to 
trouble you, and yet I must desire you would be pleased 
to afibrd me the commodity of your house for two 
nights, to entertain my friends. I shall, God willing, 
be most careful that nothing be impaired, and shall 
number this amongst -many other your noble courtesies,' 
which have inviolably knit me unto you." — Sir Thomas 
Dawney is solicited to the same effect, and sir Henry 



EABL OF STRAFFORD. 241 

Slingsby informed that — ** the certainty I have of sir 
John Savile's standings and the various reports I hear 
of the country people's affection towards Mr. Secretary^ 
makes me desirous to know how you find them inclined 
in your parts. For this wapentake^ as also that of 
Osgodcross and Staincross^ I certainly persuade myself^ 
will go wholly for us. In Skyrack I assure myself of 
a better part^ and I will perform promise with Mr. Se. 
cretary^ bringing a thousand voices of my own besides 
my friends. Some persuade me^ that the better way to 
secure both^ were for me to stand prime, cast all my 
second voices on Mr. Secretary, and put him first into 
^e indenture. I pray you consider of it, and write 
me your opinion ; / would not lose substance for such 
a iayUh ceremony. There is danger both ways : for if 
Mr. Secretary stand first, it is much to be feared, the 
country will not stand for him firm and intire against 
sir John. If I he first chosen, which I make no question 
hut I could, then is it to be doubted, the people might fly 
ever to ihe other side, which, notwithstanding, in my con-- 
eeii, of the two is the more unlikely : for, after they be 
once settled and engaged for me, they wiU not be so apt 
to stir. And again, it may be so suddenly carried, as 
ihey shaU haoe no time to move. At a word, we shall 
need all our endeavours to make Mr. Secretary, and 
therefore, sir, I pray you gather up all you possibly 
can. i would gladly know how many you think we 
may expect from you. My lord Cliffo^ will be at 
Tadcaster upon Christmas-eve, about one of the dock : 
if Uiat be your way, I am sure he would be glad your- 
self and friends would meet him there ; that so we might 
go into York the next day, vote, and dine together, 
where you shall be most heartily welcome." — Sir Tho- 
mas Fairfax is again moved very earnestly to make — 
*^ a]] the strength of friends and number you can to 
give their voices for us at the next election, falling to 
be upon Christmas-day ; the rather, because the old 
gaUant of ffooley intends certainly to stand, whom 
indeed, albeit J should lightly weigh, were the matter 

▼OIn II. R 



242 BRITISH STATESUXir. 

betwixt him and me^ yet I doubt Mr. Secretary (if his 
friends stand not closely to him) being not well known 
in the country. Sir^ you haYe ^erefore hereby an op- 
portunity offered to do us all an especial faTour^ which 
shall bind us to a ready and chearful requital^ when you 
shall have occasioil to use any of us. My lord Clifford 
will be^ God willing, at Tadcaster upon Christmas-eye 
about one of the clock, where I assure myself he will 
much desire that yourself and friends will be pleased to 
meet him^ that 90 we may go into York together j and 
myself earnestly in treat the company of yourself and 
them the next day at dinner^ which I shall esteem as a 
double favour." — And his cousin Thomas Wentworth 
advertised that, '' being, as you know, engaged to stand 
with Mr. Secretary Calvert to be knights for this par- 
liament, and sir John Savile our only opponent^ I must 
make use of my friends and intreat them to deal tho. 
roughly fur us, in regard the loss of it would much 
prejudice our estimations above. In which number I 
esteem yourself^ one of my best and fastest friends. The 
course my lord Darcy and I hold is, to intreat the high 
constables to desire the petty constables to set down the 
names of all freeholders within their townships, and 
which of them have promised to be at York and bestow 
their voices with us, so as we^ may keep the note as a 
testimony of their good affections, and know whom we 
Ore beholden unto, desiring them further to go along 
with us to York on Sunday, being Christmas-eve^ or 
else meet us about two of the clock at Tadcaster. I 
desire you would please to deal effectually with your 
high constables, and hold the^ same course, that so we 
may be able to judge what number we may expect out 
of your wapentake. As I no ways doubt of your ut- 
termost endeavours and pains in a matter c^ this nature, 
deeply touching my credit, so will 1 value it as a special 
testimony of your love towards me. I hope you will 
take the pains to go along with us, together with your 
friends, to York, that so we may come all in together, 
and take part of an ill dinner with me the next day ; 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 243 

'vrhere yourself and friends shall be right heartily wel- 
come." * 

It is not necessary to recall attention to the political 
principle^ or the party views^ which are evidenced in 
these letters^; but how singular and complete is the illus- 
tration they afford, of Wentworth*s practice of letting 
slip no method^ however ordinary^ of compassing his 
designs I Is he interested^ either^ in the success of 
a lawsuit ? — we find that — '^ he spent eight years* 
time^ besides his pains and money^ in soliciting the 
business and suits of his nephews sir George and sir 
William Savile^ going every term to London about that 
only^ without missing one term in thirty^ as I verily 
believe. And all this merely in memory of the kind- 
ness which had passed betwixt him and his brother-in- 
law sir George Savile^ then deceased/' ^ And so with 
aU things that interested him. 

To this head, then, the reader is asked to refer 
many proceedings, which, hitherto^ have been cited in 
proof of an excessive vanity. They were rather the 
suggestions of a mind well aware of the influence of 
seeming trifles^ on the accomplishment of important 
purposes. The pompous enumeration of his heraldic 
honours in the preamble to his patent of nobility, and 
the " extraordinary pomp " with which he was created 
Viscount and president of the North, were no unneces- 
sary precaution against the surprise and disdain of an 
insolent herd of courtiers, and were yet ineffectual 
wholly to restrain their sarcasms.^ The unexampled 
splendour of his after progress to the opening of the 
Irish parliament was, no doubt, well calculated to ^^ beget 



1 These various letters will be found in the Straffbrd Papers. 

3 The beginning of electioneering tactics is also curiously discernible in 
fhem. 

3 Radcliffe's &8ay. 

* ** The duke of Buckingham himself flew not so high in so short a 
revolution of time He was made a viscount with a great deal of high 
ceremony upon a Sunday, in the afternoon, at Whitehall. My lord Powis, 
who affects him not much, being told that the heralds had fetched his 
pedigree from the blood royal, viz. from John of Gaunt, said, * Dammu, 
it ever he comet to he king of England, I wiU turn rebel.* " ^ £pistolt^ 
flowelliaiuet No. 31 edit 1650. 

B 2 



S44 jnunsH 

an awful adnuratioii'' in the minds of a body of 
whoae nc i n ce t he was then pfeparing to obtain bjfar mora 
qnestionabk means ; — and his lleree resentment of the 
slightest infringement of the etiquette he had succeeded 
in establishing^ his minate arrsngements with respect 
to the ceremony he conodTed necessary to the powers 
be was entrusted with^ have their censure on other 
grounds than any intrinsic sbsnrdity they erince. It 
seems to me to be high time^ in cues of this sort, to 
shift our censure to the grosser sbsurdity of the prin- 
ciples which require such means for dieir support. 
Ceremony in the abstract — the mere forms of etiquette^ 
sinking through their own emptiness, sustsining no 
purpose, and unsustained by none — Wentworth r^iarded 
with a more supreme scorn than diey were held in by 
any of his prudish opponents among his own partof. 
" I confeis," writes he on one occasion, '^ this matter 
of PLACE I hare ever judged a womanly tking^ and so 
loTC not to trouble myself therewith, more than needs 
must" He cares not, moreover, submitting cheerfully 
throughout to die king's unworthy srrangement, — diat 
himself should gadier ''golden opinicms'' by a liberal 
bestowment of honours in IreUnd on the more trouble- 
some of bis suitors, while to his deputy was confided 
the ungradons task of interposing a veto on die royal 
benefacdon, and receiying, in his own person, die curses 
of die disappointed.^ Against the bitterness of their 
discontent, Wentwordi had his unfailing resource. '' I 
shall not neglect,** he writes, " to preserve myself in 
good opinion with this people, in regard I become 
thereby better able to do my master's service ; longer 
dian it works to diat purpose, I am very indifferent 
what they shall think, or can say, concerning me." Not 
die less scruple had he in complaining of die king's 
arrangement, when it was tortured to purposes he had 
never contemplated, and he discovered diat die character 
of his government was become that of an iron rule, 

1 See Stnfllird Papen^ voL L p. 14a 



EABL OF STRAFFORD. 245 

^heTCin reward had no place^ even for its zealous sup- 
porters.^ For the foolish gravity of the luckless king 
liad continued to pen epistle upon epistle^ disposing of 
die most subordinate posts in the army^ as well as the 
higher dignities of the church. The system^ in the 
£rst instance^ however^ was one which a proud man^ 
cartainly^ might submit to^ but a vain man would 
hardly acquiesce in. 

I resume the progress of Wentworth*s fortunes. His * 
elevation became an instant subject of general remark; 
And it is not difficult to discover^ that^ in his native 
ooimty^ where he was best known^ the surprise excited 
by so sudden a change, after such violent opposition^ 
was balanced by a greater surprise^ on the other hand, 
that the honour should have been delayed so long. 
" Give me leave to inform you, "' writes sir Richard 
Hutton^, in a passage which is expressive of both these 
feelings, '^ that your late conferred honour is the subject 
of much discourse here in Yorkshire, which, I conceive, 
proceeds from the most, not out of any other cause than 
dieir known worth in you, which is thought merited it 
much sooner and greater ; but this is only to entertain 
you a little longer ; for I know that your actions are 
not justly liable to any censure, I am sure not to mine; 

1 One instance, out of the many which strikingly illustrate Went, 
worth's character in this respect, may be sabiloined. Xord Newburgh had 
nocured A-om the king a promise of promotion for a young man in the 
Irish army — which/the lord deputy felt would be disadvanUgeous to the 
public service Here are some passages of his remonstrance :— ** For if I 
be not favoured so far, as that I may be able to make myself friends, and 
dxKtr unto myself some dependence, by the expectance men may have 
from me in these places, that so I may have assistance and cheerful coun. 
tenance Arom some, as I have already purchased the sour and bent brow 
of some of them : I foresee, I shall have little honour, comfort, or safety 
amongst them. For a man to enrorce obedience by punishment only, and 
be deprived all means to reward some — to be always in vinegar, never to 
communicate of the sweet — is, in my estimation of it, the meanest, roost 

ignoble condition any free spirit can be reduced untu The conclusion 

tiberefore is, I am confident his majesty will not debar me of what (be it 
spoken under favour) belongs to my place, for all the solicitatiqn of the 
pretty busy lord Newburgh, who, if a man should move his majesty for 
anything in the gift nf the chancellor of the duchy, would as pertly 
cackle, and put himself in the way of complaint, as if be had all the merit 
and ability in the world to serve his mMter.*'-~Siraffi>rd Papers, vol i. 
pp. 136 142. 

* Strafibrd Papers, vol. L pi 47. 

B S 



246 BBrnsH vta 

far, being yours^ it speaks them good to me, if 
best." The character of the important olEee 
to Wentworth included much that was espedaDj 
fill to him : — enlarged by his desire, it pieaeoted 
almost unlimited; freedom at the 
little annoyanees of the court ; and the upp or iuui ty of 
exhibiting his genius for despotic rule in his own eoonty, 
where personal friends might witness its soccesaes, and 
old adversaries^ should the occasion ofier, be made the 
oljects of its triumph. To crown his cause of 8ati»-' 
faction^ the duke of Buckingham, who 'had still hung 
darkly over his approach to a perfect confidence and 
favour, was removed by the knife of Fdton. Secret 
congratulations passed, within a few days after this 
event, between Wentworth and Weston. Every thing 
seemed to favour his entrance into power, and a light 
rose upon the future. '* You tell me," writes his friend 
Wandesford to him, *' God hath blessed you much in 
these late proceedings. Truly, I believe i^ for by these 
circumstances we know, we may guess at them we know 
not." 1 This friend was not forgotten. Though so 
recently one of the active managers of the impeachment 
against Buckingham, he was at once received into 
favour^ and Wentworth waited his opportunity to em<« 
ploy the services of others, equally dear and valuable, 
while he did not fail to improve his opportunities of 
intercourse among his new associates. Laud was the 
chief object of his concern in this respect, for he had 
observed Land's rising influence with the king. 

Wentworth wisely deferred his departure to the 
North until after the dissolution of parliament. The 
powers that awaited him there, increased by his stipu- 
lations, I have described as nearly unlimited. The 
council of York, or of the North, whose jurisdiction 
extended over the counties of York, Northumberland, 
Cumberland, and Westmoreland, over the cities of 
York and Hull, the bishopric of Durham, and the town 

1 Strafford Pupen, vol i. p. 4Sl 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. ^47 

of Newcastle-apon-Tyne^ included within itself the 
powers of the courts of common law^ of the chancery^' 
even of the star chamher. It had originated in the 
frequent northern rehellions which followed Henry 
VIII.'s suppression of the lesser monasteries. Before 
the scheme for the suppression of the greater monas- 
teries was carried into efi'ect^ it was judged expedient^ 
in consequence of such disturbances^ to grant a com- 
mission to the bishop of LlandafF and others^ for the 
purpose of preserving the peace of these northern 
counties. This commission was^ to all appearances^ 
simply one of oyer and terminer; but a clause had 
been inserted in it^ towards the conclusion^ authorising 
the commissioners to hear all causes^ real and personal^ 
when either or both of the parties laboured under 
poverty 2, and to decide according to sound discretion. 
This latter licence, however^ was soon afterwards de- 
dared by all the judges to be. illegal ; and the power of 
hearing real and personal causes at all was rarely acted 
upon up to the second year of Elizabeth's reign, when 
it also was declared to be illegal, since]|canses regarding 
property, whether real or personal, could only be de- 
cided by the laws of the land. It was reserved for 
James to issue, over these decisions, a new commission, 
'* very differing," says Clarendon, " from all that went 
before." The commissioners were no longer ordered 
to inquire " per sacramentum bonorum et legalium 
hominum," or to be controlled by any forms of law, 
but were referred merely to secret instructions, which, 
fot the first time, were sent down to the council. This 
at once reduced the whole of the North to an absolute 
■abjection, and that so flagrant, that the judges of the 
court of common pleas had the decent courage to protest 
actively against it, by issuing prohibitions on demand to 
l^e president and council; and James himself wasobliged 
to have the instructions inroUed, that the people might, in 

* Riuhwortb, voL L p. 163. 
^ ** Quando ambe pfutes, vel alters pars, gravata paupertate fuerit.**— 
5««*ttof /A, vol il p. 162. 

B 4 



£48 BRITISH BTATEgMBir. 

•ome measure, be able to ascertain by what rules their 
con4uct was to be regulatedJ 

One of Wentworth's first announcements, in sac- 
ceeding to this enormous power^ the very acceptance of 
which was a violation of the vital principles and enact* 
ments of the petition of right, was to dedare that he 
would lay any man by the heels who ventured to sue 
out a prohibition in the courts at Westminster.^ His 
excuse for such a course of proceeding was afterwards 
boldly avowed.^ '^ It was a chaste ambition, if rightly 
placed, to have as much power as may be, tiiat there 
may be power to do the more good for the place 
where a man serves." Now Wentworth's notion of good 
went straight to the establishment of absolute govern- 
ment ; and to this, his one grand object^ from the very 
first moment of his public authority^ he bent every 
energy of his soul. He devoted himself, night and day, 
to the public business. Lord Scroop's^ arrears were 
speedily disposed of, an effective militia was embodied 
and disciplined, and all possible means were resorted 
to for an increase of revenue. The fines on recusants, 
the compositions for knighthood, and the various exac- 
tions imposed by government, were rigorously enforced 
by him. At the same time his hand, though heavy, 
was equal, and the reports of his government were, it 
consequence, found to be very various. The complainants 
contradicted each other. '' Your proceeding with the 
recusants," writes Weston, '^ is here, where it is 
well understood, well taken, tho' there be different rt- 
mours. For, it is said, that you proceed widi extreme 
rigour, valuing the good and lands of the poorest at the 

1 An interesting account of the origin and practices of this cound ot 
York was given by Hvde (lord Clarendon) in the long parliament the 
speech is reported by Rushworth, vol ii pp. 162—166. 

3 Rushworth, vol. ii. p. 159. 

3 In his answers to the charges of his impeachment See Rushwortb, 
▼oL ii. p. 161. 

* His predecessor in the government of York, afterwards earl of Sun- 
derland. Wandesford speaks of him with great contempt, in a Ittter 
to Wentworth : ** Your predecessor, like that camile hid under a buihel, 
while he lived in this place, darkened himself and all that were about him, 
and dieth towards us (excuse me for the phrase) like a snuff unmaiiierly 
]^ in a comer."— Arq/T&nf Papers, vol L p. 49. 



^* 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 249 

highest rates^ or rather above the value^ without which 
you are not content to make any composition. This la 
not believed^ especially by me, who know your wisdom 
and moderation : and your last too gave much satisfac- 
tion even to those who informed me^ when they saw 
thereby, that you had compounded with none but to 
their own contentment."^ Cottington, the chancellor 
of the exchequer, had expressed more characteristically^ 
some days before, the approbation of die court. '^ For 
the business of the recusants, my lord treasurer sent 
immediately your letter to the king (who is in hL| 
progress), from whom he received a notable approbation 
both of your intentions and proceedings, as he himself 
will tell your lordship in his own letters ; for you are 
his mistress, and must be cherished and courted by 
none but himself." So early did the king deem it ex- 
pedient to exhibit, that peculiar sense of his minister's 
service. When the minister had bound himself up in- 
extricably with the royal cause, it was thought to be 
less expedient ! 

In such a course as this which Wentworth had now 
entered on, it is quite clear, that to have permitted the 
slightest disregard of the authority assumed, must have 
proved fatal. I cannot see any thing unnatural, there- 
fore, in his conduct to Henry Bellasis, and in several 
other personal questions which at present come under no-r 
tice. Nothing is apparent in it at variance with the sys- 
tem to hi worked out, nothing outrageous or imprudent, 
as his party have been at some pains to allege. These 
matters are not to be discussed in the abstract Des- 
potism is the gist of the question ; and if the phrase 
'* unnatural"- is to be used, let it fall upon that. The 
means employed to enforce it, are' obliged, as a matter 
of necessity, to partake of its own nature, or it would 
not for an instant be borne. One of Wentworth's first 
measures had been to claim for himself, as the repre* 
sentative of absolute royalty, the most absolute rever- 
ence and respect. On the occasion of a ' '^ solemn 

> StraflbRl Fapen, vol i. pi 52. 



250 BRITISH 8TATE8MEK. 

meetings" however^ this young man Bellasis^ the sod of 
the lord Faulconberg, manifested a somewhat imperti- 
nent disregard of these orders^ entered the room without 
** showing any particular reverence" to the lord presid- 
ent^ remained there with his hat on, and as VTentworth 
himself passed out of the meeting *^ with his hat off, 
the king's mace-bearer before him^ and all the rest of 
the company uncovered^ Mr. Bellasis stood with- his hat 
on his head^ looking full upon his lordship without 
stirring his hat^ or using any other reverence or civility/' 
In a man of rank^ this was the less to be overlooked. 
Bdlasis was ordered before the council boards where he 
pleaded that his negligence had arisen from accident^ 
that his look was turned the other way^ that he was 
not aware of the lord president's approach^ till he had 
passed^ and^ finally, that he meant no disrespect to 
the lord president's dignity. He was required to ex* 
press^ in addition, his sorrow for having given offence 
to '^ lord Wentworth." He refused to do this ; but at 
last, after a month's imprisonment in the Gate-house^ 
was obliged to submit.^ Other cases of the same de- 
scription occurred. A barrister at law, something dis- 
affected to the lord president's jurisdiction, expiated his 
offence in a lowly submission on his knees ^; and a 
punishment fell on sir David Foulis, heavier and more 
terrible, in proportion to Wentworth's sense of the con- 
duct that had provoked it. 

Sir David Foulis was a deputy lieutenant, a justice 
of the peace, and a member of the council of York. 
Holding this position in the county, he had, on various 
occasions, made very disrespectful mention of the council 
of York ; had thrown out several invidious insinuations 
against its president ; and had shown much activity and 
zeal in instigating persons not to pay the composition 
for knighthood, which he considered an illegal and 
oppressive exaction.^ Wentworth immediately resolved 

1 See the proceedings before the council board, Rushworth, vol iL 
ikSS. 
s See Ruahworth, vol ii. p. lea 
3 Foulis had, in less imporUnt matters, equally sought to baffle the au- 



EARL OF SraAPVOBD. £51 

to make him a (dgnal example ; and the extraordinaqr 
poweveranoe^and unscrupulous measures, by dint of which 
lie at last secured this^ are too singularly illustrative of 
his character, to be passed over in silence. An inform- 
ation was immediately ordered to be exhibited in the 
star chamber against sir David Foulis ; against his son, 
who had shared in his offence ; and against sir Thomas 
Layton, the high sheriff of the county, who had sanctioned 
and assisted the disaffection. Some necessary delays 
put off the hearing of the cause till after Wentworth's 
departure to Dublin. But one of the last things with 
which he busied himself previous to his departure, was 
the making sure of the issue. He wrote from West- 
minster to the lord treasurer, (one of the judges that 
were to try it ! ) who was then in Scotland — " I have 
perused all the examinations betwixt me and Foulis, 
and find all the material parts of the bill fully proved, 
80 as I have him soundly upon the hip; but 1 desire it 
may not be spoken of, for aJbeit I may by order of the 
court see them, yet he may not, till the end of the 
next term." i Weston did not receive this hint at first 
very cordially ;, but Cottington, another of the judges, 
wrote to him a week or two after he had quitted 
London, — " We say here that your lordship's cause 
against Foulis shall come to hearing this term, and I 
inquire much after it." Wentworth, though then much 
distracted by sickness and affairs, acted eagerly on this 
intimation, and sent over a special messenger to Getting, 
ton, with a short brief of the strong points of the case, 
written out by himself, and an extremely characteristic 

Uioiity of tbe lord president. I find the following passafre in a letter to 
Wentworth, flrom sir William Pennyman, one of his watchfljl retainers : 
— ** There was a constable under sir David Foulis fwho, by reason of 
■ome just excuse as was pretended, appeared not) tnat refused to pay 
twelve fience to captain Philips, and it was thus discovered. I bid one of 
u)e townsmen lay down twelve pence, and the constable should pay him 
'^ain. He answered, lliat the constable told him, that sir David FouUs 
had commanded him, that if any were demanded he should pay none ; and 
of this I thought it but my part to acquaint vour lordship ; not that I would 
*SSravate any thing against sir David Foulis, for it raiBht only be some 
misprision in the constable, but that your lordship might know of the least 
passage which may have relation or reflection upon yourself." 
. > Strafibrd Papers, voL L p. 91. 



S52 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

letter. He says boldly^ — '' I must wholly leeomiiieiui' 
myself to your care of me in this^ which I take to oca. 
cem me as much, and to have therein as much the 
better, as I ever had in any other cause all the days of 
my life ; so I trust a little help will serve the turn/' 
It is clear, in point of fact, that Wentworth felt that 
much of his authority, in so far as perscmal claims sus- 
tained it — or, in other words, that much of his probable 
success or non-success in the new and desperate as- 
sumptions, by which alone his schemes of government 
could be carried on — was concerned in the extent of 
punishipent awarded in the present case, and the cone- 
qK>nding impression likely to be created. He omits no 
consideration in his letter, therefore, that is in any way 
likely to influence Cottington. He points out particularly 
how much the ''king*s service" is concerned, and that 
the arrow was " shot at him" in reality. '^ The sen- 
tencing of this man," he continues, " settles the right 
of knighting business bravely for the crown, for in your 
sentence you will certainly declare the undoubted right 
and prerogative the king hath therein by common law, 
statute law, and the undeniable practice of all times ; 
and therefore I am a suitor by you to his majesty, that 
he would be graciously pleased to recommend the cause 
to the lords, as well in his own right, ^ in the right of 
his absent poor servant, and to wish them all to be 
there. You are like to begin the sentence, and I will 
be bold to tell you my opinion theieoa. You have been 
pleased sometimes, as I sat by you, to ask me my con- 
ceit upon the cause then before us ; — admit me now to 
do it upon my own cause, for, by my troth, I will do it 
as clearly as if it concerned me not." An aggravation 
of every point in the case against Foulis and his son 
follows, with a curious citation of a number of pre- 
cedents for a heavy punishment, and a strong personal 
appeal in behalf of his own character. '' Much more 
I could say, if I were in the star chamber to speak in 
such a cause for my lord Cottington : but I will con- 
clude with this, — that I protest to God, if it were 



EARL OF 8TRAFF0BD. 253 

in the person of another^ I should in a cause so fonl^ 
the proof so dear, fine the father and the son^ 
sir David and Henry Foulis, in 2000/. apiece to 
his majesty^ and in 2000/. apiece damages to myself 
for their scandal ; and they both to be sent down to 
Tork^ and there publicly at York assizes next^ to 
acknowledge in the fauce of the whole country^ the right 
hia majesty hath to that duty of knightings ; as also 
the wrong he hath done me ; humbly craving pardon of 
his migesty, and expressing his sorrow so to have mis- 
represented his migesty's most gracious proceedings^ 
even in that course of compounding^ where the law 
Would have given him much more^ as also for so 
falsely slandering and belying me without a cause. For 
sir Thomas Layton^ he is a fool, led on by the nose by 
the two former^ nor was I willing to do him any hurt ; 
md 80 let him go for a coxcomb as he is ; and when 
he comes home^ tell his neighbours, it was well for him 
he had less wit than his fellows." ' As the hearing 
approached more nearly, Wentworth, regardless of the 
equivocal reception Weston had formerly given him, 
wrote again to the lord treasurer. " My lord, I have 
to be heard this term a cause between sir David Foulis 
and me in the star chamber ; and a very good one, if I 
flatter not myself exceedingly : I do most earnestly 
beseech your lordship's presence, and that I may taste 
of the ordinary effects of your justice and favour 
towards me your faithful servant, albeit here removed 
in another kingdom."^ Scarcely a member of that 
considerate court did he fail to solicit as earnestly. 

How could the honest judges fail to perform, all that 
had been so asked of them ? Foulis waa d^aded from 
his various offices; fined 5000/. to the king, 3000/. to 
Wentworth ; condemned to make a public acknowledge 
nient of the most alject submissiveness ** to his migestjr 
and the lord viscount Wentworth, not only in this courts 

1 Strailbnl "Papen, toL L pp. 145, 14& A more remarkable opportunity 

' of bit own impeachment, to exprete 



TCierved for him, on the occasion of hit own impeachment, to exprete 
hit contempt of this sir Thomas lAytOB. See Rushworth, vol viU. a 151. 
• Strailbvd Fapers, toL L p^ 14& ^ 






254 BBITI8H STATBOIEZr. 

but in the court of York^ and likewise at the open 
in the same county;" and, finally, committed to the 
Fleet during his migesty's pleasure ! His son was also 
imprisoned and heavily fined. Layton, the ''fod," 
was presented with his acquittal. Wentworth's gra- 
titude at this result overflowed in the most fervent 
expressions to his serviceable friends. Cottington was 
warmly thanked. " Such are your continued favours 
towards me/* he wrote to Laud, '' which you were 
pleased to manifest so far in the star chamber, in that 
cause betwixt sir David Foulis and me, not only by 
your justice, but by your affection too, as indeed, my 
lord, the best and greatest return I can make, is to 
pray, I may be able to de8erve,"&c. A long despatch to 
Cooke included an expression of the " obligation put 
upon me by the care you expressed for me in a suit 
this last term, which came to a hearing in the star 
chamber, betwixt sir D. Foulis and me, and of the 
testimony your affection there gave me, much above 
my merit. Sir, I humbly thank you,** &c. &c. A still 
more important and weighty despatch to Weston closed 
with — *' I do most humbly thank your lordship for your 
noble presence and justice in the star chamber ; being 
the business indeed, in my own estimation, which more 
concerned me than any that ever befel me, hitherto, in 
my whole life." And to his cousin the earl of Cleve- 
land he thus expressed himself: — ^^ I understand my 
cause in the star chamber hath had a fair evening: 
for which I am ever to acknowledge and reverence the 
justice of that great court to an absent man. Your 
lordship hath still been pleased to honour me with your 
presence, when any thing concerned roe there : and 
believe me, if ever I be absent from the place where I 
may serve you, it shall be most extremely against my 
will. I see it must still be my fortune to work it out 
in a storm, and I find not myself yet so faint, as to 
give over for that, or to abandon a good cause, be the 
wind never so loud or sour." One characteristic cir- 
cumstance remains to be added. All the various letters 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 255 

and despatches in which the passages I have quoted are 
to be founds together with others to various noble 
lords^ bear the same date,^ No one of those who had 
served Wentworth^ was left to speak of thanks that 
he only had received.^ 

In relief from this painful exhibition^ of a false 
public principle tyrannizing over private morals and 
affections^ I turn to present the somewhat redeeming 
aspect of those uncontrolled regards which Wentworth 
could yet suffer himself to indulge. In consequence of 
incessant appHcation ^ to the duties of his office^ he was 
now able to pass little of his time at the family seat ; 
but he seems to have been anxious that his children^ 
William^ and the little lady Anne^ should^ for health's 
sake^ continue to reside there. He had entrusted them 
accordingly to the charge of sir William Pennyman, a 
person bound to his service by various strong obliga- 
tions,"^ The lady Arabella^ then on the eve of confine- 

» See the StrafJbrd Papers, vol i. pp. 189. 19*. 202. 204. &c. &c. 

3 I may conclude the mention of this Foulis affair by quoting acharac> 
teri9tic note from one of Wentworth *s voluminous private despatches to 
the Rev. Mr. Greenwoode. After instructions of various sorts respecting 
his personal afJPkirs in Yorkshire, which occupy eight closely printed folio 
pages, the lord deputy subjoins : — ** One word more I must of necessity 
mention, that is, the business betwixt me and sir David Foulis. How 
this stands I know not : but I pray you inform yourself what lands I have 
received the rents of by virtue of the extent, and what money Richard 
Marris has received towards my 3000/. damages and costs of suit ; and that 
you will cause a perfect and half year's account to be kept of all the dis- 
bursements and receipts concerning this matter in a book precisely by 
itself. I beseech you set this business in a clear and certain course, for you 
may be sure, if any advantage or doubt can be raised, I shall be sure to 
bear of it." — Siraiffbrd Papers, vol. i. p. 488. Letter, from Dublin, dated 
Nov. 1635. 

3 His friends were constantly, but vainly, warning him of the dangers 
he incurred by this. *• I long," writes his friend Mainwaring to him, •' to 
bear of my lady's safe delivery, and of ^our lordship's coming up. . . Your 
lordship must give me leave to put you m mind of your health, for I hear 
you take no recreation at all." — Strafford Papers, vol. i. p. 54. 

4 This person afterwards played his part at the impeachment Tt may 
be worth while to quote a passage from one of his letters, written at the 
period referred to in the text, in illustration of the means which Went, 
worth employed to engage, as deeply as possible, the devotion of men who 
promised to be useful to him. ** For my own part," writes Fennyman to 
the lord president, ** I hope shortly to pay my composition, and I wish I 
could as easily satisfy your debt, and compound with your lordship, as I 
can with the king. But it is a thing impossible. My best way, I think, is 
to do like the painter, who, when attcr a great deal of pains he could not 
describe the infinite sorrow of a weeping father, presented him on a table 
with his face covered, that the spectators might imagine that sorrow which 
he was not able to express. My debt, like his sorrow, is not to be de- 



S5€ KUTISR ITATSBMEK. 

ment, remained with Wentwmlh. PenDjinaa ( 
to have had carefdl inatnictiMu to n 
eonst* of the children, and it it iDterettiiig to ohaerre 
the lort of deuUi tbu wae tboogfat likdj to proTC 
mott welcome lo dteir btber. " Now," he aayi, " to 
write that newi that I hare, which I pRMune will 
be moet acceptable, 70111 Umlahip'i thUdren are all to; 
wdl, and your lorddiip need not fear the gong forward 
of your iHiildiDg, when yoa haxe ao eare^ a atewatd 
a* tin, Anne. She complained to me tctj mndi of 
two rainj daji, which, a* (he nid, hinder'd her from 
coming down, and the boilding from gmng np, becann 
•he waa inforced lo keep her clumber, and could not 
oreriook the workmen."' Thii important little maideo, 
then between three and foDr jean old, had cerlainlj 
inherited the cpirit of the Wentwortha ■ " Mr. William 
■nd tin. AnDe," PenDyman writes on another occasion, 
" are very wdL They were not a little glad to recdxe 
their tokena, and jet thej nid, thej would be more 
glad to recdve joor lordthip and tbeiT worthy mother. 
We aH, with one vote, agreed in tbdr opinion, and 
wished, that joor lordship's occasions mi^t be as swift 
and tpeedj in their despatch as our thongfats and 
desires are in wi^og them."^ At the commencemeDt 
of 1631, Wentworth's second son was bom. This 
«hild, Thomas Wentworth, after raght months of uncer- 
tain health, died. At about this time the services of 
the lord president seem to have been argentlj required 
in London, and Weston wrote to him entie«ting bis 
immediate presence.' The health of the ladj Arabella, 



ipTollnSi • IMd. p,B7. 

a the lord nrnurer. " Mt beam irill flnd ;m «d, 

OU recrive it H > Kuwing of humu ftliril*, wkMl 

Be he loTH lot i but jaanrrdinnilitm'l p4iii»d|ih;i 

I only to rnnantn you Bl beint here in tiK iMgiRniiit 

of the tens, Kcordtng (o your prmife, lud 1 intreat yau to tl^knlc U a^ 



EARL OF 8TRAFF0BD. 257 

however^ who was again near tbe period of confine- 
ment^ was now an object of deep anxiety to Went- 
worthy and he remained with her in Yorkshire. In 
October^ a second daughter^ the young Arabella^ was 
bom to him^ and within the same months on a Tuesday 
mornings says Radcliffe, ^' his dear wife, the lady Ara- 
bella died.i 1 took this earl out of bed^ and carried 
him to receive his last blessing from her." ^ Went* 
worth deeply felt her loss, and never, at any time, 
through his after life, recalled her beauty, her accom- 
plishments, or her virtue, without the most tender en- 
thusiasm. 

Some days after this sad event, Wentworth received 
intelligence from his friend and relation, sir Edward 
Stanhope, of certain intrigues which, during his absence, 
had been moving against him in the court at London. 
" I received your letter," he writes back, "by which I 
perceive you have me in memory, albeit God hath taken 
from me your noblest cousin, the incomparable wpman 
and wife my«yes shall ever behold. I must confess 
this kindness works with me much. After some .allu^sions 
to Stanhope's intelligence, he proceeds : " Yet truly, I 
cannot believe so ill of the propounders, both because in 
my own nature I am the man least suspicious alive, 
and that my heart tells me, I never deserved but well 
of them, indeed passing well. It is impossible it should 
be plotted for my ruin; sure at least impossible I can 
think so; and if there can be such mischief in the world, 
then is this confidence given me as a snare by God to 
punish me for my sins yet further, and to draw me yet 
more immediately and singly to look up to him, with- 
out leaving me any thing below to trust or look to. 
The worst sure that can be is, with honour, profit, and 

cesMiy to make haste. We want you now for your counsel and help iq 
mznytMngs.** — Str^ord Papers^ vol i. p. 58. 

1 Euay. Mr. Mac-Diarmid and other writers have fallen into the error 
of supposing'^hat she died after the birth of the la^t boy. 

2 R«dclitfb here alludes, ** by thia earl," to the boy William, who was 
earl of Strafford when his essay was wxittcn. Mr. Brodie whimsically 
turns it into sir George Ratcliffe carrying Wentworth himself out of bed 
to rt^ceive his wife's la«t blexsing. BriC Emp. vol. iii. p. 1^9. 

VOL. II. S 



258 BBTTISH STATEUmr. 

contentment, to set me a little fhrtfaer off from tresdin^ 
upon any thing themseWes desire, — which gnnted, I 
am at the height of mj ambitions, brought hcmae to 
enjoy myself and friends, to leave my estate free and 
plentiful to your little cousin, and which is more than 
all this, quietly and in secret to serve my Maker, to 
eommune with him more frequently, more profitably, I 
trust, for my soul than formerly.' " 

Of short duration was this composed attitude of 
mind ! The ink was scarcely dry upon his letter -when 
he re-appeared in his court at York, pursued with 
startling energy some of his most resolute measures, and 
re-assured his master in London of the invaluable nature 
of his services, by sundry swellings of the royal revenue. 
Money, the main nerve that was to uphold the projected 
system, was still the grand object of Wentworth*s care, 
and money he sent to Charles. The revenue, which, on 
his succeeding to the presidency of York, he had found 
BO more in amount than 2000/. a year, he had already 
raised to an annual return of 9^00/. '^^ 

Still, however, intriguers were busy agunst him, and 
a rumour was conveyed by them to Weston's ear, that 
he had resolved to use his notoriously growing influence 
with the king, to endeavour to win for himself the staff 
of the lord treasurer. The trusty Wandesford dis- 
covered this, and despatched the intelligence to Went- 
worth. The next courier from Yorkshire brought a 
packet to Weston. " Let shame and confusion then 
cover me," ran the characteristic letter it enclosed, '' if 
I do not abhor the intolerable anxiety I well understand 
to wait inseparably upon that staff, if I should not take 
a serpent as soon into my bosom, and, -^ if I once find 
80 mean a thought of me can enter into your heart, as 
that to compass whatever I could take most delight in, 
I should go about beguilefuUy to supplant any ordinary 
man (how much more then impotently to catch at such 
a staff, and from my lord treasurer) — if I leave not the 
court instantly, betake myself to my private fortune, 

Stralibrd Fapen, roL L p^Gl. > Ibid. pp. 89, 90. 



BARI* OF STRAFFORD. S59 

reposedly seek my contentment and quiet within my 
own doors, and follow the dictamen of my own reason 
and conscience, more according to nature and liberty, 
than in those gyves, which now pinch and hang upon 
me. Thus you see how easily you may be rid of me 
when you list, and in good faith with a thousand tSanks: 
yet be pleased not to judge this proceeds out of any 
wayward weary humour in me neither; for, my en- 
deavours are as vigorous and as cheerful to serve the 
crown and you as ever they were, nor shall you ever 
find them to faint or flasquer. I am none of those soft 
tempered spirits : but I cannot endure to be mistaken, 
or suffer my purer and more intire affections to be 
soiled, or in the least degree prejudiced, with the loath- 
some and odious attributes of covetousness and ambitious 
fslsehood. Do me but right in this. Judge ray watches 
to issue (as in faith they do) from clearer cisterns. I lay 
my hand undeip your foot, I despise danger, I laugh at 
labour. Command me in all difficulties, in all confidence, 
in all readiness. No, no, my lord,'' continued Went- 
worth, lapsing into the philosophic tone he could assume 
so weU, '' No, no, my lord I they are those sovereign and 
great duties I owe his majesty and your lordship, which 
thus provoke me beyond my own nature rather to leave 
those cooler shades, wherein I took choicest pleasure, 
and thus put myself with you into the heat of the day, 
thaii poorly and meanly to start aside from my obliga- 
tions, convinced in myself of the most wretched ingra- 
titude in the whole world. God knows how little 
delight I take in the outwards of this life, how infinitely 
ill satisfied 1 am with myself, to find daily those calm 
and quiet retirements, wherein to contemplate some 
things more divine and sacred than this world can afford 
us, at every moment interrupted thorough the importunity 
of the affairs I have already. To heaven and earth I 
protest it, it grieves my very soul ! " ^ Weston's sus- 
picions, which, had he known Wentworth better, would 
never for a moment have been entertained, could not 

1 Straffixd Papers, vol i. pp. 79, 8a 
8 2 



260 BRITISH STATESUSN. 

but sink before such language as this ; and the brd 
president's speedy arrival in London, exploded eierf 
hostile attempt that still lingered about the court agdnst 
him. 

Charles was now remodelling his counsels. The ex- 
traordinary success of Wentworth's northern presidency 
had Inspired him with new hopes ; his cofiers had been 
filled without the hated help of the house of commons ; 
and that prospect of independent authority which he ear* 
nestly entertained, no longer seemed distant or hopeless. 
A conclusion of peace with France and Spain favoured 
the attempt. He offered lord Wentworth the government 
of Ireland. His favourite scheme was to deliver up the 
three divisions of the kingdom to the superintendence 
of three favourite ministers, reserving to himself a gene- 
ral and not inactive control over all. Laud was the 
minister for £ngland, and the affairs of Scotland were 
in the hands of the marquess of Hamilton. Ireland^ 
accepted by Wentworth, completed the proposed plan. 

The condition of Ireland, at this moment, was in the 
highest degree difficult and dangerous. From the con- 
quest of Henry the second up to the government of 
Essex and Mountjoy, her history had been a series of 
barbarous disasters. The English settlers, in a succes- 
sion of ferocious conflicts, had depraved themselves 
below the level of the uncivilized Irish ; for, instead of 
diffusing improvement and civilization, they had ob- 
structed both. The system of government was in con- 
sequence become the mere occasional and discretionary 
calling of a parliament by the lord deputy for the time, 
composed entirely of delegates from within the English 
pale, whose duty began and closed in the sanctioning 
some new act of oppression, or the screening some new 
offender from punishment. One glimpse of a more 
beneficial purpose broke upon Ireland in the reign of 
Henry the seventh, during the government of sir Edward 
Poynings, who procured a decree from the parliament, 
that all the laws theretofore enacted in England should 
have equal force in Ireland. With the determination 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. S6l 

of destroying^ at the same time^ the discretionary power 
that had been used, of summoning and dismissing par- 
liaments at pleasure, and of passing sudden laws for the 
purpose of occasional oppressions, sir Edward Poyn- 
ings procured the enactment of his famous bill, ^at 
a parliament should not be summoned atwTe once a 
year in Ireland, nor even then, till the propositions on 
which it was to decide had been seen and approved by 
the . privy council of England. But the native Irish 
chiefs had been too fiercely hardened in their savage 
distrust of the English to reap any advantage from these 
measures. They retreated to their fastnesses,^ and only 
left them to cover the frontier with outrage and blood, 
shed. 

Lord Montjoy at last subdued them, released the 
peasantry from their control, and framed a plan of im- 
partial government. In the course of the ensuing reign 
new settlements of English were accordingly formed, 
the rude Irish customs were discountenanced, the laws of 
England every where enforced, courts of judicature es- 
tablished after the English model, and representatives 
from every part of the kingdom summoned to the par- 
liament. When England herself, however, began to groan 
under oppressions, Ireland felt them still more heavily, 
and was flung back with a greater shock. The arbitrary 
decrees of Charles's privy council, military exactions, 
and martial law, were strangling the liberties of Ireland 
in their very births Bitter, too, in its aggravation of 
other grievances, was Irish theological discord. The large 
majority of papists, the sturdy old protestants of the 
pale, the new settlers of James, presbyterians, and puri- 
tans, — all were in nearly open warfare, and the penal- 
ties enforced against recusants were equally hateful to 
all. The rigour of the church courts, and the exaction 
of tithes, kept up these discontents by constant exas- 
peration. 

Such was the state of affairs when Charles sent lord 
Falkland to Dublin. His lordship soon found that 

s 3 



S62 BBITISH ITATBSMEir. 

hit goTernmeDt was little more than the nsme of one. 
The army had gradually sank to 1350 foot and 20O 
horse ; which mean foroe^ divided into oompames, was 
commanded hy privy counsellors^ who^ managing to 
secure their own pay out of the receipts of the exchequer, 
compounded widi the privates for a third or fourth 
part of the government allowance! Insignificant in 
Bumhors, such management had icndeied tlie soUien 
ten times more inefficient^ and, utterly wanting in spirit 
or conduct, often, indeed, the mere menial servants of 
the officers, they excited only contempt. Over and over 
again lord Falkland detailed this state of things to 
Charles, and prayed for assistance ; hut the difficulties 
in £n gland, and the deficiencies in the Irish revenue, 
united to withhold it. At last, however, warned hy 
imminent dangers that threatened, the king announced 
his resolution to augment the Irish forces to 500O foot 
and 500 horse, and, unable to supply the necessary 
charge from an empty treasury, he commanded the new 
levies to be quartered on the difierent towns and coun- 
ties, each of which was to receive a certain portion of 
the troops, for three months in turn, and to supply them 
with the required necessaries. Alarmed by this prqject, 
— and justly considering a great present sacri^ce, with 
some chance of profit^ better than to be burthened with 
a tax of horrible uncertainty, which yet gave them no 
reasonable reliance for the fdture, — the Irish people in- 
stantly offered the king a liberal voluntary contribution, 
on condition of the redress of certain grievances. Ca- 
tholics and protestants concurred in this, and delegates 
from both parties laid the proposal before the king 
himself, in London. The money they offered first ; in 
the shape of a voluntary contribution of 100,000/., the 
largest sum ever yet returned by Ireland, and to be paid 
by instalments of 10,000/. a quarter. Their list of 
grievances they produced next ; desiring relief from the 
exactions of courts of justice, from military depreda- 
tions, from trade monopolies, from the religious penal 
statutes, from retrospective inquiries into defective titles 



SABL OF STRAFFORD. 26$ 

leyond a period of sixty years ^^ and, finally^ praying 
ibat the concessions should be confirmed by an Irish 
parliament. Some of these conditions were intolerable 
to Charles. A parliament was at all times hateful to 
bim^ and scarcely less convenient than the absence of 
parliaments, to a prince who desired to be absolute, was 
the privilege of increasing the royal revenue, and pblig. 
ing the minions of royalty, by discovering old flaws in 
tides. Glorious had been the opportunity of escheating 
large possessions to the crown, or of passing them over 
to new proprietors ! Yet here was a present offer of 
money, an advantage not to be forebome — whereas, so 
convenient was Charles's moral code, an assent to ob- 
noxious matters was a thing tabe withdrawn at the first 
convenient opportunity, and evaded at any time. The 
'^ graces," as the concessions were called, were accord- 
ingly promised to be acceded to; instalments of the 
money were paid ; and writs were issued by lord Falk- 
land for a parliament. 

The joyful anticipations raised in consequence soon 
received a check. The writs were declared void by the 
English council, in consequence of the provisions of 
Poynings's law^ not having been attended to by lord 
Falkland, who was proved to have issued the writs on 
hisewn authority, without having previously transmitted 
to England a certificate of the laws to be brought forward 
in the proposed parliament, with reasons for enacting 
them^ and then, as he ought to have done, waited for 
his majesty's licence of permission under the great seal. 
Still the people thought this a casual error^ and they 
waited in confidence of its remedy. The Roman ca- 
tholic party, meanwhile, encouraged by the favourable 
reception of their delegates at court, and elated by a con. 
fidence of protection from the queen, proceeded to act 
at once in open defiance of the penal statutes. They 
aeized churches for their own worship, thronged the 

1 It bad been usual to dispossess proprietors of estates, for defects in 
tbeir tenures as old as the original conquest of Ireland ! No man was 
secure at hto own hearth^one. See Leland, yol ii. pp. 468—468. 

* These provisions had received additional ratification by subsequent 
statutes, the 3d and 4tb of Philip and Mary. 

s 4 



264 



BRITUa STATBSMKir. 



streets of Dublin with their prooessioiis, erected an 
academy for the religious instruction of their youth, and 
reinforced their clergy by supplies of young priests from 
the colleges of France and Spain. The extreme abim 
of the protestants at these manifestations, induced lord 
Falkland at last to issue a proclamation, prohibiting the 
Roman catholic clergy from exercising any control oyer 
the people, and from celebrating their worship in public. 
The Roman catholics, incensed at this step, now cla- 
moured for the promised graces and parliament; the 
protestants had too many reasons to join them in the 
demand ; and both parties united in declaring that pay- 
ment of the contribution, under present circumstances, 
was an intolerable burthen. In vain lord Falkland 
offered to accept the payment in instalments of 5000/., 
instead of 10,000/., a year ; the discontents daily in- 
creased, and, in the end, drove the lord deputy £rom 
power. Lord Falkland, the object of censure that 
should have fallen elsewhere, returned to England. 

A temporary administration, consisting of two lords 
justices ; the one, lord chancellor, viscount Ely, and the 
other, lord high treasurer, the earl of Cork; was formed. 
Both these noblemen were zealously opposed to the 
Roman catholics, and instantly, without waiting the 
king's orders, commenced a rigorous execution of the 
penal statutes against recusants. An intimation from 
England of the royal displeasure, threw some shadow 
over these proceedings, but not till the opposition they 
had strengthened had succeeded in suppressing the 
academy and religious houses which had been erected 
by the Roman catholics in Dublin. To complete the 
difficulties of the present state of affiiirs, the termina- 
tion of the voluntary contribution now fast approached, 
and the temper of all parties left any hope of its re- 
newal more than desperate. 

Imminent, then, was the danger which now beset the 
government of Ireland. Without the advantage of in- 
ternal strength, it had no prospect of external aid. The 
treasury in England could not afford a farthing to in- 
crease the army, the money designed for that purpose 



EARL OP STRAFFORD. 265 

had been swallowed up in more immediate necessities^ 
and the army sank daily into the most miserable ineffi- 
ciency. Voluntary supply was out of the question^ and 
compulsory exactions^ wi^out ^e help of soldiers^ still 
more ridiculously vain. In the genius of the lord presi- 
dent of the norths Charles had one hope remaining.^ 

Wentworth receiyed his commission in the early 
months of 1632. He resolved to defer his departure, 
however, till he had informed himself fully of the state 
of his government, and fortified himself with all the 
authorities that should be needful. The energy, the 
prudence^ the various powers of resource, with which 
he laboured to this end, are only to be appreciated by 
an examination of the original documents, which still 
remain in evidence of all.^ They were most extra- 
ordinary. The first thing he did was to procure an 
order from the king^ in restriction of the authority of the 
government of lords justices, during his own absence 
from Dublin.^ In answer, then^ to various elaborate 
congratulations from the officers of the Irish govern- 
ment, he sent back cold, but peremptory, requests for 
information of their various departments. The trea- 
sury necessities, and means of supply, were his primary 
care. The lords justices declared that the only possiblie 
resource, in that respect, was to levy rigorously the 
penalties imposed by statute on the Roman catholics, 
for absence from public worship. The cabinet in Lon- 
don, powerless of expedient, saw nd chance of avoiding 
this, when lord Cottington received from York one of 
Wentworth's vigorous dispatches. 

1 Ample authorities for this rapid summary of Irish afiairs ^ill be found 
in Leland's History, vol. ii. p. 107. to the end, and vol. iii. pp. 1—10. ; 
edition of 1733. I have also availed myself of Mr. Mac Diarmid's account. 
Lives of British Statesmen, voL iL pp. 125-.135. 

s See the Strafford Papers, vol i. pp. 61—ffI. 

3 Id. ibid. p. 6a After intimating to the lords Justices Wentworth's 
appointment, the royal order proceeds: — ** We have, therefore, in the 
mean time thought fit hereby to require you not to pass any pardons, 
(^ces, lands, or church livings by grant under our great seal of that our 
kingdom ; nor to confer the honour of knighthood upon any, or to dispose 
of any company of horse or foot there: only vou are required in this in- 
terim to look to the ordinary administration of civil Justice, and to the good 
ffoveniment of our subjects and army there.** 



266 



BBITUH BTATBSMSir. 






Now^ my lord^" reaioned the new lord depn^, 
I am not ignorant that what hath been may hippen 
out again, and how much every good EngJiahman onglit, 
as well in reaaon of atate aa oonadenoe^ to deaire ifaat 
kingdom were well reduced to conformity of religion 
with ua here — aa^ indeed, shutting up the postern gate, 
hitherto open to many a dangeroua inconvenieiioe and 
mischief, which have over-laiely laid too near us, ex- 
hausted our treasures, consumed our men, busied the 
perplexed minds of her late migesty and all her ministers. 
Yet, my lord, it is a great business, hath many a root 
lying deep, and far within ground ; which would be 
first thoroughly opened before we judge what height it 
may shoot up unto, when it shall feel itself once struck 
at, to be loosened and pulled up ; nor, at this distance, 
can I advise it should be at all attempted, untU thepap^ 
foent/ar the king' 9 army he elsewhere and surelier settled, 
than either upon the voluntary gift qf the subjects, or 
upon the casual income qf the twelvepence a Sunday, 
Before this fruit grows ripe for gathering, the army 
must not live praeario, fetching in every morsel of bread 
upon their swords' points. Nor will I so far ground 
myself with an implicit faith upon the a]l-f(»eaeeing 
providence of the earl of Cork, as to receive the contrary 
opinion from him in verbo magistri ; when I am sure 
that if such a rush as this should set that kingdom in 
pieces again, I must be the man that am like to bear 
the heat of the day, and to be also accountable for the 
success, not he. Blame me not, then, where it concerns 
me so nearly, both in honour and safety, if I much 
rather desire to hold it in suspence, and to be at liberty 
upon the place to make my own election, than thus be 
closed up by the choice and admission of strangers, whom 
I know not, how they stand affected, either to me or the 
king's service. Therefore let me beseech you to consult 
this business seriously with his mtgesty and with my 
lord treasurer. Admit me here, with all submission, to 
express myself upon this point ; and finally, be pleased 
to draw it to some present resolution, whidiy the short- 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 



267 



nesB of time considered^ must instantly be pat in aetiMi. 
I do conceive^ then, what difficuktes, nay, whet impossi- 
bility soever, the couneil of Ireland hath pretended, that 
itu a very easy work te eentinue the contribution upon 
tie couniry for a year longer, which wiU he of infinite 
ed Mwrfaye to his majesty* s affairs f for we look very HI 
about uSf if in that time we find not the means either to 
establish that revenue in the crown, or raise some other 
equivalent thereunto. And this we gain, too, without 
hazarding the public peace of the subject by any new 
apprehensions, which commonly accompany such fresh 
undertakings, especially being so general as is the twelve- 
pence upon the absentees." The despatch then went 
on to suggest, that the very representations of the lords 
justices might be used for the purpose of dispensing with 
their propositions, — and to draw out, for the instruc- 
tion of the council, a succinct plan of effecting this.^ 

Distrustful, notwithstanding, of the enei^ of Cot- 
tington and his associates, Wentworth followed his des. 
patch in person, arrived in London 2, pre?ailed with the 
council to enter into his design, and had a letter imme- 
diately sent off to the lords justices, bitterly complaining 
of all the evils tiiey had set forth, of the impossibility 
of raising voluntary supplies, and the consequent neces- 
sity of exacting the penalties. '^ Seeing," added the 
king, by Wentworth's dictation, " Seeing you conceive 
there is so much difficulty in the settlement of the pay- 
ments, and considering the small hopes you mention in 
your letters of further improvement tiiere, we must be 
constrained, if they be not freely and thankfully con- 
tinued, to streigthen our former graces vouchsafed during 
those contributions, and make use more strictly of our 
legal rights and profits to be employed for so good and 
necessary a work." Leaving this letter, with other 
secret instructions, to work their effects, Wentworth 

1 See Strailbrd Papen, vol. L pp. 75—77. 

*'Thi8 if evident rrom a subsequent despatch to Cottington, in which he 
reminds him that the resolution 1 am about to deicrihe was talien Anallf 
** in presence of the treasurer, your lordship, the secretary Cooke, and mv. 
•elt* Vol L p. 74. 



268 BBinSB 8TATB8MEK. 

next despatched a private and confidential agent to lie- 
land, himielf a Roman catholic^ to represent to hia 
brethren personally, and in secret^ the lord deputy's 
regard for them^ his willingness to act aa a mediator, 
and his hope that a moderate voluntary contribution 
might be accepted in release of their heavy fines ; — in 
one word, he sent this person " a little to feel their 
pulse underhand." ^ '^ The instrument I employed^" 
Wentworth afterwards wrote to Cottington^ ^' was him- 
self a papist, and knows no other than that the resola- 
tion of the state here is set upon that course [of exacting 
the recusant fines], and that I do this privately^ in 
favour and well-wishing, to divert the present stinrm ; 
which else would fall heavy upon them all ; being a 
thing framed and prosecuted by the earl of Ooric; 
which makes the man labour it in good earnest, taking 
it to be a cause pro arig etfoci*/' The first thing this 
agent discovered and communicated to his employer, was 
that his temporary representatives, the lords justices, 
were seeking to counteract his purpose, and had utterly 
neglected the instructions of the last letter that had been 
despatched to them from the king. With characteristic 
energy^ Wentworth seized this incident for a double 
purpose of advantage. 

There would be little hazard in supposing that their 
lordships of Ely and Cork were indebted to the extra- 
ordinary letter from which I shall quote the opening 
passages, for the strongest sensation their official lifes 
had known. " Your lordships,*' wrote Wentworth, 
" heretofore received a letter from his migesty, di- 
rected to yourselves alone, of the 14th April last; a 
letter of exceeding much weight and consequence; a 
letter most weightily and maturely consulted, and or- 
dered by his majesty himself ; a letter that your lord, 
ships were expressly appointed you should presently 
cause to be entered in the council book, and also in the 
signet office; to the end there might be public and 
uniform notice taken of his mtgesty's pleasure so signi- 
fied by all his ministers, and others there, whom it 

^ See Straffbrd Papen, vol i. ppi 7S, 74. 



J 



BARL OP STRAFFORD. 269 

night concern. How is it^ tben^ that I understand 
diis letter hath^ hy your lordships' order, lain ever since 
(and still doth, for anything I know) sealed up in 
silence at the council tahle ? Not once published or 
entered^ as was precisely directed, and expected from 
your lordships ! copies denied to all men ! and yet not 
so much as the least reason or colour certified over hither 
for your neglect, or (to term it more mildly) forbear- 
ance^ to comply with his majesty's directions in that be- 
half ! Believe me, my lords, I fear this will not be well 
taken, if it come to be known on this side, and in itself 
lies open enough to very hard and ill construction^ re- 
flecting and trenching deeper than at first may be appre- 
hended. And pardon me, my lords, if in the disdiarge 
of my own duty I be transports beyond my natural mo^ 
desty and moderation, and the respects I personally bear 
your lordships, plainly to let you know I shall not connive at 
fuch a presumption in you, thus to evacuate my masters 
directions ; nor contain myself in silence, seeing them 
before my face so slighted, or at least laid aside, it seems, 
very little regarded. Therefore I must, in a just con- 
templation of his majesty's honour and wisdom, crave 
leave to advise you forthwith to mend your error by 
entering and publishing that letter as is commanded 
you, or I must, for my own safety, acquaint his majesty 
with all ; and I pray God the keeping it close all this 
while, be not, in the sequel, imputed unto you as a 
mighty disservice to hicT majesty, and which you may 
he highly answerable for." ^ The next communication 
from his popish agent, informed Wentworth that the 
omissions complained of had been repaired, and, further, 
that all parties had agreed to " continue on the contri- 
hution as now it is," till his coming. The deputy was 
thus left to complete, without embarrassment, his already 
meditated financial projects ; and the lords justices, with 
their friends, had leisure to consider, and amene them- 
selves to, the new and most peremptory lord, who was 
shortly to appear amongst them ! 

» Straflbrd Papers, vol i. p. 77. 



270 

Ireknd was heretfter to be the seene of «a abeofaite 
gOTeramenty^-thegOTenunent of a oomprdieiisiTe mind, 
but directed to a narrow and mistaken pnipoee. The 
first grand object of Wentworth's exertions, was to be 
aocompluhed in rendering the king's power nncon- 
trollabie. Beyond this other schemes arose. The 
natural adrantages of Ireland, worked to the pnipose of 
her own revenue, might be farther pressed to the aid 
of the English treasury, — and a scheme of absolute 
power successfully established in Ireland, promiaed still 
greater sendee to the royalist side in the KngiiA 
struggle. 

The union of singular capacity with the moat deter- 
mined vigour which characterized every present move- 
ment of Wentworth, while it already, in itself, seemed 
a forecast of vast though indefinable success, left the 
king no objection to urge against any of the powers 
he demanded. The following stipulations were at once 
assented to. They are all characteristic of Wentworth, 
of his sagacity no less than his ambition. They open 
with the evident assumption that the debts of the 
Irish establishment will soon be settled, and with conse- 
quent cautious exceptions against the rapacity of those 
numerous courtiers, who waited, as Wentworth well 
knew, to pounce upon the first vacant office, or even 
the first vacant shilling. The lord deputy demanded — 

'' That his majesty may declare bis express pleasure, 
that no Irish suit, by way of reward, be moved for by 
any of his servants, or others, before the ordinary re. 
venue there become able to sustain the necessary charge 
of that crown, and the debts thereof be fully cleared. — 
That there be an express caveat entered with the secre- 
taries, signet, privy-seal, and great seal here, that no 
grant of what nature soever, concerning Ireland, be suf- 
fered to pass till the deputy be made acquainted, and 
it hath first passed the great seal of that kingdom, ac- 
cording to the usual manner. — That his majesty signify 
his pleasure, that especial care be taken hereafter, that 
sufficient and credible persons be chosen to supply such 



EARL Of SfRAFrORD. S71 

InshoprickB as diall fall void, to be admitted of his privy 
council, to sit as judges, and serve of his learned council 
there ; that he will vouchsafe to hear the advice of his 
deputy before he resolve of any in these cases ; and that 
the deputy be commanded to inform his majesty truly 
end impartially, of every man's particular diligence and 
care in his service there, to the end his majesty may 
timely and graciously reward the well deserving, by 
calling them home to better preferments here. — That 
no particular complaint of injustice or oppression be 
admitted here against any unless it appear the party 
made his first address to die deputy. — That no confirm- 
ation of any reversion of offices within that kingdom he 
had^ or any new grant of a reversion hereafter to pass. 
— That no new office be erected within that kingdom 
before such time as the deputy be therewith acquainted, 
his opinion first required, and certified back accord- 
ingly. — That the places in die deputy's gift, as 
well of the civil as the martial list, be left freely to his 
dispose ; and that his majesty will be graciously pleased 
not to pass them to any upon suit made unto him 
here."i 

Lord Wentworth further required and obtained^ in 
die shape of supplementary private propositions, the 
following : — 

*' That all propositions moving from the deputy 
touching matters of revenue may be directed to the lord 
treasurer of England, without acquainting the rest of 
the committee for Irish affairs.^ — That the address 
of all other dispatches for that kingdom be, by special 
direction of his majesty, applied to one of the secretaries 

^ I ha^e already alluded to the limitation under which this propocition 
was acceded to by the king. Charles wa« to make the grants conditionally 
to the applicants, and Wentworth was to concede or refuse them m the 
good of the service required. ** Yet so too," stipulated the king, " as I 
nay have thanks howsoever ; that if there be any thing to be denied, you 
nay do it, not l.^^-Stn^rd Papers, vol i. p. 140. 

* Reasons are subjoined to each proposition. As a specimen I quote 
from the few lines appended to the above: — "Thus shall his m^iesty's 
profits go more stilly and speedily to their ends without being unseasonably 
vented as they pass along ; and the deputy not only preserved but encour. 
aged to deliver nis opinion Areely and puunly upon all occaaioiii, when he U 
assured to have It kept secret and in Stw and aafe hands.** 



272 BBITI8H STATEUinr. 

UDgly. 1 — Thmt the lord ▼igoount Falkland be leqnired 
to deliver in writing in what condition he conceives his 
majesty's revenue and the government of that kingdom 
now stand, together with a particular of such designs 
for advancing his majesty's service^ as were either un- 
begun or unperfected by him when he left the place, 
as also his advice how they may be best pursued and 
effected." 

Not even content with these vast and extraordinary 
powers and precautions, lord Wentworth engaged for 
another condition — the most potent and jemaricable of 
all — that he was to consider them changeable on the 
spot whenever the advancement of his majesty's affairs 
required. " Your lordship may rest assured," writes 
secretary Cooke, '' that no mediation shall prevail with 
his niajesty to exempt the lord Balfour from the rest of 
the opposers of the contributions, but that he will be 
left with the rest to the censure of your justice. And 
I am persuaded, that in this and all the rest of your 
proceedings for his service, his princely resolution will 
support you, if the rest of your friends here do their 
duties in their true representation thereof unto him. 
As your speedy passage for Ireland is most necessary 
for that government, so your safety concemeth his ma- 
jesty's honour no less than your own. It is therefore 
found reasonable, that you expect captain Plumleigh, 
who, with this fair weaUier, will come about in a short 
time, (so as it may be hoped) he will prevent your 
coming to that port, where you appoint to come aboard. 
Your instructions {as you know) as well as the estab- 
lishment are changeable upon occasions for advancement 
of the affairs. And as you will be careful not to 
change without cause, so when you find it necessary, 
his majesty will conform them by his wisdom to that 
he findeth fit upon your advice. For my service in any 
thing that may tend to further your noble ends, besides 

' " This I will have done by secreUry Cooke,'* so written by the king 
himsell' upon the original paper. 



EARIi OF 8TBAFF0RD. 273 

the duty of my place and trusty the confidence you re- 
pose in me^ and the testimony you give thereof, are so 
obligatory, that I must forget myself much, if you find 
not my professions made good. For the Yorkshire busi. 
ness, in the castigation of those mad men and fools ^ 
which are so apt to fall upon you, that course iivhich 
yourself, the lord Cottington, and Mr. attorney resolve 
upon, is here also taken, that prosecution may be made 
in both courts. I find your vice-president a young 
man of good understanding and counsellable, and very 
forward to promote his majesty's service.^ The secre- 
tary is also a discreet well-tempered man."^ 

Wentworth, notwithstanding his new dignities, had 

1 These "mad men and fools *' were "sir John Bouchier and his com- 
plices,** who soon received their most unjust judgment This passage will 
serve to prove the value of Wentworth's answer to this matter, also urged 
against nim afterwards on his impeachment. *' For the sentence against 
sir John Bouchier, the defendant was not at all acquainted with it, being 
then in Ireland I " — See Ruskwortht vol. ii. p. 161. It is to be observed at 
the same time that the commons had not the advantage of the present evi- 
dence. 

* Edward Osborne had been finally chosen by Wentworth. A passage 
in the following extract from a letter of sir William Pennyman's shows 
that the latter had been previously thought of for the office : — " My servant 
can best satisfy your lordship of the ^ood health of Mr. William and Mrs. 
Anne, for he saw them both before his journey ; they have been very well, 
and I trust will continue sa I am most willing, I wish I could say able 
too^ to be your lordship's vice-president, but toe defect of this must be 
sundied with the surplusage of the other. *' 

^ Strafford Papers, vol. i. p. 9a The allusion to lord Balfour, with 
whidi the above despatch opens, requires explanation. Wentworth, who 
had already possessed himself of the most intimate knowledge of the 
state of parties and disputes in his new government, had written thus 
some days before to Cooke: — " I have sent here likewise unto you a 
letter from, the lords justices, together with all the examinations taken 
(rf the lord Balfour, and the rest which refused the contribution in the 
county of Fennana^h, by all which you will find plainly how busy the 
sheriff and sir Wilham Cole have been in mutinying the country against 
the king's service : and I beseech you acquaint his miyestv therewithal, 
and for the rest leave it to me when I come on the other side, and 
believe me, I will teach both them and others better grounds of duty and 
obedience to his mi^esty than thev have shown in this wanton and saut^ 
boldness of thdrs. And so much the more careAil must we be to cor. 
•rect this peccant humour in the first beginnings, in regard this is a 
great revenue, which his migesty's afikirs cannot subsist without ; so that 
we must either continue that to the crown, or get something from that 
people, of as much value another way ; wherein I conceive it most necet. 
sary to proceed most severely in the punishment (tf this offenoe, which wUl 
stiu all men else for a many vears after; and, therefore, if th'e king or 

nrself conceive otherwise, heij» me in time, or else I shall be sure to laof 
1 them soundly. My lord Balfour excuseth his fault, and will certainly 
make means to his migesty for favour, tahereinuHder correction, if his mom 
Jet^ Mend to protecute tie rest, I conceive it is dearly bettfor the service 
to leave ium enUrel$f to rwn a common fortune, as he is in a common case 
irtth the rest of those delinquents.*'— 5/r«(i0brd Papen, vol L pi. 87. 

VOL. II. T 



S74f BRITISH STATBfMEN. 

Ksolved not to resign the 'presidency of Yorksiiire. 
And here we see^ in the midst of his extraordinary 
preparations for his Irish government^ he had yet found 
time to prosecute every necessary measure that had a 
view to the security of his old powers in the north. 
We gather from this letter of the secretary their general 
character. He celebrated his departure by some acts 
of vigorous power^ and he wrung from the council of 
London such amplifications eren of his large and un- 
usual presidential commission^ as might compensate for 
the failure of personal influence and energy consequent 
on his own departHre.^ He pressed more especially for 

1 The obtaining of nich acommiition formed one of the articles of hit 
alter impeachment, and hii answer was, that be had nerer sat as president 
after the articles were framed. But he did not deny that the power thev 
vMted was exercised by his Tice-president. on the lord-preeident*s behalf, 
and consequently with the full responsibility of the latter. His iostru- 
awntality in obtaining these instructions, indeed, was not directty proved ; 
but it wag proved that on one occasion " the president fell upon nis knees 
and desirea his majesty to enlarge his powers, or that he might have leave 
to go home and lav his bones in his own cottage.'*— JtesAtoortt, voL ii 
p. 161. The commission was granted immediately after. Its most terrible 
article was that which in every case, in distinct terms, wrested from the 
subject the privilege of protection in Westminster Hall, and cot bim off 
from any share In the rights, poor and confined as thev were, of the rest of 
his fellow sutaijects. During Wentworth's absence in Ireland, one judge of 
the exchequer, Vernon, dared to move in defiance of these mmstroua re. 
strictiooiL The lord deputy instantly wrote to Gottington, described Ver. 
non's conduct, and thus proceeded : — '* If this were not a goodly example 
in the face of a country living under the government of the president and 
council, for the respect and c^edience due to the authority set over them 
by his majesty, of that awful reverence and duty which we all owe to his 
majesty's declared good will and pleasure under the great seal, I am mudi 
mistaken. I do, therefore, most humbly beseech wis judge may be con. 
vented at the council lx>ard, and charged with these two great misdemea- 
nors ; which if he deny, I pray you say openly in council 1 am the person 
will undertake to prove them against him, and withal affirm that by these 
strange extravagant courses he distracts his majesty's government and 
lUfkirs more than ever he will foe of use unto them, and that, tfkerelbn, I 
am a most earnest suilor to his majesty and their lordships, that he be not 
admitted to go that circuit hereafter ; tMd, mdted, I do mo»t eameiify be- 
teech his majetiy Sy pou^ that we may be troubled no more with 9uch a 
peevish indiserea piece t^ JUi^. I confeu I disdain to see the govmmen in 
this sort hang their noses over the Jlowers qf the crown, Mow and sm^ffie 
upon them^ SU they tahe both scent and beauty off them ; orto have them 
piu such a pniftuUee iqfon ail other sorts qf men, as if none were abie or 
worthy to be intrusted with honour and administration <tf Justice but them- 
stives.** This is surely a characteristic betrayal of Wentworth's interest 
in the powers of the new commission ! Some difficulties appear to have 
been encountered in the way of the course he proposed against this jvdge^ 
for we find him at a subsequent date writing thus to the lord treasurer :— 
*' If Mr. justice Vernon be either removed or amended in his circuit, I am 
very well content, being by me only considered as he is in relaticm to hit 
migesty's service in those parts,>.4he gentleman otherwise unknown to ] 
by i^iury or benefit" ~ See Arq^^rtf fapers^ vol L pp. ISa SaS. 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 275 

the settlement of a dispute with lord Faulconherg hy a 
peremptory punishment of the latter : " for this you 
know^" he wrote to the secretary, '^ is a public business, 
and myself being to leave this government for a while, 
desirous to settle and establish this council in their just 
powers and credits, which is fit for the king's service, 
vfotM/ain 9ee cur wives righted upon this arrogant lord, 
and so discipline all the rest upon his shoulders, as I 
might well hope they shmM exercise their jurisdiction in 
peace during the time of my absence" ^ Lord Went- 
worth's fiercest prosecution of apparent personal re- 
sentments was, in all cases, the simple carrying out of 
that despotic principle in its lengtb and breadth, and 
with reference to its ulterior aims, which had become 
Uie very law of his being. In this point of view only 
can they be justly or intelligibly considered. The 
cruelties associated with the name now about to be 
introduced, have their exaggeration, or their excuse, ac- 
cording as the feelings of the reader may determine — 
but, at all events, have their rational and philosophical 
solution — in this point of view alone. 

The lord Mountnorris held at this time the office of 
vice-treasurer, which in efiect was that of treasurer of 
Ireland. Clarendon observes of him, " He was a man 
of great industry, activity, and experience in the afiairs 
of Ireland, having raised himself from a very private 
mean condition (having been an inferior servant to lord 
Chichester) to the d^ee of a viscount, and a privy 
counsellor, and to a very ample revenue in lands and 
t>ffices ; and had always, by servile flattery and sordid 
application, wrought himself into trust and nearness 
With all deputies at their first entrance upon their 
charge, informing them of the defects and oversights of 
their predecessors ; and after the determination of their 
commands and return into England, informing the 

* A note subjoined to this is too characteristic to be omitted : — " There 
fi like to be a Kood fine gotten of him [lord Faulconl)erg] for tlie king, 
•nlUcA, contidenng the manner qf his life, were toondercm iUloit; and iott 
a will be, if I be not here : therefore f pray you let me have my directioM 
^ithaU possible speed.** 

T 2 



276 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

State here^ and those enemies they usually contracted in 
that tlme^ of whatsoercr they had done or suffered to he 
done amiss ; whereby they either suffered disgrace or 
damage^ as soon a3 they were recalled from those 
honours. In this manner he h^an with his own 
master^ the lord Chichester; and continued the same 
arts upon t1i3 lord Grandison^ and the lord Falkland^ 
who succeeded ; and^ upon that score^ procured admis- 
sion and trust with the earl of Strafford, upon his first 
admission to that goverment" ^ This is quoted here, for 
the purpose of introducing a letter of Wentworth s^ 
which was written at about this time, and which appears 
to me not only to corroborate Clarendon's account, but 
(in opposition to those who have urged, as Mr. Brodie ^, 
diat Wentworth began his official connection with 
Mountnorris, by " courting " the latter) to give at the 
same time the noble vice-treasurer and informer-genend 
fair warning, of the character and intentions of the lord 
deputy he had thereafter to deal with. Mountnorris 
had previously allied himself with Wentworth by niar. 
riage with a near relative of his deceased wife, the lady 
Arabella. " I was not a little troubled," runs Went- 
worth's letter, '^when my servant, returning from Dublin^ 
brought back with him the inclosed, together with the 
certainty of your lordship's yet abode at West-Chester. 
I have hereupon instantly despatched this footman^ 
expressly to find you out; and to solicit you, most 
earnestly, to pass yourself over on the other side : for 
besides that the monies which I expect from you 
(which I confess you might some other ways provide 
for), the customs there, you know how loose they lie ; 
our only confidence here being in you." Several oth^ 
details are pressed with great eamestneiss. *^ There- 
fore," he continues, " for the love of God, linger no 
longer, but leaving your lady with my lady Cholmon- 
deley, in case her present estate will not admit her^ to 
pass abng with you, — I. will, God willing, not fail to 

1 Hift. of Rebellion, vol L p. 175. 
* Hist of Brit Empire, vol tii. p. 7a 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 277 

* 

i¥^ait on her ladyship over myself, and deliver her safe 
to you at Dublin : — the rather for that to tell your lord- 
ship plainly^ which I beseech you keep very private to 
yourself^ it will be impossible for me to despatch the 
king*s business^ and my own^ and get hence before the 
end of November at the soonest. My lord Ranelagh 
vnJl be here, I believe, within this day or two ; and, in 
regard of his and my lord Dungarvan's being here 
before^ I hold it fit to communicate with your lordship 
the occasion, which is this, — that there being a propo- 
sition made to me for a marriage with my lord of Cork's 
daughter^, I, that had no thought such a way, did 
nevertheless move a match, betwixt the young lord and 
my lord Clifford's daughter, which was by them ac- 
cepted; and so he comes now, I believe, to treat further 
of this matter with my lord Clifford. But this I must 
entreat you to keep private ; with this, that albeit the 
house of Cumberland is to me, as all the world knows 
that knows me, in next esteem to my own family, yet 
be you well assured, this alliance shall not decline me 
from those more sovereign duties I owe my master, 
or those other faiths I owe my other friends." Some 
expressions of courtesy are then followed by this re- 
markable passage. " It U enough said amongst honest 
men ; and you may easily believe me ; hut look you, be 
secret and true to me, and that no suspicion possess you; 

1 This lady, whom Wentworth for excellent reasons declined marrying, 
afterwards married George Goring, son of the earl of Norwich. This was 
the lord deputy's management. Some eight or nine months after he writes 
to the earl of Carlisle :— " Young Mr. Goring is gone to travel, having run 
himself out 8000^., which he purposeth to redeem by his frugality abroad, 
unless my lord of Cork can be induced to put to his helping hand, which I 
have undertaken to solicit for him the best I can, and shall do it with all 
the power and care my credit and wit shall anywise suggest unto me. In 
the meantime his lady is gone to the bath to put herself in state to be got 
with child, and when all things are prepared, she is like to want the prin. 
cipal guest Was ever willing creature so disappointed ? In truth it is 
•ometning ominous, if you mark it, yet all may do well enough, if her 
father will be persuaded, and then if she be not as well done to as any of 
her kin, Mr. Goring looseth a friend of me for ever. You may say now, if 
you will, I put a shrewd task upon a young man, there being no better 
•tuff to work upon j but it is the more charity in us that wish it, and the 
most of all in him that shall perform it en bon et gent f I cavalier.'* Such, 
I may remark, is the (to him unusual) tone of levity, which he seldom 
filled to employ in writing to this earl of Carlisle, whose wife, the famous 
countess, had secretly become his mistress. This earl died in 1636L The 
countess will be spoken of shortly. See also Strafford Papers, voL ii. p. 119. 

T 3 



f 



278 BRITISH STATESMBlf. 

fchich else in time may turn to both our dieadvantageg, Foi 
God's sake my lord^ let me again press your departurr 
for Ireland. And let me have 2000/. of my entertun- 
ment, sent me over with all possible speed ; for I have 
entered fondly enough on a purchase here of 14^0001. 
and the want of that would very foully disappoint me." 
It is clear to me in this^ that Wentworth had re- 
solved^ from the firsts to watch Mountnorris narrowly^ 
and^ on the eailiest intimation of any possible renewnsl 
of his old treacheries^ to crush him and them for ever. 

Lady Mountnorris would possibly be startled in hear- 
ing from her lord^ that the sorrowing widower of the 
lady Arabella was already speaking of the negotiation 
of another marriage. The entire truth would have 
startled her still more. Lord Wentworth had at this 
very time^ though a year had not passed since the death 
of bis last wife^ whom he appears to have loved with 
fervent and continuing affection^ " married Elizabeth^ 
the daughter of sir Godfrey Rhodes, privately" Such 
is the statement of sir George Radcliffe. 

Since Radcliffe wrote, however, some curious letters 
relating to this marriage have been discovered in the 
Thoresby museum. Sir George says that the marriage 
took place in October. I am now about to quote a 
letter which bears the date of October in the same year 
(the 30th), and which goes to prove that, supposing 
the statement in question correct, Wentworth must 
have sent the lady off to a distance from himself im- 
mediately after the ceremony. Nor is this the only 
singular circumstance suggested by this letter. Even 
sir George Radcliffe, probably, did not know alL 

'' Madam," Wentworth writes, " 1 have, in little, 
much to say to you, and in short terms to profess that 
which I i]aiust appear all my life long, or else one o^ us 
must be much to blame. But, in truth, I have that 
confidence in you, and that assurance in myself, as to 
rest secure the fault will never be made on either side. 
Well, then ; this little and this much, this short and this 
hnQy which I aim at^ is no more than to give you ^is 



EABL OF STRAFFOaO. 279 

firH written testimony, that I am your husband; and 
that husband of yours, that wittever discharge those duties 
of love and respect towards you which good women may 
expect, and are justly due from good men to discharge 
them, with a hallowed care and continued perseverance in 
them : and this is not only much, but all which belongs 
me, and wherein I shall tread out the remainder of 
life which is left me. More I cannot say, nor perform 
much more for the present; the rest must dwell in hope 
until I have made it up in the balance, but I am and 
muet be no other than your loving husband." A post- 
script* closes the letter, referring to some paste for the 
teeth, which proves that the lady was in London. 
Wentworth himself was at York; and, it is evident from 
his letters, had not quitted the county during the whole 
of that month. The lady's answer to this letter wouM 
seem' to have been humhly affectionate, and to have 
conveyed to Wentworth a lowly but fervent expression of 
thankfulness — for that her new husband had promised not 
to cast her off as a deserted mistress ! His reply (dated 
about a fortnight after his first letter) is in excellent 
spirit, and highly characteristic ; — '' Dear Besse," he 
begins, with the encouragement of tender words, " your 
first lines were wellcum unto me, and I will keep them, 
in regard I take them to be full, as of kindness, so of 
truth. It is no presumption for you to write unto me; 
the fellowship of marriage ought to carry with it more of 
love and equality than any other apprehension, Soe I 
desire it may ever be betwixt us, nor shall it break of my 
parte. Virtue is the highest value we can set upon 
ourselves in this world, and the chiefe which others are 

^ **If you wUl speak to my cousin RadcIifTe for the paste I told you on for 
your teeth, and desire him to speak to Dr. Moore, in my name, for two 
pots of it, and that the doctor will see it be good, for this last indeed was 
not so, you may bring me one down, and keep the other yourself." On 
the back of this letter, the following words are written, in a delicate 
female hand : — " Tom was borne the 17th of September, being Wednes- 
day, in the morning, betwixt two and three o'clock, aod was christened of 
the 7th of October, 1634-." There is another letter of Wentworth's to lady 
"Wentworth, dated from Sligo, in 1635, in the same museum, wherein he 
Bends his blessing to ** little Tom." This child died, but Elizabeth Rhodes 
afterwards bore lord Strafford a girl, who was yet an infant at her father's 
death. 

T 4 



280 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

to esteem us by. That preserved^ we become capal^ 
of the noblest impressions which can be imparted unto 
us. You succeed in this family two of the rarest 
ladies of their time. Equal them in those excellent dis^ 
positions of your mind^ and you become every ways 
equally worthy of any, thing that they had^ or lliat the 
rest of the world can give. And be you ever assured 
to be by me cherished and assisted the best I can^ 
thorow the whole course of my life, wherein I shall be 
no othier to you than I was to them, to wit, your loving 
husband, Wentworth.** Still, however, Wentwortli did 
not acknowledge her publicly ; still he kept her, for some 
time, at a distance; and finally sent her over to Ireland^ 
in the charge of sir George Radcliffe, some time before 
he himself quitted England. She arrived in Dublin 
with Radclifie in January l633^, and was not joined 
by Wentworth till the July of that year, when his 
lordship at last ventured to acknowledge her.^ Laud, 
upon this, seems to have put some questions to the lord 
deputy, whose answer may be supposed, from the fol- 
lowing passage in .the archbishop's rejoinder, to have 
been made up explanations and apologies, and a con- 
cluding hint of advice. " And now, my lord, I heartily 
wish you and your lady all mutual content that may be; 
and I did never doubt that you undertook that course 
but upon mature consideration, and you have been pleased 
to express to me a very good one, in which God bless you 
and your posterity, though I did not write any thing to 
you as an examiner. For myself y I must needs confess 
to your lordship my weakness, thai hamng been married 
to a very troublesome and unquiet wife before, I should 



1 Radclifffe's Essay. 

* His friends were instant in their congratulation, and, in a profusion of 
eorapliments, sought to intimate to his lordship,— that in this marriage of 
one so far beneath him in rank and consideration, he had only furnished 
another proof of his own real and independent greatness. There is some, 
thing pleasanter in the earl of Leicester's note, who simply regrets that 
he ** had not the good fortune to be one of the throng that crowded to tell 
you how glad they were that you had passed your journey and ^ded 
safely in your government, or (which I conceive a greater occasion of re. 
joycing with you) that you were happily and healthfully arrived in the 
arma of a foir Mid beloved wife.'* — Strqjffbrtl Papers, vol. L p. 157. 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 281 

• 

be w ill advised as now, being about sixty y to go marry 
another of a more wayward and troublesome genera^ 
tion" 1 There wiU not be any further occasion to re- 
mark upon the early circumstances of this marriage^ 
which in its subsequent results presented nothing of a 
striking or unusual description^ but I shall here add^ 
for the guidance of the reader in his judgment of these 
particulars of Wentworth's conduct^ some few consider- 
ations which in justice ought not to be omitted. 

Lord Wentworth was a man of intrigue, and the 
mention of this is not to be avoided in such a view of 
the bearings of his conduct and character as it has 
been here attempted,, for the first time, to convey. 
It is at all times a delicate matter to touch upon this 
portion of men's histories, partly from the nature of the 
subject, and partly from a kind of soreness which the 
community feel upon it, owing to the inconsistencies 
between their opinions and practice8> and to certain 
strange perplexities at the heart of those inconsistencies, 
which it remains for some bolder and more philosophical 
generation even to discuss. Meantime it is pretty 
generally understood, that fidelity to the marriage bed 
is not apt to be most prevalent where leisure and luxury 
most abound; and^ for the same reason, there is a 
tendency in the richer classes to look upon the licences 
they take, and to talk of them with one another, and so 
by a thousand means to increase and perpetuate the 
tendency, — of which the rest of society have little con- 
ception, unless it be, indeed, among the extremely poor. 
For similar effects result from being either above or 
below a dependence upon other people's opinions. When 
it was publicly brought out, therefore, that Wentworth, 
as well as gayer men of the court, had had his '^ levities," 
as the grave lord chancellor Clarendon calls them, — it 
naturally told against him with the more serious part 
of the nation ; not, however, without some recoil, in the 
opinions of candid observers, against the ingenuousness 
of those who told it, — because the latter, as men moving 

I Straflfbrd Papers, toL L p. 125. 



S82 BRITISH RTATB81CB1C. 

in the same ranks themseWes^ or on the borders of tfaem^ 
must have known the licence secretly preyaiHngj and 
probably partook of it far more than was supposed. 
Lady Carlisle^ one of the favourites of Wentworth, 
subsequently became the mistress of Pym himself. 
Lord Clarendon^ backed with the more avowed toler. 
ation, or^ rather^ impudent unfeelingness^ which took 
place in the subsequent reign^ not only makes use of the 
term just quoted in speaking of intrigue^ but ventures, 
with a sort of pick-thank chuckle of old good-humoar^ 
to confess that^ in his youth^ he conducted himself in 
these matters much as others did^ though with a wari- 
ness proportionate to his understanding. " Cautey" 
says he^ in the quotation popular at the time^ and used 
by Wentworth himself^ " H non caste" 

We are also to take into consideration^ that if the 
court of Charles the First had more sentiment and re. 
serve than that of his heartless son, it was far from 
being so superior to courts in general in this respect, as 
the solemn shadow which attends his image with pos- 
terity naturally enough leads people to conclude. The 
better taste of the poetry-and-picture-loving monarch 
did but refine, and throw a veil over, the grosser habits 
of the court of his father James. Pleasure was a 
Silenus in the court of James. In that of Charles the 
Second, it was a vulgar satyr. Under Charles the First, 
it was still of the breed, but it was a god Pan, and the 
muses piped among his nymphs. 

Far from wondering, therefore, that "Wentworth, not- 
withstanding the gravity of his bearing and the solemn 
violence of his ambition, allowed himself to indulge 
in the fashionable licence of the times, it was to be 
expected that he would do so, not only from the self- 
indulgence natural to his will in all things, but from the 
love of power itself, and that he might be in no respect 
behindhand with any grounds which he could furnish 
himself with, for having the highest possible opinion of 
his faculties for ascendancy. As nine- tenths of common 
gallantry is pure vanity, so a like proportion of the 



. XABL OF 8TRAFF0R1>. S85 

grayer offence of deliberate seduction is owing to pure 
"will and the loTe of power^ — the love of obtaining a 
strong and sovereign sense of an existence not very 
sensitiTej at any price to the existence of another. And 
thuB^ without supposing him guilty to that extent^ might 
the common gallantries of the recherchS and dominant 
Strafibrdj be owing greatly to the pure pride of his will, 
and to that same love of conquest and superiority^ which 
actuated him in his public life. 

A greater cause for wonder might be found in the 
tenderness with which he treated the wives to whom he 
was unfaithful, and especially the one, this Elizabeth 
Rhodes, who was comparatively lowly in birth. But 
BO mixed a thing is human nature, as at present consti- 
tated, that the vices as well as virtues of die man might 
come into play in this very tenderness, and help to cor- 
roborate it ; — for, in addition to the noble and kindly 
thoughts which never ceased to be mixed up with his 
more violent ones, he would think that the wife of a 
"Wentworth was of necessity a personage to be greatly 
and tenderly considered on all occasions, — and even 
his marriage into an obscure family would be reconciled 
to his pride, by the instinct which leads men of that 
complexion to think it . equally difficult for themselves 
to be lowered by anything they choose to do, and for 
the object of their attention not to be elevated by the 
same process of self-reference. 

Nor, — to quit this delicate subject, which I could 
not but touch on, to assist the reader, with what has 
gone before, to a proper judgment of facts that are yet 
to be mentioned, — and which, in truth, contains matter 
for the profoundest reflection of those who might 
choose to consider it by itself, — will it be thought 
extraordinary by such as have at all looked into the 
nature of their fellow creatures, that a man like Went- 
worth should have treated his wives tenderly, at the 
very times at which he was most unfaithful to them. 
For, whether influenced by love or by awe, they do 
not appear to have offended him at any time by their 



284 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

complaints^ or even to have taken notice of hia con- 
duct ; and they were in truth excellent women^ worthy 
of his hest and most real love ; — so as to render it 
probable that his infidelities were but heats of will and 
appetite, never^ perhaps^ occasioning even a diminution 
of the better affections^ or, if they did, ending in the 
additional tenderness occasioned by remorse. It is a 
vulgar spirit only that can despise a woman for making 
no remonstrances ; and a brutal one, that can ill treat 
her for it. A heart with any nobleness left in it, keeps 
its sacredest and dearest corner for a kindness so angeU 
ical ; and Wentworth's pride had enough sentiment to 
help his virtues to a due appreciation of the generosity, 
if it existed ; or to give it the benefit of supposing that 
it would have done so, in favour of such a man as he, 
beloved by wives of so sweet a nature. 

The lord Wentworth was of a tall and graceful per- 
son, though much sickness had early bent an originally 
sensitive frame, which continued to sink more rapidly 
in after-life under the weight of greater cares. Ha- 
bitual pain had increased the dark hue and deep con- 
tractions of a brow^ formed and used to '' threaten and 
command," and no less effective in enforcing obedi- 
ence, than the loud and impressive voice that required 
it. He alludes to this sportively in a letter to the earl 
of Exeter, wherein he writes, ^' This bent and HI feu 
vaured brow of mine was never prosperous in the 
favour of ladies ; yet did they know, how perfectly I do 
honour^ and how much I value, that excellent and gra^ 
dous sex, I am persuaded I should become a favourite 
amongst them ; tush, my lord, tush, there are few of 
them know how a gentle a garfon I am.* ^ Happy, as it 

1 Straflfbrd Papers, vol. L p. 178. 180. His letters to lord Exeter and his 
wife are all very pleasant, and, in their deep sense of personal attentioD* 
during illness, touching. *' Be not so venturesome on my occasion," 
he writes, dissuading Exeter ttom a winter journey to discharge sudi 
offices of friendship, "be not so venturesome on my occasion, till this 
churlish season of the year be past, and the spring well come on. There is 
old age in years as well as in bodies, January and February are the hoar 
hairs of the year, and the more quietly, the more within doors we keep 
them, we with the year grow the sooner young again in the spring."— 
" To neither of you," he concludes, '* with this new year I can wish any 
thing of new, but that you may tread still round the ancient and beaten 
paths of that happiness you mutually communicate the one inth the other." 



EARIi OF STBAPFOBD. 285 

is evident^ is the opposite consciousness^ out of which 
such pleasant complaining flows ! Whereupon lord Exeter 
rejoins with justice^ in a passage w^ich may serve to 
redeem his lordship amply from the stupidity that is 
wont to he charged to him, — *' My lord, 1 could he 
angry with you, were you not so far off, for wronging 
of your hent hrow, as you term it in your letter ; for, 
ffou had been cursed with a meek brow and an arch of 
white hair upon t?, 7i,ever to have governed Ireland nor 
Yorkshire so well as you do, where your lawful com- 
mands have gotten you an exact ohedience. Content 
yourself with that brave commanding part of your face, 
which showeth gravity without dullness,] severity with^ 
out cruelty, clemency without easiness, and love without 
extravagancy." An imgaUant consolation under female 
displeasure follows : — '* And if it should he any im- 
peachment unto your favour with that sex you so 
much honour, you should he no loser ; for they that 
have known them so long as I have done, have found 
tbem nothing less than diabolos blancos^* — which lady 
Exeter judges fit to dispense with in a postscript : — 
** I cannot consent to the opinion of the lord that 
spake last, neither do I helieve that it was his own, hut 
rather vented as a chastisement to my particular. To 
your lordship aU our sex in general are ohliged, myself 
infinitely, who can return you nothing hut my perpetual 
well wishes, with admiration of your vertues, and my 
heartiest desire that aU your imployments and fortunes 
may be answerable." ^ Wentworth, indeed, had not 
needed this assurance, imder a remark which May's 
bappy quotation, 

<* Non fonuMus erat, sed erat facundus Ulyuei, 
£t tamen aequoreas torait amore Deas,** 

has long since shown to be uncalled for. The intense 
passion of a Mirabeau or a Strafford will hardly make 
shipwreck for the want of a *' smooth dispose." 

Wentworth had much wronged his '^ bent brow^** 

Slrafbrd Papen, voL I. p. S41. 



1tS6 BBITMH STATBOm. 

and he knew that he had wronged it It was suffi- 
. denUy notorious aboat the coort^ that whenever it re- 
laxed in favour of any of the court dames, its owner 
was seldom left to hope in vain. The lady Carlile', 
the lady Carnarvon, the young lady Loftus, were not, 
if written letters and general rumours deserve trust, the 
only evidences of this. 

Sad indeed were the consequences of W^itworth's 
casual appearances in the queen's withdrawing room ! 
" Now if I were a good poet," writes the lord Con* 
way to the lord deputy himseli^ " I should with Chauoer 
call upon Melpomene — 

To htlp me to indite ' 
Vene* that weepen as I write 

My lady of Carnarvon, being weU in the favour and 
belief of her father and husband, c&me with her husband 
to the court, and it was determined she should have 
been all this year at London, her lodgings in the Cock, 
pit ; but my lord Wentworth hath been at court, and in 
the queen's withdrawing-room was a constant looker upon 

1 This extraordinary woman, whom Drydm called t^e *' Hden of her 
country," and flrom whom Waller borrowed a compliment fiH: Veniu, • 
(" the bright Carlile of the court of heayen,*' ) played a conapicuoas part 
in the public afikirs of the time. *' She was thought to be as deeply coo- 
oemed in the counsels of the court, and afterwards of the parliament, as 
any in England." After the death of Strafford she had became the mis- 
tress of Pym. Yet her passions were not extreme I Sir Toby Mathews 
lets us into her character : ^" She is of too high a mind and dignity, 
not only to seek, but almost to wish, the friendship of any creature : ikij^ 
tokom ihe is pleased to chuse, are ntch as are qfthe most eminent amditiom, 
both for power and employments; not with any design towards her ova 
particular, either of advantage or curiosity : but her nature values fortunaU 
persons as virtuous.** The writer of Waller's life (the countess was aunt 
to the poet's Sacharissa), in the Biographia Britannica, says that several 
letters of hers are printed in the ** Straflfbrd Papers." This is a mistake, 
but we find frequent allusions to her throughout the correspondence. If 
any one wished to know of Wentworth's health, they applied to lady 
Carlile. " I hope you are now recovered of your gout, which my lady of 
Carlile told me you had." (ii. 1S4l) If any one wanted fkvour at court 
they wrote to Wentworth to bespeak the interest of lady Carlile. We 
find even Laud, for a particular purpose, condescending to this : — *< I will 
write to my lady of Carlile," Wentworth writes back, " as your grace 
appoints me. In good sadness I judge her ladyship very considerable ; Cbr 
she is often in place, and is extreamly wdl skilled how to speak with ad- 
vantage and spirit for those Ariends she protesseth unto, which will not be 
many. There is this fVirtfier in her disposition, she will not seem to be the 

g^rson she is not, an ingenuity I have always observed and honoured her 
r." (Papers, vol. IL y. 120.) And again, out of many I copld put belbre 
the reader : — ** I have writ f^Uy to my lady of Carlile, and am voy coo- 
fldent, if it be in her ladyship's power^ she will express the esteem she 
tiath your lordship in, to a very gie^t.hei^t." Vol h, pi 138.) 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 287 

my lady, as if that only were his business, for which 
cause^ as it is thought^ my lord of Camaryon went 
home^ and my lord chamberlain preached often of 
honour and truth. One of the sermons^ I and my lady 
Killegrew^ or my lady Stafford^ which you please^ were 
at ; it lasted from the beginning to the end of supper^ 
the text wasj that .... When supper was ended^ 
and we were where we durst speak^ my lady KiUegrew 
swore by G — d^ that my lord chamberlain meaned not 
any body but her and my lord of Dorset. But my lady 
Carnarvon is sent down to her husband, and the night 
before she went was with her father in his chamber tiU 
past twelve, he chiding and she weeping, and when she 
will return no man knows ; if it be not till her face do 
secure their jealousy^ she had as good stay for ever. 
Some think that my lord Wentworth did this rather to 
do a despight to her father and husband, than for any 
great love to her" ^ 

Sir George Radcliffe^ indeed^ in his Essay^ observes 
on this head : — '^ He was defamed for incontinence^ 
wherein I have reason to believe that he was exceedingly 
much wronged. J had occasion of some speech with 
him about the state of his soul several times^ but twice 
especially^ when I verily believe he did lay open unto 
me the very bottom of his heart. Once was^ when he 
was in a very great affliction upon the death of bis 
second wife ; and then for some days and nights I was 
very few minutes out of his company: — the other time 
was at Dublin^ on a Good Friday (his birth-day)^ when 
he was preparing himself to receive the blessed sacra- 

1 StnllbTd Papers, yoL ii. p. 47. Lord Conwajr*g letten to Wentworth 
are extremely amusing. They record with partictilar care the unlucky 
courtships of Vandyke : —*' It was thought,'* he writes on one occasion to 
the ]ord-dq;>uty. " that the lord Cottington should have married my lady 
Stanhope ; 1 believe there were intentions in him, but the lady is, as they 
cay, in love with Carey Raleigh. You were so <^fte» with sir Anikvny 
Vandike, that you could not but know hit gaUantrtes for the love 'fif that 
pulff { but he is come off with a oogUoneria, .for he disj^ted with her about 
the price of her picture, and sc«t her word, that if she would not give the 
price be demanoed, be would sell it to another that would give more. 
This week every one will be 9X London: the queen is very weary of 
Haofpton Court, and will be brought to bed at St James's } then my lady 
of Cariile will be a constant courtier ; her dog hath lately written a somiet 
in her praise, which Harry Percy burnt, or you had now had it.*' 



288 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

ment on Easter day following. At both these times^ I 
received such satisfaction^ as left no scruple with me at 
all, but much assurance of his chastity. I knew his 
ways long and intimately, and though I cannot dear 
him of all frailties, (for who can justify the most inno- 
cent man ?) yet I must give him the testimony of con- 
scientiousness in his ways, that he kept himself from 
gross sins, and endeavoured to approve himself rather 
unto God than unto man, to be religious inwardly and 
in truth, rather than outwardly and in shew." What has 
been quoted from lord Conway's letter, however, — and, 
were it necessary to my purpose, many letters more, and 
of stronger meaning, are to be produced, — does not come 
within Radcliffe's rebuke of the ^' defamation " employed 
against Strafford. The only tendency of what sir 
George says, therefore, is to confirm the charge in its 
warrantable view, (with which alone I have dwelt upon 
it,) of illustrating duly private conduct and character. 
Far different was Pym's great object when, instancing 
in the house of commons, as Clarendon informs us, 
" some high and imperious actions done by Strafford in 
England and Ireland, some proud and over-confident 
expressions in discourse, and some passionate advices he 
had given in the most secret councils and debates of 
the affairs of state, he added some lighter passages of 
bis vanity and amours, that they who were not in- 
flamed with anger and detestation against Mm for the 
former, might have less esteem and reverence for his 
prudence and discretion." ^ 

These words may recall me to the actual progress of 
Strafford's life and thoughts. Prudence and discretion 
— whatever his great associate of the third parliament 
might afterwards think right, or just, or necessary to 
his fatal purposes, to urge — still, so far as they may be 
associated in a grand project of despotism, eminently 
characterised every movement of lord Wentworth. The 
king had now become extremely anxious for his de- 
parture, which the winding up of certain private affairs 

1 Clarendon, Hiat of Rebellion, voL L p. 137. 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 289 

alone delayed. ^ On the completion of these he arrived 
in London^ for the purpose of setting sail immediately. 
Here^ however^ he was unexpectedly delayed hy the 
necessity of waiting the arrival of a man of war ; for 
80 dangerously was the Irish Channel at that time in- 
fested with pirates, that the lord deputy could not ven- 
ture to pass over without convoy. *' The winds faU 
out so contrary/' he writes in answer to the secretaries^ 
wlio^ with the king and court, were engaged in a pro- 
gress, " that the king's ship cannot he gotten as yet forth 
of Rochester river ; but so soon as we can speed it 
Kwajj and I have notice from captain Plumleigh that 
he is ready for my transportation, I will not stay an 
hour ; desiring extremely now to be upon the place 
'where' I owe his majesty so great an account, as one 
that am against all non-residents, as well lay as eccle. 
siastical." Wentworth took care, at the same time, 
to avail himself of some opportunies offered him by 
this delay. He completed some pending arrangements ; 
secured finally the close counsel and assistance of 
Laud^ ; established a private and direct correspondence 

1 A note from RadcIiflFb's Essay will show that the energetic method 
and despatch which made thedilBculties of the public business sink before 
him, were no less serTiceable in the conduct of his private affairs. ** In 
the managing of his estate and domestical afifairs, he used the advice of 
two friends, Ch. 6r. and 6. R., and two servants, Richard Marris his 
■teward, and Peter Man his solicitor. Before every term they met, and 
Peter Man brought a note of all things to be considered of; which being 
taken into consideration one by one, and every one's opinion beard, reso. 
lution was had and set down in writing, whereof his lordship kept one 
copy and Peter Man another : at the next meeting, an account was taken 
of all that was done in pursuance of the former orders, and a new note 
made of all that rested to be done, with an addition of such things as did 
arise since the last meeting, and were requisite to be consulted of. His 
whole accounts were ordered to be made up twice every year, one half 
ending the 20th of September, the other the SOth of March ; for by that 
time Reformer half year' t rents were commonly received, or else the arrears 
were fU to he sought after; it being no advantage either to the tenant or 
landlord to suffer arrears to run longer.** 

* A few months after his departure. Laud was created archbishop 
of Canterbury. Wentworth had foreseen this. ** One advantage your 
lordship will have," writes lord FalklaAd in a somewhat pettish letter, 
" that I wanted in the time of my government, an archbishop of Can. 
terbury to friend ; who is withal a person of especial power to assist you in 
that part which shall concern the cnurch government: the third and prin. 
cipal member of the kingdom; — for the translation of the late archbishop 
into heaven, and of the late bishop of London unto the see of Canterbury, 
makes that no riddle, being so plain." The sort of stipulations for mutuu 
service which passed between the lord deputy and Laud, may be gathered 
from two out of twenty requests of the latter which reached Dublin castle 

VOL. U. U 



290 BBITI8H STATESMEN. 

with the king himself for the sanction of his more deli- 
cate measures ; instructed a gossiping person^ a hired 
retainer of his own^ the rev. Mr. Garrard, to fur- 
nish him, in monthly packets of news, with all the 
private scandal and rumours and secret affairs of the 
court, and of London generally ; and obtained the ap- 
pointment of his friends Wandesford and Radcliffe to 
official situations, and to seats in the privy council^ re- 
serving them as a sort of select cabinet of his own, 
with whom every thing might be secretly discussed.^ 
These things settled, he now himself became anxious 
for his departure, which, with some further delay, and 
not without some personal loss^, he at last accom- 
plished. 

II I - - ■ _ - _ 

before Wcntworth himself had arrived there. They are equally cha- 
racteristic of the sincerity and atrocity of the bigotry of Laud. ** I Humbly 
pray your lordship, to remember what you have promised me conceming 
the cfiurch at Dublin, which hath for divers years been used for a stable 
by your predecessors, and to vindicate it to God's service, as you shall there 
examine and And the merits of the cause." And again : — ** There is one 
Christopher Sands, who, as I am informed, dwells now in Londonderry, 
and teaches an English school there, and I do much fear he doth many 
things there to the dishonour of God, and the endangering of many poor 
souls. For the party is a Jew, and denies both Christ and his Gospel, as I 
shall be able to prove, if I had him here. I humbly pray your lordship 
that he may be seised on by authority, and sent over in safe custody, ana 
delivered cither to myself or Mr. Mottershed, the register of the high com. 
mission, that he may not live there to infect his majesty's subjects." Vol. L 
pp. 81, 82. 

I He found great advantage in this ; and a few months after bis ar- 
rival in Dublin wrote to the lord treasurer some strenuous advice, sug. 
gested by his experience, — ** that too many be not taken into counsel 
on that side, and that your resolutions, whatever they be, be kept secret; 
for, believe me, there can be nothing more prejudicial to the good success 
of those affkirs than their being understood aforehand by them here. So 
prejudicial I hold it, indeed, that on my faith there is not a minister on 
this side that knows any thing I either write or intend, excepting the 
Master of the Rolls and sir George Radcliffb, for whose assistance in this 
government, and comfort to myself amidst this generation, I am not able 
sufficiently to pour forth my humble acknowIe«igments to his majesty. 
Sure 1 were the most solitary man without them, that ever served a king 
in such a place." VoL L pp. 193, 194., &c. Wandesford's office was that of 
Master of the Rolls. 

3 " They write me lamentable news forth of Ireland," he informs the se- 
cretary in one of his last letters before his departure, ** what spoil is done 
there by thp pirates. There is one lyes upon the Welch coast, which it 
seems is the greatest vessel, commanded by Norman : another in a vessel 
of some sixty tuns, called the Pickpocket of Dover, lyes in sight of Dublin : 
and another lyes near Youghall :— who do no infest every quarter, as the 
farmers h.tve already lost in their customs a thousand pounds at least, all 
trade being at this means at a stand. The pirate that lyes before Dublin 
took, on the 20th of the last month, a bark of Liverpool, with goods worth 
4000/., and amongst them as much linen as cost me 500/. ; and in good faith 
I fear I have lost my apparel too; which if it be so, wUl be as much loss 



EABL OF STRAFFORD. ^Ql 

liord Wentworth arrived iu Dublin in July, l633. 
very arrival^ it is justly said^ formed a new era in 
tlie government of Ireland. He ordered the ceremonial • 
o£ the British court to be observed within the castle ; 
a guards an institution theretofore unknown, was es^ 
tal>Iished ; and the proudest of the Irish lords were 
at once taught to feel the ^^ immense distance " which 
separated them from the representative of their sove- 
reign. ^ 

An extract from the lord deputy's first despatch, 
TMrritten about a week after his arrival, and duplicates ox 
^wliich he forwarded at the same time, with his custom-* 
ary zeal, to Cooke and Cottington, is too characteristic 
to be omitted. '' I find them in this place," he writes,. 
'* a company of men the most intent upon their own 
ends that I ever met with, and so as those speed, they 
consider other things at a very great distance. I take 
the crown to have been very ill served, and altogether 
impossible for me to remedy, unless I be intirely 



more unto me, besides the inconvenience which lights upon me^ by being 
disiqipointed of my provisions upon the place. By my faith, this is but a 
cx>ld welcome they bring me withal to that coast, and yet I am glad at 
least that they escaped my plate ; but the fear I had to be thought to linger 
here unprofitably, forced me to make this venture, where now I wish I 
had had a little more care of my goods, as well as of my person." Vol i. 

pi 90. 

1 See Strafford Papers, vol. i. pp. 200, SOL In the various orders he pro- 
cured, he invariably distinguished between the demands of his place, and 
the courtesies due to his person. In this despatch to Cooke, a number of 
minute instructions are prayed for, which were instantly granted. Among 
others, he demanded *' instructions to call upon the nobil'ty and others to 
attend the deputy upon all solemn processions to church,*and such like. 
This is not so well observed as it ought, and they grow generally more 
negligent than is fit they were, not truly I trust in any dittctiie to me^for 
to my person they give as much respect as I desire from them ; but I know 
not bow, in point of greatness, some of them think it too much perchance to 
be tied to any thing <tf duty, rather desirous it might be taken as a courtesy. 
It would do therefore very well, his majesty were graciously pleased by 
letter to signify what the attendance is he requires at their hands." These 
he specifies accordingly, with a vast quantity of laborious and ceremonious 
regulations, adding, " 1 confess I might, without more, do these things ; 
but where I may seem to take any thing to myself, I am naturally modest, 
and should be extreme unwilling to be held supercilious or imperious 
amongst them ; so as I cannot dotncrein as I both could and would, where 
I were commanded. Therefore, if these be held duties fit to be paid to 
his majesty's greatness, which is alike operative, and to be reverenced 
thorough every part of his dominions, I crave such a direction in these as 
in the other, that so they may know it to be his pleasure ; other wise I shall 
he well content they may be spared^ having in truth, no such vanity in 
wtyse^at to be delighted with any qf these observances." 

u 2 



292 BBITI8H STATESMEir. 

truated, and livdy assisled and conntenanoed hy his 
majesty, which I am* hold to write unto your lordship 
once for all, not for any end of my own, hot singly 
for his majesty's serrioe. Besides, what is to be done 
must be speedily executed, it being the genius of dkis 
country to obey a deputy better upon hie entrance ikem 
upon hie departure from them; and therefore I pnmiise 
your lordship I wiU take my time : for whilst they take 
me to be a person of much more power with the kii^ 
and of stronger abilities in myself, than indeed I have 
reason either in fact or right to judge myself to be, 
I shall, it may be, do the king some service ; but ifmg 
weakness therein once happen to be discovered aman^ 
them in this kingdom, for the love of God, my lord, 
let mi be taken home ; for I shall but lose the king's 
affairs, and my own time afterwards ; and my unprofit- 
ableness in the former, I confess, will grieve me much 
more than any prejudice which may happen to my own 
particular by the expense of the latter. The army I 
conceive to be extremely out of frame ; an army radier 
in name than in deed, whether you consider their nunn- 
hers, their weapons, or their discipline. And so in 
truth, not to flatter myself, must I look to find all 
things else, so as it doth almost affright me at first 
sight, yet you shall see I will not meanly desert the 
duties I owe my master and myself : howbeit, without 
the arm of his majesty's counsel and support, it is im- 
possible for me to go through with this work ; and 
therein I must crave leave to use your lordship only as 
my mediator, so often as I shall have occasion. I send 
your lordship the original herein inclosed, of the ofier 
for this next year's contribution, and to the secretary 
hut the copy ; judging it might be thought fitter for 
your lordship to present it to his majesty than the 
other. You will be pleased to send it me safely back, 
there being many particulars contained therein ; of 
which 1 shall be able to make very good use hereafter, 
if I do not much mistake myself." i 

1 StvaflRxd Papers, toI L pp. 96, 97. In the lord treasurer's copy of this 



BAAL OF 8TBAFF0BD. 293 

Wentworth^ in fact^ extraordmary as were the powers 
with which he had heen invested^ had still reason 
for distrust in the weakness and insincerity of the 
king; and thus sought to impress upon his council, 
as the first and grand consideration of all, that unless 
unlimited authority was secured to him^ he could, and 
TTonld, do nothing. One thing, he saw at once, stood 
In the way of his scheme of government. In the old time, 
whilst Ireland continued to he governed only as a con- 
quered country, the lord deputy and council had used their 
discretion in superseding the common law courts, and 
assuming the decision of private civil causes. During 
the weaker governments which succeeded, however, 
this privilege was surrendered ; and lord Falkland 
himself had confirmed the surrender, hy an express 
prohihition. The common law, and its authority, had 
in consequence gained some little strength at the period 
of Wentworth*s arrival. He had not rested many days 
in his state chair, before this prohibition was suspended, 
and the old privilege restored.^ At all risks, even the 
most fatal, Wentworth silenced the objectors in both 
countries. He had visions before him which they 
dared not to contemplate ! Their notion of government 
was one of sordid scheming : not the less was the sub- 



despatch is the following characteristic note on a money transaction in 
vrhieh Weston thought he had been somewhat sharply dealt with : — ** Your 
lordship is pleased to term my last letter you received in Scotland an angry 
one: but by my troth your lordship, under favour, was mistaken; fori 
neither was, nor conceived I h%d cause to be, angry ; only 1 was desirous 
you might truly understand the state of my accounts, without any other 
thought at all.'* Secure of Laud's influence, Wentworth had become care, 
less of Weston. 

» «* I find that my lord Falkland was restrained by proclamation, not to 
meddle in any cause betwixt party and party, which certainly did lessen 
his power extremely ; I know very well the common lawyers will be pas- 
•ionately against it, who are wont to put such a prejudice uiwn all other 

Erofessions, as if none were to be trusted, or capable to administer justice, 
lut themselves ; yet how well this suits with monarchy^ when they mo- 
nopoli$e all to be governed by their year-books, you in England have a 
costly exjterience ; and I am sure his majesty's absolute power is not 
weaker in this kingdom, where hitherto the deputy and council-board have 
bad a stroke with them." Such is an extract from a remarkable despatch 
to Cooke, which fills nearly ten closely printed folio pages, written soon 
atiet the lord deputy's arrival, and filled with reasoning of the most pro. 
found and subtle character, in reference to hit contemplated schemes and 
purposes. See Vol i. p. 194. 



294 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

jeet to be wronged^ bat the more should the instroiDeiits 
of wrong avoid the responsibility of it ; they saw no- 
thing but their own good, and sought to prevent nothing 
mcwe their own harm. Wentworth was a despot, baft 
of a different metal. He shrunk from no mvomnd, in 
shrinking from no wrong ; and, confident of the plans 
he proposed to execute, felt that the individual injury 
he inflicted at present would be redeemed and forgotten 
in the general prosperity of the future. '^ These law- 
yers," he writes to the lord marshal, ^^ would mono- 
polise to themselves all judicature, as if no honour or 
justice could be rightly administered but under one of 
their bencher's gowns. / am sure they little understand 
the unsettled state of this kingdom, that could advise the 
king to lessen the power of his deputy y indeed his own, 
until it were brought into that stayed temper of obedi- 
ence and conformity with that of England, or at least 
till the benches here were better provided with judges, 
than God knows as yet they are* Therefore, if your 
lordship's judgment approve of my reasons, I beseech 
you, assist me therein, or rather the king's service^ and 
I shall be answerable with my head.*' ^ Equal in all his 
exactions, he had suspected also from the first, that the 
great complainants against his government would be 
men of rank ; and now, in further organisation of his 
powers, procured an order from the king, that none of 
the nobility, none of the principal officers, '^ none of 
those that hath either office or estate here," should 
presume to quit the kingdom without the licence of the 
lord deputy. 2 When his use of this power was after- 
wards spoken against, he silenced the objectors by a 
stem and sarcastical reference to one of the graces they 
had themselves solicited, which seemed indeed to war- 
rant the authority, but had been proposed with a far 
different purpose, that of preventing men of large 
fortunes from deserting their estates, and wasting their 
revenues abroad ! 

1 Strafford Papers, vol. i. p. 22a 
s Ibid. p. 362., and see p. SiS. 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 295 

Wentworth called his first privy council. The mem- 
bers of this hody had hitherto borne great sway in the 
goTemment of the island*^ greater^ indeed^ than the 
lords deputies themselves^ — and they were now^ for the 
first time^ to see their authority broken^ and their rank 
and influence set at scorn. Only a select number of 
them were summoned, a practice usual in £ngland^, 
but in Ireland quite unheard of. But die mortifications 
reserved for those that had heea faonoured by a sum- 
mons, were almost greater titan were felt by the absent 
counsellors ! Having assembled at the minute appointed^ 
tbey were obliged to wait several hours upon the leisure 
of the d^mty, and when he arrived at last^ were treated 
^tfa no particle of the consideration which deliberative 
duties claim. 

Wentworth laid before them a provision for the 
imraediate necessities of government, and more espe- 
cially for the maintenance of the army. The views of 
the lord deputy, sqmewhat more reaching than their 
own^ startled them not a little. Sir Adam Loftus^ the 
son of the lord chancellor^ broke a sullen silence by 
proposing that the voluntary contribution should be 
continued for another year, and that a parliament should^ 
meantime, be prayed for. '^ After this followed again 
a long silence," when the lord deputy called on sir WiL 
liam Parsons, the master of the wards, to deliver his 
opinion. It was unfavourable. <^ I was then put to 
my last refuge^" say^ Wentworth, " which was plainly 



^ Thelords justices were the chief leaders of this body. Wentworth, in 
one of his despatches, had written thus : — *' On Thursday seven-night last 
in the morning, I visited both the justices at their own houses, which 
albeit not formerly done by other deputies, yet I conceived it was a duty 
lowed them, being as then but a private person, as also to show an ex. 
ampie to others what would always become them to the supreme governor^ 
whom it should please his rnqfexly to set over them.*' This was a subtle 
distinction, which their lordships did not afterwards find they had much 
profited by. 

3 »* I desire,*' Wentworth had demanded of Cooke, " that the orders set 
down for the privy council of England might be sent unto us, with this 
addition, that no man speak covered save the deputy, and that their 
ipeech may not be directed one to another, but only to the deputy ; as 
ilso, taking notice of their negligent meetings upon committees, which, 
ndeed, is passing ill, to command me straitly to cause them to attend 
hose services as in duty they ought." 

u 4 



SQS BRITISH BTATESMKN* 

to declare that there was no Deoeatity whidi indaoed me 
to take them to counsel in thia busineaa, for rather tkam 
fail in ao necessary a duty to my master, I wouU Mnder-- 
take, upon the peril of my head, to make the kings armg 
able to subsist, and to provide for itself amongst thens 
without their help. How belt, forth of my respects to 
themselves I had been persuaded to put this fair occa- 
sion into their hands^ not only to express their ready 
affections and duties to his majesty^ and so to have in 
their own particular a share in the honour and thanks 
of so noble a work ; bat also that tlie proposition of this 
next contribution might move from the protestants, as 
it did this year from the papists, and so these no more 
in show than substance to go before those in their 
cheerfulness and readiness to serve his majesty ; . • . 
so as my advice should be unto them, to make an ofl^r 
under their hands to his majesty of this next year's 
contribution, with the desire of a parliament, in such 
sort as is contained in their offer, which herewith I 
send you enclosed. They are so horribly afraid that 
the contribution money should be set as an annual 
charge upon their inheritances, as they would redeem 
it at any rate, so €ls upon the name of a parliament 
thus proposed, it was something strange to fee how m- 
stantly they gave consent to this proposition^ with all 
. the cheerfulness possible, and agreed to have the lettei 
drawn,, which you have here signed with all thei: 
hands." ^ 



1 Straffbrd Papert, toI. i. pp. 98, 99. With characteristic purpose Went- 
worth subjoins to this despatch a private note to Cooke : — ** I should 
humbly advise that in some part of your next letter you would be pleased 
to give a touch with your pen concerning sir Adam Loftus, such as I 
might show him, for he deserves it ; ami it will encourage the well affected^ 
and affright the other, when they shall see their actions are rightly uiu 
derstood by his majesty ; and also some tood words for'the lord cliancellor, 
the lord Cork, the lord of Ormond, and the lord Mountnorris ; and chiefly 
to express in your despatch that his majesty will think of their desire for 
a parliament, and betwixt this and Christmas give them a fair and gracious 
answer, for the very hope of it will give them great contentment, and 
make them go on very willingly with their payments." Had none of these 
men afterwards thwarted him in his great desiiotic projects, Wentworth 
would have sought every means of covering them with rewards— to whici 
be recognised no stint or measure, when c^led for by his notion of piU>li 
service. 



UABL 0¥ STRAFFORD. 297 

A ^'parliament!" This word, WentworA knew^ 
would sound harshly in the ear of Charles^ who had, 
by this time, prohibited its very mention in England. 
But he saw, from what had occurred in the council, 
in what consideration the mere name was held there ; 
and he saw, moreover, abroad among the nation, a feel- 
ing in favour of it, which might, by a bold movement, 
be even wrested to the purpose of tyranny, but could 
never, with any safety to that cause, be altogether 
avoided. 

Nor was this aspect of affairs forced upon Wentworth 
by necessity alone. He had certainly entered Ireland 
with one paramount object, — that of making his master 
'^ the most absolute prince in Christendom," in so far as 
regarded that '^ conquered country." Wealthier he 
meant her to become, even in the midst of his ex- 
actions; but a slave he had resolved to make her, in so 
far as the popular control was to be admitted over her 
government. Yet it has been shown that Wentworth was 
not a vain man, that he was ever ready to receive the 
suggestions of the occasion and the time, and it is clear 
that he entered Ireland by no means assured of being 
able to carry his purposes into effect by the simple and 
straightforward machinery of an absolute despotism. 
The king might see in parliaments nothing but an un- 
necessary obstruction to the free exercise of his royal 
will, and might have directed Wentworth to " put them 
off handsomely," or otherwise. But Wentworth had 
impressions of his own, which were not to be so got rid 
of. These parliaments — which had been only hurriedly 
glanced at by the averted eye of Charles, on some 
occasion when he had been forced to " come at the 
year's end with his hat in his hand," and to whom the 
notion they had conveyed was simply the strength, 
ening his conviction that " such assemblies were of the 
nature of cats, they ever grew cursed with age" — 
these parliaments were known thoroughly, and were 
remembered profoundly, by Wentworth. He had been 
conversant with the measures, and connected with the 



298 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

men. He had been the associate of Pym^ and had 
spoken %nd voted in the same ranks with Eliot. Sach 
an experience might he ahhorred^ bat could not be 
made light of; and that mighty power, of which be 
had been the sometime portion, never deserted the mind 
of Wentworth. He boldly suffered its image to con- 
front him, that he might the better resist its spirit and 
divert its tendency. 

When he arrived in Ireland, therefore, he was quite 
prepared for the mention of parliament — even for the 
obligation of granting it. He had not watched human 
nature superficially, though, unfortunately, he missed 
«f the final knowledge. He would have retained that 
engine whose wondrous effects he had witnessed, and had 
even assisted in prodacii^. He would have compelled 
it to be as efficient in the service of its iiewvn«feer^aatf 
late in withstanding his pleasure. And Wentworth 
could not but feel, probably, that the foundation for so 
vast a scheme as his, which was to embody so many 
far-stretching assumptions, might be notunsafely propped 
at the first with a little reverence of authority.* He 
would set up a parliament, for instance, which should 
make itself " eminent to posterity as the very basis and 
foundation of the greatest happiness and prosperity 
that ever befell this nation," — by the extraordinary and 
notable process of being forced to confirm the king's 
claim to unlimited prerogative ! That *' way of parlia* 
ments," it is evident from many passages in his des- 
patches, he could not but covet. — even while he spoke of 
leaving '' such forms," and betaking himself to *' his 

^ On one occasion, it may be remarked, when the attorney-general in Eng. 
land much wished, as he fancied, to strengthen the famous Poynings' act 
by an abolition of certain incidents attach^ to it, Wentworth opposed him 
in an elaborate argument I quote a remarkal)le passage from the des- 
patch : — " Truly I am of opinion, that in the>e matters of form it is the 
best not to be wiser than those that went before us, but ' atare super via$ 
antiqun*.* For better it t's to foUow the old track in this particular^ than 
question the validity cf all the statutes enacted since Poynings* act; for if 
this which is done in conformity thereunto be not svfflcient to warrant me 
summons of this present parliament^ then were all those parliaments upon 
the same grounds unlavfully assembled, and consequently all their acts 
void; which is a point far better to sleep in peace, than unnecessarily or 
farther to be awakened.** Vol i. p. 269. 



EABL OF STBAFFORD. ^QQ 

nugesty's undoubted privilege." Power^ indeed^ was the 
gmt law of Wentworth's being ; but from all this it may 
be fairly supposed, that even over the days of his highest 
and most palmy state lingered the uneasy fear that he 
mighty after all, have mistaken the nature of power^ 
and be doomed as a sacrifice at last to its truer, and 
grander^ and more lasting issues. The fatal danger he 
frequently challenged — the ''at peril of my head," 
which so often occurs in his despatches — must have 
unpleasantly betrayed this to his confederates in London. 
A parliament then, he acknowledged to himself, must 
ultimately be sumn^oned in Ireland. But he was cau- 
tious in communicating this to the English council. 
'' My opinion as touching a parliament/' he writes to 
Cooke, '' I am still gathering for, but shall be very 
cautious and cunctative in a business of so great weighty 
naturally distrusting my judgment, and more here, 
where I am in a sort yet a stranger, than in places 
where I had been bred, versed, and acquainted in the 
affairs and with the conditions of men ; so as I shall 
hardly be ready so soon to deliver myself therein as 
formerly I writ; but, God willing, I shall transmit 
that and my judgment upon many other the chief 
services of his majesty betwixt this and Christmas. I 
protest unto you it is never a day I do not beat my 
brains about them some hours, well foreseeing that the 
chief success of all my labours will consist much in 
providently and discreetly choosing and saddening my 
first ground : for if that chance to be mislayed or left 
loose, the higher I go the greater and more sudden will 
be the downcome."^ Some short time, however, after 



1 Straffhrd Papers, voL i. p. 134. More genuine and characteristic still 
was a letter he enclosed by the same metsenger to lord Carlisle : — ** I am 
yet ingathering with all possible circumspection my observations, where, 
upon what, and when, to advise a reformation, and to set myself into the 
way of it, under God*s good blessing, and the conduct of his majesty's 
wisdom. I shall, before it be long, be ripe to return the fVuit of my labours 
to be examined and considered on that side, and then rightly disposed to 
set them on work and pursue them here with effect, taking along with me 
those two great household gods, which ought always to be reverenced in 
the courts, and sway in the actions, of princes,— honour and justice. These 
counsels, I confess, are secret ones, it being one qfmy chief est cares to con^ 



300 . BBITI8H STATEBMEN. 

the date of thit letter^ he forwarded an elabormle des- 
patch to the secretary for the conaideratioa of the king. 
In this despatch he insisted very strongly on the wide 
distinction between English and Irish parliaments whidi 
had been planted by the act of Poynings^^ he dwelt on 
the exigencies of the state, and alleged various powerful 
reasons in that regard. He claimed also the permission 
to issue the writs instantly ; for if they were deferred 
till the voluntary contribution should again be about to 
terminate, they would appear, he argued, to issue from 



ceal mg imtentioiujhfm them aU here, as they with the same indiwtiT VTf 
into me, and sift every corner for them ; and this I do, to the end I might, 
if it be possible, win IVom them ingenuous and clear advice, which loan 
ture never to have^ if they once ditcover how I stand iiffi-cledi for then it s* 
the geniut qf this place to soothe the deputy ^ be he in the right or wrong, tUl 
they have insinuated themseives into the fruition qf their own ends^ and 
then at after to accuse hinit even of those things wherein thenuetoes had a 
principal share ^ as well in the counsel as in the execution. God deliver me 
from this ill sort of men, and give me ^race so far to see into them b^or^ 
hand, as that neither mv master's service or myself suflf^r by them. My 
lord, 1 ever weary you when I begin, and judge how I should havetrouMed 
you, if the wind had stood oftener for England." The earl of Strafford bad 
melanclioly and disastrous proof of the truth of that account by "Went. 
worth, " of the genius of that place." Some of the men who hunted him 
most flercely to the scaflFbld were men that had been wUIing instrumenta 
of his worst power in Ireland. 

< The origin of this act has been already adverted to. The popular leadera 
in England declaimed strongly against Vventworth's interpretation of it. If 
measure<i were produced, they maintained, of sutficient weight to aatiafy 
the king and council, the intention of the law was Ailfilled ; for, they 
argued, it was never designed to preclude the members of parliament, when 
once aHsembleil, from introducing such other topics as they might deem 
expedient for the general welfare Wentworth, on the other hand, strenu- 
ously contended that the express letter of the law was not to be thoa 
evaded ; that the previous approbation of the king and council was dis. 
tinctly required to each proposition ; and that no other measures could 
ever be made the subject of discussion. Surely, however, looking at the 
origin of the measure, the popular is the just construction. The act was 
designed, with a beneficial purpose, to lodge the initiative power of par- 
liament in the English council, as a protection against the tyranny of lords 
and deputies. But once e»tablisb tnis power, and the restraint was de. 
signed to terminate. Great was the opportunity, however, for Wentworth, 
and he made the most of it Poynings' act was his shield. ** I am of 
opinion," he writes to Cooke, ** there cannot be any thing invaded, which 
in rea»on of state ought to be by his majesty's deputy nreserved with a 
more hallowed care, than Poynings' act, and which 1 shall never willingly 
suflTor to be touched or blemished, more than my right eye." Vol. i. p. Sn9. 
Again, when the Engli«h attorney prop|0«ed something which the lord 
deputy feared might work against the stability of the Poynings' bill. Went, 
worth described it, ** A mighty power gotten by the wisdom of former times ; 
and it would be imputed to this age, I fear, as a mighty lacheti by thoce 
that shall still succeed, should we now be so improvident as to lose it ; and, 
for my own part, so zealous am I for the prerogatives of my master, so 
infinitely in love with this in especial, that my hand shall never be had as 
an instrument of so fatal a disservice to the crown, as I judge the remittal 
or weakening this power would be." 



BABL OF STRAFFORD. 301 

neoessitj^ the parliament would be emboldened to clog 
their grants with conditions^ *' and conditions are not 
to be admitted with any subjects^ much less with this 
people^ where your majesty's absolute sovereignty goes 
much higher than it is taJcen (perhaps) to be in Eng- 
land." A detailed plan succeeded his many and most em. 
phatic reasons^ which unquestionably '^ clenched " them. 
The parliament that was to be summoned, Wentworth 
pledged himself should be divided into two sessions, — 
the first of which should be exclusively devoted to the sub- 
ject of supplies ; while the second, which might be held 
six months afterwards, should be occupied with the con. 
firmation of the " graces," and other national measures, 
which his majesty so fearfully apprehended. Now the 
parliament, Wentworth reasoned, would, in its first 
session, in all probability, grant a sufficient supply for 
the expenditure of three years, and this once secured, 
the *' graces " might be flung over if necessary. Fur- 
ther, the lord deputy pledged himself that he would pro- 
cure the return of a nearly equal number of protestants 
and catholics to the house of commons, in order that 
both parties, being nearly balanced against each other, 
might be more easily managed. He proposed, more- 
over, to obtain qualifications for a sufficient number of 
military officers, whose situations would render them de- 
pendent on propitiating the pleasure of the lord deputy. 
Then, he urged^ with the parties nearly equal, they 
might easily be kept in an equal condition of restraint 
and harmlessness, — since the catholics might be pri- 
vately warned, that if no other provision was made for 
the maintenance of the army, it would be necessary to 
levy on them the legal fines ; while all that was neces- 
sary to keep the protestants in check, would be to hint to 
them that, until a regular revenue was established, the 
king could not let go the voluntary contributions, or 
irritate the recusants by the enforcement of the penal 
statutes. "In the higher house," Wentworth con- 
cluded, '' your majesty will have, I trust, the bishops 
wholly for you ; the titular lords, rather than come over 



302 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

themselves^ will put their proxies into such safe hands 
as may be thought of on this side ; and in the rest^ 
your majesty hath such interest^ what out of duty to 
the crown^ and obnoxiousness in themselves, as I do 
not apprehend much^ indeed any^ difficulty amongst 
them." 

The whole of this extraordinary document is given 
in an appendix to this volume ^j and the reader is re. 
quested to turn to it there. 

Let him turn afterwards to the dying words of its 
author, and sympathise, if he can, with the declaration 
they conveyed, that *' he was so far from being against 
parliaments^ that he did always think parliaments in 
England to be the happy constitution of the kingdom 
and nation, and the best means, under God^ to make 
the king and his people happy." In what sense these 
words were intended, under what dark veil their real 
object was concealed, the reader may now judge. It is 
uplifted before him. Those five sections by which 
Charles is '^ fully persuaded to condescend to the pre- 
sent calling of a parliament," — the notice of the vil- 
lanous juggle of the " two sessions^" with which the 
wretched people are to be gulled, — the chuckling 
mention of the advantage to be taken of " the frightful 
apprehension which at this time makes their hearts 
beat," — the complacent provision made for the alter- 
native of their '^ starting aside^" — the king who is to 
be able, and the minister who is to be ready, " to 
chastise such forgetfulness," and ^' justly to punish so 
great a forfeit as this must needs be judged to be in 
them," — all these things have long ago been expiated 
by Wentworth and his master ; but their damning re. 
cord remains against those, who would proclaim that 
expiation to have been unjustly demanded. 

Overwhelmed by his minister's project, Charles at 
last yielded.2 Still, even while, reluctantly, he con- 
sented, he could not see altogether clearly the necessity 

1 See Appendix. 

> Strafford Papers, toL L p. £31. 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 303 

for '' these things heing done these ways," and all the 
assurances of the lord deputy could not prevent Charles 
bidding him, '^ as for that hydra, take good heed ; for 
you know, that here I have found it as well cunning 
as malicious. It is true, that your grounds are well 
laid, and, I %sure you, that I have a great trust in 
your care and judgment ; yet my opinion is, that it 
will not he the worse for my service, though their 06- 
stinacy make you to break them, for I fear that they 
have some ground to demand more than it is fit for me 
to give. This I would not say, if I had not confidence 
in your courage and dexterity ; that, in that case, you 
would set me down there an example what to do 
here." 

Wentworth now issued his writs for a parliament to 
be instantly held in Dublin, and great joy prevailed 
among the people. The privy council were sum- 
moned, in conformity with the provisions of the law of 
Poynings, to deliberate on the propositions to be trans- 
mitted to £ngland as subjects for discussion in the 
session. ^' To gain this first entrance into the work," 
Wentworth observes, '' I thought it fit to intrust it in 
this manner with a committee, not only to expedite the 
thing itself the more, but also better to discover how 
their pulses beat, wherein I conceived they would de- 
liver themselves more freely, than if I had been present 
amongst them myself." Soon, however, while the lord 
deputy waited without, he was rejoined by his trusty 
counsellors Wandesford and Radclifie, with the news 
that their associates were restive ; that they were pro. 
posing all sorts of popular laws as necessary to con- 
ciliate the houses ; and that, as to subsidies, they quite 
objected to transmitting a bill with blanks to be filled 
up at discretion, and were of opinion that the amount 
should be specified, and confined within the strictest 
limits of necessity. '' I not knowing what this might 
grow to," writes Wentworth, ^' went instantly unto 
them, where they were in council, and told them plainly I 
feared they began at the wrong end, thus consulting 



504 BRITUH BTATBSlfBK. 

what might please the people in a parfiaraent, when it 
would better become a privy council to consider what 
might please the king^ and induce him to call one.'* 
The imperious deputy next addressed them in a very 
long and able speech, pressed upon them the necessities 
of the nation, and the only modes of arresting them. 
" The Idng therefore desires,*' be continued^ " this 
great work may be set on his right foot, settled by par- 
liament as the more beaten path he corets to wsdk in, 
yet not more legal than if done by hi$ prerogative roptJ, 
where the ordinary way fails him. If this people dien 
can be so unwise as to cAsi off his gracious proposals, 
and their own safety, it must be done without them ; 
and for myself, as their true friend, I must let them 
know, that I cannot doubt, but they will altogether 
save me the trouble, hasten in their advice, and afford 
their best means for the fulfilling these his so good in- 
tentions. That as a faithful servant to my master I shall 
counsel his majesty to attempt it first by the ordinary 
means ; disappointed there, where he may with so 
much right expect it, / could not in a cause so just 
and necessary deny to appear for him in the head of 
that army, and there either perst^ade them fully his 
majesty had reason on his side, or else think it a great 
honour to die in the pursuit of that, wherein both jus- 
tice and piety had so far convinced Iny judgment, as 
not left me wherewithal to make one argument for 
denying myself unto commands so justly called for and 
laid upon me.** In conclusion, Wentworth gave them 
a still more characteristic warning : — " Again I did be- 
seech them to look well about, and be wise by others' 
harms. They were not ignorant of the misfortunes 
these meetings had run in England of late years. That 
therefore they were not to strike their foot upon the 
same stone of distrust, which had so often broken them. 
For I could tell them, as one that had, it may be, 
held my eyes as open upon those proceedings as another 
man, that what other accident this mischief might be 
ascribed unto, there was nothing else that brought it 



E^VRL OF STBAFFOBD. 305 

• 

upon ns^ bat the king's standing justly to have the 
honour of trust from his people^ and an ill-grounded 
narrow suspicion of theirs^ which would not be ever 
entreated^ albeit it stood with all the reason and wisdom 
in the world. This was that spirit of the air that 
walked in darkness betwixt them, abusing both, whereon 
if once one beam of light and truth had happily re- 
flected, it had vanished like smoke before it ! *' ^ 

The council could not hold to one of their purposes 
in the presence of such overawing energy — *^ where- 
upon they did, with all cheerfulness, assent unto the 
council ; professed they would entirely conform them- 
selves unto it ; acknowledged it was most reasonable this 
kingdom should defray itself; that they would not 
ofier the pardon, or any other act that might bear the 
interpretation of a condition ; that they would send over 
no other laws but such as I should like; nay, if I 

pleased, they would send over the bill of subsidy 
alone." 2 

Another obstruction remained, which was as fiercely 
and immediately disposed of. The council had ven- 
tured to suggest to the lord deputy the existence of an 
ancient custom, whereby the lords of the pale claimed 
the right of being consulted respecting the projected 

* See Straffbrd Papers, vol. i. p. S36— 241., for the de«pateh, in which 
these things are all most happily described. Laud, in a subsequent letter, 
gives Wentworth some account of the way in which the despatch had been 
recetved. I extract one amusing passage : — " The next day, at Green- 
wich, your despatch to secretary Coke was read to the committee, the king 
present, order given for us to meet, and for speed of our answer to you. 
If speed be not made to your mind, I am not in fault, and I hope you will 
have all things in time. Every body liked your carriage and ciiscourse to 
the council, but thought it too long, and that too much strength vaasput 
^pon it i but you may tee what it is to be an able speaker. Your old flriend 
uys, he had rather see you talk something into the exchequer, but he 
ptoases himself extremelv to see how able Brutus is in the senate-house! 
And wot you what ? when we came to this passage in your despatch. 

Again, I did beseech them to look well about, and to be wise by others' 
harms, they were not ignorant of the misfortunes these meetings had run 
in England of late years,* &c. Here a good friend of yours interposed, 
'Quorum pars magna Jut.* I hope you will charge this home upon my lord 
Cottington ; he hath so many Spanish tricks, that I cannot tell how to 
trust him for any thing but making of legs to fair ladies.**— Str4{ffi>rd 
Papers, vol. i. pp. 255, 256. 

* Straifbrd Papers, vol. L p. 255. To this Wentworth shrewdly sub- , 
joins,— *< But I, not thinking it fit it should come so singly from the king 
without some expression of care for the good government of his people, 
have caused it to be accompanied, as you will receive il, by this express.'* 

VOL. II. X 



306 BAITI8H STATESMEN. 

measures^ bat which Wentworth had at once flileraced 
by " a direct and round answer." Four days after 
this^ however^ the earl of Fingal, on bdialf of his 
brother peers^ obtained an interriew^ and^ as the de- 
puty described, '' very gravely^ and in a kind o£ eIabo« 
rate way^ told me^" &c. &c. It is simply necessary to 
add, that so peremptory and supremely contenaptuous 
was Wentworth's reception of these traditionary daims^ 
that the lord Fingal was fain to escape from his presence 
with a submissive apology.^ 

Nothing remained now but the elections. Some 
difficulty attended them at the first, but one or ti^o 
resolute measures quelled it.^ In July, 1634, an admi- 
rably balanced party of catholics and protestants assem- 
bled in the Irish house of commons. 

With extraordinary pomp and ceremony^ the lord 
deputy proceeded to meet them. His speech, however, 
was more startling than his splendour. He be^an 
by telling them that two sessions should be held ; and 
that the first, '^ according to the natural order," ^ould 
be devoted to the sovereign, and the second to the 

1 See the deputy's own account, Strafibrd Papers, vol. L pp. S46, 247. 

s *' The priesta and Jesuits here," writes Wentworth, in a v^ery a^Ie 
despatch to Cooke, *' are very busy in the election of knichts and burgeflees 
for this parliament, call the people to their masses, and tnere charge them, 
ou pain of excommanication, to give their voice with no protestant. I 
purpose hereafter to question some of them : — being, indeed, a very insuil 
ferable thing for them thus to interpose .in causes which are purely civil ; 
and of passing ill consequence, to warm and inflame the subjects one 
against another ; and, in the last resort, to bring it to a direct party qfpro- 
testant and papist y voMch surely is to be avoided as muck as may be^ unlesM 
our numbers were the greater. A sheriff that, being set on by these fel- 
lows, carried himself mutinously in the election of burgesses for this town, 
we brought into the Castle Chamber upon an ore tenus, where, upOD what 
he had set under his hand, we fined him 2002., and 500L more for his 
contempt in refusing to set his hand to another part of his examination, 
both at the council board and in open court, disabling him for ever bearing 
that oflSce hereafter in this city. Which wrought so good an effect, as 

Siving order presently for chusing of a new sheriff, and going on the next 
ay with the election again, the voices were all orderly taken ; and the 
conformable proving the greater number, Catelin, the king's seijeant and 
recorder of this town, and alderman Barry, a protestant, were chosen ; the 
former whereof I intend to make the speaker, being a very i^e man for 
that purpose, and one I assure myself will in all things apply himself to 
his majesty's service.*'— 5/rai^<{ Papers, vol i. p. 260. 

3 ** It was the greatest civility and splendour," writes Wentworth, ** Ire. 
land ever saw. A very gallant nobility and gentry appeared, far above 
that I expected." VoL I p. 276. See a programme in the Biog. Brit. voL vii. 
pp. 4184, 418S. 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 307 

subject. *^ In demanding supplies/' he continued, ^^ I 
only require you to provide for your own safety; I 
expect, therefore, your contributions Ivill be both liberal 
and permanent. That is, there must be a standing 
revenue (mark it well) provided by you to supply and 
settle the constant payments of the army. For it is 
far below my great master to come at every year's end, 
with his hat in his hand, to entreat that you would be 
pleased to preserve yourselves." Moreover, he told 
them that, if they expected constant protection without 
contributing towards it, they looked for more than had 
ever been the portion of a *^ conquered kingdom." A 
bitter warning succeeded this of the fate of English 
parliaments. ^' Take heed," he said, in a lesson from 
his own patriotic experiences, ^* take heed of private 
meetings and consults in your chambers, by design and 
privity aforehand to contrive how to discourse and 
carry the public affairs when you come into the houses. 
For, besides that they are in themselves unlawful, and 
punishable in a grievous measure, I never knew them 
in all my experience to do any good to the public or to 
any particular man. I have often known them do much^ 
harm to both." With these were mingled some just 
entreatments. '' Divide not nationally betwixt English 
and Irish. The king makes no distinction betwixt you, 
but reputes you all without prejudice, and that upon 
safe and true grounds, I assure myself, his good and 
faithful subjects. And madness it were in you, then, to 
raise that wall of separation amongst yourselves. If 
you should, you know who the old proverb deems 
iikest to go to the wall ; and, believe me, England will 
not prove the weakest. But, above all, divide not be- 
tween the interests of the king and his people, as if 
there were one being of the king, and another being of 
his people." He concluded with a distinct statement, 
that their conduct during the session should be attended^ 
according to its results, with punishment or reward." ^ 
Not in words only, but equally in the manner of its 

* Straiibrd Papers, vol. i. pp. 887—29a 
X 2 



SOS 

deUvery^ did tfaii speedi prodaim the despotic geiiiiDs 
of lord Wentworth. Here he lesorted to all those arts 
which^ as I have 'before remarked, are essentiany ne- 
cessary to the success of the despot ; and iUostrated^ by 
conduct which to such superficial statesmen as my lord 
Cottington seemed vain and unnecessary, his profound 
knowledge of character. " Well," he writes to his 
more relying friend the archbishop of Canterbary^ — 
" well, spoken it is since, good or bad I cannot tell 
whether ; but sure, I am not able yet to help myself to 
a copy of it. But as it was, / tptdce it not hetwia^t my 
teeth, but so hud and hettrtUyy tiuU I protest unto you 
I was faint withal at the present, and the worse for it 
two or three days after. It makes no matter, for Ms 
way I w€U assured they should have sound at least, wiih 
how little weight soever it should be attended. And the 
success was answerable. For had it been low and mildly 
delivered, I might perchance have gotten from them, it 
was pretty well,^— whereas this way, filling one of their 
senses with noise, and amusing the rest with earnestness 
and vehemence, they swear (yet forgive them, they know 
not what they say /) it was the best spoken they ever heard 
in their lives. Let Cottington crack me that nut 
now. • 

Secure of his measures, WentWorth demanded at 
once the enormous grant of six subsidies.^ With the 
view, at the same time, of preventing the possibility of 
the parties communicating in any way with each other, 
and so cutting from beneath them every ground of mutual 
reliance, he introduced the proposition to the house on 
the second day of their meeting. Ignorant of each 
other's sentiments — incapable of any thing like a plan 
t)f opposition — nothing was left for protestants and 

1 Strafford Papers, vol i. p. 273. 

3 He had great difficulty in inducing tlie privy council to accede to 
this. At last he prevailed — " Sir Adam Loftus," as he writes to Cooke, 
** first beginning the dance, which is now the second time he hath done 
the king passing good service in this kind." Vol i. p. 259. Not a single 
service did lord Wentworth ever receive, without acknowledging it strongly 
tfl the king, accompanied by the special naming of those who had so served 
him. 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 309 

catholics but to seek to rival each other, as it were^ in 
the devotion of loyalty. The subsidies were voted un* 
conditionally^ J and one voice of profound respect for 
the lord deputy rose from all.^ Not less successful 
was his management of the convocation of Irish clergy^ 
which had heen summoned with parliament^ and from 
whom eight subsidies were ultimately procured. For- 
tified with his money bills^ and just as the session was 
on the eve of closing, Wentworth turned with contempt 
to the proceedings of the house of lords. ^ Here had 

' These were the first *' settled subsidies" that had ever been paid in 
Ireland. See Papers, vol. i. p. S07. 

* See Straflfbrd Papers, vol. i. pp. 277—279. One restive member there 

was, and one only. This was sir Robert Talbot ; who, having mentioned 

Wentworth without a sufficiently awful respect, was instantly expelled, 

and committed to custody till, on his knees, he begged pardon'of the de- 

puty. Commons' Journ. vol. i. p. 116. Leland, vol. iii. p. 18. One case 

may be added to this of a very different character, in proof that, when Went. 

worth saw the means of advancing the public service, even at the cost of 

some personal consideration, be did not care to waive the latter. Among the 

proclamations he had issued to regulate the parliamentary sitting, he ex. 

pressly forbade the entrance of any member of either house with his sword, 

and all <^yed this except the young earl of Ormond, who told the usher 

of the black rod that he should have no sword of his except through his 

body. Equally resolute was his answer to the fiery questioning of the lord 

deputy himself, — quietly producing his^ majesty's writ, which had called 

him to parliament " cinctum cum gladio," or " per cincturam gladii." The 

doubt then occurred.to the deputy, of the superior.value of young Ormond's 

•ervice to his enmity ; and, after consultation with " his two ft-iends, sir 

George Kadcliffb and Mr. Wandesford," the youth was taken into favour. 

I am obliged to Mr. Croft on Croker for .the favour of this note, which I 

find in a manuscript translation he has been good enough to lend me, of 

the Irish portion of the travels of a gasconading coxcomb of a French. 

man, Sieur de la Boullaye.le-Gouz, who honoured the island with his 

company in 1644, and obliged the world with a roost amusing account of 

^ visit lliis very Ormond was then viceroy, and the part he had 

himself played to lord Wentworth was curiously enough rivalled on this 

occasion by the illustrious Le Gouz. " 1 followed the train," observes our 

traveller, in Mr. Croker's happy translation, ** in order to enter more freely 

into the castle, but at the door they ordered me to lay down my sword, 

which I would not do, saying that, being born of a condition to carry it 

before the king, I would rather not see the castle than part with my arms. 

A gentleman in the suite of the viceroy, seeing from irty gallant bearing 

'Aot I was a Frenchman^ took me by the hand, saying, ' Strangers shall on 

this occasion be more favoured than residents,' and he brought me in. I 

Kpiied to him, that YMovixWty equalled ~- that of the French towards his 

*iotion, when they met them in France 1 " 

_^ It was one of the strokes of the lord deputy's policy to aggravate every 
cUflTerence between the two houses. He describes, with singular sarcasm, 
in one of his despatches, a difference of this sort. " The commons would 
not confer with the lords, unless they might sit and be covered, as well as 
their lordships, which the other would by no means admit For my part I 
did not lay it very near my heart to agree them, as having heretofore seen 
the efl^cts which follow when they are in strict understanding, or at dif. 
ference amongst themselves. I saw plainly that keeping them at distance 
I did avoid their joining in a petition for the grsicea," ^ Strafford Papers^ 
vdl p. 279. 

X 3 



310 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

been opposition — the positiTe enactment of 
salutary regulations — the consideration of grievBnces ! 
'' I let them alone/' says one of his despaftdieB, " till 
|he last day that I came into the house to ccmdode the 
session ; but then^ heing very jealous lest in my tame 
any thing might creep in, and grow upon the kiiigf s 
prerogative in this tender and important particular ^^ J 
dearly declared they had therein proceeded further than 

they had warrant for and did beseech tfaeiT 

lordships to he better advised for the future, and not to 
exceed that power which was left them by that law^ to 
wit, — a liberty only to ofier by petition to the deputy 
and council such considerations as they might conceive 
to be good for the commonwealth, by them to be trans- 
mitted for laws, or staid, as to them should seem best * 
whereunto they condescended without any opposition." 
The English ministers were rapt in delight and aston. 
ishment ! As the time approached, however, for the 
second session — the session of '^ graces" — a shado'w 
fell over their congratulations. Bucklered with his 
law of Poynings, the lord deputy bravely reassured 
them. " For my own part," he wrote to Cooke — in 
the apt simile of an amusement which he was then, in 
the intervals of his bodily infirmities, ardently given to 
— ^^ for my own part, I see not any hazard in it, con. 
sidering that we have this lyme hound in our power^ 
still to take o£P when we please ; which is not so easy 
with your parliaments of England, where sometimes 
they hunt loose, forth of command, choose and give over 
their own game as they list themselves."'"^ Further^ 

» The law of Poynings. 

2 Straflfbrd Papers, vol. i. p. 305. Wentworth preserved through life, 
notwithstanding his frightful illnesses, the most passionate fondness for 
hunting ^nd hawking. It is curiou* to obiierve, in his accounts of these 
amusements, an occasional letting out of another object he may have had 
in them, besides that of personal enjoyment. They gave him an oppor- 
tunity of display. " Your defeat of your hawking sport in Wiltshire," he 
writes at about this time to Cottington, *' is nothing like to mine ; for (as 
the man you wot of said by the pigeons) here hath not been a partridge 
in the memory of man, so as having a passing high flying tarsell I am even 
setting him down, and to.morrow purpose, with a cast or two of spar- 
hawks, to betake myself to fly at blackbirds, ever and anon taking them on 
the pate with a trunk. It is excellent sport, there being sometimes 200 



EARL OP 8TKAPF0RD. 311 

lioweTer, to quiet the apprehensions of Charles^ and 
induce him to suffer the continuance of parliament^ 
Wentworth wrote to the king, telling him that the lord 
deputy and his council meant to take on themselves the 
whole responsihility and hlame of refusing the obnoxious 
graces^ while the whole merit of granting such as might 
be granted safely should be given to his majesty.^ 

Wentworth redeemed his ple<]^e. It is unnecessary 
to describe the proceedings of that session at any length. 
Suffice it to say, that the arts and energy of the first 
session were redoubled to a greater success in the 
fleeond. None of the obnoxious graces were accorded. 
He openly told the parliament that he had refused even 
to transmit them to England, and asserted his right to 
do this under the law of Poynings.^ For a time, the 
overbearing energy of his measures forced the members 
to the silence of fear, — but this was broken by the ca- 
tholic party, who, having suffered the most grievous 
wrong in the deception, at last made a feeble show of 
resistance. Wentworth instantly flung all his influence 
for the first time among the protestants, and precipitated 
the catholics into a trial of their strength, unadvised 
with each other, and utterly unprepared. They were 
at once defeated. The protestants then claimed their 
reward, and with an earnestness which was only finally 
subdued by the lord deputy's threats of worse terrors 
than those which their wrongs included.^ He had 



horse on the field looking upon «*, where the lord of Fonsail dropa out of 
doors with a poor falconer or two ; and if sir Robert Wind and Gabriel 
Epsley be gotten along, it is a regale."— S/rfl^^rd Papers^ vol. i. p. 163. 
1 See Straftbrd Papers, vol. i. p. 3!^8. And see the despatch to Cooke, 

vol. i. p. 338. 

s See Strafford Papers, vol. i. p. 345. etseq. 

3 *• I roundly ami earnestly told them I was very indifferent what reso- 
lution the house should fall upon, serving too just and gracious a master 
ever to fear to be answerable for the success of affairs in contingence, so 
long as I did sincerely and faithfully endeavour that which I conceived to be 
for the best That there were two ends I had my eye on, and the one I would 
vifalliblv attain untOy^ either a submission <tf the people to his majesty's just 
demands^ or a just occasion of breach^ and either would content the king. 
The first was undeniably and evidently best for them ; but could my master 
in his goodness consider himself apart from his subjects, or these become 
so ingrate, / spake it confidently upon the peril qf my heady a breach should 
be better for him than any supply they could give him in parliament. And 
therefore I did desire that no man should deceive himself: my master was 

X 4 



812 BBIT18H STATESMEN. 

nothing left now bat to write one of his most pfessm^ 
despatches to his royal master^ containing " at onoe a 
clear and full relation of the issue of this second ses- 
sion^ which was^ through the wayward frowardness of 
the popish party^ so troublesome upon the first acoeaa^ 
but is now recovered and determined by the good assist- 
ance of the protestants^ with great advantage to your 
migesty^ by those excellent and beneficial laws which^ 
with much tugging^ are gotten from them ; and aU the 
graces prejudicial to the crown laid also so sound a»ieep 
as lam confident they are never to be awakened mare^T ^ 
In the next despatch he had the satisfaction of assuring 
his majesty, that the privilege of impeachment had 
been wrested both from lords and commons^; in the 
next, that certain troubles of the convocation had been 
most emphatically silenced^; and in the next, that liis 
migesty was now, in the person of his humble deputy^ 
the uncontrolled disposer of the destinies of Ireland ! 
^^ So now I can say," wrote Wentworth at the close of 
a long despatch, which by the same messenger he had 
forwarded to Laud, and which contains a remarkable 
summary of the many important services he had ren- 
dered to the crown, — '' so now I can say the king is as 
absolute here as any prince in the whole world can be, 
and may be still, if it be not spoiled on that side. Far, 

not to seek in his counsels, nor was he a prince that either could or wotilcl 
be denied Just things." For the various incidents of this session, see StraH. 
ford Papers, vol i. pp. SSO, 321. 328. 339. 341. 343, 344, 345. 349. 353L 

> In the same despatch (which see in Strafford Papers, vol. i. p. 341.) 
Wentworth urges upon the king the necessity of his surrendering matters 
of patronage and so forth more immediately into his lord deputy's hands : — . 
" The fewer sharers in the service, the fewer there will be to press for 
rewards, to the lessening of your mi^esty's profit, and the more entire vriJl 
the benefit be preserved for your crown ; vihich musty in all these qjfbirs, 
and shall, be my principal^ nay, indeed, my sole end." 

3 See the case of sir Vincent Gookin, Papers, vol i. pp. 349. and 393. 
Wentworth e»tab1ished by this case, that, under Poyning's law, acts of judi» 
cature no less than of legislation, were prohibited, save by consent of the 
deputy and his council. 

3 See Strafford Papers, vol. i. pp. 342—345. " I am not ignorant," sub. 
joined Wentworth to this despatch, with a sort of involuntary forecast of 
an after reckoning, which he threw off in a self.^eceiving jest,—" I am not 
ignorant tHat my stirring herein will be strangely reported, and censured 
on that side ; and how I shall be able to sustain myself against your Prynnes, 
JPims, and Bens^ with the rest qf that generation qfodd names and natures, 
the Lord hhows,*^ 



EABL OF STRAFFORD. 313 



« 



80 long as his majesty shall have here a deputy of faith 
and understandings and that he he preserved in credit, 
and independent upon any but the king himself, let it 
be laid, as a ground^ it is the deputy's fault if the king 
be denied any reasonable desire." 

This was grateful news to Laud. Of all the sug- 
geeters of the infamous counsels of Charles^ Laud and 
Wentworth were the most sincere : — Laud^ from the 
intense faith with which he looked forward to the pos- 
sible supremacy of the ecclesiastical power^ and to which 
he was bent upon goings " thorough/' through every ob- 
stacle; — Wentworth, from that strong sense, with 
which birth and education had perverted his genius, of 
the superior excellence of despotic rule. Their friend- 
ship, in consequence, notwithstanding Wentworth's 
immense superiority in point of intellect^, continued 
tolerably firm and steady, — most firm, indeed, consider, 
ing the nature of their public connection.*-^ The let- 
ters which passed between them partook of a more 
intimate character, in respect of the avowal of ulterior 
designs, than either of them, probably, chose to avow 
elsewhere ; and though many of their secrets have been 
effectually concealed from us by their frequent use of 
cyphers, sufficient remain to shadow forth the ex- 
tremest purposes of both. 

Laud had to regret his position in England, con- 
trasted with that of the Irish deputy. '' My lord," he 

' It is amusing at times to observe the commissions to which Wentworth 
descended for the gratification of Laud, laughing at them secretly while 
he gravely discharged them. The archbishop himself, however, had an 
occasional suspicion of this ; and is to be seen at times insinuating, IVom 
beneath velvet words, a cat-like claw : — *' I perceive you mean to build," 
be writes to the lord deputy on one occasion, ** but as yet your materials 
are not come in ; but if that work do come to me before Christmas, as you 

{ffomise it shall, I will rifle every comer in it : and you know, my good 
ord, after all your bragging, how I served you at York, and your church 
work there : especially I prap provide a good riding homey if there be ever a 
decayed body of a church to make it in, and then you shall be weU fitted^ for 
you know one is made your stable already, if you have not reformed it, of 
which I did look for an account according to my remembrances before this 
time." Vol. i. p. 156. Wentwofth had forgotten one of his friend's first 
Commissions, which the reader will recollect to have been quoted. 
^ A curious and instructive essay might be gleaned from the Straflfbrd 
Papers, on the subject of the friendships of statesmen, or, rather say, of 
a king's advisers ; fbr the majority of these men did not deserve the name 
of statesmen. 



314 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

writes to Wentworth, speakiiig of the general aAirs of 
church and state^ " to speak fredy, yon may easily pro^ 
miae more in either kind than I can perform : for^ as 
for the church, it is so bound up in the forms of tlie 
common law, that it is not possible for rae, or far soy 
man, to do that good which he would, or is boond to 
do. For your lordship sees, no man clearer, duU they 
which have gotten so much power in and over tl^ 
church will not let go their hold; they ha^e, indeed, 
fangs with a witness, whatsoever I was onoe said in a 
passion to have. Arid for the state, indeed, mf lord, I 
am for Thorou^; hut J see that both tkkk and Men 
stays somebody, where I conceive it should not; and U is 
impossible for me to go thorough alone. Besides, private 
ends are such blocks in the public way, and he so itdtk, 
that you may promise what you will, and I must per- 
form what I can, and no more."^ To this Wentworth 
answers in a letter which is not preserved. Its im- 
port, however, may be gathered from this remarkable 
passage in Laud's rejoinder : — ^^ I am very glad to 
read your lordship so resolute, and more to hear you 
affirm, that the footing of them which go thorough for 
our master's service is not now upon fee, as it hath 
been. But you are withal upon so many ifs, that by 
their help you may preserve any man upon ice, be it 
never so slippery. As, first, if the common lawyers 
may be contained within their ancient and sober bounds ; 
if the word Thorough be not left out (as I am certain it 
is) ;ifwe grow not faint ; if we ourselves be not in 
fault; if it come not to peccatum ex te Israel; t/ others 
will do their parts as thoroughly as you promise for 
yourself, and justly conceive of me. Now, I pray, with 
so many and such ifs as these, what may not be done, 
and in a brave and noble way ? But can you tell when 
these ifs will meet, or be brought together?"- Satis- 
factory is the lord deputy's returning assurance: — 
" For the ifs your lordship is pleased to impute unto 
me, you shall hereafter have more positive doctrine. I 

» Straflford Papers, vol. i. p. 111. 2 ibid. vol. i. p. 155. 



EARL OF STkAFFOBD. 315 

know no reason^ then, but you may as well rule the com. 
mon lawyers in England, as I, poor beagle, do here; and 
yet that I do, and will do, in aU that concerns my mas- 
ters service, upon the peril of my head. I am confi- 
dent that the king^ being pleased to set himself in the 
business^ is able^ by his wisdom and ministers, to carry 
any just and honourable action thorough all imaginary 
opposition^ for real there can be none; that to start 
euide for such panic fears, fantastic apparitions, as a 
I*rynne or an Eliot shall set up, were the meanest foUy in 
the whole world j that the debts of the crown taken off, 
you may govern as you please; and most resolute I am 
that work may be done, without borrowing any help forth 
of the king's lodgings, and that is as downright a pec- 
catum ex te Israel as ever wds, if all this be not effected 
with speed and ease" ^ 

Resolutely did the lord deputy, as I have shown, 
realise these principles, — and every new act of despotism 
which struck terror into Ireland shot comfort to the 
heart of Laud. ^^ As for my marginal note," exclaims 
the archbishop, '^ I see you deciphered it well, and 1 
see you make use of it too, — do so stiU ; thorow and 
thorow. Oh that I were where I might go so too ! 
but I am shackled between delays and uncertainties. 
You have a great deal of honour here for your pro- 
ceedings. Go on a God's name!"^ And on Went- 
worth went, stopping at no gratuitous quarrel that had 
the slightest chance of pleasing the archbishop, even to 
the demolishing the family tomb of the earl of Cork, — 
since his grace, among his select ecclesiastical researclies, 
had discovered that the spot occupied by my lord of 
Cork's family monuments^ was precisely that spot upon 
which the communion-table, to answer the purposes of 
heaven, ought to stand !^ To minister to their mutual pur- 

> Strafford Papers, vol. i. p. 173. Following this passage, in the same 
letter, is language which it would be a gross outrage of decency to quote. 
The archbishop appears to have relished it exceedingly. 

2 Strafford Papers, vol. i. p. 329. 

3 It would be impossible to notice in detail the various personal contests 
in which Wentworth engaged, though none of them passed, not even the 
most trifling, without illustrating, in a remarkable degree, the general 



Sl6 



BRITISH STATESMEN. 



poses^ Wentworth also introduced into Ireland the oonrt 
of high commission, and wrested it to yarious notable 
purposes^ political as well as religious. 

The distinction hetween him and his confederate 
during all these proceedings is^ nevertheless, to be dis- 
cerned as widely as the difference of their respective 
intellects. Wentworth was a despot^ but his despotism 
included many nohle, though misguided, purposes. £vea 
with this high commission court, unjustifiable as were 
the means^ he unquestionahly effected an increase to the 
respectahility and usefulness of the clergy, and reformed 
the ecclesiastical courts, — while, at the same time^ be 
never lost sight of the great present object of bis govern- 
ment, that it should, " in the way to all these, raise, 
perhaps, a good revenue to the crown." ^ So, while 
Laud, in England, was, by a series of horrible perse- 
cutions, torturing and mutilating the puritans*^, the 
deputy of Ireland could boast with perfect truth that, 
^^ since I had the honour to be employed in this place, 
no hair of any man's head hath been touched for* the 
free exercise of his conscience." ^ 

features of hi« character. I may refer the reader respecting this affkir of 
the earl of Cork to the Strafford Papers, vol. i. pp. 156. 200. 21& 222. 2o7. 
S98. 379. 459., and to vol. ii. p. 270. and p. 338. Lord Cork hit upon an 
ingenious plan of thwarting the lord deputy, though it failed in conse> 
quence of the superior influence of the latter. He wrote to the lord 
treasurer Weston, then notoriously jealous of Wentworth, and opposed to 
him and Laud, " entreating his favour, for .that under this monument the 
bones of a Weston was entombed." 

» Strafford Papers, vol. i. p. 187. 

* " Mr. Prynne, prisoner in the Tower, who hath got his ears sewed on 
that thev grew again as before to his head, is relapsed into new errors." — 
Letter of his newsmonger^ Gerrard^ to Wentworth, Strajffbrd Papers^ vol. L 
p. 2«>6. Again Prynne's ears expiated those " new errors." Laud's own 
notice in his diary (Nov. 1630.), of the punishment of Leighton, a Scotch 
divine, the father of bishop Leighton, is more horrible :—" Friday, 
Nov. 16., part of his sentence was executed upon him in this manner, in 
the new palace at Westminster, in term time. 1. He was severely whipped 
before he was put in the pillory. 2. Being set in the pillory, he had one 
of his ears cut off 3. One side of his nose slit 4. Branded on one cheek 
with a red-hot iron, with the letters S S. And, on that day sevennight, his 
sores upon his back, ear, nose, and face being not cured, he was whipped 
again at the pillory in Cheapside, and there had the remainder of his sen- 
tence executed upon him, by cutting off the other ear. slitting the other 
side of the nose, and branding the other cheek." Leighton was released, 
after ten years' captivity, by the Long Parliament, having by that time 
lost hit sight, his hearing, and the use of his limbs. 

3 See his letter to Con, the popish resident, Strafford Papers, vol. ii. p. 112. 
His correspondences with this person are in all respects curious, and, to 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. SIJ 

It is also due to Wentworth to observe that^ while, 
at this time^ with a view to the furtherance of his 
general scheme of government, he conceived the vast 
and unattainable project of reducing all the people of 
Ireland to a conformity in religion, the measures by which 
he sought to accomplish that project were, many of them, 
conceived in the profoundest spirit of a large and wide- 
reaching policy. Theological strife he knew the useless 
horrors of,-«-and he soon discovered, by his " experience 
of both houses," that ^' the root of all disorders in this 
kingdom is the universal dependence of the popish 
faction upon Jesuits and friars." ^ He speedily declared 
his determination to the king himself. " I judge it, 
without all question, far the greatest service that can 
be done unto your crowns, on this side, to draw Ireland 
into a conformity of religion with England ; which, 
indeed, would undoubtedly set your majesty in greater 
strength and safety, within your own dominions, than 
any thing now left by the great and happy wisdom of 
yourself and blessed father unaccomplished, to make us 
an happy and secure people within ourselves. And yet, 
this being a work rather to be effected by judgment and 
degrees than by a giddy zeal and haste, whenever it 
shall seem good in your wisdom to attempt it (for I am 
confident it is left as a means whereby to glorify your 
majesty's piety to posterity), there will, in the way 
towards it, many things fall continually in debate and 
consideration at the board, with which it will be very 
unfit any of the contrary religion be acquainted."^ 

Urged by the English council, he set about the great 
work. Undisguised was the astonishment of the arch- 
bishop, however, at the slow and gradual means pro- 
posedSby the lord deputy. His grace had fancied that 
the trouts who had been so completely tickled out of 
their money ^« might be as easily tickled out of their 

me, significant of a purpose which his death preTented the open di»- 
doaure of. 

1 Straffbrd Papers, vol. i. pp. 481, 432. * Ibid. p. 307. 

' ** Now fie upon it, if the salmon of that river be bad, yet your loss is 



318 BRITISH STATESMBK. 

religion, or any thing else. The lord Wentworth thought 
differently. ''It will he ever far forth of nay heart/' he 
wrote, in answer to urgent pressings of the question, 
accompanied with especial requests for the enforcing 
of fines for nonconformity, *' to conceive that a con- 
formity in religion is not ahoYe all other things prin- 
cipally to be intended. Fpr, undoubtedly, till we be 
brought all under one form of divine service, the crown 
is never safe on this side ; but yet the time and cir- 
cumstances may very well be discoursed, and sure I do 
not hold this a fit season to disquiet or sting them in 
this kind; and my reasons are divers. This course alone 
vnll never bring them to church, being rather an engine 
to drain money out of their pockets, than to raise a right 
belief and faith in their hearts, and so doth not indeed 
tend to that end it sets forth. The subsidies are now 
in paying, which were given with an universal alacrity; 
and very graceful it will be in the king to indulge them 
otherwise as much as may be till they be paid. It were 
too much at once to distemper them, by bringing plant- 
ations upon them, and disturbing them in the exercise 
of their religion, so long as it be without scandal. And 
so, indeed, very inconsiderate, as I conceive, to move in 
this latter, till that former be fully settled, and by that 
means tHe protestant party become by much the stronger, 
which, in truth, as yet I do not conceive' ' it to be. 
Lastly, the great work of reformation ought not, in my 
opinion, to be fallen upon, till all incidents be fully 
provided for, the army rightly furnished, the forts re- 
paired, money in the coffers, and such a preparation in 
view as might deter any malevolent licentious spirit to 
stir up ill humour in opposition to his majesty's pious 
intendments therein; nor ought the execution of this to 
proceed by step or degrees, but [all rightly dispersed, 
to be undertaken and gone through withal at once. 
And certainly in the mean time, the less you call the 

the less, since you have so many trouts that may be tickled into anything, 
or anything out of them.** -~ Land to Wentnoorth^ Strqffbrd Figtert, vol. i. 
p. 339. 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 319 

conceit of it into their memory^ the better it will be for 
ns^ and themselves the quieter; — so^ as if there were no 
wiser than I^ the bishops should be privately required 
to forbear these ecclesiastical censures till they under- 
stood further of his majesty s pleasure therein"^ 

Steadily he proceeded^ as if already in the far, but 
not uncertain, distance, he saw the accomplishment of 
this extraordinary design. He began at what he con. 
ceived to be the root of the evil. The churches had 
fallen to ruin ; the church revenues had been cut to 
pieces by long leases and fraudulent appropriations ; and 
the offices of the church had been given into the hands 
of the ignorant, — since to such only the abject poverty 
of her means offered any of the inducements of service.^ 
*' Now," wrote Wentworth to the still precipitate arch- 
bishop, '^ to attempt the reducing of this kingdom to a 
conformity in religion with the church of England, 
before the decays of the material churches here be re- 
paired, an able clergy be provided, that so there might 
be both wherewith to receive, instruct, and keep the 
people, foere as a man going to warfare without munition 
or arms. It being, therefore, most certain that this to 
be wished reformation must first work from ourselves, I 
am bold to transmit over to your grace these few pro- 
positions, for the better ordering this poor church, which 
hath thus long laid in the silent dark. The best en- 
trance to the cure will be, clearly to discover the state 
of the patient, which I find many ways distempered ; — 
8B unlearned clergy, which have not so much as the 
outward form of churchmen to cover themselves with, 
nor their persons any ways reverenced or protected ; the 
churches unbuilt; the parsonage and vicarage houses 
utterly ruined ; the people untaught thorough the non- 

« 

1 Stralford Papers, toI. ii. p. 491 

* The reader will be startled, probably, to hear the value of some of the 
Irish binhopricks in that day. ** The old bishop of Kilfanora,** writes 
Wentworth to Laud, " is dead, and his bishoprick one of those which, 
when it falls, goes a begging for a new husband, being not worth above 
fourscore pounds to the last man : yet fn the handlmg of an understanding 
prelate it might perchance grow to be worth two hundred pounds, but then 
it wUl coat money in BmtV'^SUrqfflfrd Papers, vol IL p. 17S. 



I 

[ 




820 BRITISH STATEBMEK'. 

Tendency of the clergj^ occasioned by the unfimited 
shameful numbers of spiritual promotions with cure of 
souls, which they hold by commendams ; the rites and 
ceremonies of the church run over without all decency 
of habit, order, or gravity, in the course of their service ; 
the possessions of the church, to a great proportion, in 
lay-hands; the bishops farming out their jurisdictions to 
mean and unworthy persons : — " and so, through all the 
sources of the evil, in a despatch of elaborate learning and 
profound suggestion, the lord deputy proceeds, enforcing 
upon the archbishop, finally, that he must surrender his 
present hopes of any immediate result. " It would be a 
brainsick zeal and a goodly reformation truly," he ex- 
claims, in a supplementary despatch o^ yet greater energy 
and earnestness, *' to force a conformity to a religion, 
whereas yet there is hardly to be found a church to 
receive, or an able minister to teach, the people. No, 
no; let us fit ourselves in these two, and settle bis 
majesty's payments for the army, discharge his debts, 
and then have with them and spare not ! I belieye the 
hottest will not set his foot faster or further on than I 
shall do. In the mean time, I appeal to any equal- 
minded man, whether they or I be more in the right." 

Unparalleled were the confidence and self-possessed 
resource with which Wentworth's great schemes now 
ran side by side. At one and the same moment he 
forced the revenue by which his projected buildings in 
the church were to be raised, and cleared away the 
obstructions which still covered the sites he had selected. 
The decision of ecclesiastical rights was removed by 
him from the courts of common law to the Castle- 
chamber ; the earl of Cork wiis forced to restore an 
annual revenue of 2000/., which had been originally 
wrested from the church ; and, understanding that the 
bishop of Killala had been meddling with underhand 
bargains to defraud his see, he sent for him to the 
presence chamber, and told him, with open and 
bitter severity, that he deserved^ to have his surplice 
pulled over his ears, and to be turned out of the church 



w^fww^r^^^w^^w^ 



EABL OF STRAFFORD. 321 

on a stipend of four nobles a year ! ^ His usual success 
£DlIowed these measures ; lands and tithes came pouring 
ifito his hands ; and he issued a commission for the re- 
pair of churches^ and won for it a ready obedience.^ 

In the midst of his labours, Wentworth turned aside^ 
for a moment, to prefer a/ personal suit to the king. 
Consideration in the eyes of those over whom he held 
so strict and stern a hand, was beyond all things valu. 
able to him. It was, indeed, the very materiel of his 
scheme of government. He appears therefore to have 
felt at this time, that some sudden and great promotion 
from the king to himself would give his government an 
exaltation in the eyes of that '^ wild and rude people," 
of infinite importance to its security. His claims upon 
the king were immeasurable, as his services had been 
admitted to be. He wrote to him, to solicit an earldom. 
'^ The ambition," he said, " which moves me power- 
fully to serve your majesty, as my obligations are above 
those that preceded in tliis imployment, suggests unto 
nie an hope I may be more enabled in these restless 
desires of mine, if I might, before our meeting again in 
parliament, receive so great a mark of you^ favour as to 
have this family honoured with an ei>^ldom. I have 
chosen therefore with all humblene««s to address these 
lines immediately to yourself, *» one utterly purposed 
to acknowledge all to your princely grace, and without 
deriving the least of the privity of thanks elsewhere." 
A characteristic desire cl<»sed the letter, that '^ no other 
person know hereaftei your majesty found it in your 
wisdom not fit to be done."^ And such was Charles's 
short-sighted anJ selfish wisdom I He refused the re- 
quest. It waA sufficient for his purpose that Wentworth 

> See the ^raffbrd Papers, vol. i. pp. 151—156. 171. 380. &c. 

> One or two of the most remarkable of the measures he projected inci. 
dental (o this purpose of conformity, may be mentioned here. The reader 
must examine Wentworth 's various despatches, if he desires to master the 
knowledge of them all. He took resolute steps to prevent the children fd 
catholics from being sent to foreign convents for their education. He pro- 
posed the erection of a vast number of protestant schools throughout Ireland 
with large endowments and able teachers. He enforced the most rigorous 
penalties upon non*re8idence. See Papers, voL i. p. 393. ; vol. ii. p. 7. 

3 Strafford Papers, voL i. pp. SOI, 202. 

VOL. U. Y 



was now indiMolnblj boimd to ium, anee die pcnDml 
hatred bis measures had already excited in die KngHKh 
popular party prechided the poasihility of his letom to 
tkem. Nor had Wentwoith prorcAed the hatred of &e 
popular party alone. Under his superior tyranny^ the 
lords of pet^ despotism had been crushed'^ and in> 
capaUe oppressors had beoome the lord deputy's fiercest 
accusers of oppression. To please the king, more o v e r, 
he had taken upon himself the refusal of various offices 
to bis more importunate oourtieis, careless of die odium 
he provoked and scorned. To heap upon him any 
marks of personal favour, under such drcumstancses, 
was an act of courage and honesty which the weak 
monarch did not dare attempt. Such wretched tools as 
Buckingham were more to his personal fiking, though 
less in the balance of his treasury ! "» I desire you not 
to think," he wrote, after refusing the lord deputy's suit, 
** that I am displeased with the asking, though for the 
present I grant it not. For, I acknowledge that noble 
minds axe always accompanied with lawful ambitions. 
And be ccwifident that your services have moved me 
more than it jg possible for any eloquence or impor- 
tunity to do. Bo that your letter was not the first 
proposer of putting tnarks of favour on you ; and I am 
certain that you will irfllingly stay my time, now ye 

» HUinouiries into queitionablfetitles and church grants bad exploded 
many a little tyrant, though in this wa, much private wrong was done. The 
servant* of the English court, however, %puld never exactly understand his 
policy In re«pect of opposition to the aristtxjracy, and especially his habit of 
sternly refusing any presents or conciliatory favours from them. I quote 
a characteriBtic passage from a despatch of t*^ secretary Windebank. — 
•* Though, while we had the happiness and hono^ to have your assisUnce 
here at the council board, you made irany ill faces xith your pen {.pardon, 
J hetefch your lordship, the over free censure of p^ur Vandyking), and 
worse oftentimes with your speeches, especially in the bsiginess of the lord 
Falconberg, sir Thomas Gore, Vermuyden, and others, y%t I understand 
you make worse there in Ireland, and there never appeared a worse face 
under a cork upon a bottle, than your lordship hath caused some to make 
in disgorging such church livings as their zeal had eaten up. Another 
remarkable error of your lordship, which makes much noise here, is that 
you refuse all presents, for which in one particular you had your revrard. 
For, it is said, that a servant bringing you a present from his master, ami 
your lordship reusing it, the servant likewise would have none qf yout 
reward. By this your lordship may perceive how circumspect you have 
reason to be of your ways, consitiering how many malicious eyes are upon 
you, and what interpretations they make of your actions." — Strtffford Pa- 
pers, vol. i. p. 161. 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 323 

kow my mind so freely; that I may do all things 
a mi modo" ^ 

This refusal was sorely felt by Wentworth. Cover* 
ing their allusion to the king, he threw into his next 
despatch to Cottington some expressions of uneasy 
regret. *' I spend more here than I have of entertain- 
ments from his majesty, I suffer extreamly in my own 
private at home, I spend my body and spirits with 
extream toil, I sometimes undergo the misconstructions 
of those I conceived, should not, would not, have used 
me so. . . . But I am resolved to complain of nothing. 
I have been something unprosperous, slowly heard, and 
as coldly answered that way. I will either subsist by 
tibe integrity of my own actions, or I will perish." 2 

The lord deputy's relief was in the measures with 
which his enterprising genius had surrounded him. 
I have alluded to his repression of certain turbulences 
that had arisen in the convocation : — he now, by his per- 
sonal influence, prevailed with the learned Usher to 
surrender the ecclesiastical articles he had forwarded to 
Ireland, and which were any thing but acceptable to 
Laud ; he forced upon the clergy a series of hateful 
metropolitan canons ; and, by a series of measures 
similar in spirit to those which had subdued the par- 
liament, he confounded and subdued the restless parsons."^ 
In an early despatch, he had to boast of only one dis- 
sentient voice from a new and most astounding ^^ pro- 
testant uniformity " I 

The Irish common lawyers now received some further 
proofs of his care, with intelligible hints of his pro. 
spective schemes. He presented them with the majority 
of the English statutes that had been passed since the time 
of Poynings, but exacted from them certain conditions, 
at the same time, which soon enabled him to describe 
to the king in the following terms his Irish ministers 
of justice: — '^Not declined to serve other men's un- 
warrantable purposes by any importunity or application ; 

1 Strafford Papers, vol L p. 332. > Ibid. p. 351 

' See Straffbrd Papers, vol. I pp. 3^—3M. 

Y 2 




324 BBITI8H STATESMEN. 

never in so much power and estimation in the stale and 
with the subject^ as now^ and yet contained in that due 
subordination to the crown as is fit ; mimstring wholly 
to uphold the sovereignty ; carrying a direct aspect upon 
the prerogatives of his majesty, without squinting aiside 
upon the vulgar and vain opinions of the populace." ' 

The army next engaged his attention. He supplied 
them with clothes^ with arms, with ammunition ; he 
redeemed them from licentiousness^, and strengthened 
them in numbers and in discipline. He completed 
several regiments of foot, collected together some most 
efficient cavalry, and, in a very short time, astonisshed 
the court in England by returns of a richly appointed 
and well marshalled force. They heard with still-greater 
astonishment that the lord deputy himself could find 
time to visit the whole army, and to inspect every 
individual in it ! And he further declared to them, that 
he held himself ever ready to mount horse at a moment's 
warning, and lead a troop of his own, raised and ac- 
coutred at his own charge, to repress, by a sudden 
movement, any popular commotion.^ Vainly, however, 
he strove to communicate energy enough to Charles to 
procure his seconding some wider schemes projected by 
him in reference to the army. The army was the key- 
stone of that vast building which the imagination of 
Wentworth had already raised in the distance. The 
army was to hang in potent control over every thing, to 
be ^' the great peacemaker betwixt the British and the 
natives, betwixt the protestant and the papist, and the 

^ StrafTord Papers, vol. ii. p. 18. 

3 " Whence it is that the soldier is now welcome in every place, where 
before they were an abomin^ation to the inhabitants ; that by this means 
the army in true account may be said to be of double the strength it had 
been apprehended." — Strt^ffbrd Pemert, vol. ii. p. 17. 

3 ** For myself, I had a dead stock in horses, furniture, and arms for my 
troop, that stood me in 6000/., and all in readiness upon an hour's warning 
to march. Nor did I this out of vanity, but really in regard I did conceive 
it berime me not to represent so great a majesty meanly in the sight of the 
people ; that it was of mighty reputation to the service of the crown, when 
they saw me in such a posture, as that I was upon an hour's warning able 
to put myself on horseback, and to deliver, in spight of all opposition, a 
etter in any part of the kingdom ; and lastly y in regard men should see I 
would not exact so much duty from any private captain as I did mys^ 
upon myself, being their generaL**'-~Sirefjg^d Papers, vol iL p. 18. 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. S25 

chief securer, under God and his majesty^ of the future 
and past plantations." But Wentworth was foiled^ 
by the indolent envy of his English coadjutors, from 
realising the great desire he held, i' that his majesty 
breed up and have a seminary of soldiers in some part 
or other of his dominions/' ^ 

Indolent envy and active opposition notwithstanding, 
— the general reputation of die lord deputy of Ireland 
increased daily. ' " Mr. secretary Cooke," wrote lord 
Cottington to him, '* is so diligent and careful to give 
your lordship an account of all your dispatches and 
answers to them, as there is nothing for me to say, but 
that for ought I can discern every body else is so too. 
My lord marshal is your own, my lord of Canterbury 
your chaplain, secretary Windebank your man, the king 
your favourite, and I your good lord. In earnest you 
. have a mighty stock of opinion amongst us, which must 
of necessity m^ke you damnable proud, if you take not 
heed." 2 The lord treasurer Weston alone, the old pro- 
pitiator of the king s regards to the quondam supporter 
of the petition of rights, but now bitterly jealous of 
Wentworth*s friendship with Laud, scarcely cared to 
conceal his animosity.^ A fatal attack of illness, how- 
ever, at this time removed Weston ; and the only alloy 
which served to dash the secret satisfaction with which 
the news of this event was received by Wentworth, was 
the existence of very decided rumours that the vacant 
staff would be offered to himself.*^ 

1 Straffbrd Papers, vol. iL p. 198. > Ibid, vol i. p. 490. 

3 *' The truth is, I conceive my lord treasurer sometime before his death 
wished me no good, toeing grown extreme jealous of my often writing to 
my lord of Canterbury ; and myself out of a sturdiness of nature not so 
gently passing by his unkind usage, as a man of a softer and wiser temper 
might nave done ; — for, 1 confess, I did stomach it very much to be so 
meanly su8i>ected (being as innocent and clear of crime towards him as the 
day), considering that I had upon my coming from court given him as 
strong a testimony of my faith and boldness in his affkirs, nay, indeed, a 
stronger, than any other friend he had, durst, or at least would, do for him. 
So as finding myself thus disappointed of the confidence I had in his pro. 
fessions at our parting, I grew so impatient, as to profess even to himself, I 
would borrow a being from no man living -but my ma«ter, and there I 
would fasten myself as surely as I could. So as by his death it is not alto- 
gether improbable, that I am delivered of the heaviest adversary I ever 
had." — Wentworth to the Earl of NewcasUe, Sircfffitrd Papers^ vol I p. 411. 
See also a letter of Laud's, vol. i. p. 329. 
* See Garrard's letter, in Strafford Papers, vol. I pp. 388, 389. 

y 3 



326 BRITISH STATESMEK. 

I have already touched on the many objections which 
Wentworth entertained to an office of this sort; and he 
now sought by every means^ and with characteristic 
energy, to prevent 4ts being offered to him at alL To 
his friends who wrote to him urging its acceptance^ he 
peremptorily answered ; and, at the same time, hy the 
same messenger, forwarded various requests to several 
of them, that they would take on themselves to intimate 
iif every quarter^ as plainly as possible, their knowledge 
of his objection to it. In ftirther promotion of this 
object, he practised a very singular piece of deception. 
His retained gossip, Mr. Garrard — who continued faith, 
fully and regularly, in the absence of a newspaper, to 
fulfil all the duties of one, and to retail to the deputy aU 
the occurrences and scandal of the court and the city — 
had given him from time to time most minute accounts of 
the illness of Weston through its progressive stages, and 
finally had reported his death. ^ It was Wentworth s 
policy, however, to convey to the court, that, so indif- 
ferent was he in respect of Weston's office, he had 
never troubled himself to inquire the probable issue of 
his illness, and, indeed, had never heard of it. As 
soon, therefore, as an official intimation of the occur- 
rence was sent to him from Cottington, we find him 
answering thus ! — " My very good lord, I was never 
more surprised in my life than upon the reading of your 
last letter ; not having had any notice of my lord trea- 
surer's least indisposition before. And how it happens 
I know not, but I am sure, I was never well since 
almost, and that Monday night last I swooned twice 
before they could get off my cloathes."^ — And again, 
assuring lord Newcastle : — '^ Yet I protest, I ever 
wished well to his person, and am heartily sorry for 
his death, which was signified unto me by my lord 
Cottington, before I heard any thing of his sickness, and 
took me in a manner by surprise.'* ** 

» See Strafford Papers, vol. L pp. 243. 374. 387. &c. 
* Straffbrd Papers, vol. i. p. 393. 

3 Ibid. p. 411. Cottington himself was a candidate for the office 
and never forgave Laud his disappointment, which the profits of the 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 327 

These precautions were successful. Left settled in his 
government of Ireland^ he next sought^ hy every pos- 
sible resource^ to establish a permanent revenue. In 
this pursuit he exhausted his industry^ his energy^ his 
genius. Under his superintendence^ the produce of the 
customs rose^ within four years^ from 12^000/. a year 
to 40,0001., and continued to advance rapidly. Nor 
were the means by which it was accomplished other 
than just and honourable. He improved the method 
of collection^ protected the coasts^ swept the channel 
and the harbours of pirates, and^ in fine^ — lifted the 
commerce and the shipping of Ireland into a rich 
prosperity, by freeing it from danger. '' My humble 
advice," observes Wentworth, ^^ for the increase of 
trade was, that his majesty should not suffer any act 
of hostility to be offered to any merchants or their 
goods within the channel, which was to be preserved 
and privileged, as the greatest of his majesty's ports, 
in the same nature and property as the Venetian state 
do their Gulf, and the king of Denmark his Sound : — 
and therefore I humbly besought his majesty and their 
lordships, that it might accordingly be remembred and 
provided for, in all future treaties with foreign princes.'* 
In completion of this scheme, th^ lord deputy struggled 
hard to rescue the trade of Ireland from several absurd 
restrictions and monopolies ; and in this, having par- 
tially succeeded, his government left a claim for 
gratitude which is remaining still. ^ 

In resorting to just measures occasionally, however, 
when they were not found to interfere with his ulterior 
schemes, Wentworth had taught himself no lesson of 

mastership of the records were by no means sufficient to heal over. 
The treatury was administered by commission for twelve months, when it 
was placed hy Laud, to the astonishment of all who were still unacquainted 
with the archbidhop's designs for the state advancement of the church, in 
the hantls of Juxon, bishop of London. Laud, recording the appointment 
in his Diary (March, 1636), observes, that "No churchman had it smce 
Henry Vll/s time ; " and adds, " Now if the church will not hold them, 
■elves up under God, I can do no more." 

1 For the various measures, and the elaborate reasoning with which the 
lord deputv supported them, see Strafford Papers, voL i. pp. 67. 90. lOfi. 
$02 308. 393. 307. 400. 521. 192. 351. 36« 386. 40.5. 174. 340. 5«!99. &C. &C ; 
and voL ii. pp. 18. 198. 137. 20. 89. 135. 42. 151. &c &c. 

Y 4 



528 BRITISH STATESVEir, 

refraining from what was unjust. Money was to be 
had somehow — if justly^ weU — if not, it was to be had 
no less. He now, for instance, imposed a licence upon 
the retail of tobacco, and himself farmed the priTilege 
for an annual rent of 7000A, and, finally, of 1^,000/. 
A tax was laid also on brewing, by way of feeler for the 
introduction of the excise, — an object of mortal hatred 
with the Irish. 

The statutes of wills and uses were introduced^ no 
less beneficial to the crown, and happily more just to 
the subject. They strengthened the tenure of property, 
fixed a remedy against fraudulent conveyances, restored 
widows to their jointures, and heirs to their inherit- 
ances. What was vastly more important to Wentwortb, 
they increased the king's fines in the court of wards, by 
10,000/. a year ! A mint, also, was erected in Ire- 
land, in spite of desperate opposition from the officers 
of the English mint, with the view of remedying 
the excessive scarcity of coin; workmen were intro- 
duced from England, to sink in various parts of the 
island for saltpetre, which Wentwortb fancied might be 
obtained to commercial purposes ; and he made several 
successful efforts to work the silver mines and marble 
quarries.^ 

Greater projects, too, than these^ occupied the mind 
of the lord deputy. Before he set foot in Ireland 2, he 
had conceived the noble scheme of opening a victualling 
trade between Ireland and Spain. The distrust with 

1 I have already supplied various authorities for these measures, to which 
I must refer the reader. With one of his packets to the king, Wentworth 
forwarded '* an ingot of silver, of SOO ounces, being the first that ever was 
got in Ireland ;*' accompanying it with a proud expression of his hope, that 
*' this kingdom now at length, in these latter ages, may not only fill up the 
greatness and dominion, but even the coffers and exchequer, of the crown 
of England Sure I am, it becomes not this little one that her breasts 
should ever be dry, nor ought she with a sparing hand to communicate of 
her strength and wealth there, considering with what mass of treasure and 
streams of blood she hath been redeemed and preserved by that her elder 
and more excellent sister. May your majesty's days be as lasting and 
gloriouK as the best and purest of metals, and God A Imighty prosper and 
accomplish all your* princely thoughts and counsels, be they old or new." 
— Strnffhrd Papers, vol. i. p. 174. 

3 See StrafTord Papers, vol. i ppL 9'^ 94. That remarkable despatch was 
written while waiting at Wtscminster for the ship that was to convoy him 
to Dublin. 






EARL OF STRAFFORD. 329 

which the patriotic party regarded Spain may have in- 
fluenced him firsts as if in defiance^ to rise superior to 
such ^^ vain apprehensions ;" — hut he that as it mighty 
his despatches vindicate his plan. They show how 
admirahly the commodities and the wants of the respec- 
tive kingdoms correspond^ and how closely reciprocal 
are their interests. They even supply a statement^ 
drawn up with enormous pains from the information of 
various commercial agents^ of the commodities which 
each port in Spain could either receive from Ireland, or 
give back in return. In one matter especially Wentworth 
saw the source of enormous advantage^ — since the great 
annual fleets to the colonies^ which were so often detained 
in the Spanish harhours for want of provisions^ could 
clearly be supplied far more conveniently and cheaply 
from Ireland than from any other country in Europe. 
Contemporaneously with this measure^ the lord deputy 
had resolved to attempt two other projects. '^ And 
sorely^ sir,'* he wrote to the king^ " if we be able to fur- 
nish^ and go through with this undertakings — increase 
the growth and set up the manufactory of hemp and 
flax in that your kingdom^ — I will hope to leave your 
subjects there in much happier condition than I found 
them^ without the least prejudice to your subjects here. 
For this is a groimd I take with me, that to serve your 
majesty compleatly well in Ireland, we must not only 
endeavour to enrich them, but make sure still to hold 
them dependant upon the crown, and not able to subsist 
without us. Which will be effected, by wholly laying 
aside the manufacture of wools into cloth or stuff there, 
and by furnishing them from this kingdom ; and then 
making your majesty sole merchant of all salts on that 
side: — for thus shall they not only have their cloathing, 
the improvement of all their native commodities, (which 
are principally preserved by salt), and their victual it- 
self from hence (strong ties and enforcements upon 
their allegiance and obedience to your majesty), — but a 
means found, I trusts much to advance your majesty's 
revenue upon salt, and to improve your customs. The 



830 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

wools there grown^ and the cloths there wom^ thus pay. 
ing douhle duties to your crown in hoth kingdoms ; and 
the salt outward here^ both inward and outward there." ^ 
In such principles as these, as through the majority 
of Wentworth's despotic schemes^ some good wrestled 
with the evil. The linen manufacture, for instancej 
springing out of this monstrous intention, tiimed out 
to be a blessing to the island. Having learnt, on his 
arrival in the country, that no article for export was 
manufactured there, except a small quantity of coarse 
woollen yarn, and unwilling, by encouraging this 
branch, to interfere with the staple of England, he in* 
stantly resolved, by introducing the general cultivation 
of flax, to induce the manufacture of linen. At his 
own charge and adventure he imported and sowed a 
quantity of superior flax seed: — the next year, his 
first crop having outgone his expectation, he expended 
1000/. on the same venture, erected a vast number of 
looms, procured workmen from France and Flanders, 
and at last sent forth a ship to Spain, at his own risk^, 
with the first investment of linen that had ever been 
exported from Ireland. Sanguine of hopes so well laid, 
Wentworth then hazarded a prediction which has since 
been amply realised ! " Very ambitious am I," writes 
he to sir William Boswell, '* to set up a trade of linen- 
clothing in these parts, which, if God bless, so as it be 
efiected, will, I dare* say, be the greatest enriching to 
this kingdom that ever befel it."** The other project 
he had set up along with this, happily fell to the ground 
for want of encouragement. In proposing to monopo- 
lise the sale of salt, without which the Irish could 
neither carry on their victualling trade, nor cure their 
ordinary provisions, and which was at that time either 
manufactured by patentees or imported from abroad, 
lord Wentworth reckoned on a considerable increase of 



» Straflfbrd Papers, vol. i. pp. 93, 94. 

3 See his characteristic letter to the duke of Medina, Strafibrd Papers, 
voLii. pp.109, 110. 
» Strafibrd Papers, voL i. p. 473. 



BABL OF STRAFFORD. SSI 

rerenue^ and the redaction of the Irish to a state of 
complete dependence. The internal manufacture abo- 
lished^ — it would be next to impossible to smuggle a 
commodity so bulky and so perishable by sea, and yet^ 
he urged, '' again of so absolute necessity, as it cannot 
possibly stay upon his majesty's hand, but must be h^d 
whether they will or no, and may at all times be raised 
in price so far forth as his majesty shall judge to stand 
with reason and honour. Witness the Gabelles of 
salt in France." 1 This once accomplished, Went- 
worth felt he would have in his own hands the 
disposal of the food and the clothing of the Irish^ 
and he pressed it with all his vehemence. ^' Hold- 
ing them," exclaimed he, *' from the manufacture 
of wool (which, unless otherwise directed, I shall by 
all means discourage), and then inforcing them to 
fetch their cloathing from thence, and to take their salt 
from the king (being that which preserves and gives 
Talue to all their native staple commodities), how can 
they depart from us, without nakedness and beggary ? 
Which in itself is so weighty a consideration as a small 
profit should not bear it down ! " The small profit, how- 
ever, in consequence of the jealousies of Weston, did 
hear it down, and the lord deputy was obliged at last to 
surrender it. 

The embarrassments of the Irish treasury had now 
vanished, no anticipations any longer weakened it, every 
charge of government was paid to a day, — and, in the 
fifth year of his power, lord Wentworth announced to 
the king that the annual revenue would exceed the ex- 
penditure by 60,000/. 

This, then, was being " crowned with the com- 
pletest success ! " For, according to such political 
reasoners as M. de Lally Tolendal, the prosperity of the 
exchequer is the true test of the well-being of the state, 
and as long as a wretched people can be flattered or 
terrified into '' coining their hearts" in sums, the king 
is ably served, and the minister is borne out in his ex- 

1 Straffbrd Papers, voL i. pp. 192, 193. ; and see pp. 182. 333. 346. 



352 BRITISH 8TATE6XEN. 

actions. Yet Wentworth deserves better adrocates I 
and it is perhaps dae to his fame as a statesman^ to keep 
in mind that we do not view his system in a perfect 
state^ since the ground^ as it were^ had only been cleared 
for the building, when death struck down the builder, 

Yorkshire, meanwhile, and Wentworth Wood- 
house, had not been forgotten by the lord deputy J If 
he had been liying simply as a private gentleman in 
Ireland, instead of being the immediate manager and 
director of schemes which would have overwhelmed the 
strength of a dozen ordinary men, — he could not have 
attended with greater minuteness and apparent ease to 
his private affairs in England. I cannot resist extract- 
ing here some passages from an extraordinary letter to his 
early tutor, Mr. Greenwood, which occasion has already 
been taken to refer to. It is one of the most singular 
proofs that could be found any where, of the compatibi- 
lity of a comprehensive genius with a vigilant attention 
to the most minute details. From his viceroyalty the 
lord Wentworth can signify his desire '^ that my tenants 
use their grounds and houses, as honest men and good 
husbands ought to do, according to their several leases ; 
that my woods be preserved, and at due seasons felled and 
sold to the best profit, spring- woods I mean ; that the 
hedges and fences be preiserved ; that the ponds, phea- 
sants, partridges, and parks be preserved, and as much 
profit made of the herbage of Tankersly park as may be 
without hurt to the deer ; that fires be kept in the houses 
at Woodhouse and Tankersly, and that the housekeepers 
preserve the rooms sweet, and the stuff without spoil, 
and principally that the houses be kept dry from taking 
of rain ;" — that *' the keeper of Tankersly must have 
the more immediate care of the woods belonging to 
Tankersly, especially those within the park, and to see 
that the pond-heads there be kept up, and the water 
to have a large and open passage to run away in the 
time of flood, and the grates so cleansed and firm as 
they break not, nor yet choak up, in which cases all 
the fish will be sure to go away with the flood." — And 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. S3S 

again^ that ^^ none of my demains be plowed in any 
case. I understand in this Richard Marris hath not 
followed my direction^ which indeed^ now and then^ 
if a man would never so fain^ he would have done. 
But if upon advice taken with you and Robin Rockley^ 
you find at any time good for the grounds they were 
broken up^ . then would I have them plowed for my 
own use {for I know right well the profit of those new 
rift grounds), taking still care that they be well limed 
and manured^ and so left as fat and full in heart as 
might be^ to which purpose I would have no cost 
spared^ for I would have the grounds about my houses 
kept aioft, so as there may be beauty and pleasure com- 
municated even from them to the houses themselves** 
With these desires are conveyed a vast host of minor 
directions respecting the servants he would have Green- 
wood reward^ promote^ confide in^ or distrust. Nor does 
he forget to — ^^ beseech you to cause my new study 
there which looks into the hall^ to be glazed, strong 
doors and locks to be set upon it ; and such boxes being 
made as are at Woodhouse, which Richard Forster 
will, upon your direction, give notice for, the evidence 
may be put into those boxes, and set in that study^ 
where they will be more safe and handsomely kept than 
where they are now. If you could cause like locks to 
be made for that study, as are at Woodhouse, so that 
one key might open the locks in both places, it were 
much the better, and advising a little with Richard 
Forster, he might so order the matter as to have them 
so ;" — and to beg that ^' the red damask bed with stools^ 
canopies, chairs, &c. belonging thereunto, be carefully 
looked unto." We learn also, from this omniscient 
despatch, that the death of his steward, Richard Marris^ 
— ^' troubles me not so much, albeit in truth I loved him 
very well, as the sadness and indeed fearfulness of the 
misfortune, thorough which he was lost, most grievous, 
God knows, for him, and scandalous to all that have 
relation to him, amongst the rest, I am sure to have 
my share. Nor do I think that he was drawned as you 



^ 



S54 

wrUe, for H^ how skauid ome podeei be dry? Hal 

rather thai^ heavy with drink, he dropped from ku hone 

near the place where hie doak kip, and, oo U mop he, 

amazed with the fail, was dragged bp the horee, and the 

girths loosing, left in that wet piaee, whtere he was found 

dead, and where^ doubtlesB for want of company^ and 

in a cold night and lodging, stormed to dttth. Bat 

enough of bo woful a sulject, which I wish mig^t never 

he mentioned or remembred again, fiuther than to 

consider in it the just judgments of God, and to deter 

us from this swinish vice, and all other which maj 

draw down upon ourselves like punishments." Sub. 

joining this, the course to be pursued with respect to 

the brother and heir of the deceased is laid down at 

great length, and in sll its possible bearings, coupled 

with the foUowing characteristic notice : — '^ I praj 

you in any case, if it may be, let him be drawn to this 

by fair and still means ; but if that work not with him, 

then would I have you let him know, that, until the 

account be declared betwixt me and his brother, which 

I am most willing and desirous may be before the next 

spring fairly examined by auditors indifierently chosen 

betwixt us, / will hold the possession both of lands and 

goods ; that I will assign my debt to the king, and so 

ewtend and keep in extent the whole estate, till I be 

honestly and truly satisfied ; as also that I will perform 

that last office in accomplishment of that which I 

know was his brother's intention, to see . all his other 

creditors justly paid before he meddle with the estate, — 

but that then at after, I will not be his loss, by the help 

of God, one farthing. And I pray you, if the first 

milder way take not (which if there be either honesty 

or conscience in the man methinks it should), then* to 

proceed roundly the other way, holding all you have, 

putting the bonds of Darcy Wentworth and Pieter 

Man in suit upon the land, and keeping all in the state 

you have already so well settled them, till my coming 

over." The reverend gentleman had previously been 

given to understand that, — ^' as for all my rents, the 



EARL OF STRAFFOltD. SS5 

course I desire to be held, is thus. A month after every 
rent day^ I would have a time appointed ivhen your- 
self and Robert Rockley may meet, and all the bailiffs 
to be appointed to attend you, — there receive their ac- 
counts, giving them strict charge to gather what shall 
be behind, and to bring the remainder and finish their 
account at ThomhiU within a month after. And I be- 
seech you give them no sparing^ for I have suffered 
very much by it ; however, I never could perceive my 
tenants were a groat the better : — besides, when they find 
they shall be distrained upon, they will observe their 
day carefully, so as within a rent day or two, this 
course strictly observed, the rents will come in without 
any stop." The whole production is, indeed, impressed 
with the peculiarities of Wentworth's subtle and ener. 
getic genius ; nor was their reason for Mr. Greenwood 
to doubt, as he is at the close assured, that the writer 
" upon a good occasion would not deny his life to 
him." 

So also, burthened with his mighty schemes, the lord 
deputy found time for every office of private service, of 
friendship, and of scholarlike amusement. He made 
bis newsman, Mr. Garrard, forward him copies of Dr. 
Donne's poetry^, which he was amazingly fond of; 
gathered antiquities for the king^ ; vanquished Iijigo 
Jones in a discussion on architecture^ ; reared a young 
greyhound among his own children for the little prince 
of York 4 ; corresponded with old friends in York- 
shire ^ ; discussed with Vandyke on various marbles ; 

I Strafford Papers, vol L p. 338. &c. * Ibid, vol ii. u. 82. 

a Ibid. p. 83. 

4 The countess of Dorset had preferred the request, to which Wentworth 
instantly answered — ** I did, with all gladness, i^eceive from your lady- 
ship, by this bearer, the first commands it ever pleased our young master to 
honour me withal; and before Christmas I will not fail to furnish his high- 
ness with the finest greyhound this- kingdom aflPbrds ; till then I shall 
humbly crave his highness's pardon ; fory to tend any btfore I may have 
convenient timet under my own eve^ to be sure he is qf a safe and gentle 
disposition^ and that T may try him here first, how he shali behave himself 
amongst my own children^ were the greatest indiscretion and boldness in 
me possibla And albeit, I assure myself your ladyship's care, and other 
his highness's attendants, would be such, as the dog should do no harm, 
yet that wore no thanks to me." — Strqjford Papers, vol. L p. 303. 

* Strafford Papers, vol L p. 11& 



336 BB1TI8H STATBSMEIf. 

huDted, hawked 1, asd played at the games of primeio 
and mayo. '' He played exoeUently wtH" says Rad- 
cliffe ; " and for company sake, in Christmas, and 
after supper, he would play sometimes ; yet he nerer 
was much taken with it, nor used it exoessiTdy, hat aa 
a recreation should be used. His diief recreation was 
after supper, when, if he had company, which were 
suitable unto him, that is, honest chearful men, he 
would retire into an inner room, and set two or three 
hours, taking tobacco and telling Horie^ with great 
pleasantness and freedom : and this he used constantly, 
with all familiarity in private, laying then aside aU 
state and that due respect which in puUick he would 
expect." 

Never for a single instant, however, were the public 
affairs suffered to wait his leisure. They threatened 
now to demand more than ordinary care, for the king 
had resolutely thwarted the deputy in his desire to con- 
tinue the parliament. " My reasons,'* he wrote, '' are 
grounded upon my experience of them here. They are of 
the nature of cats, they ever grow curst with age, so 
that if ye will have good of them, put them off* hand- 
somely when they come to any age, for young ones 
are ever most tractable. . . . Now that we are weU, let 
us content ourselves therewith."^ Charles, at the same 
time, had urged upon his minister jthe preferable course 
of following out their plans (which were far more fa- 
voured with himself than even a submissive Irish par- 
liament), of increasing the estates of the crown by a 
search after defective titles. Wentworth, upon this, set 
resolutely to work. He examined various old records, 
and discovered that the whole province of Connaught, 
on the forfeiture of its Irish chieftain, had lapsed, many 
years ago, to the crown. It had, indeed, even since 
that time, again been granted away, but the court 
lawyers now either found flaws in the conveyances or 

' *' In his later dayc," Radclifffe observes, " he got litUe time to see iiis 
hawks fly, though he always kept good ones." 

* Straflbrd Papers, vol 1. p. 9fi5. Wentworth's previous entreatiet for a 
prorogation will be found at p. 353. 



f 



EABL OF flTRAF^ORB. 337 

made them, it will be recollected that a recognition of 
the validity of such titles formed one of the obnoxious 
'* graces " which Wentworth had laid to sleep so soundly. 

Pledging himself at once to the king^ therefore^ that 
he would reduce Connaught to the absolute possession of 
the crown^ — the lord deputy proceeded into the county 
of Roscommon^ summoned a jury composed of <^ per-* 
sons of such means as might answer the king a round 
fine in the Castle, chamber^ in ease they should prevari^ 
cate^ and who^ in all seeming^ even out of that reason 
would be more fearful to tread shamefully and impu- 
dently aside from the truths than such as had less, oi 
nothings to lose/' ^ — told them that, his present apped to 
them was a mere act of courtesy, and, in return for a 
aeries of deep and significant threats, received a ready 
ohedience. The same scenes, with the same results 
were acted in Mayo and Sligo, and lord Wentworth 
went on to Galway. 

Here he was prepared for opposition. The people, 
chiefly Roman catholics, were supported by a formidable 
body of priests, and had the strenuous countenance and 
assistance of their hereditary lord, the earl of St. Albans 
and Clanricarde, a nobleman of esteem at the English 
court. The spirit of Wentworth rose at the prospect,^ 
and he prepared the court, in a memorable despatch, for 
the measures they were to. expect from him : — ^<; If it 
be followed with just severity," he wrote, '^ this oppos- 
itioB will prove of great use to the crown, as any one 
thing that hath happened, since this plantation fell in 
proposition. It shall not only, with a considerable ad. 
dition of revenue, bring security to this county, which 
of the whole kingdom most requires it, but make all the 
succeeding plantations pass with the greatest quietnesa 
that can be desired. Whereas if this froward humour 
be negligently or loosely handled, it will not only blemish 
the honour and comeliness of that which is effected 
already, but cut off all hope for the future." He sura- 

1 Strafibrd Papen , voL I p. 44S. ; a despatch in which the entire pro> 
oeeding* are characteristically giveo. 

VOL. II. a 



338 

moned a jury en the iame principle as in the preoedtng 
eonnties. They were obstinate in their lefosal to obey 
him. The sheriff who had sdected the'm was instantly^ 
fined lOOCM. ; the jurors themselves were dted inlo the 
Csstle-chamber, and fined 4000/. each; and the eari of 
Clanricarde^ leoeiTed a heayy reprimand &om tbe eonrt^ 
and was made to snfier severely. Bitter murmurs were 
heard in Ireland, and men spoke out more stroi^y 
in England. But the deputy knew no fear. '^ This 
comfort I have to support me against the malice of this 
race of sturdy beggars^ that howbeit they threaten me 
with a Felton or a Ravillae, yet my master is pleased 
gradously to accept of my endeavours^ and to say pub- 
lickly at council-board^ the crown of England was never 
so well serred on this side^ as since my coming to the 
government" ^ 

Exasperated^ nevertheless, with these signs of oppos. 
ition, he now thought to silence them efiectually by one 
terrible warning. His knowledge of die character of the 
vice- treasurer, the lord Mountnorris, has been already 
shown, and I have quoted the deeply significant ii^ 
timation which opened their official connection. Mount- 
norris had long di8r^;arded this, and had, indeed, 
omitted no opportunity which his place afforded hira, of 
thwarting in every possibk way the schemes of Went- 
worth. A trifling circumstance now gave the latter 
an occasion of punishment. Severely afflicted with the 
gout, — for so frightful were his bodily infirmities^ 
diat freedom from one complaint seldom failed to be 
followed by thraldom to another, — the lord deputy sat 
one day in the presence-chamber, when one of his au 
tendants — a Mr. Annesley, a distant relation of the lord 
Mountnorris — accidentally dropped a stool upon his foot 
*' £nn^;ed with the pain whereof/* says Clarendon, '' his 
lordship with a small cane struck Annesley. This 
being merrily spoken of at dinner at the lord chancel* 

^ For the representations nude by Wentworth against this nobleman, 
see Straffbrd Papers, vol t pp. i51. 479. 492. ; and voL iL pp. 31. U. 
SBB 381. 
* Straflbrd Papers, vol. i. p. 412. j and see p. 571. 



mAtOi OP STRAFFOBD. 3BQ 

]c^*s table^ where the lord Mornitnorris was^ he said^ 
* the gentleman had a brother that would not have taken 
gach a blow.' *' ^ These words were spoken in the month 
of April, fiares-droppers reported them to Wentworth^ 
who instantly forwarded a messenger to London to bring 
bade a king's commission for the trial of Monntnorris. 
It was sent at his request. Not till Decemher^ how- 
ever^ was any further step taken, though the interim 
had been employed in giving security to the lord deputy's 
purpose. 

In December, Mountnorris received a summons to 
attend a council of war the next morning. Ignorant of 
the cause of so sudden a movement, he was vainly ask- 
ing his brother councillors to explain it, — when Went- 
worth entered, produced the king's commission, charged 
lord Mountnorris with an attempt to stir up mutiny 
against himself as general of the army, and ordered the 
charge to be read. It ran to this effect : — That it 
having been mentioned at the lord chancellor's table, 
that Annesley had let a stool fall on the lord deputy's 
foot, Mountnorris had scornfully and contemptuously 
said, ^^ Perhaps it ^as done in revenge of that puUic 
affinont that my lord deputy did me formerly ; but I 
have a brother who would not have taken such a revenge." 
In vain the accused fell on his knees, and, requested 
time for consultation ; in vain he demanded even a copy 
of the charge, or permission to retain counsel : — every 
thing was denied to him ; the lord deputy cited two 
articles of war which rendered him amenable to im- 
prisonment and to death ; demanded from the council, 
lors ^be immediate and summary judgment of a court 
martial on both the articles ; and sternly silenced a pro- 
posal which they ventured to submit, of separating the 
diarges. Guilty the accused was to be voted, '' of both 
or of none! " Even lord Moore, one of the councillors — 
who, with sir R. Loftus, the brother of another coun- 

1 Clarendon, voL L p. 174. This statement is borne out by Baillie'i 
letters. Rushworth, on the other hand, gives it as Wentworth's witnessea 
afterwards swore to it Collections, vol iii. p. 1B7. j and see Nalson's CoL 
lections, vol. i. p. S9. 

z 2 



340 BRITISH STATEgMEN. 

cillor^ had proved Wentworth's case — was ordered to 
lesuine his seat, and judge the man whom he had ac- 
cused ! Under the eye of the lord deputy the oooncil 
then deliberated and voted ; and their sentence con- 
demned Mountnorris to imprisonment, deprived him of 
all his offices, ignominiously dismissed him from the 
army, incapacitated him from ever serving again, and, 
finally, left him to be shot, or beheaded, at the pleasure 
of the general. Before the whole court lord Wentworth 
then expressed exultation, — " the sentence was just and 
noble, and for his part he would not lose his share of 
the honour of it !" He turned afterwards to the unfor- 
tunate Mountnorris ; told him that now, if he chose, 
he had only to order execution ; but that he would peti- 
tion for his life, and '* would sooner lose his hand than 
Mountnorris should lose his head." 

His purpose was to be more effectually answered, in 
truth, by a contemptuous pardon, and this, from the 
first, he appears to have designed, trusting to the general 
ignominy Uiat would be thrown over Mountnorris, to 
crush any after-attempt he might make against his own 
power. The remarks which have been already made 
on other personal oppressions, apply here with still 
greater force, and to the system which Wentworth had 
to uphold should the horror and reproach be carried. 
It is certain that, at the period of this proceeding, lord 
Clarendon has justly described the issue to which the 
positions of the parties had brought them : — " That 
either the jdeputy of Ireland must destroy my lord 
Mountnorris while he continued in his office, or my lord 
Mountnorris must destroy the deputy as soon as his 
commission was determined." ^ Wentworth was not 
the man to leave this issue in the hands of chance, — nor, 
at the same time, to blind himself to the results of such 

1 The reader may be referred, iii case he desires to pursue this subject 
ft.rther to the most ample materiaU of judgment and discnmination as to 
fhlrhlw^ter and bearing of the parties. Strafford Papers, vol. i. pp. 73. 
76 itg m m m 39l 402. et ,5. 448. 497. 2 *^- 502 ^ SOfiL ^ «J. 
KII i i«ff 514 519 ; and to vol ii. PP 5. 14. et seq. and 145. The un- 
foriunatfl w«rt of aA index to the Stra*S>rd Paper, makes these reference, 
necessary. 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 341 

conduct as the necessity had forced upon him. '^ But 
if, because I am necessitated to preserve myself from 
contempt and scorn^ and to keep and retain with me a 
capacity to serve his majesty with-that honour becoming 
the dignity of that place I here by his majesty's favour 
exercise, therefore I must be taken to be such a rigid 
Cato Censorius, as should render me almost inhospitable 
to humane kind; — yet shall not that persuade me to suffer 
myself to be trodden upon, by men indeed of that savage 
and insolent nature they would have me believed to be, 
or to deny unto myself and my own subsistence so na- 
tural a motion as is the defence of a man's self." 

The wifi^ of Mountnorris was a kinswoman of the 
lady Arabella Hollis, whose memory Wentworth che- 
rished with such enthusiasm, and ^* in the name and by 
the memory of her" hoping that God would so reward 
him for it upon " the sweet children of her kinswoman,'* 
lady Mountnorris, immediately after the sentence, in a 
deeply pathetic letter, besought Wentworth to take ^^his 
heavy hand from off her dear lord."^ Every writer 
concurs in stating that this letter was coldly antl con- 
temptuously disregarded by the lord deputy, but an 
extract from one of his despatches may at least serve to 
throw some doubt over such a statement. ^^ I send 
you," he writes 4o secretary Cooke, " here inclosed the 
sentence of the council of war in the case of the lord 

Mountnorris I foresee full well, how I shall 

be skirmished upon for it on that side : causeless tra. 
ducing and calumniating of me is a spirit that hath 
haunted me through the whole course of ray life, and 
now become so ordinary a food, as the sharpness and 
bitterness of it in good faith distempers not my taste 
one jot. Finally, as I formerly signed the sentence 
-together with them, so do I most heartily now join in 
their letters to you, where we all become humble peti- 
tioners to his majesty for his life, which was, God knows, 
so little looked after by me, that howbeit I hold under 
favour the sentence most just, yet were it left me in 

1 Clarendon's State Papers, vol. L p. 449. 

z 3 



54S 

choice^ whether he most lose his head, or I my \imi, 1Mb 
■hottld redeem that. His lordship was prisoner in this 
castle some two days, but upon &t# phy9ickin'9 cert^ioate^ 
that ike badnest of hio lodging might prejudice hig heaiA, 
I sent him upon good bond restruined only to IU9 own 
house f fohere he is Wee to remain tiU I receive his ma^ 
jestys further pleasure concerning him" It is moat 
unlikely that such an extraordinary favour as this had 
been granted on the application oi a physician merely, 
while the lord deputy had an obvious reason for keeping 
out of sig^t the influence of the lady. 

Some short time after, Mountnorris, on condition of 
submitting to Wentwwth, and acknowledging the justice 
of his sentence,. received his liberty. Prosecutions, how- 
ever, had been lodged against him meanwhile in the 
star-chamber, and he felt himsdf a lowered and well- 
nigh beggared man. ''At my lord Mountnorris his 
departure hence," writes the deputy, '' he seemed won- 
drously humbled, as much as Chaucer's friar', that 
would not for him any thing should be dead ; so I told 
him I never wished ill to his estate, nor person, further 
than to remove him thence, where he was as well a 

1 Chaucer and Dr. Donne appew to have been Wentworth's fkvouiite 
poeta. Chaucer indeed, to the court readers of that day, was as Sbakspeaxe 
in our own. It is clear too. from the frequent use of peculiar expressions 
in his despatches, that the lord deputy was not unacquainted, and that in. 
timately, with the great dramatist, though he never, as with Chaucer and 
Donne, quotes connected passages. It is worth subjoining, as an instance out 
of many, one of Wentworth*8 sneers at sir Piers Crosby— that ** trifle 
Crosby," as he elsewhere calls him. ** Since his departure I have neitba 
beard flrom him, nor of him, more than that he vouchsafed with his pretty 
composed looks to give the Gallway agents countenance and courtship 
before the eyes of all the good people that looked upon them, gracing and 
ushering them to and ftom all their appearings before the lords ; there is 
no more to be added in his case but these two verses of old Jeffrey 
Chaucer-- 

* Ko where so busy a man as he ther n*aa. 
And yet he seemed busier than he was.* " 

"When the newsmonger Garrard heard of the aflfkir of Mountnorris, be 
quotes Dr. Donne, as if to communicate some tender svmpathy to bis lord- 
sbip in that way : — ** When first I heard the news, which was on St St*. 
phen*s day, and how all men talked of it, it disorder'd me, it brake my 
deep, I waked at four in the morning, it^ made me herd the next day less 
in companjr ;— not that I believed what was said, but that I had no oracl^ 
no such friend on the sudden to go to, who could give such satisfaction as 
I desired. Noblest lord, your letter hath done it ; what Dr. Donne writ 
once is most true, Sir, more than kisses, letters mingle souls, fifr thus friends 
absent speak, &c" 



BABL OF BmAwroaao* 348 

t^Wible at OA qfimee tmio me; that being done (how* 
belt thoroB^ Ids own fault with more prejudice to him 
tium I kitended) I oould wish there wore no more debate 
iietwixt vb; and I told him that^ if he desired it^ I would 
spwe my prosecution against him in the star chamber 
liiei«." Immediately before this passage occurs, in the 
sam^ letter, Woitworth had remarked : — '^ I assure 
yon I have had a churlish winter of this, nor hath the 
gout been without other attendants that do prognostick 
no long life for me here below ! Which skills not much. 
He lives more that virtuously and generously spruds 
<me month, than s(Mne oth^r that may chance to dream 
oat some years, and bury himself aHve all the while." 
The life of the lord deputy had, indeed, in the intensity 
of sensation it had required for its sustainment, covered 
a larger span.<^ existence than years can measure, and 
now the term that remained to it was fated to be dashed 
with almost unceasing anxieties and troubles, more bitter 
in proportion to the temperament they wrought on. 

His anticipations of the enmity that would be pro- 
voked against him by the case of Mountnorris, were 
more than realised. Laud ventured to intimate to him 
— ^^ I find that, notwithstanding all your great services 
in Ireland, which are most graciously accepted by the 
king, you want not them, which whisper, and perhaps 
speak louder where they think they may, against your 
proceedings in Ireland, as being over-full of personal 

prosecutions against men of quality And this 

is somewhat loudly spoken by some on the queen's side. 
• ... I know you have a great deal more resolution 
in you, than to decline any service due to the king, state, 
or church, for the barking of discontented persons; and 
God forbid but you should : and yet, my lord, if you 
could find a way to do all these great services and 
decline these storms, I think it would be excellent well 
thought on."^ To this advice succeeded other galling 

: *i Strafibrd Papers, vol. i. p. 479. Lord Cottington's account wat some* 
thing different : — ** You said right, that Mountnorris his business wou'd 
make a great noise : for so it oath, amongst ignorant, but especially U). 

z 4 



344 BftimH STATI 

«nnoHneeinents» Lord Cknricarde died waddadj, tnm 
m broken heart it was said^ in conseqaenee of the GAlwmy 
proceedings; and the death of the sheriff of diat county, 
who had been imprisoned by Wentworth, immediatidy 
foUowed. Both of these deadis were laid at bis door. 
*' They might as well/' exclaimed the lord deputy, ad- 
verting to the first — *' they might as well have impoted 
unto me for a crime^ his being threescore and ten yean 
old ! " With cooler satire he put off the late of the 
sheriff. ''They will lay the charge of Darcy the 
sheriflfs death unto me. My arrows are cruel that 
wound so mortally ! — but I sh&uid be more Morry, 69 
much, the king should lose his fine." Still this did not 
subdue the daily increasing murmurs ; one exaggeration 
begot another ; and he resolved at last, by a sudden 
public appearance in England, to confound his accusers, 
and, even in their very teeth, to throw for new marks 
of favour. 

Permission having been obtained from the king, 
Wentworth appeared at the English court in May, 
1636. He was received with the highest favour, and 
so delighted the king with his account of the various 
measures by which he had consolidated the goyemment 
of Ireland, that he was entreated by his majesty to 
repeat the details " at a very full council." — *' Howbeit 
I told him, I feared his majesty might be wearied with 
the repetition of so long a narrative, being no other than 



afibcted people ; but it hatb stuck little among the wiser sort, and b^o« 
to be Mown away amongst 'the rest.** His lordship, in the same totter, 
communicates to Wentworth a remarlcable sequel to the affair. The 
lord deputy, in order to procure Mountnorris's offices for his favourites 
(chiefly young Loftus, the husband of a lady who has been before adverted 
to), had proposed to distribute GOOO/. as a sort of purchase of them, to the 
principal English ministers. (Straffbrd Papers, vol. i. p. 508.) The sly old 
courtier Cottington, however, into whose nands the business fell, hit on a 
more notable expedient. ''When William Raylton first told me,** be 
writes, " of your lordship's intention touching Mountnorri«*s place for sir 
Adam Loftus, and the distribution of monies for the effecting thereof, I 
fell upon the right way, tohich was, to give the money to Mm (hat reaify 
could do the biuinetSt which voas the king himseff ; and this hath so far 
prevailed, as by this post your lordship will receive his majesty's letter to 
that effect ; so as there you have your business done without noise.*' 
The money happened to be particularly welcome to Charles, whohad juit 
been purohaslng an estate { See Straflbrd Paper*, vol l p. 511, 



^^1»^ww^*i^ » mt m m t m m 'i H 'ft'mnmr- • u^ f m - 



EARL OP STRAFFORD. 345 

be had fonnerly heard^ and that I desired therefore I 
might give my account to the lords without his ma- 
jesty's further expenoe of time^ yet he told roe it was 
worthy to be heard twice, and that he was willing to 
have it so." ^ No wonder ! A more striking descrip- 
tion was never spoken. He detailed all the measures 
he had accomplished for the churchy the army, and the 
revenue^ for manufactures and commerce, for the laws 
and their administration, — and through every vigorous 
and well>aimed word shone the author of all those 
measures ! Wentworth adverted^ towards the close of 
his relation, to '^ some particulars wherein I have -been 
very undeservedly and bloodily traduced." He men- 
tioned the slanders that had been circulated, proclaiming 
him "tL severe and austere hard-conditioned man, rather 
indeed a basha of Buda, than the minister of a pious 
Christian king." Plis report of what followed is a 
direct illustration of much that has been advanced in 
this memoir. " Howbeit, if I were not much mistaken 
in myself, it was quite the contrary ; no man could shew 
wherein I had expressed it in my nature, no friend I 
had would charge me with it in my private conversation, 
no creature had found it in the managing of my own 
private affairs, so as if I stood clear in all these respects, 
it was to be confessed by any equal mind that it was not 
any thing within, but the necessity of his majesty s service, 
which inforced me into a seeming strictness outwardly. 
And that was the reason indeed. For where I found a 
crown, a church, and a people spoiled, I could not 
imagine to redeem them from under the pressure with 
gracious smiles and gentle looks. It would cost warmer 
water than so ! True it was, that where a dominion 
was once gotten and settled, it might be stayed and 
kept where it was by soft and moderate counsels, but 
where a sovereignty (be it spoken with reverence) was 
going down the bill, the nature of a man did so easily 

1 See Straffbrd Papefk, toI. i. pp. IS— 29. The despatch in which Went, 
worth again, for the third time, details his remarkable narrative, is ad. 
dressed to Wandesford, who, in the meanwhile, was adminutering the 
Iriah government 



n 



346 

ilide into the paths of an nnoontroaled ISbertj, m8 it 
would not be brought back without strength^ n<H: be 
forced up the hill again bat by vigour and force. And 
true it was indeed, I knew no other rule to govern by^ 
but by reward and pttnishm«it : — and I must profess 
that where I found a person well and intirely set for the 
sendee of my master, I should lay my hand under his 
foot, and add to his respect and power all I mighty and 
that where I found the contrary, I should not handle 
him in my arms, or sooch him in his untoward humour, 
but if he came in my reach, so far as honour and juatioe 
would warrant me, I must knock him soundly over the 
knuckles, but no sooner he become a new man, apply 
himself as he ought to the government, but I also change 
my temper, and express my self to him, as unto that 
othe^, by aJl the goixl offices I could do him. If this 
be sharpness, if this be severity, I desired to be in- 
structed better by his majesty and their lordships, for 
in truth it did not seem so to me ; however, if I were 
<mce told, that his majesty liked not to be thus served, 
I would readily conform myself, follow the bent and 
current of my own disposition, which is to be quiet, 
not to have debates and disputes with any. Here his 
majesty interrupted me and said, that was no severity, 
wished me to go on in that way, for, if I served him 
otherwise, I should not serve him as he expected from 
me. 

Wentworth left the court for Wentw(H*th Wood» 
house, loaded with the applause of the king and his 
lords of the council, and followed by the aweful gaze of 
doubting multitudes. 

As he passed through York, he was arrested by en. 
thusiastic friends, and with some difficulty escaped them. 
'^ I am gotten hither," he writes to Laud, *' at last, to 
a poor house I have, having been this last week almost 
feasted to death at Y<vk. In truth, for any thing I can 
find, they were not ill- pleased to see me. Sure I am 
it much contented me to be amongst my old acquaint- 
ance, which I would not leave for anv other affection I 



EABIi OF STRAFFORD. 347 

liaTe^ but to that which I both profess and owe to the 
person of his sacred majesty. Lord ! with what quiet. 
netss in myself could I live here in comparison of that 
noise and labour I meet with elsewhere ; and^ I protest, 
put up more crowns in my purse at the year's end too ! 
But we 11 let that pass. For I am not like to enjoy 
that blessed condition upon earthl And therefore my 
rescdution is set to endure and struggle with it so long 
as this crazy body will bear it, and finally drop into 
the silent grave, where both all these (which I now 
could, as I think, innocently delight myself in) and 
myself are to be forgotten. And fare them well ! I 
persuade myself esuto Lepido I am able to lay them 
down very quietly."* 

His rest was extremely short, for he soon re-appeared 
in York, discharged several of the duties of his pre- 
sidency, and fell with all his accustomed vigour on the 
collection of ship>m(H)ey. That famous tax had recently 
been levied. The same success waited upon Went- 
worth's present measures in respect to it, as the capacity 
and energy which animated all he did almost invariably 
commanded. In every other county, murmurs, threats, 
and curses, accompanied the payment, — in Yorkshire, 
during Wentworth's presence, silence. His letter to 
the .king reads like one of his Irish despatches. '^ In 
pursuit of your commands, I have effectually, both in 
public and private, recommended the justice and neces- 
sity of the shipping business, and so clearly shown it to 
be, not only for the honour of the kingdom in general, 
but for every man's particular safety, that I am most 
confident the assessment this next year will be univer- 
sally and cheerfully answered within this jurisdiction.''^ 

The lord deputy, as the time approached for his 

1 Stnflhrd Papers, vol. iL p. S& 

* In a subsequent letter Wentworth wrote :->*'! forgot in my last 
fanmbly to offer my <^iinlon, that in case your majesty find or apprehend 
any backwardness in the south, it were good the next year's writs for the 
•hipping assessment were hastened first down into these parts, where they 
are sure to find no ofiiposition, or unwillingness, which example may rather 
farther than hinder m the right way, which others ought to follow else- 
wliere." 



348 .BRITIBH STATESXEN. 

return to his govemment^ unburtheDed himself of « snit 
to the king which he now felt concerned him daily more 
and more. For the second time he entreated from 
Charles the honour of an earldom. He b^ged it in 
refutation of the malicious insinuations of his enemies, 
to prove that their calumnies were disbelieved, and to 
strengthen him in the eyes of the Irish. At the same 
time he wrote to Laud, telling him plainly the use the 
enemies of the state were making of the king's with- 
holding from his deputy some public mark of his favour, 
and urging the danger it threatened to his authority and 
to the public service. Again Wentworth's suit was re- 
jected. Since Charles's last answer, his reasons for 
refusal had increased every way. His reply was pe- 
remptory. " Believe it, the marks of my favours that 
stop malicious tongues are neither places nor titles, but 
the little welcome I give to accusers, and the willing 
ear I give to my servants.*' The jest with which his 
majesty's letter closed did not mend the matter. ^' I 
will end with a rule that may serve for a statesman, a 
courtier, or a lover, — never make a defence or apology 
before you be accused.*' The lord deputy felt this 
deeply. '' I wish," he wrote to Laud, '^ thorough the 
opinion that I stand not full to his majesty's liking in 
my service in this place, his majesty's afikirs may not 
suffer as well as myself. But fall that as it may, I am 
resolved never to stir that stone more, dead to me it is 
to be for ever. Indeed I neither think of it, nor look 
for it." His friend George Butler he recommended 
to look for rewards and punishments in the next world; 
'^for in good faith, George, all below are grown won- 
derous indifferent." Nor did Went worth scruple to 
exhibit very broadly to the king the still rankling dis- 
appointment. ^' Out of the truth of my heart," he 
wrote, '' and with that liberty your msgesty is pleased 
to afford me (which shall nevertheless ever retain all the 
humility, modesty, and secrecy possible), admit me to 
say, reward well applied advantages the services of kings 
extreamly much. It being most certain, that not one 



EARL OF STBAFFORD. . 349 

man of very many serve their masters for love^ but for 
their own ends and preferments^ and that he is in the 
rank of the best servants^ that can be content to serve 
his master together with himself. Finally^ I am most 
confident^ were your majesty purposed but for a while 
to use the excellent wisdom God hath given you in the 
constant^ right^ and .quick applying of rewards and 
punishments^ it were a thing most easy for your servants 
in a very few years, under your conduct and protection, 
so to settle all your affairs and doininions, as should 
render you^ not only at home but abroad also^ the most 
powerful and considerable king in Christendom." ^ 

With Laud, Wentworth communicated more freely 
on this subject, and in one of his more desponding 
letters suddenly consoks himself with Dr. Donne and 
Vandyke. '' I most humbly thank your lordship for 
your noble care and counsel tending to the preservation 
of my health, a free bounty it is of your love towards 
me, where otherwise of myself I am so wondrous little 
considerable to any body else. The lady Astrea, the 
poet tells us, is long since gone to heaven, but under 
favour I can yet find reward and punishment on earth. 
Indeed sometimes they are like Doctor Donn's ^anagram 
of a good face,' 2 the ornaments missed, a yellow tooth, 
a red eye, a white lip or so ! and seeing that all beauties 
take not all affections, one man judging that a deformity, 
which another considers as a perfection or a grace, this 
methinks convinceth the certain inoertainty of rewards 
and punishments. Howsoever he is the wisest commonly, 
the greatest, and happiest man, and shall surely draw 
the fairest table of his life, that understands with Van- 

1 Strailbrd Papers, vol iL p. 41. 

3 ■* Marry and .love thy Flavia, for ghe ^ 

Hath all things whereby others beauteous be ; 
For though her eyes be small, her mouth is great ; 
Though theirs be ivory, yet her teeth be Jet ; 

&C. &C. Sec. 

What though her cheeks be yellow, her hair 's red ; 

% * * * 

Though all her parts be not In tb' usual place. 
She hath yet the anagrams of a good face I " Second J?/«sy. 



S50 MUTISH STATBSMBK. 

Wod, bow to ditpose of &ese shadows^ best, to mike vp 
bis own comeliness and sdrsntage." ^ Wbereupon bis 
grace of Caoterbiiry warns tbe lord deputy from Van- 
dyke and Dr. Donne, into tbe bo<4c of Ecdesiasteo. — 
" Once for all, if you will but read orer tbe sbort book 
of Ecdesiastes, wbile tbese tbougbts are in you, yoa 
will see a better disposition of these things, and the 
▼anity of all their shadows, than is to be found in any 
anagrams of Dr. Donne's, or any designs of Vandyke. 
So to the lines there drawn I leave you/'^ 

Disappointed of that public mark of faToor he bad 
claimed so justly, but strengthened by priyate instruct 
tions ^ from the king which left no bound or limit to 
bis power, lord Wentworth returned to Ireland. He 
resumed his measures precisely at the point in which 
be had left theto, overawed every effort to disturb the 
breathless tranquiUity which his energy had inspired, 
and, under his vigilant eye, the infant cultivation, ma- 
nufactures, and commerce of tbe country, began to 
increase and prosper. " While the subject enjoyed 
security, from the entire suppression of internal insur- 
rections and depredations, the royal revenues, arising 
from produce and consumption, experienced a rapid 
increase." ^ This " security,'* however, was never felt 
to be other than that of absolutism, for Wentworth, 
hand in hand with his most striking financial improve- 
ments, carried on bis inquiries into defective titles with 
a terrible rigour. He placed atj the king's disposal the 
entire district of Ormond, and in his Irish exchequer 
the sum of 15,000/., wrung from the family of the 
O'Bymes in Wicklow^ to redeem their possessions from 
a similar award. Successful in every effort he made, 
he did not care to call into request the new powers he 
bad been entrusted with. 

> Straflbrd Fhpen, toI. ii. p. 158. ' Ibid, pi 16a 

9 See hb letter to Wandeiford, Straflbrd Paper*, vol. il ]^ IS. et teq. 
* Mr. MacDiannid, wfaoae summary of Wentworth's financial measures 
is very able. I have occasionally availed myself of it See Ijvea of British 
Statesmen, vol. ii. pp. 170—181. The despatches of the lord deputy, in the 
early portion of tbe second volume of the Strafibrd Papers, are singularly 
poweilUl. 



BAUL OF STRAFFORD. 351 

' Not a messenger or a letter arriyed from England, 
liowever^ without news that dashed his prosperity and 
his pride. He saw as much beyond the narrow vision 
of the English courtiers as his sagacity outreached theirs, 
and, in the hollow madness of their measui*es, had already 
discerned disastrous issues. The ruin they were pre- 
cipitating, he bitterly knew would involve himself ; yet 
he had not even the poor consolation of feeling, that the 
only portion of the king's service that had in it any 
of the elements of stalnlity, his own government, had a 
single hearty defender in that English court Their 
praises obsequiously waited on his presence alone. Laud, 
indeed, was still his friend ; but Laud's ecclesiastical 
administration bad by this time well nigh incapacitated 
its master for any purpose of good. The popular party 
in England, meanwhile, taking advantage of the occasion, 
raised a loud and violent voice of clamour against the 
lord deputy of Ireland. He flung it back, in the hasty 
self buUying of his will, with a contemptuous scorn ^, — 
but he knew secretly its power, and in his graver de- 
spatches warned the court from leaving him unpro- 
tected to its effects : — " With the disesteem of the 
governor," he wrote, *' the government shall impair, if 
not in the existence, sure in the beauty of it, which is 
as considerable, as that most men are guided and guide 
themselves by opinion. So as, if you will have my 
philosophy in the point, let no prince employ a servant 

I " In truth,*' he wrote to Laud, ** I still wish (anA take it also to be a 
vtarj charitable one) Mr. Hambden and others to his likeness were well 
whipt into their right senses ; if that the rod be so used as that it smarts 
not, I am the more sorry. One good remedy were to send for your 
cbinney-sweeper of Oxford, who will sing you a song made of one Bond» 
it seems a schoolmaster of the A-ee-schooI of St. Paul's, London, and withal 
thow how to jerk, to temper the voice, to guide the hand, to lay on the 
rod excellently ; sure I am he made me laugh heartily wnen I was there 
last ; and the chancellor of the aniversity might with a word fetch up 
tD Tour lordship at Lambeth, both the person and the poems (for I must 
tell you there is the second, if not the third part of the song), and then 
faring but Mr. Hambden and Bond in place, and it may every way prove a 
three man's song. But fetch in the nobleman you mention, and then it 
may chance to prove a verjr fiili concert ! At well as I think qf Mr. Hamb' 
4len*i adUilies, I take his will and peevishness to be fUll as great, and with, 
out diminution to him, judge the other, howbeit not the father of the 
country (a title some will not stick to give unto them both, to put them 
if it be possible, the f&ster and farther out of their wits), the very sindpui, 
the vertieal point of the whole fkction. " — Stre^ffitrd Fapen, voL ii. p. 15& 



'^^ 



352 BSITIBH BTATESMBir. 

longer than he is resolTed to have him valiied and es- 
teemed by others^ thorough thoae powers he shall ma- 
nifest to be entrusted with him." Still he saw no 
symptoms of what he desired, and at last he wrote 
personally to the Idng. '^ Sir/' he said, " I take my 
natural inclinations to be extreamly much more tender 
and gentle, than the smooth looks and cheeks of your 
ministers on that side find in their own bosoms, and yet 
heighten the cry upon me !" But Charles had now the 
queen's influence in many respects upon him, and the 
queen was not displeased to hear of the sinking fortunes 
of Wentworth. Lord Holland, her fayonrite counseUor, 
was even heard to insinuate that the lord deputy was 
subject to occasional touches of madness. This, among 
the other reports, came to Wentworth's ear. He charged 
it upon Holland, who denied it, confessing he might 
have attributed " hypochondriack humours," certainly 
not madness. Wentworth wrote back to the king : — 
" As for the ' hypochondriack humour' his lordship 
mentions, it is a great word and a courtly phrase; but if 
I mistake not the English of it, it is to be civilly and 
silently maddish : and if so, I can assure his lordship, 
he shall find as little of that in me, as of any other more 
active heat. But I shall not stir thA matter further, 
only, if it be denied his lordship said I was mad, it were 
very easy to shew his memory might fail him some- 
times. . . . Your majesty may be pleased to excuse this 
foul writing, being in truth so tormented in the present 
with the toothache as troubles my sense more than the 
mistaken reports of any others shall do." Sad indeed 
were the bodily- infirmities which exasperated these 
complainings of the lord deputy.* The gout, the tooth- 
ach, the ague, an intermittent pulse, faint sweats and 
heaviness, and, to crown all, the frightful disorder of 
the stone, alternately broke Ids spirits, and warned him 
" that no long life awaited him here below!" 

What still remained to him, he yet resolved to live 
out bravely. '^ A frame of wood," he writes to Laud, 
*' I have given order to set ^r} in a park I have in 



yw 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. S53 

the county of Wickloe. And^ gnadi ibe toofli of 
these gallants never so hard^ I will by God's leave go 
on with itj that so I may have a place to take my 
recreation for a month or two in a year^ were it for no 
other reason than to displease them^ by keeping myself^ 
if so please God^ a little longer in health." ' Among 
other reports to his prejudice had been that of '^ build- 
ing up to the sky.^'^ We find him afterwards adverting 
to this : — '^ I acknowledge, that were myself only con- 
sidered in what I build, it were not only to excess, but 
even to folly, having already houses moderate for my 
condition in Yorkshire : — but his majesty will justify 
me, that at my last being in England, I acquainted him 
with a purpose I had to build him a house at the Naas, 
it being uncomely his majesty should not have one here 
of his own^ capable to lodge him with moderate con- 
veniency (which in truth as yet he hath not), in case 
he might be pleased sometimes hereafter to look upon 
this kingdom ; and that it was necessary in a manner, 

' for the dignity of this place, and the health of his de. 
paty and family, that there should be one removing 

' house of fresh air, for want whereof, I assure your 
lordship, I have felt no small inconvenience since my 
coming hither ; that when it was built, if liked by his 
majesty, it should be his, paying me as it cost, if 
disliked, a suo damno, I was content to keep it and 
smart for my folly. His majesty seemed to be pleased 
with all, whereupon I proceeded, and have in a manner 
finished it, and so contrived it for the rooms of state, 
and other accommodations which I have observed in his 
majesty s houses, as I had been, indeed, stark mad ever 
to have cast it so for a private family " ^ 

> Strafford Papers, vol ii. p. 106. 

* Ibid. p. 107. His expensive repairs of the castle of Dublin had also 
been reproached to him. But on his first arrival he had certainly alleged 
a good case of necessity to Cooke : — " This castle is in very great decay. I 
have been inforced to take down one of the ^eat towers, which was ready 
to fall, and the rest are so crasy, as we are still in fear part of it might drop 
down upon our heads.*' voL i. p. ISt. 

' The remains of this building, which was called Juggarstowne Castle, 
are visible still, and, I am informed by gentlemen who have seen them, 
sufBciently indicate its extraordinary grandeur and extent. They cover 

VOL. II. A A 



354 

Between these two royal lesidenoes Wentwordi now 
divided a great portion df his time. His mode of liYing 
equalled in magnificence the houses themsdves. At his 
own charge he maintained a retinae of 50 attendants, 
besides his troop of 100 horse, which he had miginally 
raised and equipped at an expense of 6000L, and 
kept up at an enormous yearly cost. This style of 
living, which he took care to bear oat in every other 
respect, he characteristically vindicated to Cotdngton 
as '* an expence not of vanity, but of necessity, judging 
it 7wt to become me, having the great honour to represent 
his majesty s sacred person, to set it forth, no not in any 
one circumstance, in a penurious mean manner, before 
the eyes of a tciid and rude people." ^ Nor did he 
scruple to conceal the fact, that his own private fortone 
had been assisted, in these vast charges, by certain public 
profits. " It is very true," he writes to Laud, '^ I 
have, under the blessing of Almighty God, and the 
protection of his majesty, 6000/. a year good land, 
which I brought with me into his service ; and I have 
a share for a short term .in these customs, which^ whilst 
his majesty's revenue is there increased more than 
20,000/. by year, proves nevertheless a greater profit to 
roe than ever I dreamt of." When Laud read this 
passage to Charles, the king observed, impatiently, '* but 
he doth not tell you how much," and plainly inti- 
mated that he grudged the minister his share of profit.^ 
Wentworth had few occasions of gratitude to Charles 
during a life worn out in his service ! In respect of 
these customs, it is not to be doubted that Charles's 



several acres. They are dote to the road side, about sixteen Irish miles 
from Dublin, and provoke, even now, from many an unreflecting passer 
by, a curse upon the memory of " Black Tom.*' Such is the name by which 
the Irish peasantry still remember Straffbrd. "When M. Boullaye-le-Goui 
visited Ireland, he found this cactle in the property and possession of sir 
George Wentworth, Strafford's brother, and guarded by forty English 
soldiers. xJIfr. Croktr's MS. 

> Straffbrd Papers, vol i. p. 1S8. 

* Laud writes: — ** I have of late heard some muttering about it in 
court, but can meet with nothing to fasten on : only it makes me doubt 
some body hath been nibbling about it." — See Stranbrd Papers, voL ii 
p. 1S7. 



EARL OF STBAFFOBIK 355 

suspicions were grossly unjust. He would have had 
more of ahstract justice with him in objecting to a 
different source of his lord deputy's revenue^ that of the 
tobacco monopoly^ for, on the latter ground^ undoubtedly, 
Wentworth was open to grave charges, though^ even 
here, the king was the last person from whom witli 
any propriety they could issue. 

The lord deputy's private habits have "been described. 
He hawked^ he hunted ^, and fished ^, whenever his 
infirmities gave him respite. He passed some of his 
time also among books^ and^ in one portion at least of 
these studies, had his thoughts upon a stormy political 
future. ^' I wish," writes his friend lord Conway to 
him^ ^' you had had your fit of the gout in England, 
lest you should attribute something of the disease to the 
air of that country. I send you the duke of Rohan's 

* Wittily he writes to Laud : — " We are in expectance every hour to 
bear what becomes of us and the lord chancellor — to say the plain truth, 
whether tue shall have a government or no ; and to the intent that I might 
be the better in tUrumque paratus, at this present I am playing the Rwin 
Hood, and here in the country of mountains and woods hunting and 
chacing all the out-lying deer I can light of. But to confess trulv, I met 
with a very shrewd rebuke the other day : for, standing to get a shoot at a 
buck, I was so damnably bitten with midges, as my face is all mezled over 
ever since, itches still as if it were mad. The marks they set will not ^o 
off again, I will awarrant you, this week. I never felt or saw such m 
fiigland. Surely they are younger brothers to the muskitoes the Indies 
brag on so much. I protest, 1 could even now well find in my heart to 
play the shrew soundly, and scratch my face in six or seven places." •— 
Strqfford Papers^ vol ii. p. 173. This allusion to the lord chancellor had 
reference to a judgment recently given against that dignitary by Went^ 
worth himself, in a suit brought against him by sir John Giflbrd, on behalf 
of sir Francis Ruishe, for an increase of portion to the lady who had 
married young Loftus: — ** According to the lord chancellor's own clear 
agreement with sir Francis Ruishe, father to the lady." These are Went, 
worth's words. The chancellor refused to submit to the judgment on the 
ground that the action ought to have been brought in the ordinary courts 
of law, and that the tribunal before which it was tried was both illegal and 
partiaL Wentworth upon this had resorted to his usual severity, and was 
now waiting its issue with the king. It may be worth stating, that mis- 
takes have been made with respect to the name of the lady chiefly affbcted 
iti this case, by Mr. Mac Diarmid and other writers, in consequence of sir 
John Giflbrd having (brought the original action. She was lady Loftus, 
not lady Giflbrd. 

* For some accounts of his Ashing exploits, see Papers, voL ii. p. SIS. &c. 
Laud appears to have relished the lord deputy's presents of *' dryed fisli '* 
amazingly, and to have been anythine but fond of his ** hung beef out of 
Yorkshire." His grace had a«shrewd eye to appetite : — " Since you are 
for both occupations, flesh and fish, I wonder you do not think of pow- 
dering or drying some of your Irish venison, and send that over to 
brag too." » 

A A 2 



356 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

book^ ' Le parfait Capitaine.' Do not think the gout is 
tm excuse from Jighting, for the count Mansfdt had the 
gout that dap hefmght the baUk of Fleury" ^ In the 
pleasures of the table he indulged little. " He waa 
exceeding temperate^" observes Radclifie, '' in meat^ 
drink^ and recreations. He was no whit given to his 
appetite; though he loved to see good meat at his table, 
yet he eat very fittle of it himself : beef or rabbits was 
his ordinary food, or cold powdered meats, or cheese 
and apples, and in moderate quantity. He was never 
drunk in his life, as 1 have often heard him say ; and 
for so much as I had seen, I had reason to believe him: 
yet he was not so scrupulous but he would drink healths 
where he liked his company, and be sociable as any of 
his society, and yet stHl within the bounds of tem> 
peranoe. In Ireland, where drinking was grown a disease 
epidemical, he was more strict publickly, never suffering 
any health to be drunk at his publick table but the 
king's, Queen's, and prince's^ on solemn days. Drunk- 
enness in his servants was, in his esteem, one of the 
greatest faults." Throughout his various admirable 
letters to his young wards, the Saviles, in whose edu- 
cation he took extreme interest always, the hatred of 
this vice is still more characteristically shown. He 
returns to the warning again and again, coupling with 
drunkenness the equal vice of gaming, — the one a ^^ pur- 
suit not becoming a generous noble heart, which vnll 
not brook such starved considerations as the greed of 
winning," — the other, one '' that shall send you, by un- 



> Straffbrd Papers, vol. ii. p. 45. Some of lord Conway's letters referred 
to matters not quite so decent, and the lord deputy's, replies gave bizu oo 
advantage on that score. See Papers, vol. ii. pp. 144— 146. Conway's ac- 
quaintance with his intrigues has already received notice, and the follow- 
ing passage from one of Wentworth's letters to this confidant is not a little 
significant : — " I desire your judgment of the inclosed, which was written 
to this your servant the other day, ^nd chancing to open and read it in the 
presence, I burst out before I got it read, that the standers-by wondered 
what merry tale it might be that letter told ipe. But I must conjure you to 
send it me back, not to trust it forth of your hands, only if you will, I am 
content you shew it my lord of Northumberland, and my lady of Carlile, 
lest if it were shewn to others they might judge me Fanct or something 
else, of so princely a favour ! For less, thd least of her commands are not 
to be taken,— what then may we term these hes earnest desires ? " 



EARL OF 8TRAFF0BD. 357 

equal staggering paces, to jour grave, with confusion 
of face/' 1 

No public duty was neglected meanwhile, for, from 
his country parks and castles, Wentworth in an hour or 
two coald appear in the Dublin presence-chamber. The 
king sent him every license he required against the 
lord chancellor Loftus, and that nobleman, for having 
disputed the judicial functions of the deputy, '^ that 
transcendent power of a chancellor," as Wentworth 
scornfully called him, was deprived of the seals, and 
committed to prison till he consented to submit to the 
award and to acknowledge his error .2 

But while the king thus secretly authorised these 
acts of despotism, the English court, no less than the 
English nation, were known to be objecting to their au- 
thor. Impatiently he wrote to Laud, demanding at least 
the charge, something on which to ground an issue — 
'^ The humour which offends me," he exclaims, *' is not 
80 much anger as scorn, and desire to wrest out from 
amongst them my charge ; for, as they say, if I mi^ht 
come to fight for my life, it wotild never trouble me, 
indeed I should then weigh them aU very light, and be 
safe under the goodness, wisdom, and justice of my 
master. Again, howbeit I am resolved of the truth of 
all this, yet to accuse myself is very uncomely. I love 
not to put on my armour before there be cause, in re- 
gard I never do so, but I find myself the wearier and 
sorer for it the next morning." 

He could get no satisfactory answer to this, for in 
truth the English court by this time had enough upon 
its hands. The king meditated a war with Spain, 
for the recovery of the palatinate, to which he was the 

1 Straffbrd Papers, vol. i. p. 1^, &c. And see an admirable letter at 
PL 311. of VOL it 
> This case was brought forward at the impeachment^ and was much 

Sgravated by a discovery, which has been before named, in reference to 
e young lady Loftus. ** In the prefering this charge,*' says Clarendon, 
** many things of levity, as certain letters of great affection and familiarity 
from the earl to that lady, which were found in her cabinet after her 
death, others of passion, were exposed to the public view." (vol. i. p. 175.) 
Ample details of the entire course of the transaction will be found in re- 
ferring to the Strafford Papers, vol ii. p. 67. et seg. 82. 160. etteq. 172. etseq. 
179. 196. 205. 227. et seq, 259. et seq. 298. 341. 369. 375. 389. 

A A 3 



1 



558 BRITISH STATESBfEN. 

rather urged by the queen^ since France had aheady 
engaged. Fortunately^ before taking this step^ he was 
induced to advise with the lord deputy of Ireland. This 
was the first time Wentworth' had ever been consulted 
on the general affairs of the kingdom^ and he instantly 
forwarded a paper of opposing reasons to the king^ so 
strongly and so ably stated^ that the war project was 
given up.i The queen's indifferent feeling to him^ it 
may well be supposed^ was not removed by such policy.^ 
The peace, however, which lord Wentworth so ear- 
nestly recommended^ was now more fatally broken. The 
whole Scottish nation rose against Charles, in con. 
sequence of Laud's religious innovations. Wentworth 
was not at first consulted respecting these commotions, 
but he had thrown out occasional advice in his despatches 
which was found singularly serviceable."^ He strove as 
far as possible, by urging strong defensive measures, to 
prevent an open rupture. " If," he wrote to Charles, 
'' the war were with a foreign enemy, I should like 
well to have the first blow ; but being with your ma- 
jesty's own naturalj howbeit rebeUUms subjects, it seems 
to me a tender point to draw blood first ; for till it come 
to that, all hope is not lost of reconciliation ; and I 
would not have them with the least colour impute it to 
your majesty to have put all to extremity, till their own 
more than words inforce you to it."^ 

I The document will be found in the Strafibrd Papers, toI. il. p. 60— 64. 
It is one of the ablest of Wentworth 's arguments for nis scheme of absolute 
power. He takes occasion to say in it : — " The opinion delivered by the 
judges, declaring the lawfulness of the assignment for the shipping, is the 
greatest service that profession hath done the crown in my time." 

3 It ought to be stated, to Wentworth's honour, that, though he much 
desired to have stood well with her miyesty, he declined to purchase her 
favour by acts inconsistent with his own public schemes. See curious 
evidences of this in Straflfbrd Papers, vol. ii. ppi 2S1, SSS. 257. SS9.425, 4S& Ac 
When she had solicited an army appointment for some young courtier, he 
wrote an earnest entreaty to her cnamberlain, accompanying his reasons 
for declining the appointment : — ** If I may by you understand her nun 
jesty's good pleasure, it will be a mighty quietness unto me, for if once 
these pdaces of command in the army become suits at court, looked upon as 
preferments and portions for younger children, the honour of this govern, 
ment, and consequently the prosperity of these affkirs, are lost" The king 
himself appears to have made it a personal request of Wentworth, that he 
should carry himseM* ** with all duty and respect to her majesty.'* (toL ii. 
p. 256.) / *- —V J 

» See vol. ii pp. 191, 192. 235. 280. 324. &c. 
* Strafibrd Papers, vol. iL p. 314. 



BAHh OF STRAFFORD. 359 

Nor did Wentworth serve Charles at this conjunc- 
ture with advice alone^ for^ by his amazing personal 
energy^ he forced down some opening commotions among 
the 60^000 Scottish settlers in Ulster^ and not only 
disabled them from joining or assisting their country- 
men^ but compelled ihem to abjure the covenant. ' Nor 
this alone. He forwarded from Ireland a detachment 
of troops to garrison Carlisle ; he announced that the 
army of Ireland was in a state of active recruiting and 
discipline; he offered large contributions from himself 
and his friends towards the necessary expenses of re. 
sistance ; and by every faith of loyalty, and bond of 
friendship and of service, he called on every man in 
Yorkshire to stir themselves in the royal cause. '^ To 
be lazy lookers on," he wrote to the lord Lome, '^ to 
lean to the king behind the curtain, or to whisper forth 
only our allegiance, will not serve our turn ! much 
rather ought we to break our shins in emulation who 
should go soonest and furthest, in assurance and in 
courage, to uphold the prerogatives and full dominion 
of the crown, — ever remembering ourselves that nobility 
is such a grudged and envied piece of monarchy, that 
all tumultuary force offered to kings doth ever in the 
second place fall upon the peers, being such motes in 
the eyes of a giddy multitude, as they never believe 
themselves dear sighted into their liberty indeed, till 
these be at least levelled to a parity as the other alto- 
gether removed, to give better prospect to their an- 
archy." 2 

The sluggish and irresolute councils of England 
looked ill beside the movements of the deputy. The 
king asked a service from him, but the instructions 
came too late. " If his majesty's mind had been 
known to me in time," he wrote to Vane, the treasurer 
of the household, '^ I could have as easily secured it 
against all the covenanters and devils in Scotland, as 
now walk up and down this chamber. But where trusts 

1 Strafford Paperg, vol. il. pp. S70. 338. 345. 
a Ibid. p. no. 

A A 4 



1 



S60 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

and instructions come too late, there thie hnsinefiB is sure 
to be lost." Openly he now expressed bis cemnie of 
the royal scheme that had preraUed since the death of 
Buckingham. " I never was in love widi that way of 
keeping all the afiairs of that kii^dom of Scotland 
among those of that nation^ but carried indeed as a 
mystery to all the council of England ; a rule but over 
much kept by our master ; which I have told my lord 
of Portland many and often a time^ plainly professing 
unto him^ that I was much afraid that course would at 
one time or other bring forth ill effects ; what those are, 
we now see and feel at one and the same instant." 
Finally, when Vane had written in an extremely des- 
ponding tone, he rallied him with a noble energy. '^ It 
is very true you have reason to think this storm looks 
very foul and dark towards us, so do also myself, for 
if the fire should kindle at Raby, I am sure the smoke 
would give offence to our eye-sight at Woodhouse ! jbut 
I trust the evening will prove more calm than the 
morning of this day promises. Dulcitu lumen &oii» 
esse sokt jam jam oadentis. All here is quiet, nothing 
colours yet to the contrary. And if I may have the 
countenance and trust of my master, I hope, in the exe. 
cution of such commands as his majesty's wisdom and 
judgment ordain for me, to contain the Scottish here in 
their due obedience, or if they should stir (pui; 8000 
arms and twenty pieces of cannon arrived, which I 
trust now will be very shordy) to give them such a heat 
in their doaths, as they never had since their coming 
forth of Scotland ! And yet our standing army here is 
but 1000 horse and 2000 foot, and not fewer of them 
I will warrant you than 150,000, so you see our work 
is not very easy. The best of it is, the brawn of a lark 
is better than the carcass of a kite, and the virtue of 
one loyal subject more than of 1000 traitors. And is 
not this pretty well, trow you, to begin with ? " ^ 

I ThiB letter is dated—" Fairwood Park [the name of his seat in Wicklow], 
this 16th of April, 1639. I will change it with you, if you will, for Fair 
la.ne."—Str(0ord Papers, vol il pp. 325—328. 



EARL OF 8TRAFFOBD. S6l 

No extremity was urged that found Wentworth un. 
prepared. Windebanke hinted the danger he incurred. 
'* I humbly thank you/' he answered, '^ for your 
friendly and kind wishes to my safety, but if it be the 
will of God to bring upon us for our sins that fiery 
trial, — all the respects of this life laid aside, it shall ap- 
pear more by my actions than words, that I can neyer 
think myself too good to die for ray gracious master, or 
favour my skin in the zealous and just prosecution of 
his commands. Statutum est semeL" Another — whom 
he fancied not unwilling to thwart him, reckoning upon 
safety from the consequences in the lord deputy's certain 
destruction — he thus warned : — '^Perchance even to those 
that shall tell you, before their breath lam but as a feather, 
I shall be found sadder than lead ! For let me tell you, 
I am 80 confidently set upon the justice of my master, 
and upon my own truth, as under them and God I shall 
pass thorough all the factions of court, and heat of my 
* ill.willers, without so much as sindging the least thread 
of my coat, nor so alone, but to carry my friends along 
with me." And, in the midst of the storms his mea- 
sures were raising on all sides round him, he found time 
and ease enoi^h to amuse himself in tormenting with 
grave jests a foolish earl of Antrim, whom the king had 
sent to ^' assist" him. The despatches he wrote on 
the subject of the " Antrim negociations" are positive 
masterpieces of wit and humour.^ At the same time 
he did not hesitate to assure the king, that, but for the 
safety of Ireland, he would " be most mightily out of 
countenance, to be found in any other place than at his 
majesty's side ! " 

Charles acknowledged these vast services with frequent 
letters. Wentworth was now his great hope, and he 
found, at last, that at all risks he must have him in 

' 1 See the Strafford Papers, vol. ii. pp. 187. S04. £11. 289. et teq. 300. et 
•eg. Sil. et seq. 3i5. 331. 334. 339. 35a 366. It is not too much to say, that, 
in reading these papers, the memory is called to the Swifts of post days, 
and the Fonblanques of our own. The poor lord's pretensions are most 
ludicrously set forth, and in a vein of exouisite pleasantry, but little con- 
sistent with the popular notion of StrafRnrd's unbending sternness. 



362 BRITISH tTATBSMEN. ' 

England. He had formerly declined his offered attend- 
ance^ he now prayed for it. He wished^ he said, to 
consult him respecting the army, '^ but I have much 
more," he sorrowfully added, ^' and indeed too much to 
desire your counse) and attendance for some time, which 
I think not fit to express by letter, more than this, — 
the Scots' covenant begins to spread too far. Yet^ for 
all this, I will not have you take notice that I have sent 
for you, but pretend some other occasion of business." 

Wentworth instantly prepared himself to obey. A 
short time only he took, to place his government in the 
hands of Wandesford, and to arrange some of his do- 
mestic concerns. His children were his great care. 
'^ God bless the young whelps," he said, '^ and for the 
old dog there is less matter.*' ^ Lady Clare, his mou 
ther-in-law, had often requested to have the elder girl 
with her, and Wentworth had as often vainly tried to 
let her leave his side. His passion was to see them 
all near him in a group together, as they may yet be 
seen in the undying colours of Vandyke, from whose 
canvass, also, as though it had been painted yesterday, 
the sternly expressive countenance of their father still 
gazes at posterity. The present was a time, however, 
when the sad alternative of a separation from himself 
promised him alleviation even, and he resolved to send 
both sisters to their grandmother. The letter he des- 
patched on the occasion to the Lady Clare remains, and it 
is too touching and beautiful to be omitted here. A man 
so burthened with the world's accusations as Strafford^ 
should be denied none of the advantage which such a 
document can render to his memory. It is unnecessary 
to direct attention to its singularly characteristic con- 
clusion : — 

*' My lord of Clare having writ unto me, your lady- 

1 See various letters in the course of his correspondence, in which the 
most tender enthusiasm is expressed for them and for their dead mother, 
(vol. i. p. SS6l ; vol. ii. pp. 129, ISa 146. 379, 380.) Nor was his afftetion 
less warmly expressed to the child of his living wife. In several affec- 
tionate letters to the latter he never fails to send bis blessing to " the 
baby," or to ** little Tom." Shortly before this visit to England, however, 
the latter died,— and shortly after it, a girl was bom. 



BAVLL OF STRAFFOBD. SGS 

ship desired tQ have my daughter Anne with you for a 
time in England^ to recover her healthy I have at last 
been able to yield so much from my own comfort^ as to 
send both her and her sister to wait your grave^ wise^ 
and tender instructions. They are both^ I praise God^ 
in good healthy and bring with them hence from me no 
other advice, but entirely and cheerfully to obey and do 
all you shall be pleased to command them^ so far forth 
as their years and understanding may administer unto 
them. 

^^ I was unwilling to part them^ in regard those that 
must be a stay one to another, when by course of nature 
I am gone before them. I would not have them grow 
strangers whilst I am Hving. Besides, the younger 
gladly imitates the elder, in disposition so like her blessed 
mother, that it pleases me very much to see her steps 
followed and observed by the other. 

*' Madam, I must confess, it was not without difficulty 
before I coidd perswade myself thus to be deprived the 
looking upon them^ who with their brother are the 
pledges of all the comfort, the greatest at least, of my 
old age, if it shall please God I attain thereunto. But 
I have been brought up in afflictions of this kind, so as 
I still fear to have that taken first that is dearest unto 
me, — ftnd have in this been content willingly to over- 
come my own aiSections in order to their good, acknow- 
ledging your ladyship capable of doing them more good 
in their breeding than I am. Otherways, in truth, I 
should never have parted with them, as I profess it a 
grief unto me, not to be as well able as any to serve the 
memory of that noble lady, in these little harmless in- 
fants. 

'' Well, to God's blessing and your ladyship's good- 
ness I commit them ! where-ever they are my prayers 
shall attend them, and have of sorrow in my heart till 
I see them again I must, which I trust will not be long 
neither. That they shall be acceptable to you, I know it 
right well, and I believe them so graciously minded to 
render themselves so the more, the more you see of 



364 BB1TI8H 6TATB8MEN. . 

their attentioB to do as yoa than be pleased to direct 
them, which will be of much contentment unto me. 
For whatever your ladyship's opinion may be of me, I 
desire^ and have given it them in chai^ (so far as their 
tender years are capable of ), to honour and observe your 
ladyship above all the women in the worlds as well 
knowing that in so doing they shall fulfil that dnty^ 
whereby of all others they coold have delighted their 
mother the most ; — and I do infinitely wish they may 
want nothing in their breeding my power or cost might 
procure them, or their condition of life hereafter may re- 
quire, for, madam, if I die to-morrow, I will by God's 
help leave them ten thousand pounds apiece, which I 
trust, by God's blessing, shall bestow them to the com- 
fort of themKlves and friends, nor at all considerably 
prejudice their brother, whose estate shall never be 
much burthened by a second venter, I assure you. 

" I thought fit to send with them one that teacheth 
them to write ; he is a quiet soft man, but honest, and 
not given to any disorder ; him I have appointed to ac- 
count for the money to be laid forth, wherein he hath 
no other direction but to pay and lay forth as your 
ladyship shall appoint, and still as he wants, to go to 
Woodhouse, where my cousin Rockley will supply him. 
And I must humbly beseech you to give order to th^ 
servants, and otherwise to the taylors at London, for 
their apparel, which I wholly submit to your ladyship's 
better judgment, and be it what it may be, I shall think 
it all happily bestowed, so as it be to your contentment 
and theirs, for cost I reckon not of, and any thing I 
have is theirs so long as I live, which is only worth 
thanks, for theirs and their brothers all I have must be 
whether I will or no, and therefore I desire .to let them 
have to acknowledge me for before. 

^^ Nan, they tell me, danceth prettily, which I wish 
(if with convenience it might be) were not lost, — more 
to give her a comely grace in the carriage of her body, 
than that I wish they should much delight or practise 
it when they are women. Arabella is a small practi- 



EARL OF STRAFFOBD. $65 

tioner that way also^ and they are both very apt to learn 
that or any thing they are taught 

'' Nan, I think, speaks French prettily, which yet I 
might have been better able to judge had her mother 
Hved. The other also speaks, but her maid being of 
Guernsey, the accent is not good. But your ladyship is 
in this excellent, as that, as indeed all things else which 
may befit them, they may, and I hope will, learn better 
widi your ladyship than ^ey can with their poor father, 
ignorant in what belongs women, and otherways, God 
knows, distracted, and so awanting unto them in all, 
saving in loving them, and therein, in truth, I shall 
never be less than the dearest parent in the world ! 

'^ Their brother is just now sitting at my elbow, in 
good health, God be praised ; and 1 am in the best sort 
accommodating this place for him, which, in the kind, 
I take to be the noblest one of th^m in ^e king's do- 
minions, and where a grass time may be passed with 
most pleasure of that kind. I will build him a good 
house, and by God*s help, leave, 1 think, near three 
thousand pounds a year, and wood on the ground, as 
much, I dare say, if near London, as would yield fifty 
thousand pounds, besides a house within twelve miles of 
Dublin, the best in Ireland, and land to it which, I hope, 
will be two thousand pounds a year, — all which he shall 
have to the rest, had I twenty brothers of his to sitt be. 
side me. This I write not to your ladyship in vanity, 
or to have it spoken of, but privately, to let your lady- 
ship see I do not forget the children of my dearest wife, 
nor altogether bestow my time fruitlessly for them. It 
is true I am in debt, but there will be, besides, suffix 
dent to discharge all I owe, by God's grace, whether I 
live or die. And next to these children, there are not 
any other pei'sons I wish more happiness than to the 
house of their grandfather, and shall be always most 
ready to serve them, what opinion soever be had of me, 
for no others usage can absolve me of what I owe not 
only to the memory, but to the last legacy, that noble 
creature left with me, when God took her to himself. 



S66 BRITISH STATEfiHEK. 

I am afraid to turn over the leaf, lest your lad^rship 
might think I could never come to a conclusion ; and 
shall, therefore," &c. 

He had arranged eyerytfaing for his departure^ when 
one of his paroxysms of illness seized him. He wrestled 
with it desperately, and set sail. On landing at Ches- 
ter he wrote to lady Went worth a sad description of 
the effects of the journey upon his gout, and the " flux,'* 
which afflicted him. He ralUed, however, and appeared 
in London in November, l639* In a memorable pas. 
sage, the historian May has described the general con- 
versation and conjecture which had prepared for his 
approach. Some, he says, remembering his early ex- 
ertions in the cause of the people, fondly imagined that 
he had hitherto been subservient to the court, only to 
ingratiate himself thoroughly with the king, and that he 
would now employ his ascendancy to wean his majesty 
from arbitrary counsels. Others^ who knew his character 
more profoundly, had different thoughts, and secretly 
cherished their own most active energies. 

Wentworth, Laud, and Hamilton, instantly formed a 
secret council — a ^'cabinet council," as they were then 
enviously named by the other courtiers— a ^' junto," as 
the people reproadifully called them. The nature of 
the measures to be taken against the Scots was variously 
and earnestly discussed, and Wentworth, considering 
the extremity of affairs, declared at once for war. 

Supplies to carry it on formed a more difficult ques- 
tion still, but it sank before Wentworth's energy. He 
proposed a loan, — subscribed to it at once, by way of 
example, the enormous sum of 20,000/., — and pledged 
himself to bring over a large subsidy from Ireland if 
the king would call a parliament there. Encouraged 
by this assurance^ it was resolved to call a parliament 
in England also. Laud, Juxon, Hamilton, Wentworth, 
Cottington, Vane, and Windebanke, were all present in 
council when this resolution was taken. The king then 
put the question to them whether, upon the restiveness 
of parliament^ they would assist him '^ by extraordinary 



l^ARL OF STRAFFORD. SGj 

ways." They assented^ passed a vote to that effect^ 
writs for parliaments in both countries were issued^ and 
Wentworth prepared himself to quit England. 

Charles^ unsolicited, now invested him with the dig- 
nity of earldom. His own very existence seemed de- 
pendent on Wentworth's faith^ and there was suf- 
ficient weakness in the character of the king to render 
it possible for him to suppose that^ even at such a time^ 
the inducement of reward might be necessary as a pre- 
caution. The lord deputy was created earl of Strafford 
and baron of Raby, adorned with the garter^ and in- 
vested with the tiUe of lord<.heu tenant^ or lieutenant- 
general^ of Ireland — a title which had not been given 
since the days of Essex. '' God willing," wrote Straf- 
ford to his wife immediately after, '^ you will soon see 
the lieutenant of Ireland, but never like to have a deputy 
of Ireland to your husband 4ny more."^ 

On his way to Ireland, the earl was overtaken, at 
Beaumaris, by a severe attack of gout, yet, still able to 
move, he hurried on board, notwithstanding the contrary 
winds, lest he should be thrown down utterly. He 
wrote at the same time to secretary Cooke, in the highest 
spirits, to assure him and his master that they need not 
fear for his weakness. *^For," exclaims the lord-lieii- 
tenant, ^* I will make strange shift, and put myself to 
all the pain I shall be ^ble to endure, before I be any 
where awanting to my master or his affairs in this con- 
juncture, and, therefore, sound or lame, you shall have 
me with you before the beginning of the parliament. I 
should not fail, though sir John Eliot were living ! In 
the mean space, for love of Christ, call upon and hasten 
the business now in hand, especially the raising of the 
horse and all together, the rather, for that this work 
now before us, should it miscarry, we all are like to be 

1 Letter in the Thoresby Museum, Biog. Brit. voL vii. p. 4182. Some 
days before he had written to her characteristic news of his children. 
'* The two wenches," he said, *' are in perfect health, and now at this in- 
stant in this house, lodged with me, and rather desirous to be so than 
with their grandmother. I am not yet fully resolved what to do with 
them." They were afterwards sent back to lady Clare, till the lady Straffbrd 
arrived in London. 




368 BBITISH STATESMEFT. 

very mifleraUe,— but^ canried throagfa adyisedly and gaL 
lantly^ shall by Grod's bleaaing set us in safety and peace 
for our liyes at after^ nay> in probability^ the generations 
that are to succeed us. Ft a faute de courage, je n*m 
aye que trop ! What might I be with my legs^ that am 
so brave without the use of them ? Well^ halt^ blind^ 
or lame^ I will be found true to the person of my 
gracious master^ to the service of his crown and my 
friends/' Strange that^ at such a moment, lord Straf- 
ford should have recalled the memory of the yirtuons 
and indomitable Eliot ! He was soon doomed to know 
on whose shoulders the mantle of Buckingham's great 
opponent had fallen. 

In March, l640, Strafford again arrived in Ireland. 
The members of the parliament that had just been 
summoned, crowded round him with lavish devotion, 
gave him four subsidies, which was all that he had 
desired, and declared that that was nothing in respect 
to their zeal, for that ^^ his majesty should have the fee 
simple of their estates for his great occasions." In a 
formal declaration, moreover, they embodied all this, 
declared that their present warm loyalty rose from a 
deep sense of the inestimaUe benefits the lord-lieutenant 
had conferred upon their country, and that all these 
benefits had been effected '' without the least hurt or 
grievance to any well-disposed subject." ^ The authors 
of this declaration were the first to turn upon Strafford 
in his distress. Valuing their praise for its worth in 
the way of example, the earl forwarded it to England, 
and requested it to be published to the empire. 

He had now been a fortnight in Ireland. Within 
that time, with a diligence unparalleled and almost in- 
credible, he had effected these results with the parlia- 
ment, and levied a body of 8000 men as a reinforcement 
to the royal army.^ He again set sail for England. 

I pause here to illustrate the character of this extra- 
ordinary person in one respect, which circumstances are 

1 See Strafford Papers, vol ii. pp. 396, 397. Rushwortb, voL iii p. 1051. 
Nalson, vol. i. p. 280—284. 

2 See Radcliffe's Essay. 



EARL OF STRArFORD. SGQ 

floon to make essential. His infirmities of health have 
frequently been alluded to, but they come now upon the 
scene more fatally. No one^ that has not carefully ex* 
amined all his despatches, can have any notion of their 
^ghtful nature and extent. 

The soul of the earl of Strafford was indeed lodged^ to 
' use the expression of his favourite Donne^ within a " low 
and fatal room." We have already seen his friend^ Rad- 
diffe, informing us^ that in l622 *' he had a great fever, 
and the next spring a double tertian^ and after his re?- 
covery a relapse into a single tertian, and a while after 
a burning fever." It is melancholy to follow the pro- 
gress of his infirmities as they are casually recorded by 
himself! — How the trouble of ^^an humour, which in 
strict acceptation you might term the gout," soon in- 
creases to '^an extreme fit, which renders him unfit, 
not only for business, but for all handsome civility," 
and is aggravated by *' so violent a fit of the stone, as I 
shall not be able to stir these ten days — it hath brought 
me very low, and was unto me a torment for three days 
and three nights above all I ever endured since I was 
a man !" — How the eyes that are ^* these twelve days 
full of dimness," ere long are '' scarce afale to guide his 
pen thorough blindness with long writing;"-— and this, 
too, while '^ an infirmity I have formerly had in great 
measure, saluteth me, to wit, an intermitting pulse, at. 
tended with faint sweats and heaviness of spirits !" 

But ever by the side of the body's weakness we fin4 
a witness of the spirit's triumph, — a vindication of the 
mightiness of will ! A lengthened despatch to the 
secretary is begun in ** a fit of the gout which, keeping 
me still in bed, partly with pain and partly with weari 
ness, makes me unfit for much business." — When he 
intreats a correspondent to ^' to pardon my scribbling;, 
fbr since the gout took me I am not able to write but 
with both my l^s along upon a stool, believe me, whieh 
is not only wearisome in itself,'bnt a posture very nn- 
toward for guiding my pen aright," — it is with the 
consolation that *' as sir Walter Raleigh said very well, 

VOL. U. B B 



370 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

80 the heart lie right, it skills not much for all the 
rest." — ^nd the adyice to " forbear his night watches^ 
and now begin to take more care of his health," is met by 
the assurance that, " had he fivescore senses to lose, he 
did and ought to judge them all well and happily be- 
stowed in his majesty's service ! " 

On the occasion of this last return to England, how- 
ever, even what has been described would serve little to 
express what he suffered. Then, when every energy 
was to be taxed to the uttermost, the question of his 
fiery spirit's supremacy was indeed put to the issue, 
by a complication of ghastly diseases ! In the letter 
from Dublin, dated Good Friday, l640, which assures 
the king that '^ from this table I shaU go on ship 
board," he is compelled to add that, '^ besides my gout^ 
I have a very violent and ill-conditi(Hied flux upon me, 
such as I never had before. It hath held me already 
these seven days, and brought me so weak, as in good 
faith nothing that could concern myself should make 
me go a mile forth of my chamber. But this is not a 
season for bemoaning of myself, for I shaU cheerfully 
venture this crazed vessel of mine, and either, by God's 
help, wait upon your majesty before the parliament begin, 
— or else deposit this infirm humanity of mine in the 
dust I " And '' from the table,'* on " ship board," he 
went accordingly, and arrived at Chester on the 4th 
of April, quite broken down by the fatigues of a rough 
voyage. '' I confess," he, writes, '* that I forced the 
captain to sea against his will, and have since received 
my correction for it. A marvellous foul and danger- 
ous night, indeed, we have had of it ! " In this state 
he despatches the following letter to the king : — " May 
it please your sacred majesty, — With some danger I 
wrought borough a storm at sea, yet light on a greater 
misfortune here in harbour, having now got the gout 
in both my feet, attended widi that ill habit of health I 
brought from Dublin, t purposed to have been on my 
way again early this morning, but the physician disad- 
viseth it ; and in truth such is my pain and weakness^ 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 371 

BE I verily believe I were not able to endure it. 
Nevertheless^ I have provided myself of a litter^ and 
will try to-morrow how I am able to bear travel^ which 
if possible I can do^ then by the grace of God will I 
not rest till I have the honour to wait upon your 
msgesty. In the mean time it is most grievous unto 
me to be thus kept from those duties which I owe your 
majesty's service on this great and important occasion. 
In truths sir^ in my whole life I never desired health 
more than now^ if it shall so please God, — not that I 
can be so vain as to judge myself equally considerable 
with many other of your servants^ but that I might 
give my own heart the contentment to be near your 
commands, in case I might be so happy as to be of 
some small use to my most gracious master in such a 
conjuncture of time and affairs as this is. God long 
preserve your majesty." 

Next, he dictates a long despatch to the earl of Nor- 
thumberland, and attempts, at least, to conclude it with 
his own hand : — '' and yet howbeit, I am much re- 
solved and set on all occasions for your service, will 
my weary hand be able to carry on my pen not one 
line further, than only in a word to write myself, in all 
truth and perfection, yoxa lordship*s most humbly to be 
commanded, Strafford." 

I quote also from this despatch to Northumberland 
an extraordinary incident which occurred on this oc- 
casion, and which illustrates his unremitting vigilance 
in matters which he could hardly have been expected to 
superintend even under far more favourable circum- 
stances. " Upon my landing at Nesson I observed a Scot- 
tish ship there riding upon her anchors, of some six or 
sevenscore ton, and of some eight or ten pieces of ord- 
nance, and here in town I learn that the ship belongs 
to Irwin, that she was fraught by some merchants here 
with sacks, and that the master now in town, is this 
morning to receive some 6OOL for freight Hereupon, 
considering the day for the general imbargo is so in- 
stant, as your lordship knows, I have privately advised 

BB 2 



378 BBITI8H STATSSVEK. 

the merchants to stay payment of the irei^t imt3 to- 
morrow, and will giTe present direction for the appre- 
hension of the master and his mate^ now in town. I hare 
also spoken to the customers to send down to Nesson to 
arrest the said ship upon pretence of cozening the king in 
his customs, for which the master is to he examined, 
and, however, the ship to he fraught for the king's 
aeryioe for the transportation of these men. I httre 
likewise given command to captain Bartlett presently 
to repair thither, to he assistant therein to the officers 
of the customs, and hefore his leaWiig the port to see 
execution of all this, as also to take forth of her, all 
her Scottish mariners, her sails and guns, and to bring 
ihem on shore, leaving only aboard such English ma- 
riners as shall be sufficient to send the ship there, till 
further directions. Thus will she lye fair and open for 
your arrest, and perchance prove your best prize of 
that kind, and really being manned with English 
mariners, which may be pressed for that occasion, be 
of all other the fittest vessel for the transportation of 
your men and ammunition to Dunbarton. If I have 
been over diligent herein, in doing more than (I confess) 
I have commission for, I humbly crave your , lordship's 
pardon, ancl hope the rather to obtain it, in regard 
it is a fault easily mended, — for my honest blue-cap 
will be hereby so afirighted, as the delivery back nnto 
him of his height, goods and ship, wiU sufficiently 
fulfil his desires and contentment." 

A letter written the following day to Windebanke is 
most eminently characteristic : — *^ I thank you," he 
says, ^' for your good wishes, that I might be free of 
the gout ; but a deaf spirit I find it, that will neither 
hear nor be persuaded to reason. My pain, I thank 
God, is gone, yet I am not ahle to walk once ahout the 
chamber, such a weakness hath it left behind. Never- 
theless my obstinacy is as great as formerly, for it shall 
have much more to do before it make me leave my 
station in these uncertain times. Of off things I hffe 
not to jput off my clotUhs and go to bed in a Morm, The 



EAltti Qf STRAFFORD* 573 

Usateataxt" he proceeds^ ^^ that made the false imistery 
caimot be i90 aeverely punished. If you puirpose to 
orercome tllat evil^ you muH fall upon the first traus^ 
gre99ors like lightning I " 

Seside such zealousneas as &trafibrd*s> the devotion 

of others was like to come tardily off. The letter to 

Windebanke proceeds : — *' The i»*03de8 of the Irish 

nobility I have received and transmitted over. I cannot 

but observe hoW cautious still your great friend^ my 

lord of St. Alban's^ is, lest he might seem to express his 

a&ctions towards the king with too much frankness 

aod confidence. Lord ! how willing he is> by doing 

something, as good as nothing, to let you see how weU 

oontented h» would be to disserve the crown, if it were 

in his power, as indeed it is not. But if his good 

lordship and his fellows were left to my handling, I 

should quickly teach them better duties, and put them 

Qfat of liking with these perverse froward humours. 

But the best is, by the good help of his friends, he need 

not apprehend the short horns of such a curst cow aa 

myself,-^ yet this I will say for him, all your kindness 

^all not better his affections to the service of the crown^ 

or render him thankful to yourselves longer than hia 

tuxn is in serving. Remember, sir, that I UAd you of 

it* The lord Roch is a person in a lesser volume, of 

the very self-same edition. Poor soul, you see what he 

would be at, if he knew how. But seriously let me 

ask you a question. What would these and such like 

geutlemen do, were they absolute in themselves, when 

they are thus forward at that very instant of time, when 

their whole estates are justly and fairly in the king's 

mercy ? In a word, *till I see punishments and re« 

wards well and roundly applied, I fear very much the 

frowardness of this generation will not be reduced to 

mod^ation and right reason, but that it shall extreamly 

much difficult his majesty's ministers, nay, and himself 

too^ in the pursuit of his just and royal designs/' 

Mr. Brodie has accused Strafford's despatches of 
heaviness^ and certainly every word in them has its 

BB 3 



374 BRITISH STATESUlSf. 

weight. This extraordinary letter concludes dnwr — 
^^ It troubles me very much to understand by these your 
letters, that the deputy lieutenants of Yorkshire should 
shew themselves so foolish and so ingrate as to refuse 
to levy £00 men and send them to Berwick^ without a 
caution of reimbursement of coat and conduct money. 
As for the precedent they alledge^ they well term them 
to be indeed of former times, for sure I am none of 
them can remember any such thing of their own know- 
ledge, or have learnt any such thing by their own practice. 
What they find in some blind book of their fathers kept 
by his clerk^ I know not^ but some such poor business 
is the best proof I believe they can shew for that alle- 
gation. Perchance queen Elizabeth now and then did 
some such thing; but then it ought to be taken as matter 
of bounty^ not of duty, the law being so clear and plain 
in that point, as you know. Upon my coming to town 
I will inform myself who have been the chief leaders in 
this business, and thereupon give my gentlemen some, 
tiling to remember it by hereafter. But^ aboye all^ I 
cannot sufficiently wonder that my lords at the board 
should think of any other satisfaction than sending for 
them up^ and laying them by the heels^ especially con- 
sidering what hath been already resolved on there 
amongst us. What, I beseech you^ should become of 
the levy of your 30,000 men^ in case the other counties 
of the kingdom should return you the like answer? 
And therefore this insolence of theirs ought^ in my poor 
opinion^ to have been suffocated in the birth, and this 
boldness met with a courage, which should have taught 
them their part in these cases to have been obedience, 
and liot dispute. Certain I am^ that in queen Eliza- 
beth's time (those golden times that appear so glorious 
in their eyes^ and render them dazzled towards any 
other object), they would not have had such an expos- 
tulation better cheap than the fleet. The very plain 
truth is^ and I beseech you that it may humbly on my 
part be represented to his msgesty in discharge of my 
own duty^ that the council-board of late years have 



EARL OF 8TBAFF0RD. 375 

gone with so tender a foot in those husinesses of lieu- 
tenancy^ that it hath almost lost that power to the crown; 
and yet such a power it is^ and so necessary, as I do 
not know how we. should be able either to correct a 
rebellion at home, or to defend ourselves from an in- 
vasion from abroad, without it. All which, nevertheless, 
I mention with all humility in the world, without the 
least imputation to any particular person living or dead, 
and humbly beseech his majesty to cause the reins of 
this piece of his government to be strongly gathered up 
again, which have of late hung too long loose upon us 
his lieutenants and deputy lieutenants within the king- 
dom/' I 

Notwithstanding his desperate state, Strafford caused 
himself to be pushed on to Loudon. A desire of the 
king that he should not hazard the journey, reached 
him already engaged in it.^ He persisted in being 
transported thither in a litter by easy journeys. In 
London a greater and final occasion was yet to be af. 
forded him, for the display, of an indomitable nature 
triumphantly baffling disease and decay, and still, with 
the increasing and imperious urgency of the need, tow- 
ered ever proudlier the inexhaustible genius of Strafford. 
The parliament had met, and the earl immediately 
took his seat in the house of lords. Their proceed- 
ings, and their abrupt dissolution, belong to history. 
After that fatal state error, an army, to the command 
of which Northumberland had been appointed, was 
marched against the Scots. Severe illness, however, 
held Northumberland to his bed, and the king resolved 
to appoint Strafford in his place. ^' The earl of Straf. 
ford,'* observes Clarendon, " was scarce recovered from 

1 It is worth qnbting as almost the only expression of care and sympathy 
Charles had hitherto given to his minister. ** Having seen divers letters, 
Straffbrd, to my lord of Canterbury, concerning the state of your health at 
this time, I thought it necessary bv this to command you, not to haxard to 
travel before ye may do it with the safety of your health, and in this I 
must require you not to be your own judge, but be content to follow the 
advice of those that are about you, wboAe afHections and skill ye shall have 
occasion to trust unto. If I did not know that this care of your health were 
necessary for us both at this time, I would have deferred my thanks to i^ou 
for your great service lately done, until I might have seen you. So praying 
to Ood for your speedy recovery, I reft yotir assured iVicud.*' . 

B B 4 



876* BBITIIB STATESmEK. 

a great lickneas^ jet was willing to undertake tlie ^Murge 
ont of pure indignatioii to see how few men were for-. 
ward to serre the king with that Ttgour of mind they 
ought to do ; but knowing well the malidons deisigBB 
which were contrived against himself> he would ra^er 
serve as lieutenant- general under the earl of Notlh* 
nmberland, than that he should resign his commissioD : 
and so^ with and under that qualification^ he made all 
possible haste towards the north before he had strength 
enough for the journey." ^ The same noble historian^ 
after saying that Stra£Pord could with difficulty^ in con^ 
sequence of illness, sit in his saddle, describes die shock 
he experienced in receiving intelligence of the disgrace* 
ful flight of a portion of the king's troops atNc^botime 
on the Tyne, and .proceeds thus : — '^ In this posture 
the earl of Strafford found the anny about Durham, 
bringing with him a body mudi broken with his late 
sickness, which was not clearly shaken off, Snd a mind 
and temper confessing the dregs of it, wbich, being 
marvellouBly provoked and inflamed wi& indignatios 
at the late dishonour, rendered him less gracious, that 
is, less inclined to make himself so, to the officers upcn 
his first entrance into his charge : it may be, in ihw^ 
mass of disorder not quickly discerning to whom kind- 
ness and respect was justly due. But those who by 
this time no doubt were retained for that purpose, took 
that opportunity to incense the army against him, and 
so far prevailed in it, that in a short time it was moie 
inflamed against him than against the enemy/' ^ ia 
this melancholy stats, with a disgraced and mutinous 
force, StraffiMrd fell back upon Y(»:k. 

From this moment he sank daily. Intrigues of the 
most disgraceful character, carried on by Holland, Ha- 
milton^ and Yane, and assisted every way by the queen, 
united with his sickness to break him down. Still 
he was making desperate efibrts to strengthen and ani- 
mate his army, when suddenly he found that a treaty 
with the Scots had actually commenced, and that his 

1 Hiitory, toL i p. Ill ^Yol,l^ li& 



EARL OF 9TBAFF0RI>. 377 

esj>ecial enemy^ lord Savile^ was actively employed to for- 
ward it. Ultimately^ these negotiations were plaoed in 
the hands of sixteen peers^ every one of whom were 
his personal opponents. And the crowing enemy was 
behind^ — *^an enemy^" as lord Clarendon observes, "more 
terrible than all the o^ers, and like to be more fatal, 
the whole Scottish nation, provoked by the declaration be 
had procured of Ireland, and some high carriage and 
expressions of his against them in that kingdonk" ^ They 
illustrated this eminent hatred, by peremptorily refiis* 
ing, in the midst of much profession of attachment to 
the king and the English nation, to hold any conferences 
at York, because it was within the jurisdiction of him 
whom they called that " chief incendiary," thehr " mor- 
tal foe,*' die lord-lieutenant of Ireland. ' 

In this there was exaggeration. Notwithstanding 
the assertions of nearly all the histories, that Straf- 
ford's continual counsel to Charles was to rely on arms 
alone, it is quite certain, from the minutes of the 
oouncil of peers at York^, that this is erroneous. 
When he sent the commission to Ormond to bring over 
bis own army of 20,000 men from Ireland, the n^o- 
tiations hiid not been resumed, and, on the resumption of 
them, that commission was Withdrawn. Now, however^ 
thwarted and exasperated on all sides, he resolved to 
furnish one more proof (it was destined to be the last ! ) 
of the possibility of recovering the royal authority, by a 
great and vigorous exertion. During the negotiations 
no actual cessation of arms had been agreed to by the 
Scots, and he therefore secrecy despatched a party of 

1 The hatred waa, indeed, mutual. Straffbrd more than once, in his 
despatchea, shows that he even disliked, and was disposed to turn into ridi. 
cule, their mo^ie of speech. Alluding to a Scotchman, for instance, a Mr. 
Barre, whom he supposed to have been favoured b; the court intriguen 
against him, he writes from Ireland thus :— ** Then on that side he pro. 
cures, by some very near his mi^esty, access to the king, there whispering 
continually something or another to my prejudice ; boasts familiarly, how 
freely he speaks with his majesty, what he saith concerning me, and 
nou'ant pieese pour mejetty ea tterde mare anent your dtbutjf qf Yriand^ 
with many such like botadoes, stufiM with a mighty deal of untruths and 
follies amongst" And see Rush worth, vol. iiL p. 1293. 

3 Printed in the Hardwicke State Papers. And see a very able and Im. 
partial view of Strafifbrd's conduct and character, in the History continued 
nom Maduntoah. 



378 BBITUH STATESMEN. 

horse^ under a fayourite officer^ to attack them in their 
quarters. A large hody of the enemy were defeated by 
this manoeuvre^ all their officers taken prisoners^ the army 
inspirited, and the spirits of StrafFord himself restored. 
Again he spoke confidently of the future^ when suddenly 
the king, prevailed on by others, commanded him to for- 
bear. In the same moment, without any previous warn- 
ings he was told that a parliament was summoned. 

Strafford saw at once the extent of his danger. He 
had thrown his last stake and lost it. He prayed of 
the king to he allowed to retire to his government in 
Ireland^ or to some other place, where he might promote 
his majesty's service, and not deliver himself into the 
hands of his enraged enemies. Charles refused. He still 
reposed on the enormous value of his minister's genius^ 
and considered that no sacrifice too great might be in- 
curred, for the chance of its service to himself in the 
coming struggle. At the same time he pledged himself 
by a solemn promise, that, *^ while there was a king 
in £ngland, not a hair of Strafford's head should be 
touched by the parUament !" The earl arrived in Lon- 
don. 

'^ It was about three of the clock in the afternoon," 
says Clarendon, '' when the Earl of Strafford (being 
infirm and not well disposed in health, and so not having 
stirred out of his house that morning,) hearing that 
both houses still sate^ thought fit to go thither. It was 
believed by some (upon what ground was never clear 
enough) that he made that haste there to accuse the 
lord Say, and some others^ of having induced the Scots 
to invade the kingdom ; but he was scarce entered into 
the house of peers, when the message from the house of 
commons was called in, and when Mr. Pym at the bar, 
and in the name of all the commons of England, im- 
peached Thomas, earl of Strafford (with the addition 
of all his other titles) of high treason ! " 

Upwards of twelve years had elapsed since sir Thomas 
Went worth stood face to face with Pym. Upon the eve 
of his elevation to the peerage^ they had casually met 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 379 

at Greenwich^ when^ after a short conversation on public 
affairs^ they separated with these memorable words^ 
addressed by Pym to Wentworth. '^ You are going to 
leave us^ but I will never leave you^ while your head i« 
upon your shoulders ! '* ^ That prophetic summons to a 
more fatal meeting was now at last accomplished ! 

Strafford had entered the house^ we learn from one 
who observed him^ with his usual impetuous step — 
" with speed/* says Baillie^ *' he comes to the house; he 
calls rudely at the door ; James Maxwell^ keeper of the 
black rodj opens ; his lordship with a proud glooming 
countenance^ makes towards his place at the board head; 
but at once many bid him void the house; so he is forced^ 
in confusion^ to go to the door till he was called. . . He 
offered to speak^ but was commanded to be gone without 
a word. In the outer room^ James Maxwell required 
him^ as prisoner^ to deliver his sword. When he had 
got it^ he cries^ with a loud voice^ for his man to carry 
my lord.lieutenant*s sword. This done^ he makes 
through a number of people to his coach^ all gazing^ 
no man capping to him, before whom that morning 
the greatest in England would have stood discovered." 

This was a change indeed ! Yet it was a change for 
which Strafford would seem to have been found not 
altogether unprepared. In all the proceedings pre^ 
liminary to his memorable trial, in all the eventful ind-* 
dents that followed, he was quiet and collected, and 
showed, in his general bearing, a magnanimous self- 
subduement. It is a mean as well as a hasty judgment, 
which would attribute this to any unworthy compromise 
with his real nature. It is probably a juster and more 
profound view of it, to say that, into a few of the later 
weeks of his life, new knowledge had penetrate from 
the midst of the breaking of his fortunes. It was well 
and beautifully said by a then living poet, -^ 

" The aoul'* dark cottage, battered and decayed, 
Lets in new light through chinks that time has made! ** 

^ An admirable commentary on this fierce text is supplied by my friend 
Mr. Cattermole, at the commenoement of the Tolume. 



SSO BRITISH fTATKSMBlV. 

-— and when suddenly upon tlie cd^ht of Strnffiand faidn 
the ▼ifiofl of the long unseen aasemhly of the people^ 
with the (dd chiefs, and the old ceremonies^ only moie 
mgust and more fatal, — when he saw himsdf ia m 
single hour, disaUed hy a set of men not greater m 
vigour or in intellect than those over wh(»n the weak« 
minded Buckingham had lor years oontemptuously 
triumphed, — the chamber of thaiasscmhiy forsaken for 
Westminster Hall, — its once imperious master become a 
timid auditor, listening unobserved through his screen'- 
ing curtains, and unable to repress by his presence a 
single threatening glance, or subdue a single fierce voice, 
amongst the multitude assembled to pronounce judg. 
ment on his minister, — that multitude grown from the 
^ faithful commons " into the imperial council of the 
land, and the sworn upholders of its not yet faUen 
liberties, — Pym no longer the mouth-piece of a facticm 
that might be trampled on, but recognised as the chosen 
ehampion of the people of England, ^^the delegated 
voice of God ; " — when Strafford had persuaded bim^ 
self that all this vision was indeed a reality before hiin^ 
we may feel the sudden and subduing conviction whieb 
at once enthralled him to itself! the conviction that he 
had mistaken the true presentment of that principle 
of power which he worshipped, and that his genius 
should have had a different devotion. He had not sunk 
lower, but the parliament had towered immeasurably 
higher ! 

The first thing he did after his arrest, was to write 
to the lady Strafford. '' Sweet hart, — You have heard 
before this what hath befallen me in this place, but be 
you confident, that if I fortune to be blamed, yet I will 
not, by God's help, be ashamed. Your carriage upon 
this misfortune I should advise to be calm, not seeming 
to be neglective of my trouble, and yet so as there nuqF 
appear no dejection in you. Continue on the family as 
formerly, and make much of your children. Tell Will, 
Nan, and ArabeUa, I will write to them by the next. 
In the mean time I shall pray for them to God, that 



SARL OF 8TRAFF0AB. 581 

he ihay bless them, and for their sakes deliver me oat 
of the furious malice of my enemies, which yet I trust, 
through the goodnesse of God^ shall do me no hurt. 
God have us all in his blessed keeping. Your very 
loving husbande^ StbaffoRdb/' 

A few days after this, having vainly proffered bail, 
he was committed to the Tower. Thereupon he wrote 
again to lady Strafford. " Sweet hart, — I never pityed 
yoa so much as I do now, for in the death of that great 
person the deputy, you have lost the principal friend 
yoa had there, whilst we are here riding out the storm^ 
as well as God and the season shall give us leave. Yet 
I trust lord Dillon will supply unto you in part that 
great loss, till it please God to bring lis together again. 
As to mysdf, albeit all be done against me that art and 
malice can devise, with all the rigour possible, yet I am 
in great inward quietnesse, and a strong beliefe God 
win deliver me out of all these troubles. The more I 
look into my case, the more hope 1 have, and sure, if 
there be any honour and justice left, my life will not be 
in danger, and for any thing ek, time I trust will salve 
any other hurt which can be done me. Therefore hold 
up your heart, look to the children and your house^ let 
m^ have your prayers, and at last, by God^s good plea^- 
SBre, we shall have our deliverance, when we may as 
little look for it as we did for this blow of misfortune^ 
which, I trust, will make us better to God and man. 
Yonr loving husbande^ Strafforde.'^ 

The preliminary arrangements having been settled, 
and some negotiations proposed by Charles with a view 
to his rescue having failed, Strafford's impeachment be- 
gan. Never had such *' pompous circumstances " and 
80 *' stately a manner " been witnessed at any judicial 
proceeding in England. One only, since that day, haa 
matched it. It was not the trial of an individual, but the 
solemn arbitration of an issue between the two great ant. 
agcmist principles, liberty and despotism. Westminster 
Hall, which had alternately witnessed the triumphs of 
both, was the fitting scene. Scaffolds, nearly reaching to 



882 BRITUB 8TATEBMEN. 

the roof, were erected on either side, eleven stages bigh^ 
divided by rails. In the upper ranks of these were the 
oommissioners of Scotland and the lords of Ireland, who 
had joined with the commoners of England in their 
accusations. In the centre sat the peers in their par- 
liament rohes^ and the lord keeper and the judges, in 
their scarlet robes, were on the woolsacks. At the 
upper end, beyond the peers, was a chair raised under a 
doth of state for the king, and another for the prince. 
The throne was unoccupied, for the king was supposed 
not to be present, since, in his presence, by l^al con- 
struction, no judicial iict could l^ally be done. Two 
cabinets or galleries, with trellis work, were on each side 
of the cloth of state. The king, the queen, and their 
court, occupied one of these ^ — the foreign nobility then 
in London the other. The earls of Arundel and Lind- 
sey acted, the one as high-steward, and the other as 
high-constable, of England. Strafford entered the hall 
daily, guarded by two hundred trainbands. The king 
had procured it as a special favour, that the axe should 
not be carried before him. At the foot of the state- 
doth was a scaffold for ladies of quality ; at the lower 
end was a place with partitions, and an apartment to 
retire to, for the convenience and consultations of the 
managers of the trial; opposite to this the witnesses 
entered ; and between was a small desk, at which the 
accused earl stood or sate, with the lieutenant of the 
Tower heside him, and at his back four secretaries. 

The articles of accusation had gradually, during the 
long and tedious preliminary proceedings, swelled from 
nine — which was their original number — to twenty- 
eight. Pym, in an able speech, presented them to the 
house of lords. Strafford entreated that — seeing these 
charges filled 200 sheets of paper, and involved the 
various and ill-remembered inddents of fourteen years of 

1 The king, however, observes Baillie, " brake down the screens with 
his own hands, so they sat in the eyes of all, but little more regarded than 
if they had been absent, for the lords sat all covered." Baillie was the 
principal of the college of Glasgow, and present by order of the Scottish 
party. 



EABL OF STBAFFORD. 383 

m 

a life of severe action — the space of three months should 
be permitted for the answer. He was allowed three 
^eeks^ and^ on the 24th of February, 1641, his an- 
swers, in detail, to tlie charges of the commons were 
read to the house. The 22d of March was then fixed 
for the commencement of his trial. 

On the first reception of the articles, Strafford, with 
characteristic purpose, wrote to his wife. " Sweet 
Harte, — It is long since I writt unto you, for I am here 
in such a trouble, as gives me httle or no respitt. The 
charge is now come in, and I am now able, I prayse God, 
to tell you that I conceive there is nothing capitdU; and 
for the reste, I know at the worste his majestic will 
pardon all, without hurting my fortune ; and then we 
shall be happy, by God's grace. Therefore comfort 
yourself, for I trust thes cloudes will away, and that 
wee shaU have faire weather afterwardes. Farewell. 
Your loving husband, Strafforde." He expressed the 
same opinion in a letter to sir Adam Loftus. 

A short summary of the charges will be sufficient for 
the present purpose. For it is not necessary, after the 
ample notice which has been given of Strafford's hfe 
and actions, to occupy any considerable space with 
the proceedings, which only further illustrated them 
here.^ 

The grand object which the leaders of the commons 
had in view, was to establish against Strafford an 

ATTEMPT TO SUBVERT THE FUNDAMENTAL LAWS OF THE 

COUNTRY.^ They had an unquestionable right, with 
this view, to blend in the impeachment offences of a 
different degree ; nor was it ever pretended by them that 
more than one or two of the articles amounted to treason. 
Their course — to deduce a legal construction of treason 

• 

1 Rushworth hai devoted a large folio Tolume, to the occurrences of the 
impeachment alone. 

3 They had paued this vote in the house of commons, and against it not 
a voice was rabed, even by the earl's most ardent supporters. " That the 
earl of Straflbrd had endeavoured to subvert the ancient and Aindamental 
laws of the realm, and to introduce arbitrary and .'tyrannical govern, 
meat" 



384 BBITI8B mxTEsansN. 

from actions notoriously gone '^ thorough" with in ^ 
senrice and in exaltation of the king-*- was to show that, 
no matter with what motive^ any actions undertaken 
which had a tendency to proye destractiYe to the stste> 
nmounted^ in legal efiect^ to a traitorous design against 
the sovereign. The sovereign^ it was argued hy these 
great men, could never have had a contemplated ex^ 
istence heyond> or independent is^, the state. It could 
never have heen the object^ they said, to have defended 
the king by the statute of Edward 11 1.^ and to have left 
undefended the great body of the people associated 
under him. This {Hrinciple Straiibrd had himself recog- 
nised in his support of the petition of rights and it is 
truly observed by Rushworth^ that ^^ all the laws con- 
firmed and renewed in that petition of right were said 
to be the roost envenomed arrows that gave him his 
mortal wound." The proofs by which it was proposed 
to sustain the tremendous accusation^ were to be deduced 
from a series of his actions infringing the laws^ from 
words intimating arbitrary designs^ and from certain 
counsels which directly tended to the entire ruin of the 
frame of the constitution. 

Over the three great divisions of his public functions 
the articles of impeachment were distributed* As pre> 
sident of the council of York^ he was charged with 
having procured powers subversive of all law^ with 
having committed insufferable acts of oppression under 
colour of his instructions^ and with having distinctly 
announced tyrannical intentions, by declaring that the 
people should find " the king's little finger heavier than 
the loins of the law." As governor of Ireland, he was 
accused of having publicly asserted, " That the Iridi 
was a conquered nation^ and that the king might do 
with them as he pleased.'* He was charged with acts 
of oppression towards the earl of Cork^ lord Mount- 
norris^ the lord chancellor Loftus^ the earl of KH- 
dare^ and other persons. He had^ it was alleged, issued 
a general warrant for the seizure of all persons who 
refused to submit to any legal decree against them^ 



EABL OF STBAFFOBD., 3SS 

and. for tfaeir detention till they either submitted, or gave 
bail to appear before the council table : he had sent sol- 
diers to free quarters on those who would not obey his 
arbitrary decrees : he had prevented the redress of his 
injustice^ by procuring instructions to prohibit all pre- 
sons of distinction from quitting Ireland without his 
express licence : he had appropriated to himself a large 
share of the customs^ the monopoly of tobacco^ and the 
sale of licences for the exportation of certain commodi- 
ties : he had committed grievous acts of oppression in 
guarding his monopoly of tobacco : he had^ for his own 
interest^ caused the rates on merchandise to be raised^ 
and the merchants to be harassed with new and unlaw, 
fill oaths : he had obstructed the industry of the country, 
by introducing new and unknown processes into the 
manufacture of flax i. he had encouraged his army, the 
instrument of his oppression, by assuring them that his 
majesty would regard them as a pattern for all his three 
kingdoms : he had enforced an illegal oath on the Scot- 
tish subjects in Ireland : he had given undue encou- 
ragement to papists, and had actually composed the 
whole of his new-levied troops of adherents to that re. 
ligion. As chief minister of England, it was laid to his 
charge that he had instigated the king to- make war on 
the Soots, and had himself, as governor of Ireland, 
commenced hostilities : that, on the question of sup. 
plies, he had declared, '^ That his majesty should first 
try the parliament here, and if that did not supply him 
according to his occasions, he might then use his pre- 
rogative to levy what he needed ; and that he should 
be acquitted both of God and man, if he took some 
other courses to supply himself, though it were against 
the wiU of his subjects : " that, after the dissolution of 
that parliament, he had said to his majesty, '^ That, 
having tried the affections of his people, he was loose 
and absolved from all rules of government, and was to 
do every thing that power would admit ; that his ma- 
jesty had tried all ways, and was refused, and should 
be acquitted both to God and man ; that he had an 

VOL. II. 



.^ ■ fw!"^ 












^^-r*« 



I 


















^^* 



•V' 










'^"^^S^S^^, 














"v^ i ■■•'erf „„ 
to t-y^« '^e^ative to 

^ was entitled to 

^^,^^^*^^« to the e 

^:^l8ely Stated, and tl 

ttie kingdom of l 

• expressly assemb] 

■^tland. He said 

citizens of Lond< 

"■ individual, an 

near him : thi 

"^^ere voluntary : 

^ ^nllionandcoini 

T^emained untou* 
^y the commons, 
oti tbe 23d of 

"P^fin, rose it 
agsinst him. 
^ tbat mighty 
<^ vass] serve 

^i lepTesent 

-Oic period o 

sa^s Ba 

affoT< 

c\i day ii 

stern at 

iitheoccj 

Whiteloc 



386 BRITISH 8TATESMXK. 

army in IreUnd, whidi he might employ to reduce 
England to ohedienoe." He was farther <diarged with 
having counsdled the royal declaration wfai<^ reflected 
so bitterly on the last psrliament ; with the setsure of 
the bullion in the Tower ; the proposal of ooissag 
base money ; a new levy of ship.money ; and the Umk 
of 100^000/. from the city of London. He was ae* 
cused of having told the refractory citizens that bo 
good would be done till they were laid up by the heeb, 
and 9ome of their aldermen hanged for an example. 
It was laid to his charge that he had levied arbitzary 
exactions on the people of Yorkshire to maintain his 
troops : and^ finally, that his counsels had given rise to 
the rout at Newbum." ^ 

In his answers and opposing evidence Strafibrd main- 
tained, that " the enlarged instructions for the coundi 
of York had not been procured by his solicitations; 
that the specified instances of oppression in the northern 
counties were conmiitted after his departure for Ireland ; 
and that the words imputed to him were directly the 
reverse of those which he had spoken. With regard 
to Ireland, he vindicated his opinion that it was a 
conquered country, and that the king's prerogative was 
much greater there than in England. He contended 
that all the judgments, charged on him as arbitrary, 
were delivered by competent courts, in none of whidi 
he had above a single voice : that the preventioB of 
persons from quitting the kingdom without licence, as 
well as placing soldiers at free quarters on the disobe- 
dient, were transactions consistent with ancient usages : 
that the flax manufacture owed sU its prosperity to Ms 
exertions, and that his prohibition tended to remedy 
some barbarous and unjust methods of sorting the yam : 
that his bargains for the customs and tobacco were 
profitable to the crown and the country : and that the 
oath which he had enforced on the Sc»ts wn required 
by the critical circumstances of the limeB, and fully 
approved by the government. In r^ffaid to his trans- 

1 Strailbrd't XMal, ppi 61»7& NalMii, voL ii. ri»> H-M. 



BARL OF STRAFFORD. 387 

actions in £ngland, he answered that hostility against 
Scotland having heen resolved on^ he had merely 
counselled an offensive in preference to a defensive 
-w^ar : that his expressions relative to supplies v^ere 
in strict ' conformity to the estahlished maxim of the 
constitution^ : that^ in such emergencies as a foreign 
invasion^ the sovereign was entitled to levy contribu- 
tions, or adopt any other measure for the public de- 
fence: that the words relative to the employment of 
tlie Irish army were falsely stated, and that he had not 
-ventured to apply to the kingdom of England words 
uttered in a committee expressly assembled to consider 
of the reduction of Scotland. He said that his harsh 
expressions towards the citizens of London were heard 
by only one interested individual, and not heard 
by others who stood as near him: that the contri- 
butions in Yorkshire were voluntary : and that the 
proposals for seizing the bullion and coining base money 
did not proceed from him.^ 

The charges which remained untouched by these 
answers were abandoned by the commons, as irrelative or 
incapable of proof, and on the 23d of March, 1641, 
the chief manager, Mr. Pym, rose in Westminster 
Hall, and opened the case against him. 

The '^ getting up " of that mighty scene has been 
described, and a few words may serve to put it, as it 
were, in action. 

Three kingdoms, by their representatives, were pre- 
sent, and for fifteen days, the period of the duration of 
the trial, ** it was daily," says Baillie, *^ the most 
glorious assembly the isle could afibrd." The earl him- 
self appeared before it each day in deep mourning, 
wearing his George. The stern and simple character 
of his features accorded with the occasion, — his ^^ coun- 
tenance manly black," as Whitelock terms it, and his 

- Solus populi svprema lex. 

s SCrafibrc[*8 Trial, pp. 61—75. Nalson, toI. il pp. II^SO. I have 
partly availed my«elf, in the above, of Mr. MacDiarmid's abstract— pp. 251 
—859. Some ct the charges specified, were added in the course of the 
trial. 

00 2 



1 



388 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

thick dark hair cut short from his ample forehead. A 
poet who was present exclaimed^ 

•* On thy brow 
Sate terror mixed with wisdom, and at once 
Saturn and Hermes in thy countenances *' 

— To this was added the deep interest which can never 
be withheld from sickness bravely borne. His face 
was dashed with paleness^ and his body stooped with 
its own infirmities even more than widi its master's 
cares. This was^ indeed^ so evident^ that he was obliged 
to allude to it himself, and it was not seldom alluded 
to by others. *' They had here," he said, on one occa- 
sion, " this rag of mortality before them, worn out with 
numerous infirmities, which, if they tore into shreds, 
there was no great loss, only in the spilling of his, they 
would open a way to the blood of all the nobility in 
the land." His disorders were the most terrible to 
bear in themselves, and of that nature, moreover, which 
can least endure the aggravation of mental anxiety. 
A severe attack of stone ', gout in one of his legs to an 
extent even with him unusual, and other pains, had 
bent all their afflictions upon him. Yet, though a 
generous sympathy was demanded on this score, and 
paid by not a few of his worst opponents, it availed 
little with the multitudes that were present. Much 
noise and confusion prevailed at all times through the 
hall; there was always a great clamour near the doors; 
and we have it on the authority of Rushworth himself, 
that at those intervals when Strafford was busied in 
preparing his answers, the most distracting " hub- 
bubs " broke out, lords walked, about and chatted, and 
commoners were yet more offensively loud.^ This was 
unfavourable to the recollection, for disproof, of inci- 
dents long passed, and of conversations forgotten I ^ 
But conscious that he was not to be allowed in any case 
permission to retire, as soon as one of his opponent 

^ See Nalson, vol. ii. p. 100. et seq. 

2 Baillie adds, that in these periods "flesh and bread" was ate, and 
" bottles of beer and wine were going thick from mouth to mouth." 

3 Millie cannot refrain from saying, while he describes the guilt to have 
been fully proved, that some of the evidence was only " chamber "^A 
table-discourse, flim-flams, and fearieJairies." 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 3SQ 

managers had closed his charge^ the earl calmly turned 
his back to his judges, and^ with uncomplaining com- 
posure, conferred with his secretaries and counsel. 

He had, indeed^ it is not to be forgotten, strong as- 
surances to sustain him secretly. He had, first, his own 
conviction of the legal incompetency of the charges, and 
to this was added the doubly pledged faith of the king. 
In his prison he had received the following letter ; — 
'' Strafford, — The misfortune that is fallen upon you 
by the strange mistaking and conjuncture of these times, 
being such that I must lay by the thought of employing 
you hereafter in my affairs, yet I cannot satisfy myself 
in honour or conscience, without assuring you (now in 
the midst of your troubles) that upon the word of a 
king you shall not suffer in life, honour, or fortune. 
This is but justice, and therefore. a very mean reward 
from a master to so faithful and ahle a servant, as you 
have showed yourself to be, — yet it is as much as I con- 
ceive the present times will permit, though none shall 
hinder me from being your constant and faithful friend, 
Charles." But against these aids, were opposed certain 
significant symptoms of a desperate and fatal purpose 
on the part of the managers of the impeachment. The 
bishops, on whom he might reasonably have relied, 
had, on the motion of Williams, withdrawn from at. 
tendance " in agitatione causae sanguinis/* surrendering 
the right they had, under what was called " the consti- 
tutions of Clarendon," of attending in capital trials up 
to the stage of judgment. Next, — the person on whose 
evidence Strafford mainly relied in the proof of his 
answers, sir George Radcliffe, had, by a master-stroke 
of Pym's, been incapacitated suddenly by a charge of 
treason against himself, — not preferred certainly with- 
out cause, on the presumption of the guilt of the prin- 
cipal, for he had been Strafford's guilty agent in all 
things, but preferred with a- fatal effect to Strafford 
himself. Again, — though counsel had been granted 
him, they were restricted by the lords, on conference 
with the commons, to the argument of points of law. 

cc 3 



990 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

Listly, — with an irresistible energy^ eqaalkd aaty by 
Strafford's own, Pym had foreed from the kii^ ai^eaae 
for all the members of his secret eonncil from tbdr oadi 
of secrecy, in order to their examination b^ore the 
committee of impeachment. 

** My lords/' said Strafford, — alluding to this^ and to 
certain words of his own which such examinaHoii had 
been alleged to have proved, -— '^ My lords^ these words 
were not wantonly or unnecessarily spoken, or whispered 
in a comer, but they were spoken in full council^ where, 
by the duty of my oath, I was obliged to speak accord- 
ing to my heart and conscience, in all things concseming 
the king's service. If I had forborne to speak what I 
conceived to be for the benefit of the king and the 
people, I had been peijured towards almighty God. 
And for delivering my mind openly and freely, shall I 
be in danger of my life, as a traitor ? If that necessity 
be put upon me, I thank God, by his blessing I have 
learned not to stand in fear of him who can only kiD 
the body. If the question be, whether I must be traitor 
to man, or perjured to God, I will be faithful to my 
creator. And whatsoever shall befall me from popular 
rage or from my own weakness, I must leave it to that 
almighty being, and to the justice and honour of my 
judges. My lords, I conjure you not to make your- 
selves so unhappy, as to disable yourselves and your 
children from undertaking the great charge and trust 
of the commonwealth. You inherit that trust from 
your fathers, you are bom to great thoughts, you are 
nursed up for the great and weighty employments of 
the kingdom. But if it be once admitted, that a coun- 
sellor, delivering his opinion with others at the council- 
table, candid^ et caste, under an oath of secrecy and 
faithfulness, shall be brought into question, upon some 
misapprehension or ignorance of law,' — if every w<»d, 
that he speaks from a sincere and noble intention, shall 
be drawn against him, for the attainting of him, his 
children and posterity, — I know not (under favor I 
speak it,) any wise or noble person of fortune, who 
willj upon such perilous and unsafe terms^ adventure to 



SAKL OF 8TRAFFOBD. SQl 

te cotuMellor to tbe king ! Therefore^ I beseech your 
lordships so to look on me, that my misfortune may 
not bring an inconvenience upon yourselTes. And 
thougfat my words were not (so advised and discreet^ or 
ao vrell weighed^ as they ought to be, yet I trust your 
lordships are too honourable and just, to lay them to 
my charge as high treason. Opinions may make an 
heretie^ bat that they make a traitor, I have never 
heard tiU now." 

Again, in reference to matters alleged against him on 
die evidence of familiar conversations, he eloquently 
protested thus : — '' If, my lords, words spoken to 
inends in £imiliar discourse, spoken in one's chamber, 
spoken at one's table^ spoken iu one's sick bed, spoken 
perhaps to gain better reason^ to give himself more 
clear light and judgment, by reasoning ; — if these 
things shaU be brought against a man as treason, this, 
under favour, takes away the comfort of all human 
society, — by this means we shall be debarred from 
speaking (the principal joy and comfort of society) with 
wise and good men, to become wiser, and better our 
lives. If these things be strained to take away life and 
honour,. and all that is desirable^ it will be a silent 
world ! A city will become a hermitage, and sheep will 
be found amongst a crowd and press of people ! and no 
man shall dare to impart his solitary thoughts or opi- 
nions to his friend and neighbour !" Noble and touch- 
ing as this is^ let the reader remember, as he reads it, 
the case of Mountnorris, and the misquoting and tor- 
turing of words, in themselves harmless, by which 
the lord deputy of Ireland sacrificed that man to his 
schemes of absolute power. It is mournful to be obliged 
to add that, it is chiefly the genius of a great actor which 
calls for admiration in this great scene ; for though he 
was, as we may well believe, sincere in his sudden present 
acknowledgment of that power of the commons which 
he had so often braved, the same plea of sincerity can- 
not serve him in his bold outfacing of every previous 
action of his power. 

c 4 



$92 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

As the trial proceeded, so extrsordiDary were the 
resources he manifested, that the managers of the 
commons failed in much of the effect of their evidence. 
Even the clergy who were present forgot the imprison- 
ment of the weak and miserable Laud (who now lay 
in prison, stripped of his power by this formidable par- 
liament, which the very despotism of himself and 
Strafford had gifted with its potently operative force !) 
and thought of nothing but the ^' grand apostate" be- 
fore them. " By this time," says May, " the people 
began to be a litde divided in opinion. The clergy in 
general were so much fallen into love and admiration 
of this earl, that the archbishop of Canterbury was 
almost quite forgotten by them. The courtiers cried 
him up, and the ladies were exceedingly on his side. 
It seemed a very pleasant object to see so many Sem- 
pronias, with pen, ink, and paper in their hands, 
noting the passages, and discoursing upon the grounds, 
of law and state. They were all of his side, whether 
moved by pity, proper to their sex, or by ambition of 
being able to judge of the parts of the prisons. But 
BO great was the favour and love which they o^nly 
expressed to him, that some could not but think of that 
verse : — 

*' Non fonnosus erat. sed erat iieicundus Ulyaies 
Et tamen aequoreas tonit amore deas ! '* 

Even the chairman of the committee who prepared his 
impeachment, the author of the Memorials, observes, 
'^ Certainly never any man acted such a part, on such 
a theatre, with more wisdome, constancy, and elo- 
quence, with greater reason, judgment, and temper, 
and with a better grace in all his words and gestures, 
than this great and excellent person did." 

Such, indeed, appeared to be a very prevailing feeling, 
when on the morning of the 10th of April, before the 
opening of that day's trial, Pym entered the house of 
commons and announced a communication respecting 
the eari of Strafford, of vital importance. The members 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. SQS 

iv^ere ordered to remain in their places^ and the doors of 
the house were locked. Pym and the young sir Harry 
Vane then rose^ and produced a paper containing '^ a 
copy of notes taken at a junto of the privy council for 
the Scots affairs^ ahout the 5th of May last/' These 
-were notes made hy sir Henry Vane the elder^ and 
Clarendon says^ that he placed them in the hands of 
Pym out of hatred to Strafford. With much more ap. 
pearance and likelihood of truth, however, Whitelocke 
states that the elder Vane, heing ahsent from London, 
and in want of some papers, sent the key of his study 
to his son, and that the latter, in executing his father s 
orders, found this paper, and was ultimately induced 
hy Pym to allow its production against Strafford. The 
commons received this new evidence with many ex- 
pressions of zealous thankfulness. 

On the 13th of April the notes were read in West- 
minster Hall by Pym. They were in the shape of a 
dialogue and conference, and contained opinions de- 
livered by Laud and Hamilton ; but the essential words 
were words spoken by Strafford to the king. '' You 
have an army in Ireland that you may employ to reduce 
this kingdom to obedience.*' Vane the elder was then 
called. He denied recollection of the words at iirst, 
till it had been asserted by others of the privy council, 
that Strafford had used those words, ^' or the like," 
when the earl's brother-in-law, lord Clare, rose and 
suggested that '' this kingdom," by grammatical con- 
struction, might mean Scotland. With singular -ability 
Strafford directed all his resources to the weakening 
of this evidence, but it was generally regarded as 
fatal. He urged his brother-in-law's objection ; the very 
title of the notes, in proof of the country referred to, 
*' no danger of a war with Scotland, if offensive, not 
defensive;" and protested against a man's life being 
left to hang upon a single word. The evidence was, 
finally, admitted against him, and he was called upon 
to make his general defence in person against the facts, 
leaving the law to his counsel. 



394t BBITIflH STATESMEN. 

He began by adverting to hit pahifiil and advene 
pcMition, alone and unsapported, against the whole an- 
thority and power of the commons^ his health impaired, 
his memory almost gone^ his thoughts unquiet and 
troubled. He prayed of their lordships to supply his 
many infirmities^ by their better abilities^ better judg- 
menlSy better memories. ^'Yoa alone/' he said, *'I 
acknowledge^ with all gladness and humility, as my 
judges. The king condemns no man ; the great ope- 
ration of his sceptre is mercy ; he dispenses justice by 
his ministers ; but, with reverence be it spoken, he is 
not my judge, nor are the commons my judges, in this 
case of life and death. To your judgment alone, my 
lords, I submit myself in all cheerfulness. I have 
great cause to give thanks to God for this, and cele- 
brated be the wisdom of our ancestors who have so 
ordained." 

With great force and subtle judgment, he then argued 
against the doctrine of arbitrary and constructive trea- 
son, and afterwards proceeded — '^ My lords, it is 
hard to be questioned upon a law which cannot be 
shown. Where hath this fire lain hid so' many hundred 
years, without smoke to discover it, till it dius burst 
forth to consume me and my children ? That punish- 
ment should precede promulgation of a law, to be 
punished by a law subsequent to the fact, is extreme 
hard ! What man can be safe, if this be admitted ? My 
lords, it is hard in another respect, — that there should 
be no token set, by which we should know this ofience, 
no admonition by which we should avoid it. My lords, 
be pleased to give that regard to the peerage of Eng- 
land, as never expose yourselves to such moot points — 
such constructive interpretations of laws : if there must 
be a trial of wits, let the subject-matter be of some- 
what else than the lives and honours of peers. It will 
be wisdom for yourselves, for your posterity, and for 
the whole kingdom, to cast into the fire these bloody 
and mysterious volumes of constructive and arbitrary 
treason, as the primitive Christians did their books of 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. BQS 

eorious arts^ end beti^ ywmeWes to the plain letter 
of the law and statute^ that telleth us what is and what 
is not treason^ without being more ambitious to be more 
learned in the art of killing than our forefathers ! It is 
BOW 240 years since any man was touched for this 
alleged erime^ to this height, before myself. Let us 
not awaken these sleeping lions to our destructions^ by 
taking up a few musty records, that have lain by the 
walls so many ages^ foi^otten or neglected. May your 
lordships please not to add this to my other misfortunes^ — 
let not a precedent be derived from me^ so disadvan- 
tageous as this will be in its consequence to the whole 
kingdom. Bo not^ through me^ wound the interest of 
liie commonwealth: — and howsoever these gentlemen 
say^ they speak for the commonwealth^ yet^ in this par- 
ticular^ I indeed speak for it, and show the incon. 
▼eniences and mischiefs that will fall upon it : for, as it 
is said in the statute 1 Hen. IV., ' No one will know 
what to do or say for fear of such penalties.' Do not 
pnt^ my lords^ such difficulties upon ministers of state^ 
that men of wisdom, of honour, and of fortune, may not 
with cheerfulness and safety be employed for the public. 
If you weigh and measure them by grains and scruples, 
the public affairs of the kingdom will lie waste, no 
man will meddle with them who hath any thing to lose. 
My lords, I have troubled you longer than I should 
have done, were it not for the interest of those dear 
pledges a saint in Heaven hath left me." At this word 
(says the reporter) he stopped awhile, letting fall some 
tears to her memory ; then he went on : — '' What I 
forfeit myself is nothing ; but that indiscretion should 
extend to my posterity woundetfi me to the very soul. 
You will pardon my infirmity ; something I should have 
added, but am not able ; therefore let it pass. Now, 
my lords, for myself, I have been, by the blessing of 
Almighty God, taught that the afflictions of this present 
life are not to be compared to the eternal weight of 
glory, which shall be revealed hereafter. And so, my 
lords, even so^ with all tranquillity of mind, I freely 



896 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

sabmit myself to your judgment^ and whether that jndg-' 
ment be of life or deaths Te Deum laudamus" ^ 

Great was the struggle to be made against such noble 
and affecting eloquence^ and Pym proved himself not 
unequal to it. While we yield due admiration to the un- 
exampled demeanour of Strafford in this conjuncture; — 
to that quick perception of his exact position, which, 
while it revealed to him the whole magnitude of the 
danger^ suggested the most plausible defence, and sup- 
phed resolution where, to an ordinary spirit, it would 
have induced despair, — so that, while sinking down the 
tremendous gulf into which he had been so suddenly 
precipitated^ he displayed the samer coolness in catching 
at every weed, however feeble, that might retard his 
descent, as though the peril had long been foreseen and 
the methods of escape long rehearsed, - — while we praise 
this in him, let us not forget the still more extraordinary 
bearing of his adversary — the triumph of Pym, as un- 
paralleled as the overthrow of Strafford. In either 
case the indhidual rose or fell with the establishment 
or the withdrawal of a great principle. Pym knew and 
felt this, and that with him it now rested whether or 



^ This is Arom White1ocke*s Memorials. It is the most beautiful and 
complete report that has been given. I may subjoin a characteristic note 
from Baillic's letters. *' At the end he made such a pathetic oration, for 
half an hour, as ever comedian did on the stage. The matter and expression 
was exceeding brave. Doubtless if he had grace and civil goodness he is 
a most eloquent man. One passage is most spoken of; his breaking off in 
weeping and silence when he spoke of his first wife. Some took it for a 
true defect in his memory ; others for a notable part of his rhetoric ; some 
that true grief and remorse at that remembrance had stopt bis mouth ; for 
they say that his first lady, being with child, and finding one of hia. mis- 
tress's letters, brought it to him, and chiding him therefore, be struck her 
on the breast, whereof she shortly died." — LetterSy p. 291. The latter 
statement is only one of a thousand horrible and disgusting falsehoods 
which, notwithstanding the abundance of true accusatory matter, were 
circulated at the time against Strafford, and one or two specimens of which 
may be found in the fourth volume of lord Somer's Collection of Tracts. 
His friends, however, it is to be remarked, were not less forward in getting 
up all sorts of fictitious points of sympathy (in some respects, also, un- 
necessary, since they had plenty of true resources in that regard^ around 
him and his memory; and as an instance I may mention that an extremely 

Eathetic letter of sir Walter Raleigh to his wife (the most pathetic, pro- 
ably, in the language), written while he expected execution, was printed 
with Strafford's signature, and with the alteration of words to meet the 
circumstances of Strafford's death. The writers of the Biog. Brit do not 
seem to have been aware of this. But see Somers* Tracts, vol iv. pp. 249, 
250l i and compare with Biog. Brit. vol. v. p. 3478. 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 397 

not the privileges so long contested^ the rights so long 
misunderstood^ of the great hody of the people^ should 
win at last their assured consummation and acknowledg- 
ment. In the speeches of Pym the true point is to he 
recognised^ on which the vindication of Strafford's death 
turns. The defence of the accused was technical^ and 
founded on rules of evidence^ and legal constructions of 
statutes^ which^ though clearly defined since^ were in 
that day recognised doubtfully^ and frequently exceeded. 
The defence of the accusers^ if they are indeed to be 
put upon their defence before a posterity for whose 
rights they hazarded all things, rests upon a principle 
which was implanted in man when he was born, and 
which no age can deaden or obscure. " My lords/* 
said Pym, '^ we charge him with nothing but what the 
' law ' in every man's breast condemns, the light of 
nature, the light of common reason, the rules of common 
society." ^ Nor can it be doubted, that occasions must 
ever be recognised by the philosopher and the statesman, 
when the community may be re.invested in those rights, 
which were theirs before a particular law was estab« 
lished. If ever such an occasion had arisen, surely, 
looking back upon the occurrences of the past, and 
forward upon the prospects of the future, it had arisen 
here. It was time that outraged humanity should ap- 
peal, as Pym afterwards urged, to *' the element of all 
laws^ out of which they are derived, the end of all 
laws, to which they are designed, and in which they are 
perfected." ^ The pubhc Uberty was in danger, from 
the life of Strafford, and the question of justice reared 
itself above the narrow limits of the law. For yet, again 
Pym urged, the law itself can be no other than that 
*^ which puts a difference betwixt good and evil, be- 
twixt just and unjust ! It is God alone who subsists by 
himself, all other things subsist in a mutual dependence 
and relation! "3 jjor can it be alleged, even by the 
legal opponents of this impeachment, that the proofs 

1 Rush worth, vol viil pp. 108, 109. * Ibidp. 661 

3 Ibid. p. 663. 



398 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

adranoed under die fifteenth trticle, which had charged 
Strafiwd with raising money hy his own authority^ and 
quartering troops upon the people of Ireland, did not 
advance far more nearly to a substantive treason, within 
the statute of Edward III., than many of the reo<^[niaed 
precedents that were ofiered. '^ Neither will this," Pym 
contended on that ground with a t^rible earnestness, '^be 
a new way of blood. There are marks enough to trace 
this law to the very original of this kingdom ; and if it 
hath not been put in execution, as he all^eth^ this 240 
jetm, it was not for want of a law, but that all that time 
had not bred a man, bold enough to commit such crimes 
as these ! " 

At this moment, it is said, Strafford had been closely 
and earnestly watching Pym, when the latter, suddenly 
turning, met the fixed and wasted features of his early 
associate. A rusji of other feelings crowding into that 
look, for a moment dispossessed him. ^' His papers, 
he looked on," says BaiUie, '^ but they could not help 
him to a point or two, so he behoved to pass them." 
But a moment, and Pym s eloquence and dignified 
command returned. He had thoroughly contemplated 
his commission, and had resolved on its fulfilment. The 
occasion was not let slip, the energies wound up to 
this feat through years of hard endurance were not 
frozen, — and the cause of the people was gained. In 
the condemnation of Strafford, they resumed an alien- 
ated power, and were re-instated in an ancient freedom. 

He was condemned. The judges themsdves, on 
a solemn reference by the house of lords for their 
opinion, whether some of the articles amounted to 
treason, answered unanimously that upon all which 
their lordships had voted to be proved, it was their 
opinion the earl of Strafford did deserve to undergo the 
pains and penalties of high treason by law. 

Meanwhile, before this opinion was taken, the 
commons had changed their course, and introduced 
a bill of attainder. This has been sorely reproached to 
them, and one or two of the men who had acted with 



EABL OF STRAFFORD. SQQ 

diem up to this point now receded. Lord IMgby was 
the principal of these. " Truly, sir," he said, on the 
discussion of the 'bill, '* I am still the same in my 
opinions and afiPections, as unto the earl of Strafford. 
I confidently believe him to be the most dangerous 
minister, the most insupportable to free subjects, that 
can be charactered. I believe his practices in them- 
selves as high, as tyrannical, as any subject ever ven- 
tured on ; and the malignity of them hugely aggravated 
by those rare abilities of his, whereof God had given 
him the use, but the devil the application. In a word, 
I believe him to be still that grand apostate to the 
commonwealth, who must not expect to be pardoned 
in this world, till he be dispatched to the other. And 
yet, let me tell you, Mr. Speaker, my hand must not be 
to that dispatch. I protest, as my conscience stands in- 
formed, I had rather it were off ! " The authority of 
Digby in this affair, however, may well be questioned, 
since it has been proved that he had at this time en. 
tered into an intrigue to save the life of the pri- 
soner, and though he spoke against the bill with ex. 
treme earnestness, he at the same time no less earnestly 
offered to swear, that he knew nothing of a certain 
copy of important notes which had been lost, though 
they were afterwards found in his handwriting, in 
the royal cabinet taken at Naseby, and it turned out 
that having access to them, as a member of the im- 
peachment committee, he had stolen them.^ 

The bill of attainder was passed on the 21st of 
ApriL While on its way to the lords, ^e king went 
to that house and addressed them. '^ I am sure," he 
said, " you all know that I have been present at the 
hearing of this great case from the one end to the 
other ; and I must tell you, that I cannot in my con- 
science condemn him of high treason : — ^it is not fit for 
me to argue the business ; I am sure you will not ex- 
pect that ; a positive doetrine best becomes the mouth 

1 See Wfailelscke, pc 43. 



400 BRITISH BTATESMBir. 

of a prince/* After beseeching them not to treat the 
earl with severity, he thus concluded : — '' I must confess, 
for matter of misdemeanors, I am so clear in that, 
that though I will not chalk out the way, yet let me 
tell you, that I do think my lord Strafford is not fit 
hereafter to serve me or the commonwealth in any 
place of trust, no, not so much as that of a constable. 
Therefore, I leave it to you, my lords, to find some 
such way as to bring me out of this great strait^ and 
keep ourselves and the kingdom from such inconveni.^ 
ences. Certainly he that thinks him guilty of high 
treason in his conscience may condemn him of misde- 
meanor/' 

When Strafford heard in his prison of this intended 
interference, he had earnestly protested against it, and^ 
on learning that the step was actually taken, he gave 
himself up for lost.^ He had judged truly. The 
leaders of the commons took advantage of the occasion 
it offered. The presbyterian pulpits of the following 
day, which happened to be Sunday, sent forth into 
every quarter of London, cries of *^ justice upon the 
great delinquent ; " and on the succeeding mornings 
furious multitudes, variously armed, thronged the ap* 
proaches to the house of lords; placarded as '* Strafford- 
ians, or betrayers of their country," the names of those 
commoners who had voted against the attainder ; and 
shouted openly for the blood of Strafford. 

Pym, meanwhile, had discovered and crushed a con- 
spiracy for his release, which had originated in the 
court, and was disclosed by the inviolable fidelity of the 
governor of the Tower. 

No hope remained. The lords, proceeding upon the 
judicial opinion I have named, passed the bill of at- 
tainder, voting upon the articles judicially, and not as 
if they were enacting a legislative measure. 

The earl of Strafford, with a generosity worthy of 
his intellect, now wrote to the king and released him 

> Clarendon and RadcHffb. 



BARJt OF 8TRAFV0&D* 401 

from his pledged word. *' To wy, sir/' he wrote ia 
the coarse of this memorable letter^ ^' that there hath 
not been a strife in me, were to make me less man than, 
Grod knoweth, my infirmities make me ; and to call a 
destrucdon upon myself and my young children (where 
the intentions of my heart at least have been innocent 
of this great ofFence), may be believed, will find no easy 
consent from fiesh and blood/' Its concluding passages 
ran thus : — " So now, to set your majesty's conscience 
at liberty, I do most humbly beseech your majesty, for 
prevention of evils which may happen by your refusal 
to pass this bill, and by this means to remove, praised 
be God, (I cannot say this accursed, but, I confess), 
this unfortunate thing, forth of the way towards that 
blessed agreement, vvhich God, I trust, shall ever es- 
tablish between you and your subjects. Sir, my con- 
sent shall more acquit you herein to God, than all the 
world can do besides. To a willing man there is no 
injury done. And as, by God's grace, 1 forgive all the 
world with a calmness and meekness of infinite con- 
tentment to my dislodging soul, so, sir, to you I can 
give the life of this world, with all the cheerfulness 
imaginable, in the just acknowledgment of your exceed- 
ing favours, and only beg, that in your goodness you 
would vouchsafe to cast your gracious regard upon my 
poor son and his three sisters, less or more, and no 
otherwise, than as their (in present) unfortunate father 
may hereafter appear more or less guilty of this death/' 
The singular note which has been preserved by 
Burnet, and which relates circumstances taken from 
the lips of Hollis himself, continues the deep interest of 
this tragic history : — " The earl of Strafford had 
married his sister : so, though in the parliament he was 
one of the hottest men of the party, yet when that 
matter was before them, he always withdrew. When 
the bill of attainder was passed, the king sent for him, 
to know what he could do to save the earl of Strafford. 
Hollis answered that, if the king pleased, since the 
execution of the law was in him, he might legally grant 

VOL. II. D n 



400 BBITWH SJ 

Of . prinw." After bese<H 
e»rliviihBeverily,helhoson 
for malter of misdemeanot- 
that though IwiU not cl,.... 
tell you, tliat I do think u 
hereafter W Beri-e me <"" 
place of trust, no, not so li. 
Therefore, I leave it to yvi 
such way as to bong rie <> 
keep ourselves snd the kiu;. 
.nces. Certainly he that 
treason in his conscience u. 
meanor." , - 

When Strafford heard 
interference, he l'»'^^'""'''^'_ 
on learning that the s t - 
himself np f-' l""' '' 
leaders of the commons "^ 
it offered. The preBbyu 
day, which happened i< 
e^iry quar«r of Lo"'';' 
(Treat delinquent; »'"■ 
furious multitudes, var 
proaches to the house- 
i^ns, or betrayers ot H' 
com'monets who had ' 
Bhouted openly tor ■■ 

Pym, meanwhil 
spiracy for his ■ 
court, and "■»■: ■ 
oovernor of tl' 



I, and, to endear it 
d)at of rU your bouse 
that by a conference 
use of comroona con- 
exercise of mercy is 
I see both houses of 
lat I should moderate 
ortant a case. I will 
'h me in this my in- 
willing, but certainly 
1 granting your just 
lis life can satisfy my 

Thus again, recom. 

intention to you, I 



Dughly defeated, and 
pitiable letter ended 
he foot on a worm so 
■hei king who signed 
nes of which he was 
, and friend baa for 
teady application to it 
truth hu^ly any way 
f its inteniity of hue, 
ted infamy over other 
The reader who has 
ils of Strafford's life 
r when we have con-i 
bankful king" never 
uch as in him lay, be 
old privilege of mis. 
and abiding by his 
;fueals to anard those 
I minister was a pe- 
lf the royal interest, 
ipb of one who dares 
hrust upon hitn, but 



#0# BRITISH flTATESMBir. 

■erenges btmaelf >y withholding their wdl-eanied 
ward; -7- still does the blackness accumulate to baffle 
•iir efforts. The paltry tears be is said to have sbed 
odIj bum that bhcltness in. If bis after conduct indeed 
bad been different, be might have availed himself of 
one excuse, — but that the roan, who,, in a few short 
months, proved that he could make so resolute a stand 
somewhere, should have judged this event no occasion 
for attempting it, is either a crowning infamy or an 
infinite consolation, according as we may judge wicked- 
ness or weakness to have preponderated, in the consti- 
tution of Charles I. 

Sufficient has been said to vindicate these remarks 
from any, the remotest, intention of throwing doubt on 
the perfect justice of that bill of attainder. Bills of 
attainder had not been uncommon in England ; are the 
same in principle as the ordinary bills of pains and 
penalties ; and the resort to that principle in the pre- 
sent ease, arose from no failure of the impeachment^ 
as has been frequently alleged ', but because, in the course 
of that impeachment, circumstances arose, which sug- 
gested to the great leader of the popular cause the 
greater safety of fixing this case upon wider and more 
special grounds. Without stretching to the slightest 
extent the boundaries of any statute, they thought it 
better at onee to bring Strafford's treason to the con* 
demnation of the sources of all law. In this view it 
is one of their wisest achievements that has been brought 
within the most hasty and ill-considered censure — 
their famous proviso that the attainder should not be 
acted upon by the judges as a precedent in determin. 
ing the crime of treason. As to Strafford's death, the 
remark that the people had no alternative, includes all 
that it is necessary to urge. The king's assurances of 
his intention to afford him no further opportunity of 
crime, could surely weigh nothing with men who had 
observed how an infinitely more disgusting minister of 

1 The judges and peeis voted judicially even on the bill, as baa been 
already stated, 



EABL OF 6tBAFF0BI>. 405 

his will had Only seemed to rise the higher in hi« 
master's estimation for the accumulated curses of the 
nation. Nothing but the knife of Felton could sev^ 
in that case the weak head and the wicked instrument, 
and it is to the honour of the adversaries of Strafford 
that they were earnest that their cause should vindicate 
itself completely^ and look for no adventitious redress* 
Strafford had outraged the people — this was not de- 
nied. He was defended on the ground of those out- 
rages not amounting to a treason against the king. 
For my own part^ this defence appears to me decisive^ 
looking at it in a technical view^ and with our present 
settlement of evidence and treason. But to concede 
that pointy after the advances they had made^ would 
have been in that day to concede all. It was to be 
shown that another power had claim to the loyalty and 
the service of Strafford — and if a claim, then a ven- 
geance to exact for its neglect. And this was done« 

Nor should the subject be quitted without the re- 
mark, that the main principle contended for by Pym 
and his associates was, at the last, fully submitted to by 
Strafford. He allowed the full power of the people s 
assembly to take cognizance of his deeds and to dispose 
of his life, while most earnestly engaged in defending 
ihe former and preserving the latter. Now the calm 
and magnanimous patience of Strafford was very com- 
patible with a fixed denial of the authority of his judges, 
had that appeared contestible in his eyes, — but we 
find no intimation of such a disposition. He would 
not have the parliament's '< punishment precede pro- 
mulgation of a law ; *' he pleads that ^^ to be punished 
by a law subsequent to the fact is extreme hard;" and 
that '^ it is hard that there should be no token «et by 
which we should know this offence, no admonition 
by which we should avoid it ; '' and he is desirous that 
** a precedent may not be derived from one so disadvan- 
tageous as this ; " — but, in the mean time, the cause is 
gained, the main and essential point is given up ! The 
old boasts of the lord lieutenant's being accountable to 

]> D 3 



406 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

the king alone^ of the king's will being the one and the 
only law of his service, are no longer heard. It may 
be said that a motive of prudence withheld StrafPord 
from indignantly appealing to the king in his larking 
place^ from the unrecognised array of questioners and 
self constituted inquisitors, who had taken upon them- 
selves to supersede him, — but when the sentence was 
passed and its execution at hand, when hope was gone 
and the end rapidly hastening, we still find Strafibrd 
oflfering nothing against the right. 

One momentary emotion^ not inconsistent with his 
letter to the king, escaped him when he was told to 
prepare for death. He asked if the king had indeed 
assented to the bill. Secretary Carleton answered in the 
affirmative ; and Strafford^ laying his hand on his heart, 
and raising his eyes to heaven^ uttered the memorable 
words^ — <f Put not your trust in princes^ nor in the 
sons of men^ for in them there is no salvation." 
Charles's conduct was indeed incredibly monstrous. 

Three days more of existence were granted to Straflfbrd, 
which he employed calmly in the arrangement of his 
affairs. He wrote a petition to the house of lords to 
have compassion on his innocent children; addressed a 
letter to his wife bidding her affectionately to support 
her courage ; and accompanied it with a letter of final 
instruction and advice to his eldest son. This is in all 
respects deeply touching : — " My dearest Will," he 
wrote, '^ These are the last lines that you are to receive 
from a father that tenderly loves you. I wish there were a 
greater leisure to impart my mind unto you, but our mer- 
ciful God will supply all things by his grace, and guide 
and protect you in all your ways, — to whose infinite good- 
ness I bequeath you. And therefore be not discouraged^ 
but serve him, and trust in him, and he will preserve and 
prosper you in all things. Be sure you give all respect 
to my wife, that hath ever had a great love unto you, 
and therefore will be well becoming you. Never be 
awanting in your love and care to your sisters, but let 
them ever be most dear unto you : — for^ this will give 



EARL OF STRAFFORD. 40? 

Others cause to esteenj and respect you for it, and is a 
duty that you owe them in the memory of your excellent 
mother aiid myself; therefore your care and affection 
to them must be the very same that you are to have of 
your self ; and the like regard must you have to your 
youngest sister; for indeed you owe it her also, both for 
her father and motlier's sake. Sweet Will, be careful 
to take the advice of those friends, which are by me 
desired to advise you for your education." And so the 
tenderness of the father proceeds through many' fond 
and affectionate charges. With characteristic hope he 
says — '^ The king I trust will deal graciously with you, 
and restore you those honours and that fortune, which 
a distempered time hath deprived you of, together with 
the life of your father." Advice is next given to meet 
the occurrence of such a chance. " Be sure to avoid as 
much as you can to enquire after those that have been 
sharp in their judgments towards me, and I charge you 
never to suffer thought of revenge to enter your heart ; 
but be careful to be informed, who were my friends in 
this prosecution, and to them apply yourself to make 
them your friends also ; and on such you may rely, and 
bestow much of your converssation amongst them. And 
God almighty of his infinite goodness bless you and your 
children's children ; and his same goodness bless your 
sisters in like manner, perfect you in every good work, 
and give you right understandings in all things. Amen. 
Your most loving father, Thomas Wentworth."' 

At one time, probably, a deeper pang would have 
been involved to Straflbrd in this aflPecting surren- 
der of his cherished title, than in that of existence 

1 StrafTord Papers, vol. ii. p. 416. The letter bears date the 11th of 
May, 1641, and has the following iMMstscript : — ** You must not fail to be- 
have yourself toward]* my lady Clare, vo ar grandmother, with all duty and 
observance; for most tenderly doth ^h? love you, and hath been passing 
kind unto me. God reward her charity for it. And l)oth in this and all 
the rest, the same that I counsel you, the same do I direct also to your 
niters, that so the same may be oljserved by you all. And once more do 
I, A-oni my very son I, lieseern our gracious Goii to bless and govern you 
in all, to the saving you in tht* day of his visitation, and join us again in 
the communion of his blessed saints, where is fulness of joy and bliss for 
evermore. Amen, Amen." The " youngest sister" was the infant oflady 
Strafibrd. 

]> D 4 



1 



408 BBirUH BTATESMBlf. 

kMlf. But this wai not die time. Nothiiq^ Imt eon- 
eern for his familj and friends disturbed the com- 
posure of his remaining boars. He wrote kind send 
enconraging letters to *' dear George^** as he called sir 
George Radcliffe ; shed tears for the death of Wandea- 
ford^ whom he had entrnsted with the care of his go- 
remment and family, but who broke bis heart on 
hearing of the sad events that had fallen on his patron ; 
and requested of the primate of Ireland (Usher), who 
attended him, to desire '^my lord's Grace df Canterburf,*' 
his old friend, the now imprisoned and afflicted Laud, 
'* to lend me his prayers this night and to gire me his 
blessing when I go abroad to-morrow, and to be in his 
window, that, by my last farewell, I may give him 
thanks for this, and all other, his former favours/' 
He had previously asked the lieutenant of the Tower if 
it were possible to have an interview with Laud, adding 
with playful sarcasm, " You shall hear what passes 
betwixt us. It is not a time either for him to plot 
heresy, or me to plot treason." The lieutenant in re- 
ply suggested a petition to the parliament. '^ No," 
was the quiet rejoinder. *' I have gotten my despatch 
from them, and will trouble them no more. I am now 
petitioning a higher court, where neither partiality can 
be expected, nor error feared." 

Laud, old and feeble, staggered to the window of his 
cell as Strafford passed on the following morning, and, 
as he lifted his hands to bestow the blessing his lips 
were unable to ntter, fell back and fainted in the arms 
of his attendant. 

Strafford moved on to the scaffold with undisturhed 
composure. His body, so soon to be released, had given 
him a respite of its infirmities for that trying hour. 
Rushwortb, the derk of the parliament, was one of the 
spectators^ and has minutely described the scene. " When 
he arrived outside the Tower, the lieutenant desired him 
to take coach at the gate, lest the enraged mob should 
tear him in pieces. ' No,' said he, ' Mr. Lieutenant, I 
dare look death in the face^ and the people too ; have 



KABL or STRAFFORD. 409 

jou a csfle I do not escape ; 't is equal to me how I die^ 
whether by the stroke of the executioner^ or by the 
niadness axid fury of the people, if that may give them 
better content/" Not less than 100,000 persons, 
who had crowded in from all parts, were visible on 
Tower-hill, in a long and dark perspective. Strafford, 
in his walk, took off his hat frequently, and saluted 
them, and received not a word of insult or reproach. 
His step and manner are described by Rushworth to 
have been those of *' a general marching at the head of 
an army, to breathe victory, rather than 'those of a con- 
demned man, to undergo the sentence of death." At 
hia side, upon the scaffold, stood his brother, sir George 
Wentworth, the bishop of Armagh, the earl of Cleve- 
land, and others of his friends, — and behind them the 
indefatigable collector Rushworth, who '^ being then 
there on the scaffold with him,'* as he says, took down 
the speech which, having asked their patience first, 
Strafford at some length addressed to the people. He 
declared the innocence of his intentions, whatever might 
have been the construction of his acts, and said that the 
prosperity of his country was his fondest wish. But 
it augured ill, he told them, for the people's happiness, 
to write the commencement of a reformation in letters 
of blood. ^' One thing I desire to be heard in," he 
added, '^and do hope that for Christian charity's sake 
I shall be believed. I was so far from being against 
.parliaments, that I did always think parliaments in 
£ngland to be the happy constitution of the kingdom 
and nation, and the heist means, under God, to make 
the king and his people happy." ^ 

He then turned to take leave of the friends who had 
accompanied him to the scaffold. He beheld his bro. 
ther weeping excessively. '' Brother," he said, *' what 
do you see in me to cause these tears ? Does any inno- 
cent fear betray in me — guilt ? or my innocent boldness 

1 The paper of minutes fVom which be had spoken this ipceeh, wai 
afterwards found lying on the scaffbld, and was printed by Rushworth, 
vol viiL p. 761. See Appendix to this Memoir. 



410 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

—■atheism ? Think that you are now accompanying me 
the fourth time to my marriage hed. That hlock must 
he my pillow^ and here I shall rest from all my labours. 
No thoughts of envy, no dreams of treason, nor 
jealousies, nor cares, for the king, the state^ or myself, 
shall interrupt this easy sleep. Remember me to my 
sister, and to my wife ; and carry my blessing to my 
eldest son, and to Ann, and Arabella, not forgetting 
my little infant, that knows neither good nor evil, and 
cannot speak for itself. God speak for it, and bless it !'* 
While undressing himself, and winding his hair under 
a cap, he said, looking on the block — ^^ I do as cheer- 
fully put ofFmy doublet at this time as ever I did when 
I went to bed." 

*' Then," proceeds Rushworth, closing this memor- 
able scene, " then he called, ' Where is the man that 
shall do this last office (meaning the executioner) > 
call him to me.' When he came and asked him for- 
giveness, he told him he forgave him and all the world. 
Then kneeling down by the block, he went to prayer 
again by himself, the bishop of Armagh kneeling on 
the one side, and the minister on' the other; to the 
which minister after prayer he turned himself, and 
spoke some few words softly ; having his hands lifted 
up, the minister closed his hands with his. Then bow- 
ing himself to the earth, to lay down his head on the 
block, he told the executioner that he would first lay 
down his head to try the fitness of the block, and take 
it up again, before he laid it down for good and all ; and 
so he did ; and before he laid it down again he told the 
executioner that he would give him warning when to 
strike, by stretching forth his hands ; and then he laid 
down his neck on the block, stretching out his hands ; 
the executioner struck ofi^ his head at one blow, then 
took the head up in his hand, and showed it to all the 
people, and said, * God save the king I ' " 

Thus, on Wednesday, the 12 th of May, 1641, died 
Thomas Went worth, the first earl of Straflford. Within 
a few weeks of his death, the parliament mitigated the 



EAKL OF STRAFFORD. 41 I 

most severe consequences of their punishment to his 
children ; and, in the succeeding reign, the attainder was 
reversed, the proceedings ohliterated, and his son re- 
stored to the earldom. 

A great lesson is written in the life of this truly 
extraordinary person. In the career of Strafford 
•is to be sought the justification of the world's *' ap- 
peal from tyranny to God." In him Despotism had 
at length obtained an instrument with mind to com- 
prehend, and resolution to act upon, her principles in 
their length and breadth, — and enough of her pur- 
poses were effected by him, to enable mankind to see 
^^ as from a tower the end of all." I cannot discern 
one false step in Strafford's public conduct, one glimpse 
of a recognition of an alien principle, one instance of 
a dereliction of the law of his being, which can come 
in to dispute the decisive result of the experiment, or 
explain away its failure. The least vivid fancy will 
have no difficulty in taking up the interrupted design, 
and by wholly enfeebling, or materially emboldening, the 
insignificant nature of Charles, and by according some 
half dozen years of immunity to the '^ fretted tenement " 
of Strafford's " fiery soul," — contemplate then, for itself, 
the perfect realisation of the scheme of '^ making the 
prince the most absolute lord in Christendom." That 
done, — let it pursue the same course with respect to 
Eliofs noble imaginings, or to young Vane's dreamy 
aspirings, and apply in like manner a fit machinery to 
the working out the projects which made the dungeon 
of the one a holy place, and sustained the other in his self- 
imposed exile. — The result is great and decisive ! It 
establishes, in renewed force, those principle of political 
conduct which have endured, and must continue to 
endure, " Hke truth from age to age." 



1 



41S 



APPENDIX 

TO TBI 

LIFE OF THE EARL OF STRAFFORD. 



VT HUMBLB OPINION COKCERNtNO A PARLIAMENT IN 
THIS YOUR majesty's KINGDOM OF IRELAND. 

Chaelxs R. 1. Albeit the callitis; of a 

Sections 1, 2, S, 4, 5. tTpatt parliament in this kingdom is 
thne reasons alledged by yoUf at no time of so much Iiazard, 
tmd the confidence wfiich we where nothing is propounded 
have that you have well weighed as a law before it first borrow 
«ff the circumstances mentioned motion from your majes^*s 
ly yout or otherwise necessary immediate allowance under 
io the caUing of a parliament; your great seal, as it is in 
and espectally relying upon your England, where there is a 
Jaith and dexterity in managing liberty assumed to offer every 
so great a work for the good of thing in their own time and 
mir service ; we are fully per- order ; and this subordination, 
suaded to cotidescend to the pre- whereunto they have been led 
sent calling of a parliament ; by the wisdom of former times, 
loAtcA accordingly we authorise is ever to be held as a sacred 
and require you to do, and prerogative, not to be departed 
therein to make use of all the from, in no piece to be broken 
m/Utbes you here propound- • or infringed. Yet is the pro- 
position always weighty — very 
necessary to be considered with great deliberation — whether 
the present conjuncture of affairs doth now advise a parliament 
or no? And, after a serious discourse with myself, my 
reason persuades me for the assembling thereof. 

2. For, the contribution from the country towards the army 
ending in December next, your majesty's revenue falls short 



EABL OF STB AFFORD. 413 

twenty thousand pounds sterling by the year of the present 
charge it is burthened withal, besides the vast debt of fourscore 
thousand pounds, Irish, upon the crown ; which yearly payments, 
alone, are impossible by any other ordinary way to be in time 
supplied, but by the subject in parliament ; and to pass to the 
extraordinary, before there be at least an attempt first to effect 
it with ease, were to love difficulties too well, rather volunta- 
rily to seek them, than unwillingly to meet them, and might 
seem as well vanity in the first respect so to affect tliem, as 
laintness to bow under them, when they are not to be avoided. 
3. The next inclination thereunto ariseth in me, from the. 
condition of this country, grown very much more civil and 
rich since the access of your royal father of blessed memory, 
and your majesty to the crown ; that all you have here is 
issued out again amongst them for their protection and safety, 
without any considerable reservation, for other the great affairs^ 
and expences abroad ; that this great charge is sustained, and 
this great debt] contracted through imployments for a publick 
good, whereof the benefit hitherto hath been intirely theirs; 
that there hath been but one subsidy granted in all this time, 
nor any other supply but this contribution; in exchange 
whereof, your princely bounty returned them graces as bene- 
ficial to this subject as their money was to your majesty; so a^ 
their substance having been so increased under the guard of. 
your wisdom and justice, so little issued hence from them, the 
crown so pressed, only for their good, and so modest a calling 
upon them now for a supply, which in all wisdom, good 
nature, and conscience, they are not to deny ; should they not 
conform themselves to your gracious will, their unthankful ness 
to God, and the best of kings, becomes inexcusable before all 
the world, and the regal power more warrantably to be at aJFler 
extended for redeeming and recovering your majesty's revenues 
thus lost, and justly to punish so great a forfeit as this must 
needs be judged to be in them. 

4. Next, the frightful apprehension, which at this time 
makes their hearts beat, lest the quarterly payments towards the 
army, continued now almost ten years, might in fine turn to an 
hereditary charge upon their lands, inclines them to give any 
reasonable thing in present, to secure themselves of that fear 



414 BRITISH STATESMEN. 

for the future ; and therefore, according to the wholesonie 
counsel of the physician, ^- Dum dolet accij)e. 

5. And lastly, If they should meanly cast from them these 
mighty obligations, which indeed I cannot fear, your majesty's 
affairs can never suffer less by their starting aside, when the 
general peace abroad admits a more united power in your 
majesty, and less distracted thoughts in your ministers, to 
chastise such a forgetful uess, to call to tlieir remembrance, and 
to inforce from them other and better duties than these. 

Sect. 6, 7, 8, 9. Ife ap- 6. In the second place, the 
foifU the time of the meeting to time your majesty shall in your 
be in Trinity term nexttfar the wisdom appoint for tliis meet- 
reatom you here aJUedge, Ing imports very much ; which 

with all submission I should 
advise, might not be longer put off than Easter or Trinity term 
at farthest ; and I shall crave leave to offer my reasons. 

7. The improvements mentioned in my dispatch to the lord 
treasurer, from which I no ways recede, would not be fore- 
slowed ; wherein we lose much by deferring this meeting ; 
a circumstance very considerable in these streights, wherein, if 
surprised, might be of much disadvantage, in case the parlia- 
ment answer not eirpectation ; and to enter upon that work 
before, would be an argument for them to scant their supply to 
your majesty. 

8. Again, a breach of parliament would prejudice less thus 
than in winter, having at the worst six months to turn our eyes 
about, and many helps to be gained in that space ; where, in 
the other case, the contribution ending in December next, we 
should be put upon an instant of time, to read over our lesson 
at first sight. 

9. Then the calling of a parliament, and determining of 
the quarterly payments, falling out much upon one, might 
make them apprehend there was a necessity enforcing a present 
agreement, if not the good one we would, yet the best we 
could get, and so embolden them to make and flatter them- 
selves to gain their own conditions, and conditions are not to 
be admitted with any subjects, less with this people, where 
your majesty's absolute sovereignty goes much higher than it 
is taken, perhaps, to do in England. 



BARL OF STRAFFORD. 415 

Sect. 10. JFe well approve 10. And lastly, There be- 

and require the making of two ing some of your majesty's 

KSsionS) as you propose. The graces, which being passed 

first to be held in summer for into laws, might be of great 

CUT own supplies ; and the se- prejudice to the crown ; and 

cond in winter, for passing such yet it being to be feared they 

iaws and graces ordy, as shall be will press for them all, and 

tUlowed by us. But this inti- uncertain what humour the 

tnaiion of two sessions, we think denying any of them might 

fiot fit to be imparted to any, move in their minds, I con- 

HU the parliament beset* And ceive, under favour, it would 

further, we will admit no ca- be much better to make two 

pitulatiojis nor demands of any sessions of it, one in sum- 

ussurance under our broad seal, mer, the other in winter ; in 

nor of sending over dejmlies or the former, to settle your ma- 

tommUiees to treat here with jesty's supply, and in the lat- 

vSy nor of any restraint in our ter, to enact so many of those 

hill of subsidies, nor of any conn graces as in honour and wis- 

diiion of not maintaining the dom should be judged equals 

army s but in case any of these when the putting aside of the 

be insisted upon, and that they rest might be of no ill conse- 

will not otherwise proceed or be quence to other your royal 

satisfied with our royal promise purposes. 
for the second session, or shall 

deny or delay the passing of our bills, we require you tJiereupon 
to dissolve the parliament ; and forthwith to take order to continue 

the contributions for our army, and withal to proceed to such 
improvements of our revenue as are already in proposition, cr 
may hereafter be thought vjionforthe advantage of our crown. 

Sect 11. Concerning the 11. All the objections I 

short law to jrreserve the utter- am able to suggest unto my- 

most benefit of the compositions self, are two : That it might 

vpon concealments, and the render fruitless the intended 

plantations of Connaght and improvement upon the con- 

Ormond, we like U well, if you cealments, and prejudice the 

can obtain it, for confirmation plantations of Connaght and 

of what you have done, or shall Ormond. The former may 

hereafter do about those busi- easily be helped by a short 

nesses. But your promising of law, propounded in my dis- 



i WK I I ' ' " "^^^B 



416 BRITISH 8TATE8MEV. 



nicA a law, we doubi, may km- patch to my lord treasurer ; 
der the terncet and cause them and posUot that there no other 
to be MoHfy^d with nothing but Uiw pass the Brst leasion ; tbe 
• apecial ttatute, second is likewise sufficieatlj 

secured. 
Sect 12, IS, 14, 15. For 12. Then it is to be fore- 
demands to be made for tts, we seen, what your majesty will 
allow your jtroposUions in these demand, how induce and 
sectiimSt both in the matter and pursue the same, for the 
in the firm ; only tJie last happy settlement of the regal 
dauset which giveth hope to rights and powers in this more 
mtUntain the army afterwards subordinate kingdom. 
without further charge to them 1 3. My humble advice is, 
at all, we conceive may be drawn to declare, at the first opening 
to' a binding assumption; and of the meeting, that your ma- 
besides, it is not necessary ; the jesty intends and promises two 
very proposition being sufficient sessions ; this former for your- 
to that effect, self, that latter, in Michaelmas 

term next, for them; tliis to 
ascertain the payments of your army, and to strike off the debts 
of your crown ; that, for the enacting of all such profitable 
and wholsome laws, as a moderate and good people may expect 
from a wise and gracious king. 

14. That, this being the order of nature, reason, and civility, 
your majesty expects it should be entirely observed, and your- 
self wholly intrusted by them; which they are not only to 
grant to be fit in the general case of king aud subjects, but 
ought indeed to acknowledge it with thankfulness due to your 
majesty in particular, when they look back, and call to mind, 
how for their ease you were content to take the sixscore thou- 
sand pounds (which their agents gave to be paid in three) in 
six years ; and not barely so neither, but to double your graces 
towards them the whilst, which they have enjoyed accordingly, 
much to their advantage and greatly to the loss of the crown, 

15. And that considering the army hath been represented 
over to your majesty from this council, and in a manner from 
the body of this whole kingdom, to be of absolute necessity, to 
give comfort to the quiet minds in their honest labours, to 
contain the licentious spirits within the modest bounds of 



EARL OF 8TRAFF0BD. 417. 

sobriety/ it consists not with your majesty's wisdom to give 
unto the world, no, not the appearance of so much improvi- 
dence in your own counsels, of so much forgetfulness in a case 
of their safety, as to leave that pillar of your authority, and 
their peace, unset for continuance, at least one six months 
before the wearing forth of their contribution. 

Sect. 16, 17, 18. We do 16. Therefore your ma- 
no^ conceive that hereby you jesty was well assured in con- 
purpose easily to relinquish any formity to the rules of reason 
of our demands, for all which and judgment, they would pre- 
you have laid so fair and solid sently grant three subsidies to 
grounds* And considering the be pud in three years, to dis- 
jjayment ' of the army is abso" engage the crown of fourscore 
luiely necessary to be bom by thousand pound debt; and 
the countryy they cannot pre- continue their quarterly pay- 
iend by their three subsidies to ments towards the army four 
make a fitting recognition of years longer ; in which time it 
re^ct for our coming to the was hopeful (suitable to your 
crown, without that last addition gracious intentions) some other 
to buy in rents and pensions, expedient might be found out, 

to maintain the army without 
further charge to them at all ; which law past, they shou'd 
have as much leisure to enact for themselves at after, as they 
could desire, either now, or in winter. Nay your majesty 
wou*d be graciously pleased, with the assistance of your coun- 
cil, to advise seriously with them, that nothing might remain, 
either unthought of, or deny*d, conducing to the publick good 
of this kingdom : but if they made difficulty to proceed with 
your majesty in this manner, other counsels must be thought 
of, and little to be rely'd, or expected for from them. - 

17. I am not to ilatter your majesty so far, as to raise any 
hope, on that side, tha^ all this shou'd be granted, but by 
pressing both ; and especially the continuance of the quarterly 
payments to the army, which they dread above any earthly 
thing. I conceive it probable, that to determine and lay 
asleep (as they think) the contribution, and in acknowledgment 
of your majesty's happy access to the crown, they may be 
drawn to a present gift of three subsidies, payable in three 
years, which alone wou*d keep the army on foot during that 

VOL. II. E £ 



418 BRITISH BTATSSMEN. 

time; and if my calculation hold, almost discharge the debt 
of the crown besides. 

"^ 18. For thus I make my estimate : the contribution from 
the country, is now but twenty thousand pounds sterling by 
the year; whereas I have good reason to trust, each subsidy 
will raise thirty thousand pounds sterling ; and so there will 
be ten thousand pounds for three years, oyer and above the 
establishment: which thirty thousand pounds sterling, well 
and profitably issued, [will, I trust, with honour to your 
majesty, and moderate satisfaction of the parties, strike off the 
whole fourscore thousand pounds Irish, which in present 
presseth so sore upon this crown. 

Sect 19, 20, 21, 22. We 19. And then, sir, after 
l\kt well the appoiniing cf tuch that in Michaelmas term, all 
a committee^ and we refer the beneficial acts for the subject 
nomincUion to yoursdf. We be thought of, as many, no 
have also given order to some of fewer nor no more, enacted, 
our council here, with the as^ than were fit in honour and 
sistance of our attorney general^ wisdom to be granted ; if for 
to consider of the graces, that a conclusion to this parlia- 
nothing pass by law which may ment, we could gain from 
prejudice our crown* them other two subsidies, to 

buy in rents and pensions, to 
ten thousand pounds yearly value ; (a thing they are inclinable 
unto, as is mention'd in my dispatch to the lord treasurer) I 
judge, there were an happy issue of this meeting; and that it 
shou'd, through God*s blessing, appear to the world in a few 
years, you had without charge made a more absolute conquest 
of this nation by your wisdom, than all your royal progenitors 
have been able to accomplish by their armies, and vast expense 
of treasure and blood. 

20. These being the ends, in my poor opinion, which are to 
be desired and attained, the best means to dispose and fit all 
concurring causes thereunto, are not to be forgotten; and 
therefore as preparatives, I make bold to offer these ensuing 
particulars : — 

^ 21. It seems to be very convenient, a committee be forthwith 
appointed of some few of us here, to take into consideration 
all the bills intended when there was a parliament to have 



£ABL OF STBAFFOBP. 419 

been called in. the time of my lord Falkland ; such as shall be 
judged beneficial, to make them ready ; such as may be of too 
much prejudice to the crown, to lay them aside ; and to draw- 
up others, which may chance to have been then omitted 
This work may be by tlie committees either quickened or 
Ibreslowen as the parliament proceeds, either warmer or cooler 
in your majesty's supplies. 

22. Next, that your majesty's acts of grace directed to my 
lord Falkland the 24th of May, 1628, may be considered by 
such of your council in England as shall please your majesty 
to appoint; there being many matters therein contained^ 
, which in a law, wou'd not futurely so well sort with the 
power requisite to be upheld in this kingdom, nor yet with 
your majesty's present profit; which hath persuaded me to 
except against such as I hold best to be silently passed over, 
and to transmit a paper thereof to my lord treasurer. 

Sect. 23. We apprwe the 12. It is to be feared, the 
refhmMiwn of these pressures meaner sort of subjects here, 
and extortions hy examples, and live under the pressures of the 
by commissionSf by our own great men ; and there is a ge- 
atUhority ; but by no means to neral complaint, that officers 
be done by parliament, exact much larger fees, than of 

right they ought to do. To 
help the former, if it be possible, I will find out two or three 
to make examples of; and to remedy the latter, grant out a 
commission for examining, regulating, and setting down tables 
of fees in all your courts : so as they shall find your majesty's 
goodness and justice, watching and caring for their protection 
and ease, both in private and publick respects. 

Sect. 24. We allow of this 24. I shall endeavour, the 
course* lower house may be so com- 

posed, as that neither the re- 
cusants, nor yet Iheprotestants, shall appear considerably more 
one than the other ; holding them as much as may be upon an 
equal ballance ; for they will prove thus easier to govern, than 
if dther party were absolute. Then wou'd I, in private dis- 
course, shew the recusant, that the contribution ending in 
December next, if your majesty's army were not supply'd 
come other way before, the twelve pence a. Sunday must of 

£ S 2 



420 BRITUH BTATB8MBN. 

necetttty be exacted upon them; and abew the protestant, 
that your majesty must not let go the twenty thousand pounds 
contribution, nor yet discontent the other in matters of religioo, 
till the army were some way else certainly provided for ; and 
convince them both, that the present quarterly payments are 
not so burdensome as they pretend them to be ; and that by 
the graces they have had already more benefit, than their 
money came to. Thus poising one by the other, which single 
might perchance prove more unhappy to deal with. 

Sect. 25. To fnake capiains 25. I will labour to nriake 
and officers bw^estet we alto^ as many captains and officers, 
gether dislike i becatae it is fit- burgesses, as possibly I can, 
ter they attend their charges at who« having inunediate de- 
that time. Make your choice pendance upon the crown, may 
rather by particular knowledge almost sway the business be- 
of men's interests, and good of* twixt the two parties, which 
fictions to our service, way they please. 

Sect. 26. In the higher 26. In the higher house, 
house, fir tfte prelates we have yonr majesty will have, I trust, 
written our ipecUd letter to the the bishops wholly for you. 
primate of Armagh, addressing The titular lords, rather than 
him therein to be directed by come over themselves, will put 
yourself their proxies into such safe 

hands, as may be thought of on 
this side. And in the rest, your majesty hath such interest, 
what out of duty to the crown, and obnoxiousness in them- 
selves, as I do not apprehend much, any difficulty amongst 
them. 

Sect 27. For the peers, that 27. To these, or to any 
their proxies may be well dis- thing else directed by your 
posed, we wou*d have you send migesty, I will with all possi- 
with tpeed the names of those ble diligence apply myself so 
there, in vAom you repose *pe^ soon as I shall understand 
d/al trust. And in case your your pleasure therein ; most 
list cannot be here in time, toe humbly beseeching, you will 
will give order that all the take it into your gracious me- 
proxies be sent to you vdth mory, how much your ma- 
blanks to be assigned there* In jesty's speedy resolution in 
general fir the better prevent^ this great business imports tbft 



EARL OF 8TRAPF0B0. 421 

ing ^practices and disorderSf prosperity of your affairs in 

you shall suffer na meetings this place ; and in that respect, 

during the setting of the houses, vouchsafe to hasten it as much 

save onli^inpubUck, and fir the as convenienUy may be. 

service of the houses by appoint' Wentwohth. 
mentt and fir no other ends* 

1634, April 12. 

« 

The anstoers contained in • 
the apost^ are. made by his 
fnajesty, and by his command- 
ment set down in this manner. 
John Coke. 



^ Copy of the Paper containing the Heads of the Lord Straf- 
fcn€s last Speech, written by his own Hand, as it was left 
upon the Scaffold. 

1. I come to pay the last debt we owe to sin. 

2. Rise to righteousness. 

3. Die willingly. 

4. Forgive all. 

5. Submit to what is voted justice but my intentions inno- 

cent from subverting, &c. 

6. Wishing nothing more than great prosperity to king and 

people. 

7. Acquit the king constrained. 

8. Beseech to repent. 

9. Strange way to write the beginning of reformation, and 

settlement of a kingdom in blood on themselves. 

10. Beseech that demand may rest there. 

11. Call not blood on themselves. 

12. Die in the faith of the church. 

13. Pray for it, and desire their prayers with me, 



END OF THE SECOND VOLUME.