|
On the next day the King came down to the House of Lords, and dissolved the
Parliament with an angry speech. His conduct on this occasion has never been
defended by any of his apologists. Clarendon condemns it severely. "No man,"
says he, "could imagine what offence the Commons had given." The offence which
they had given is plain. They had, indeed, behaved most temperately and most
respectfully. But they had shown a disposition to redress wrongs and to
vindicate the laws; and this was enough to make them hateful to a king whom no
law could bind, and whose whole government was one system of wrong.
The nation received the intelligence of the dissolution with sorrow and
indignation, The only persons to whom this event gave pleasure were those few
discerning men who thought that the maladies of the state were beyond the reach
of gentle remedies. Oliver St. John's joy was too great for concealment. It
lighted up his dark and melancholy features, and made him, for the first time,
indiscreetly communicative. He told Hyde that things must be worse before they
could be better, and that the dissolved Parliament would never have done all
that was necessary. St. John, we think, was in the right. No good could then
have been done by any Parliament which did not fully understand that no
confidence could safely be placed in the King, and that, while he enjoyed more
than the shadow of power, the nation would never enjoy more than the shadow of
liberty.
As soon as Charles had dismissed the Parliament, he threw several members of the
House of Commons into prison. Ship-money was exacted more rigorously than ever;
and the Mayor and Sheriffs of London were prosecuted before the Star-Chamber for
slackness in levying it. Wentworth, it is said, observed, with characteristic
insolence and cruelty, that things would never go right till the Aldermen were
hanged. Large sums were raised by force on those counties in which the troops
were quartered. All the wretched shifts of a beggared exchequer were tried.
Forced loans were raised. Great quantities of goods were bought on long credit
and sold for ready money. A scheme for debasing the currency was under
consideration. At length, in August, the King again marched northward.
The Scots advanced into England to meet him. It is by no means improbable that
this bold step was taken by the advice of Hampden, and of those with whom he
acted; and this has been made matter of grave accusation against the English
Opposition. It is said that to call in the aid of foreigners in a domestic
quarrel is the worst of treasons, and that the Puritan leaders, by taking this
course, showed that they were regardless of the honor and independence of the
nation, and anxious only for the success of their own faction. We are utterly
unable to see any distinction between the case of the Scotch invasion in 1640,
and the case of the Dutch invasion in 1688; or rather, we see distinctions which
are to the advantage of Hampden and his friends. We believe Charles to have been
a worse and more dangerous king than his son. The Dutch were strangers to us,
the Scots a kindred people speaking the same language, subjects of the same
prince, not aliens in the eye of the law. If, indeed, it had been possible that
a Scotch army or a Dutch army could have enslaved England, those who persuaded
Leslie to cross the Tweed, and those who signed the invitation to the Prince of
Orange, would have been traitors to their country. But such a result was out of
the question. All that either a Scotch or a Dutch invasion could do was to give
the public feeling of England an opportunity to show itself. Both expeditions
would have ended in complete and ludicrous discomfiture, had Charles and James
been supported by their soldiers and their people. In neither case, therefore,
was the independence of England endangered; in both cases her liberties were
preserved.
The second campaign of Charles against the Scots was short and ignominious. His
soldiers, as soon as they saw the enemy, ran away as English soldiers have never
run either before or since. It can scarcely be doubted that their flight was the
effect, not of cowardice, but of disaffection. The four northern counties of
England were occupied by the Scotch army and the King retired to York.
The game of tyranny was now up. Charles had risked and lost his last stake. It
is not easy to retrace the mortifications and humiliations which the tyrant now
had to endure, without a feeling of vindictive pleasure. His army was mutinous;
his treasury was empty; his people clamored for a Parliament; addresses and
petitions against the government were presented. Strafford was for shooting the
petitioners by martial law; but the King could not trust the soldiers. A great
council of Peers was called at York; but the King could not trust even the
Peers. He struggled, evaded, hesitated, tried every shift, rather than again
face the representatives of his injured people. At length no shift was left. He
made a truce with the Scots, and summoned a Parliament.
The leaders of the popular party had, after the late dissolution, remained in
London for the purpose of organizing a scheme of opposition to the Court. They
now exerted themselves to the utmost. Hampden, in particular, rode from county
to county, exhorting the electors to give their votes to men worthy of their
confidence. The great majority of the returns was on the side of the Opposition.
Hampden was himself chosen member both for Wendover and Buckinghamshire. He made
his election to serve for the county.
On the third of November 1640, a day to be long remembered, met that great
Parliament, destined to every extreme of fortune, to empire and to servitude, to
glory and to contempt; at one time the sovereign of its sovereign, at another
time the servant of its servants. From the first day of meeting the attendance
was great; and the aspect of the members was that of men not disposed to do the
work negligently. The dissolution of the late Parliament had convinced most of
them that half measures would no longer suffice. Clarendon tells us, that "the
same men who, six months before, were observed to be of very moderate tempers,
and to wish that gentle remedies might be applied, talked now in another dialect
both of kings and persons; and said that they must now be of another temper than
they were the last Parliament." The debt of vengeance was swollen by all the
usury which had been accumulating during many years; and payment was made to the
full.
This memorable crisis called forth parliamentary abilities such as England had
never before seen. Among the most distinguished members of the House of Commons
were Falkland, Hyde, Digby, young Harry Vane, Oliver St. John, Denzil Hollis,
Nathaniel Fiennes. But two men exercised a paramount influence over the
legislature and the country, Pym and Hampden; and by the universal consent of
friends and enemies, the first place belonged to Hampden.
On occasions which required set speeches Pym generally took the lead. Hampden
very seldom rose till late in a debate. His speaking was of that kind which has,
in every age, been held in the highest estimation by English Parliaments, ready,
weighty, perspicuous, condensed. His perception of the feelings of the House was
exquisite, his temper unalterably placid, his manner eminently courteous and
gentlemanlike. "Even with those," says Clarendon, "who were able to preserve
themselves from his infusions, and who discerned those opinions to be fixed in
him with which they could not comply, he always left the character of an
ingenious and conscientious person." His talents for business were as remarkable
as his talents for debate. "He was," says Clarendon, "of an industry and
vigilance not to be tired out or wearied by the most laborious, and of parts not
to be imposed upon by the most subtle and sharp." Yet it was rather to his moral
than to his intellectual qualities that he was indebted for the vast influence
which he possessed. "When this parliament began"--we again quote Clarendon--"the
eyes of all men were fixed upon him, as their patriae pater, and the pilot that
must steer the vessel through the tempests and rocks which threatened it. And I
am persuaded his power and interest at that time were greater to do good or hurt
than any man's in the kingdom, or than any man of his rank hath had in any time;
for his reputation of honesty was universal, and his affections seemed so
publicly guided, that no corrupt or private ends could bias them. . . . He was
indeed a very wise man, and of great parts, and possessed with the most absolute
spirit of popularity, and the most absolute faculties to govern the people, of
any man I ever knew."
It is sufficient to recapitulate shortly the acts of the Long Parliament during
its first session. Strafford and Laud were impeached and imprisoned. Strafford
was afterwards attainted by Bill, and executed. Lord Keeper Finch fled to
Holland, Secretary Windebank to France. All those whom the King had, during the
last twelve years, employed for the oppression of his people, from the servile
judges who had pronounced in favor of the crown against Hampden, down to the
sheriffs who had distrained for ship-money, and the custom-house officers who
had levied tonnage and poundage, were summoned to answer for their conduct. The
Star-Chamber, the High Commission Court, the Council of York, were abolished.
Those unfortunate victims of Laud who, after undergoing ignominious exposure and
cruel manglings, had been sent to languish in distant prisons, were set at
liberty, and conducted through London in triumphant procession. The King was
compelled to give the judges patents for life or during good behavior. He was
deprived of those oppressive powers which were the last relics of the old feudal
tenures. The Forest Courts and the Stannary Courts were reformed. It was
provided that the Parliament then sitting should not be prorogued or dissolved
without its own consent, and that a Parliament should be held at least once
every three years.
Many of these measures Lord Clarendon allows to have been most salutary; and few
persons will, in our times, deny that, in the laws passed during this session,
the good greatly preponderated over the evil. The abolition of those three
hateful courts, the Northern Council, the Star-Chamber, and the High Commission,
would alone entitle the Long Parliament to the lasting gratitude of Englishmen.
The proceeding against Strafford undoubtedly seems hard to people living in our
days. It would probably have seemed merciful and moderate to people living in
the sixteenth century. It is curious to compare the trial of Charles's minister
with the trial, if it can be so called, of Lord Seymour of Sudeley, in the
blessed reign of Edward the Sixth. None of the great reformers of our Church
doubted the propriety of passing an act of Parliament for cutting off Lord
Seymour's head without a legal conviction. The pious Cranmer voted for that act;
the pious Latimer preached for it; the pious Edward returned thanks for it; and
all the pious Lords of the council together exhorted their victim to what they
were pleased facetiously to call "the quiet and patient suffering of justice."
But it is not necessary to defend the proceedings against Strafford by any such
comparison. They are justified, in our opinion, by that which alone justifies
capital punishment or any punishment, by that which alone justifies war, by the
public danger. That there is a certain amount of public danger which will
justify a legislature in sentencing a man to death by retrospective law, few
people, we suppose, will deny. Few people, for example, will deny that the
French Convention was perfectly justified in placing Robespierre, St. Just, and
Couthon under the ban of the law, without a trial. This proceeding differed from
the proceeding against Strafford only in being much more rapid and violent.
Strafford was fully heard. Robespierre was not suffered to defend himself. Was
there, then, in the case of Strafford, a danger sufficient to justify an act of
attainder? We believe that there was. We believe that the contest in which the
Parliament was engaged against the King was a contest for the security of our
property, for the liberty of our persons, for everything which makes us to
differ from the subjects of Don Miguel. We believe that the cause of the Commons
was such as justified them in resisting the King, in raising an army, in sending
thousands of brave men to kill and to be killed. An act of attainder is surely
not more a departure from the ordinary course of law than a civil war. An act of
attainder produces much less suffering than a civil war. We are, therefore,
unable to discover on what principle it can be maintained that a cause which
justifies a civil war will not justify an act of attainder.
Many specious arguments have been urged against the retrospective law by which
Strafford was condemned to death. But all these arguments proceed on the
supposition that the crisis was an ordinary crisis. The attainder was, in truth,
a revolutionary measure. It was part of a system of resistance which oppression
had rendered necessary. It is as unjust to judge of the conduct pursued by the
Long Parliament towards Strafford on ordinary principles, as it would have been
to indict Fairfax for murder because he cut down a cornet at Naseby. From the
day on which the Houses met, there was a war waged by them against the King, a
war for all that they held dear, a war carried on at first by means of
parliamentary forms, at last by physical force; and, as in the second stage of
that war, so in the first, they were entitled to do many things which, in quiet
times, would have been culpable.
We must not omit to mention that those who were afterwards the most
distinguished ornaments of the King's party supported the bill of attainder. It
is almost certain that Hyde voted for it. It is quite certain that Falkland both
voted and spoke for it. The opinion of Hampden, as far as it can be collected
from a very obscure note of one of his speeches, seems to have been that the
proceeding by Bill was unnecessary, and that it would be a better course to
obtain judgment on the impeachment.
During this year the Court opened a negotiation with the leaders of the
Opposition. The Earl of Bedford was invited to form an administration on popular
principles. St. John was made solicitor-general. Hollis was to have been
secretary of state, and Pym chancellor of the exchequer. The post of tutor to
the Prince of Wales was designed for Hampden. The death of the Earl of Bedford
prevented this arrangement from being carried into effect; and it may be doubted
whether, even if that nobleman's life had been prolonged, Charles would ever
have consented to surround himself with counselors whom he could not but hate
and fear.
Lord Clarendon admits that the conduct of Hampden during this year was mild and
temperate, that he seemed disposed rather to soothe than to excite the public
mind, and that, when violent and unreasonable motions were made by his
followers, he generally left the House before the division, lest he should seem
to give countenance to their extravagance. His temper was moderate. He sincerely
loved peace. He felt also great fear lest too precipitate a movement should
produce a reaction. The events which took place early in the next session
clearly showed that this fear was not unfounded.
During the autumn the Parliament adjourned for a few weeks. Before the recess,
Hampden was dispatched to Scotland by the House of Commons, nominally as a
commissioner, to obtain security for a debt which the Scots had contracted
during the last invasion; but in truth that he might keep watch over the King,
who had now repaired to Edinburgh, for the purpose of finally adjusting the
points of difference which remained between him and his northern subjects. It
was the business of Hampden to dissuade the Covenanters from making their peace
with the Court, at the expense of the popular party in England.
While the King was in Scotland, the Irish rebellion broke out. The suddenness
and violence of this terrible explosion excited a strange suspicion in the
public mind. The Queen was a professed Papist. The King and the Archbishop of
Canterbury had not indeed been reconciled to the See of Rome; but they had,
while acting towards the Puritan party with the utmost rigor, and speaking of
that party with the utmost contempt, shown great tenderness and respect towards
the Catholic religion and its professors. In spite of the wishes of successive
Parliaments, the Protestant separatists had been cruelly persecuted. And at the
same time, in spite of the wishes of those very Parliaments, laws which were in
force against the Papists, and which, unjustifiable as they were, suited the
temper of that age, had not been carried into execution. The Protestant
nonconformists had not yet learned toleration in the school of suffering. They
reprobated the partial lenity which the government showed towards idolaters;
and, with some show of reason, ascribed to bad motives conduct which, in such a
king as Charles, and such a prelate as Laud, could not possibly be ascribed to
humanity or to liberality of sentiment. The violent Arminianism of the
Archbishop, his childish attachment to ceremonies, his superstitious veneration
for altars, vestments, and painted windows, his bigoted zeal for the
constitution and the privileges of his order, his known opinions respecting the
celibacy of the clergy, had excited great disgust throughout that large party
which was every day becoming more and more hostile to Rome, and more and more
inclined to the doctrines and the discipline of Geneva. It was believed by many
that the Irish rebellion had been secretly encouraged by the Court; and, when
the Parliament met again in November, after a short recess, the Puritans were
more intractable than ever.
But that which Hampden had feared had come to pass. A reaction had taken place.
A large body of moderate and well-meaning men, who had heartily concurred in the
strong measures adopted before the recess, were inclined to pause. Their opinion
was that, during many years the country had been grievously misgoverned, and
that a great reform had been necessary; but that a great reform had been made,
that the grievances of the nation had been fully redressed, that sufficient
vengeance had been exacted for the past, that sufficient security had been
provided for the future, and that it would, therefore, be both ungrateful and
unwise to make any further attacks on the royal prerogative. In support of this
opinion many plausible arguments have been used. But to all these arguments
there is one short answer. The King could not be trusted.
At the head of those who may be called the Constitutional Royalists were
Falkland, Hyde, and Culpeper. All these eminent men had, during the former year,
been in very decided opposition to the Court. In some of those very proceedings
with which their admirers reproach Hampden, they had taken a more decided part
than Hampden. They had all been concerned in the impeachment of Strafford. They
had all, there is reason to believe, voted for the Bill of Attainder. Certainly
none of them voted against it. They had all agreed to the act which made the
consent of the Parliament necessary to a dissolution or prorogation. Hyde had
been among the most active of those who attacked the Council of York. Falkland
had voted for the exclusion of the bishops from the Upper House. They were now
inclined to halt in the path of reform, perhaps to retrace a few of their steps.
A direct collision soon took place between the two parties into which the House
of Commons, lately at almost perfect unity with itself, was now divided. The
opponents of the government moved that celebrated address to the King which is
known by the name of the Grand Remonstrance. In this address all the oppressive
acts of the preceding fifteen years were set forth with great energy of
language; and, in conclusion, the King was entreated to employ no ministers in
whom the Parliament could not confide.
The debate on the Remonstrance was long and stormy. It commenced at nine in the
morning of the twenty-first of November, and lasted till after midnight. The
division showed that a great change had taken place in the temper of the House.
Though many members had retired from exhaustion, three hundred voted and the
Remonstrance was carried by a majority of only nine. A violent debate followed,
on the question whether the minority should be allowed to protest against this
decision. The excitement was so great that several members were on the point of
proceeding to personal violence. "We had sheathed our swords in each other's
bowels," says an eye-witness, "had not the sagacity and great calmness of Mr.
Hampden, by a short speech, prevented it." The House did not rise till two in
the morning.
The situation of the Puritan leaders was now difficult and full of peril. The
small majority which they still had might soon become a minority. Out of doors,
their supporters in the higher and middle classes were beginning to fall off.
There was a growing opinion that the King had been hardly used. The English are
always inclined to side with a weak party which is in the wrong, rather than
with a strong party which is in the right. This may be seen in all contests,
from contests of boxers to contests of faction. Thus it was that a violent
reaction took place in favor of Charles the Second against the Whigs in 1681.
Thus it was that an equally violent reaction took place in favor of George the
Third against the coalition in 1784. A similar action was beginning to take
place during the second year of the Long Parliament. Some members of the
Opposition "had resumed" says Clarendon, "their old resolution of leaving the
kingdom." Oliver Cromwell openly declared that he and many others would have
emigrated if they had been left in a minority on the question of the
Remonstrance.
Charles had now a last chance of regaining the affection of his people. If he
could have resolved to give his confidence to the leaders of the moderate party
in the House of Commons, and to regulate his proceedings by their advice, he
might have been, not, indeed, as he had been, a despot, but the powerful and
respected king of a free people. The nation might have enjoyed liberty and
repose under a government with Falkland at its head, checked by a constitutional
Opposition under the conduct of Hampden. It was not necessary that, in order to
accomplish this happy end, the King should sacrifice any part of his lawful
prerogative, or submit to any conditions inconsistent with his dignity. It was
necessary only that he should abstain from treachery, from violence, from gross
breaches of the law. This was all that the nation was then disposed to require
of him. And even this was too much.
For a short time he seemed inclined to take a wise and temperate course. He
resolved to make Falkland secretary of state, and Culpeper chancellor of the
exchequer. He declared his intention of conferring in a short time some
important office on Hyde. He assured these three persons that he would do
nothing relating to the House of Commons without their joint advice, and that he
would communicate all his designs to them in the most unreserved manner. This
resolution, had he adhered to it, would have averted many years of blood and
mourning. But "in very few days," says Clarendon, "he did fatally swerve from
it."
On the third of January 1642, without giving the slightest hint of his intention
to those advisers whom he had solemnly promised to consult, he sent down the
attorney-general to impeach Lord Kimbolton, Hampden, Pym, Hollis, and two other
members of the House of Commons, at the bar of the Lords, on a charge of High
Treason. It is difficult to find in the whole history of England such an
instance of tyranny, perfidy, and folly. The most precious and ancient rights of
the subject were violated by this act. The only way in which Hampden and Pym
could legally be tried for treason at the suit of the King, was by a petty jury
on a bill found by a grand jury. The attorney-general had no right to impeach
them. The House of Lords had no right to try them.
The Commons refused to surrender their members. The Peers showed no inclination
to usurp the unconstitutional jurisdiction which the King attempted to force on
them. A contest began, in which violence and weakness were on the one side, law
and resolution on the other. Charles sent an officer to seal up the lodgings and
trunks of the accused members. The Commons sent their sergeant to break the
seals. The tyrant resolved to follow up one outrage by another. In making the
charge, he had struck at the institution of juries. In executing the arrest, he
struck at the privileges of Parliament. He resolved to go to the House in person
with an armed force, and there to seize the leaders of the Opposition, while
engaged in the discharge of their parliamentary duties.
What was his purpose? Is it possible to believe that he had no definite purpose,
that he took the most important step of his whole reign without having for one
moment considered what might be its effects? Is it possible to believe that he
went merely for the purpose of making himself a laughing-stock, that he
intended, if he had found the accused members, and if they had refused, as it
was their right and duty to refuse, the submission which he illegally demanded,
to leave the House without bringing them away? If we reject both these
suppositions, we must believe, and we certainly do believe, that he went fully
determined to carry his unlawful design into effect by violence, and, if
necessary, to shed the blood of the chiefs of the Opposition on the very floor
of the Parliament House.
Lady Carlisle conveyed intelligence of the design to Pym. The five members had
time to withdraw before the arrival of Charles. They left the House as he was
entering New Palace Yard. He was accompanied by about two hundred halberdiers of
his guard, and by many gentlemen of the Court armed with swords. He walked up
Westminster Hall. At the southern end of the Hall his attendants divided to the
right and left and formed a lane to the door of the House of Commons. He
knocked, entered, darted a look towards the place which Pym usually occupied,
and, seeing it empty, walked up to the table. The Speaker fell on his knee. The
members rose and uncovered their heads in profound silence, and the King took
his seat in the chair. He looked round the House. But the five members were
nowhere to be seen. He interrogated the Speaker. The Speaker answered, that he
was merely the organ of the House, and had neither eyes to see, nor tongue to
speak, but according to their direction. The King muttered a few feeble
sentences about his respect for the laws of the realm, and the privileges of
Parliament, and retired. As he passed along the benches, several resolute voices
called out audibly "Privilege!" He returned to Whitehall with his company of
bravoes, who, while he was in the House, had been impatiently waiting in the
lobby for the word, cocking their pistols, and crying, "Fall on." That night he
put forth a proclamation, directing that the ports should be stopped, and that
no person should, at his peril, venture to harbor the accused members.
Hampden and his friends had taken refuge in Coleman Street. The city of London
was indeed the fastness of public liberty, and was, in those times, a place of
at least as much importance as Paris during the French Revolution. The city,
properly so called, now consists in a great measure of immense warehouses and
counting-houses, which are frequented by traders and their clerks during the
day, and left in almost total solitude during the night. It was then closely
inhabited by three hundred thousand persons, to whom it was not merely a place
of business, but a place of constant residence. The great capital had as
complete a civil and military organization as if it had been an independent
republic. Each citizen had his company; and the companies, which now seem to
exist only for the sake of epicures and of antiquaries, were then formidable
brotherhoods, the members of which were almost as closely bound together as the
members of a Highland clan. How strong these artificial ties were, the numerous
and valuable legacies anciently bequeathed by citizens to their corporations
abundantly prove. The municipal offices were filled by the most opulent and
respectable merchants of the kingdom. The pomp of the magistracy of the capital
was inferior only to that which surrounded the person of the sovereign. The
Londoners loved their city with that patriotic love which is found only in small
communities, like those of ancient Greece, or like those which arose in Italy
during the middle ages. The numbers, the intelligence, the wealth of the
citizens, the democratical form of their local government, and their vicinity to
the Court and to the Parliament, made them one of the most formidable bodies in
the kingdom. Even as soldiers they were not to be despised. In an age in which
war is a profession, there is something ludicrous in the idea of battalions
composed of apprentices and shopkeepers, and officered by aldermen. But in the
early part of the seventeenth century, there was no standing army in the island;
and the militia of the metropolis was not inferior in training to the militia of
other places. A city which could furnish many thousands of armed men, abounding
in natural courage, and not absolutely untinctured with military discipline, was
a formidable auxiliary in times of internal dissension. On several occasions
during the civil war, the trainbands of London distinguished themselves highly;
and at the battle of Newbury, in particular, they repelled the fiery onset of
Rupert, and saved the army of the Parliament from destruction.
Previous |
Critical and Historical Essays, Volume I
Critical And Historical Essays, Volume I, Thomas Babbington Macaulay,
1843 |
|
Add/Correct a Link