He had sate
many years in the House of Commons, had studied all its rules and
usages, and thoroughly understood its peculiar temper.
many years in the House of Commons, had studied all its rules and
usages, and thoroughly understood its peculiar temper.
Macaulay
[284] He, whose favourite theme had
been the injustice of requiring civil functionaries to take religious
tests, established in Scotland, when he resided there as Viceroy, the
most rigorous religious test that has ever been known in the empire.
[285] He, who had expressed just indignation when the priests of his own
faith were hanged and quartered, amused himself with hearing Covenanters
shriek and seeing them writhe while their knees were beaten flat in the
boots. [286] In this mood he became King; and he immediately demanded
and obtained from the obsequious Estates of Scotland as the surest
pledge of their loyalty, the most sanguinary law that has ever in our
island been enacted against Protestant Nonconformists.
With this law the whole spirit of his administration was in perfect
harmony. The fiery persecution, which had raged when he ruled Scotland
as vicegerent, waxed hotter than ever from the day on which he became
sovereign. Those shires in which the Covenanters were most numerous
were given up to the license of the army. With the army was mingled a
militia, composed of the most violent and profligate of those who called
themselves Episcopalians. Preeminent among the bands which oppressed
and wasted these unhappy districts were the dragoons commanded by John
Graham of Claverhouse. The story ran that these wicked men used in their
revels to play at the torments of hell, and to call each other by the
names of devils and damned souls. [287] The chief of this Tophet, a
soldier of distinguished courage and professional skill, but rapacious
and profane, of violent temper and of obdurate heart, has left a name
which, wherever the Scottish race is settled on the face of the globe,
is mentioned with a peculiar energy of hatred. To recapitulate all the
crimes, by which this man, and men like him, goaded the peasantry of the
Western Lowlands into madness, would be an endless task. A few instances
must suffice; and all those instances shall be taken from the history
of a single fortnight, that very fortnight in which the Scottish
Parliament, at the urgent request of James, enacted a new law of
unprecedented severity against Dissenters.
John Brown, a poor carrier of Lanarkshire, was, for his singular piety,
commonly called the Christian carrier. Many years later, when Scotland
enjoyed rest, prosperity, and religious freedom, old men who remembered
the evil days described him as one versed in divine things, blameless
in life, and so peaceable that the tyrants could find no offence in
him except that he absented himself from the public worship of the
Episcopalians. On the first of May he was cutting turf, when he was
seized by Claverhouse's dragoons, rapidly examined, convicted of
nonconformity, and sentenced to death. It is said that, even among the
soldiers, it was not easy to find an executioner. For the wife of the
poor man was present; she led one little child by the hand: it was easy
to see that she was about to give birth to another; and even those wild
and hardhearted men, who nicknamed one another Beelzebub and Apollyon,
shrank from the great wickedness of butchering her husband before her
face. The prisoner, meanwhile, raised above himself by the near
prospect of eternity, prayed loud and fervently as one inspired, till
Claverhouse, in a fury, shot him dead. It was reported by credible
witnesses that the widow cried out in her agony, "Well, sir, well; the
day of reckoning will come;" and that the murderer replied, "To man I
can answer for what I have done; and as for God, I will take him into
mine own hand. " Yet it was rumoured that even on his seared conscience
and adamantine heart the dying ejaculations of his victim made an
impression which was never effaced. [288]
On the fifth of May two artisans, Peter Gillies and John Bryce, were
tried in Ayrshire by a military tribunal consisting of fifteen soldiers.
The indictment is still extant. The prisoners were charged, not with any
act of rebellion, but with holding the same pernicious doctrines which
had impelled others to rebel, and with wanting only opportunity to act
upon those doctrines. The proceeding was summary. In a few hours the two
culprits were convicted, hanged, and flung together into a hole under
the gallows. [289]
The eleventh of May was made remarkable by more than one great crime.
Some rigid Calvinists had from the doctrine of reprobation drawn the
consequence that to pray for any person who had been predestined to
perdition was an act of mutiny against the eternal decrees of the
Supreme Being. Three poor labouring men, deeply imbued with this
unamiable divinity, were stopped by an officer in the neighbourhood
of Glasgow. They were asked whether they would pray for King James the
Seventh. They refused to do so except under the condition that he was
one of the elect. A file of musketeers was drawn out. The prisoners
knelt down; they were blindfolded; and within an hour after they had
been arrested, their blood was lapped up by the dogs. [290]
While this was done in Clydesdale, an act not less horrible was
perpetrated in Eskdale. One of the proscribed Covenanters, overcome by
sickness, had found shelter in the house of a respectable widow, and
had died there. The corpse was discovered by the Laird of Westerhall, a
petty tyrant who had, in the days of the Covenant, professed inordinate
zeal for the Presbyterian Church, who had, since the Restoration,
purchased the favour of the government by apostasy, and who felt towards
the party which he had deserted the implacable hatred of an apostate.
This man pulled down the house of the poor woman, carried away her
furniture, and, leaving her and her younger children to wander in the
fields, dragged her son Andrew, who was still a lad, before Claverhouse,
who happened to be marching through that part of the country.
Claverhouse was just then strangely lenient. Some thought that he had
not been quite himself since the death of the Christian carrier, ten
days before. But Westerhall was eager to signalise his loyalty, and
extorted a sullen consent. The guns were loaded, and the youth was told
to pull his bonnet over his face. He refused, and stood confronting his
murderers with the Bible in his hand. "I can look you in the face," he
said; "I have done nothing of which I need be ashamed. But how will you
look in that day when you shall be judged by what is written in this
book? " He fell dead, and was buried in the moor. [291]
On the same day two women, Margaret Maclachlin and Margaret Wilson, the
former an aged widow, the latter a maiden of eighteen, suffered death
for their religion in Wigtonshire. They were offered their lives if they
would consent to abjure the cause of the insurgent Covenanters, and to
attend the Episcopal worship. They refused; and they were sentenced to
be drowned. They were carried to a spot which the Solway overflows twice
a day, and were fastened to stakes fixed in the sand between high and
low water mark. The elder sufferer was placed near to the advancing
flood, in the hope that her last agonies might terrify the younger into
submission. The sight was dreadful. But the courage of the survivor
was sustained by an enthusiasm as lofty as any that is recorded in
martyrology. She saw the sea draw nearer and nearer, but gave no sign
of alarm. She prayed and sang verses of psalms till the waves choked her
voice. After she had tasted the bitterness of death, she was, by a cruel
mercy unbound and restored to life. When she came to herself, pitying
friends and neighbours implored her to yield. "Dear Margaret, only say,
God save the King! " The poor girl, true to her stern theology, gasped
out, "May God save him, if it be God's will! " Her friends crowded round
the presiding officer. "She has said it; indeed, sir, she has said it. "
"Will she take the abjuration? " he demanded. "Never! " she exclaimed.
"I am Christ's: let me go! " And the waters closed over her for the last
time. [292]
Thus was Scotland governed by that prince whom ignorant men have
represented as a friend of religious liberty, whose misfortune it was to
be too wise and too good for the age in which he lived. Nay, even
those laws which authorised him to govern thus were in his judgment
reprehensibly lenient. While his officers were committing the murders
which have just been related, he was urging the Scottish Parliament
to pass a new Act compared with which all former Acts might be called
merciful.
In England his authority, though great, was circumscribed by ancient
and noble laws which even the Tories would not patiently have seen him
infringe. Here he could not hurry Dissenters before military tribunals,
or enjoy at Council the luxury of seeing them swoon in the boots. Here
he could not drown young girls for refusing to take the abjuration, or
shoot poor countrymen for doubting whether he was one of the elect. Yet
even in England he continued to persecute the Puritans as far as his
power extended, till events which will hereafter be related induced him
to form the design of uniting Puritans and Papists in a coalition for
the humiliation and spoliation of the established Church.
One sect of Protestant Dissenters indeed he, even at this early period
of his reign, regarded with some tenderness, the Society of Friends.
His partiality for that singular fraternity cannot be attributed to
religious sympathy; for, of all who acknowledge the divine mission of
Jesus, the Roman Catholic and the Quaker differ most widely. It may seem
paradoxical to say that this very circumstance constituted a tie between
the Roman Catholic and the Quaker; yet such was really the case. For
they deviated in opposite directions so far from what the great body of
the nation regarded as right, that even liberal men generally considered
them both as lying beyond the pale of the largest toleration. Thus the
two extreme sects, precisely because they were extreme sects, had a
common interest distinct from the interest of the intermediate sects.
The Quakers were also guiltless of all offence against James and his
House. They had not been in existence as a community till the war
between his father and the Long Parliament was drawing towards a
close. They had been cruelly persecuted by some of the revolutionary
governments. They had, since the Restoration, in spite of much ill
usage, submitted themselves meekly to the royal authority. For they
had, though reasoning on premises which the Anglican divines regarded as
heterodox, arrived, like the Anglican divines, at the conclusion,
that no excess of tyranny on the part of a prince can justify active
resistance on the part of a subject. No libel on the government had ever
been traced to a Quaker. [293] In no conspiracy against the government
had a Quaker been implicated. The society had not joined in the clamour
for the Exclusion Bill, and had solemnly condemned the Rye House plot as
a hellish design and a work of the devil. [294] Indeed, the friends then
took very little part in civil contentions; for they were not, as now,
congregated in large towns, but were generally engaged in agriculture,
a pursuit from which they have been gradually driven by the vexations
consequent on their strange scruple about paying tithe. They were,
therefore, far removed from the scene of political strife. They
also, even in domestic privacy, avoided on principle all political
conversation. For such conversation was, in their opinion, unfavourable
to their spirituality of mind, and tended to disturb the austere
composure of their deportment. The yearly meetings of that age
repeatedly admonished the brethren not to hold discourse touching
affairs of state. [295] Even within the memory of persons now living
those grave elders who retained the habits of an earlier generation
systematically discouraged such worldly talk. [296] It was natural that
James should make a wide distinction between these harmless people and
those fierce and reckless sects which considered resistance to tyranny
as a Christian duty which had, in Germany, France, and Holland, made
war on legitimate princes, and which had, during four generations, borne
peculiar enmity to the House of Stuart.
It happened, moreover, that it was possible to grant large relief to the
Roman Catholic and to the Quaker without mitigating the sufferings of
the Puritan sects. A law was in force which imposed severe penalties on
every person who refused to take the oath of supremacy when required to
do so. This law did not affect Presbyterians, Independents, or Baptists;
for they were all ready to call God to witness that they renounced all
spiritual connection with foreign prelates and potentates. But the Roman
Catholic would not swear that the Pope had no jurisdiction in England,
and the Quaker would not swear to anything. On the other hand, neither
the Roman Catholic nor the Quaker was touched by the Five Mile Act,
which, of all the laws in the Statute Book, was perhaps the most
annoying to the Puritan Nonconformists. [297]
The Quakers had a powerful and zealous advocate at court. Though, as
a class, they mixed little with the world, and shunned politics as a
pursuit dangerous to their spiritual interests, one of them, widely
distinguished from the rest by station and fortune, lived in the
highest circles, and had constant access to the royal ear. This was the
celebrated William Penn. His father had held great naval commands,
had been a Commissioner of the Admiralty, had sate in Parliament, had
received the honour of knighthood, and had been encouraged to expect a
peerage. The son had been liberally educated, and had been designed
for the profession of arms, but had, while still young, injured his
prospects and disgusted his friends by joining what was then generally
considered as a gang of crazy heretics. He had been sent sometimes to
the Tower, and sometimes to Newgate. He had been tried at the Old Bailey
for preaching in defiance of the law. After a time, however, he had been
reconciled to his family, and had succeeded in obtaining such powerful
protection that, while all the gaols of England were filled with his
brethren, he was permitted, during many years, to profess his opinions
without molestation. Towards the close of the late reign he had
obtained, in satisfaction of an old debt due to him from the crown, the
grant of an immense region in North America. In this tract, then peopled
only by Indian hunters, he had invited his persecuted friends to settle.
His colony was still in its infancy when James mounted the throne.
Between James and Penn there had long been a familiar acquaintance. The
Quaker now became a courtier, and almost a favourite. He was every
day summoned from the gallery into the closet, and sometimes had long
audiences while peers were kept waiting in the antechambers. It was
noised abroad that he had more real power to help and hurt than many
nobles who filled high offices. He was soon surrounded by flatterers and
suppliants. His house at Kensington was sometimes thronged, at his
hour of rising, by more than two hundred suitors. [298] He paid dear,
however, for this seeming prosperity. Even his own sect looked coldly
on him, and requited his services with obloquy. He was loudly accused of
being a Papist, nay, a Jesuit. Some affirmed that he had been educated
at St. Omers, and others that he had been ordained at Rome. These
calumnies, indeed, could find credit only with the undiscerning
multitude; but with these calumnies were mingled accusations much better
founded.
To speak the whole truth concerning Penn is a task which requires some
courage; for he is rather a mythical than a historical person. Rival
nations and hostile sects have agreed in canonising him. England is
proud of his name. A great commonwealth beyond the Atlantic regards him
with a reverence similar to that which the Athenians felt for Theseus,
and the Romans for Quirinus. The respectable society of which he was a
member honours him as an apostle. By pious men of other persuasions he
is generally regarded as a bright pattern of Christian virtue. Meanwhile
admirers of a very different sort have sounded his praises. The French
philosophers of the eighteenth century pardoned what they regarded as
his superstitious fancies in consideration of his contempt for priests,
and of his cosmopolitan benevolence, impartially extended to all races
and to all creeds. His name has thus become, throughout all civilised
countries, a synonyme for probity and philanthropy.
Nor is this high reputation altogether unmerited. Penn was without doubt
a man of eminent virtues. He had a strong sense of religious duty and a
fervent desire to promote the happiness of mankind. On one or two points
of high importance, he had notions more correct than were, in his day,
common even among men of enlarged minds: and as the proprietor and
legislator of a province which, being almost uninhabited when it came
into his possession, afforded a clear field for moral experiments,
he had the rare good fortune of being able to carry his theories into
practice without any compromise, and yet without any shock to existing
institutions. He will always be mentioned with honour as a founder of
a colony, who did not, in his dealings with a savage people, abuse the
strength derived from civilisation, and as a lawgiver who, in an age of
persecution, made religious liberty the cornerstone of a polity. But his
writings and his life furnish abundant proofs that he was not a man of
strong sense. He had no skill in reading the characters of others. His
confidence in persons less virtuous than himself led him into great
errors and misfortunes. His enthusiasm for one great principle sometimes
impelled him to violate other great principles which he ought to
have held sacred. Nor was his rectitude altogether proof against the
temptations to which it was exposed in that splendid and polite, but
deeply corrupted society, with which he now mingled. The whole court was
in a ferment with intrigues of gallantry and intrigues of ambition. The
traffic in honours, places, and pardons was incessant. It was natural
that a man who was daily seen at the palace, and who was known to have
free access to majesty, should be frequently importuned to use his
influence for purposes which a rigid morality must condemn. The
integrity of Penn had stood firm against obloquy and persecution.
But now, attacked by royal smiles, by female blandishments, by the
insinuating eloquence and delicate flattery of veteran diplomatists and
courtiers, his resolution began to give way. Titles and phrases against
which he had often borne his testimony dropped occasionally from his
lips and his pen. It would be well if he had been guilty of nothing
worse than such compliances with the fashions of the world. Unhappily
it cannot be concealed that he bore a chief part in some transactions
condemned, not merely by the rigid code of the society to which he
belonged, but by the general sense of all honest men. He afterwards
solemnly protested that his hands were pure from illicit gain, and
that he had never received any gratuity from those whom he had obliged,
though he might easily, while his influence at court lasted, have made a
hundred and twenty thousand pounds. [299] To this assertion full credit
is due. But bribes may be offered to vanity as well as to cupidity; and
it is impossible to deny that Penn was cajoled into bearing a part in
some unjustifiable transactions of which others enjoyed the profits.
The first use which he made of his credit was highly commendable. He
strongly represented the sufferings of his brethren to the new King,
who saw with pleasure that it was possible to grant indulgence to these
quiet sectaries and to the Roman Catholics, without showing similar
favour to other classes which were then under persecution. A list was
framed of prisoners against whom proceedings had been instituted for
not taking the oaths, or for not going to church, and of whose loyalty
certificates had been produced to the government. These persons were
discharged, and orders were given that no similar proceeding should be
instituted till the royal pleasure should be further signified. In this
way about fifteen hundred Quakers, and a still greater number of Roman
Catholics, regained their liberty. [300]
And now the time had arrived when the English Parliament was to meet.
The members of the House of Commons who had repaired to the capital were
so numerous that there was much doubt whether their chamber, as it was
then fitted up, would afford sufficient accommodation for them. They
employed the days which immediately preceded the opening of the session
in talking over public affairs with each other and with the agents
of the government. A great meeting of the loyal party was held at the
Fountain Tavern in the Strand; and Roger Lestrange, who had recently
been knighted by the King, and returned to Parliament by the city of
Winchester, took a leading part in their consultations. [301]
It soon appeared that a large portion of the Commons had views which did
not altogether agree with those of the Court. The Tory country gentlemen
were, with scarcely one exception, desirous to maintain the Test Act and
the Habeas Corpus Act; and some among them talked of voting the revenue
only for a term of years. But they were perfectly ready to enact severe
laws against the Whigs, and would gladly have seen all the supporters
of the Exclusion Bill made incapable of holding office. The King, on the
other hand, desired to obtain from the Parliament a revenue for life,
the admission of Roman Catholics to office, and the repeal of the Habeas
Corpus Act. On these three objects his heart was set; and he was by no
means disposed to accept as a substitute for them a penal law against
Exclusionists. Such a law, indeed, would have been positively unpleasing
to him; for one class of Exclusionists stood high in his favour, that
class of which Sunderland was the representative, that class which had
joined the Whigs in the days of the plot, merely because the Whigs were
predominant, and which had changed with the change of fortune. James
justly regarded these renegades as the most serviceable tools that he
could employ. It was not from the stouthearted Cavaliers, who had
been true to him in his adversity, that he could expect abject and
unscrupulous obedience in his prosperity. The men who, impelled, not
by zeal for liberty or for religion, but merely by selfish cupidity and
selfish fear, had assisted to oppress him when he was weak, were the
very men who, impelled by the same cupidity and the same fear, would
assist him to oppress his people now that he was strong. [302] Though
vindictive, he was not indiscriminately vindictive. Not a single
instance can be mentioned in which he showed a generous compassion
to those who had opposed him honestly and on public grounds. But he
frequently spared and promoted those whom some vile motive had induced
to injure him. For that meanness which marked them out as fit implements
of tyranny was so precious in his estimation that he regarded it with
some indulgence even when it was exhibited at his own expense.
The King's wishes were communicated through several channels to the Tory
members of the Lower House. The majority was easily persuaded to forego
all thoughts of a penal law against the Exclusionists, and to consent
that His Majesty should have the revenue for life. But about the Test
Act and the Habeas Corpus Act the emissaries of the Court could obtain
no satisfactory assurances. [303]
On the nineteenth of May the session was opened. The benches of the
Commons presented a singular spectacle. That great party, which, in
the last three Parliaments, had been predominant, had now dwindled to a
pitiable minority, and was indeed little more than a fifteenth part of
the House. Of the five hundred and thirteen knights and burgesses only
a hundred and thirty-five had ever sate in that place before. It is
evident that a body of men so raw and inexperienced must have been, in
some important qualities, far below the average of our representative
assemblies. [304]
The management of the House was confided by James to two peers of the
kingdom of Scotland. One of them, Charles Middleton, Earl of Middleton,
after holding high office at Edinburgh, had, shortly before the death
of the late King, been sworn of the English Privy Council, and appointed
one of the Secretaries of State. With him was joined Richard Graham,
Viscount Preston, who had long held the post of Envoy at Versailles.
The first business of the Commons was to elect a Speaker. Who should
be the man, was a question which had been much debated in the cabinet.
Guildford had recommended Sir Thomas Meres, who, like himself, ranked
among the Trimmers. Jeffreys, who missed no opportunity of crossing the
Lord Keeper, had pressed the claims of Sir John Trevor. Trevor had been
bred half a pettifogger and half a gambler, had brought to political
life sentiments and principles worthy of both his callings, had become
a parasite of the Chief Justice, and could, on occasion, imitate, not
unsuccessfully, the vituperative style of his patron. The minion of
Jeffreys was, as might have been expected, preferred by James, was
proposed by Middleton, and was chosen without opposition. [305]
Thus far all went smoothly. But an adversary of no common prowess was
watching his time. This was Edward Seymour of Berry Pomeroy Castle,
member for the city of Exeter. Seymour's birth put him on a level with
the noblest subjects in Europe. He was the right heir male of the body
of that Duke of Somerset who had been brother-in-law of King Henry the
Eighth, and Protector of the realm of England. In the limitation of the
dukedom of Somerset, the elder Son of the Protector had been postponed
to the younger son. From the younger son the Dukes of Somerset were
descended. From the elder son was descended the family which dwelt at
Berry Pomeroy. Seymour's fortune was large, and his influence in the
West of England extensive. Nor was the importance derived from descent
and wealth the only importance which belonged to him. He was one of the
most skilful debaters and men of business in the kingdom.
He had sate
many years in the House of Commons, had studied all its rules and
usages, and thoroughly understood its peculiar temper. He had been
elected speaker in the late reign under circumstances which made that
distinction peculiarly honourable. During several generations none
but lawyers had been called to the chair; and he was the first country
gentleman whose abilities and acquirements had enabled him to break that
long prescription. He had subsequently held high political office, and
had sate in the Cabinet. But his haughty and unaccommodating temper had
given so much disgust that he had been forced to retire. He was a Tory
and a Churchman: he had strenuously opposed the Exclusion Bill: he had
been persecuted by the Whigs in the day of their prosperity; and he
could therefore safely venture to hold language for which any person
suspected of republicanism would have been sent to the Tower. He had
long been at the head of a strong parliamentary connection, which
was called the Western Alliance, and which included many gentlemen of
Devonshire, Somersetshire, and Cornwall. [306]
In every House of Commons, a member who unites eloquence, knowledge, and
habits of business, to opulence and illustrious descent, must be highly
considered. But in a House of Commons from which many of the most
eminent orators and parliamentary tacticians of the age were excluded,
and which was crowded with people who had never heard a debate, the
influence of such a man was peculiarly formidable. Weight of moral
character was indeed wanting to Edward Seymour. He was licentious,
profane, corrupt, too proud to behave with common politeness, yet not
too proud to pocket illicit gain. But he was so useful an ally, and so
mischievous an enemy that he was frequently courted even by those who
most detested him. [307]
He was now in bad humour with the government. His interest had been
weakened in some places by the remodelling of the western boroughs: his
pride had been wounded by the elevation of Trevor to the chair; and he
took an early opportunity of revenging himself.
On the twenty-second of May the Commons were summoned to the bar of the
Lords; and the King, seated on his throne, made a speech to both Houses.
He declared himself resolved to maintain the established government
in Church and State. But he weakened the effect of this declaration
by addressing an extraordinary admonition to the Commons. He was
apprehensive, he said, that they might be inclined to dole out money to
him from time to time, in the hope that they should thus force him to
call them frequently together. But he must warn them that he was not to
be so dealt with, and that, if they wished him to meet them often they
must use him well. As it was evident that without money the government
could not be carried on, these expressions plainly implied that, if they
did not give him as much money as he wished, he would take it. Strange
to say, this harangue was received with loud cheers by the Tory
gentlemen at the bar. Such acclamations were then usual. It has now
been, during many years, the grave and decorous usage of Parliaments
to hear, in respectful silence, all expressions, acceptable or
unacceptable, which are uttered from the throne. [308]
It was then the custom that, after the King had concisely explained his
reasons for calling Parliament together, the minister who held the Great
Seal should, at more length, explain to the Houses the state of public
affairs. Guildford, in imitation of his predecessors, Clarendon,
Bridgeman, Shaftesbury, and Nottingham, had prepared an elaborate
oration, but found, to his great mortification, that his services were
not wanted. [309]
As soon as the Commons had returned to their own chamber, it was
proposed that they should resolve themselves into a Committee, for the
purpose of settling a revenue on the King.
Then Seymour stood up. How he stood, looking like what he was, the chief
of a dissolute and high spirited gentry, with the artificial ringlets
clustering in fashionable profusion round his shoulders, and a mingled
expression of voluptuousness and disdain in his eye and on his lip, the
likenesses of him which still remain enable us to imagine. It was not,
the haughty Cavalier said, his wish that the Parliament should withhold
from the crown the means of carrying on the government. But was there
indeed a Parliament? Were there not on the benches many men who had, as
all the world knew, no right to sit there, many men whose elections
were tainted by corruption, many men forced by intimidation on reluctant
voters, and many men returned by corporations which had no legal
existence? Had not constituent bodies been remodelled, in defiance
of royal charters and of immemorial prescription? Had not returning
officers been everywhere the unscrupulous agents of the Court? Seeing
that the very principle of representation had been thus systematically
attacked, he knew not how to call the throng of gentlemen which he saw
around him by the honourable name of a House of Commons. Yet never was
there a time when it more concerned the public weal that the character
of Parliament should stand high. Great dangers impended over the
ecclesiastical and civil constitution of the realm. It was matter of
vulgar notoriety, it was matter which required no proof, that the Test
Act, the rampart of religion, and the Habeas Corpus Act, the rampart
of liberty, were marked out for destruction. "Before we proceed to
legislate on questions so momentous, let us at least ascertain whether
we really are a legislature. Let our first proceeding be to enquire into
the manner in which the elections have been conducted. And let us look
to it that the enquiry be impartial. For, if the nation shall find that
no redress is to be obtained by peaceful methods, we may perhaps ere
long suffer the justice which we refuse to do. " He concluded by
moving that, before any supply was granted, the House would take into
consideration petitions against returns, and that no member whose right
to sit was disputed should be allowed to vote.
Not a cheer was heard. Not a member ventured to second the motion.
Indeed, Seymour had said much that no other man could have said with
impunity. The proposition fell to the ground, and was not even entered
on the journals. But a mighty effect had been produced. Barillon
informed his master that many who had not dared to applaud that
remarkable speech had cordially approved of it, that it was the
universal subject of conversation throughout London, and that the
impression made on the public mind seemed likely to be durable. [310]
The Commons went into committee without delay, and voted to the King,
for life, the whole revenue enjoyed by his brother. [311]
The zealous churchmen who formed the majority of the House seem to have
been of opinion that the promptitude with which they had met the wish of
James, touching the revenue, entitled them to expect some concession
on his part. They said that much had been done to gratify him, and that
they must now do something to gratify the nation. The House, therefore,
resolved itself into a Grand Committee of Religion, in order to consider
the best means of providing for the security of the ecclesiastical
establishment. In that Committee two resolutions were unanimously
adopted. The first expressed fervent attachment to the Church of
England. The second called on the King to put in execution the penal
laws against all persons who were not members of that Church. [312]
The Whigs would doubtless have wished to see the Protestant dissenters
tolerated, and the Roman Catholics alone persecuted. But the Whigs were
a small and a disheartened minority. They therefore kept themselves as
much as possible out of sight, dropped their party name, abstained from
obtruding their peculiar opinions on a hostile audience, and steadily
supported every proposition tending to disturb the harmony which as yet
subsisted between the Parliament and the Court.
When the proceedings of the Committee of Religion were known at
Whitehall, the King's anger was great. Nor can we justly blame him for
resenting the conduct of the Tories If they were disposed to require
the rigorous execution of the penal code, they clearly ought to have
supported the Exclusion Bill. For to place a Papist on the throne, and
then to insist on his persecuting to the death the teachers of that
faith in which alone, on his principles, salvation could be found, was
monstrous. In mitigating by a lenient administration the severity of the
bloody laws of Elizabeth, the King violated no constitutional principle.
He only exerted a power which has always belonged to the crown. Nay, he
only did what was afterwards done by a succession of sovereigns zealous
for Protestantism, by William, by Anne, and by the princes of the House
of Brunswick. Had he suffered Roman Catholic priests, whose lives
he could save without infringing any law, to be hanged, drawn, and
quartered for discharging what he considered as their first duty, he
would have drawn on himself the hatred and contempt even of those to
whose prejudices he had made so shameful a concession, and, had he
contented himself with granting to the members of his own Church a
practical toleration by a large exercise of his unquestioned prerogative
of mercy, posterity would have unanimously applauded him.
The Commons probably felt on reflection that they had acted absurdly.
They were also disturbed by learning that the King, to whom they looked
up with superstitious reverence, was greatly provoked. They made haste,
therefore, to atone for their offence. In the House, they unanimously
reversed the decision which, in the Committee, they had unanimously
adopted and passed a resolution importing that they relied with entire
confidence on His Majesty's gracious promise to protect that religion
which was dearer to them than life itself. [313]
Three days later the King informed the House that his brother had left
some debts, and that the stores of the navy and ordnance were nearly
exhausted. It was promptly resolved that new taxes should be imposed.
The person on whom devolved the task of devising ways and means was Sir
Dudley North, younger brother of the Lord Keeper. Dudley North was one
of the ablest men of his time. He had early in life been sent to the
Levant, and had there been long engaged in mercantile pursuits. Most men
would, in such a situation, have allowed their faculties to rust. For
at Smyrna and Constantinople there were few books and few intelligent
companions. But the young factor had one of those vigorous
understandings which are independent of external aids. In his solitude
he meditated deeply on the philosophy of trade, and thought out by
degrees a complete and admirable theory, substantially the same with
that which, a century later, was expounded by Adam Smith. After an exile
of many years, Dudley North returned to England with a large fortune,
and commenced business as a Turkey merchant in the City of London.
His profound knowledge, both speculative and practical, of commercial
matters, and the perspicuity and liveliness with which he explained
his views, speedily introduced him to the notice of statesmen.
The government found in him at once an enlightened adviser and an
unscrupulous slave. For with his rare mental endowments were joined lax
principles and an unfeeling heart. When the Tory reaction was in full
progress, he had consented to be made Sheriff for the express purpose
of assisting the vengeance of the court. His juries had never failed
to find verdicts of Guilty; and, on a day of judicial butchery, carts,
loaded with the legs and arms of quartered Whigs, were, to the great
discomposure of his lady, driven to his fine house in Basinghall
Street for orders. His services had been rewarded with the honour of
knighthood, with an Alderman's gown, and with the office of Commissioner
of the Customs. He had been brought into Parliament for Banbury, and
though a new member, was the person on whom the Lord Treasurer chiefly
relied for the conduct of financial business in the Lower House. [314]
Though the Commons were unanimous in their resolution to grant a further
supply to the crown, they were by no means agreed as to the sources from
which that supply should be drawn. It was speedily determined that part
of the sum which was required should be raised by laying an additional
impost, for a term of eight years, on wine and vinegar: but something
more than this was needed. Several absurd schemes were suggested. Many
country gentlemen were disposed to put a heavy tax on all new buildings
in the capital. Such a tax, it was hoped, would check the growth of
a city which had long been regarded with jealousy and aversion by the
rural aristocracy. Dudley North's plan was that additional duties should
be imposed, for a term of eight years, on sugar and tobacco. A great
clamour was raised Colonial merchants, grocers, sugar bakers and
tobacconists, petitioned the House and besieged the public offices. The
people of Bristol, who were deeply interested in the trade with Virginia
and Jamaica, sent up a deputation which was heard at the bar of the
Commons. Rochester was for a moment staggered; but North's ready wit and
perfect knowledge of trade prevailed, both in the Treasury and in the
Parliament, against all opposition. The old members were amazed at
seeing a man who had not been a fortnight in the House, and whose life
had been chiefly passed in foreign countries, assume with confidence,
and discharge with ability, all the functions of a Chancellor of the
Exchequer. [315]
His plan was adopted; and thus the Crown was in possession of a clear
income of about nineteen hundred thousand pounds, derived from England
alone. Such an income was then more than sufficient for the support of
the government in time of peace. [316]
The Lords had, in the meantime, discussed several important questions.
The Tory party had always been strong among the peers. It included the
whole bench of Bishops, and had been reinforced during the four
years which had elapsed since the last dissolution, by several fresh
creations. Of the new nobles, the most conspicuous were the Lord
Treasurer Rochester, the Lord Keeper Guildford, the Lord Chief Justice
Jeffreys, the Lord Godolphin, and the Lord Churchill, who, after his
return from Versailles, had been made a Baron of England.
The peers early took into consideration the case of four members of
their body who had been impeached in the late reign, but had never been
brought to trial, and had, after a long confinement, been admitted to
bail by the Court of King's Bench. Three of the noblemen who were thus
under recognisances were Roman Catholics. The fourth was a Protestant
of great note and influence, the Earl of Danby. Since he had fallen from
power and had been accused of treason by the Commons, four Parliaments
had been dissolved; but he had been neither acquitted nor condemned.
In 1679 the Lords had considered, with reference to his situation,
the question whether an impeachment was or was not terminated by a
dissolution. They had resolved, after long debate and full examination
of precedents, that the impeachment was still pending. That resolution
they now rescinded. A few Whig nobles protested against this step, but
to little purpose. The Commons silently acquiesced in the decision of
the Upper House. Danby again took his seat among his peers, and became
an active and powerful member of the Tory party. [317]
The constitutional question on which the Lords thus, in the short space
of six years, pronounced two diametrically opposite decisions, slept
during more than a century, and was at length revived by the dissolution
which took place during the long trial of Warren Hastings. It was
then necessary to determine whether the rule laid down in 1679, or the
opposite rule laid down in 1685, was to be accounted the law of the
land. The point was long debated in both houses; and the best legal and
parliamentary abilities which an age preeminently fertile both in
legal and in parliamentary ability could supply were employed in the
discussion. The lawyers were not unequally divided. Thurlow, Kenyon,
Scott, and Erskine maintained that the dissolution had put an end to
the impeachment. The contrary doctrine was held by Mansfield, Camden,
Loughborough, and Grant. But among those statesmen who grounded their
arguments, not on precedents and technical analogies, but on deep and
broad constitutional principles, there was little difference of opinion.
Pitt and Grenville, as well as Burke and Fox, held that the impeachment
was still pending Both Houses by great majorities set aside the decision
of 1685, and pronounced the decision of 1679 to be in conformity with
the law of Parliament.
Of the national crimes which had been committed during the panic excited
by the fictions of Oates, the most signal had been the judicial murder
of Stafford. The sentence of that unhappy nobleman was now regarded
by all impartial persons as unjust. The principal witness for the
prosecution had been convicted of a series of foul perjuries. It was
the duty of the legislature, in such circumstances, to do justice to the
memory of a guiltless sufferer, and to efface an unmerited stain from a
name long illustrious in our annals. A bill for reversing the attainder
of Stafford was passed by the Upper House, in spite of the murmurs of a
few peers who were unwilling to admit that they had shed innocent blood.
The Commons read the bill twice without a division, and ordered it to
be committed. But, on the day appointed for the committee, arrived news
that a formidable rebellion had broken out in the West of England. It
was consequently necessary to postpone much important business. The
amends due to the memory of Stafford were deferred, as was supposed,
only for a short time. But the misgovernment of James in a few months
completely turned the tide of public feeling. During several generations
the Roman Catholics were in no condition to demand reparation for
injustice, and accounted themselves happy if they were permitted to live
unmolested in obscurity and silence. At length, in the reign of King
George the Fourth, more than a hundred and forty years after the day on
which the blood of Stafford was shed on Tower Hill, the tardy expiation
was accomplished. A law annulling the attainder and restoring the
injured family to its ancient dignities was presented to Parliament by
the ministers of the crown, was eagerly welcomed by public men of all
parties, and was passed without one dissentient voice. [318]
It is now necessary that I should trace the origin and progress of
that rebellion by which the deliberations of the Houses were suddenly
interrupted.
CHAPTER V.
TOWARDS the close of the reign of Charles the Second, some Whigs who had
been deeply implicated in the plot so fatal to their party, and who knew
themselves to be marked out for destruction, had sought an asylum in the
Low Countries.
These refugees were in general men of fiery temper and weak judgment.
They were also under the influence of that peculiar illusion which seems
to belong to their situation. A politician driven into banishment by a
hostile faction generally sees the society which he has quitted through
a false medium. Every object is distorted and discoloured by his
regrets, his longings, and his resentments. Every little discontent
appears to him to portend a revolution. Every riot is a rebellion. He
cannot be convinced that his country does not pine for him as much as
he pines for his country. He imagines that all his old associates, who
still dwell at their homes and enjoy their estates, are tormented by
the same feelings which make life a burden to himself. The longer his
expatriation, the greater does this hallucination become. The lapse of
time, which cools the ardour of the friends whom he has left behind,
inflames his. Every month his impatience to revisit his native land
increases; and every month his native land remembers and misses him
less. This delusion becomes almost a madness when many exiles who
suffer in the same cause herd together in a foreign country. Their chief
employment is to talk of what they once were, and of what they may yet
be, to goad each other into animosity against the common enemy, to feed
each other with extravagant hopes of victory and revenge. Thus they
become ripe for enterprises which would at once be pronounced hopeless
by any man whose passions had not deprived him of the power of
calculating chances.
In this mood were many of the outlaws who had assembled on the
Continent. The correspondence which they kept up with England was, for
the most part, such as tended to excite their feelings and to mislead
their judgment. Their information concerning the temper of the public
mind was chiefly derived from the worst members of the Whig party, from
men who were plotters and libellers by profession, who were pursued by
the officers of justice, who were forced to skulk in disguise through
back streets, and who sometimes lay hid for weeks together in cocklofts
and cellars. The statesmen who had formerly been the ornaments of the
Country Party, the statesmen who afterwards guided the councils of the
Convention, would have given advice very different from that which was
given by such men as John Wildman and Henry Danvers.
Wildman had served forty years before in the parliamentary army, but had
been more distinguished there as an agitator than as a soldier, and had
early quitted the profession of arms for pursuits better suited to
his temper. His hatred of monarchy had induced him to engage in a long
series of conspiracies, first against the Protector, and then against
the Stuarts. But with Wildman's fanaticism was joined a tender care for
his own safety. He had a wonderful skill in grazing the edge of
treason. No man understood better how to instigate others to desperate
enterprises by words which, when repeated to a jury, might seem
innocent, or, at worst, ambiguous. Such was his cunning that, though
always plotting, though always known to be plotting, and though long
malignantly watched by a vindictive government, he eluded every
danger, and died in his bed, after having seen two generations of his
accomplices die on the gallows. [319] Danvers was a man of the same
class, hotheaded, but fainthearted, constantly urged to the brink of
danger by enthusiasm, and constantly stopped on that brink by cowardice.
He had considerable influence among a portion of the Baptists, had
written largely in defence of their peculiar opinions, and had drawn
down on himself the severe censure of the most respectable Puritans by
attempting to palliate the crimes of Matthias and John of Leyden. It is
probable that, had he possessed a little courage, he would have trodden
in the footsteps of the wretches whom he defended. He was, at this time,
concealing himself from the officers of justice; for warrants were
out against him on account of a grossly calumnious paper of which the
government had discovered him to be the author. [320]
It is easy to imagine what kind of intelligence and counsel men, such
as have been described, were likely to send to the outlaws in the
Netherlands. Of the general character of those outlaws an estimate may
be formed from a few samples.
One of the most conspicuous among them was John Ayloffe, a lawyer
connected by affinity with the Hydes, and through the Hydes, with James.
Ayloffe had early made himself remarkable by offering a whimsical
insult to the government. At a time when the ascendancy of the court
of Versailles had excited general uneasiness, he had contrived to put a
wooden shoe, the established type, among the English, of French tyranny,
into the chair of the House of Commons. He had subsequently been
concerned in the Whig plot; but there is no reason to believe that he
was a party to the design of assassinating the royal brothers. He was
a man of parts and courage; but his moral character did not stand high.
The Puritan divines whispered that he was a careless Gallio or something
worse, and that, whatever zeal he might profess for civil liberty, the
Saints would do well to avoid all connection with him. [321]
Nathaniel Wade was, like Ayloffe, a lawyer. He had long resided at
Bristol, and had been celebrated in his own neighbourhood as a vehement
republican. At one time he had formed a project of emigrating to New
Jersey, where he expected to find institutions better suited to
his taste than those of England. His activity in electioneering had
introduced him to the notice of some Whig nobles. They had employed him
professionally, and had, at length, admitted him to their most secret
counsels. He had been deeply concerned in the scheme of insurrection,
and had undertaken to head a rising in his own city. He had also been
privy to the more odious plot against the lives of Charles and James.
But he always declared that, though privy to it, he had abhorred it, and
had attempted to dissuade his associates from carrying their design into
effect. For a man bred to civil pursuits, Wade seems to have had, in an
unusual degree, that sort of ability and that sort of nerve which make a
good soldier. Unhappily his principles and his courage proved to be not
of sufficient force to support him when the fight was over, and when in
a prison, he had to choose between death and infamy. [322]
Another fugitive was Richard Goodenough, who had formerly been Under
Sheriff of London. On this man his party had long relied for services
of no honourable kind, and especially for the selection of jurymen not
likely to be troubled with scruples in political cases. He had been
deeply concerned in those dark and atrocious parts of the Whig plot
which had been carefully concealed from the most respectable Whigs. Nor
is it possible to plead, in extenuation of his guilt, that he was misled
by inordinate zeal for the public good. For it will be seen that after
having disgraced a noble cause by his crimes, he betrayed it in order to
escape from his well merited punishment. [323]
Very different was the character of Richard Rumbold. He had held a
commission in Cromwell's own regiment, had guarded the scaffold before
the Banqueting House on the day of the great execution, had fought at
Dunbar and Worcester, and had always shown in the highest degree the
qualities which distinguished the invincible army in which he served,
courage of the truest temper, fiery enthusiasm, both political and
religious, and with that enthusiasm, all the power of selfgovernment
which is characteristic of men trained in well disciplined camps to
command and to obey. When the Republican troops were disbanded, Rumbold
became a maltster, and carried on his trade near Hoddesdon, in that
building from which the Rye House plot derives its name. It had been
suggested, though not absolutely determined, in the conferences of the
most violent and unscrupulous of the malecontents, that armed men should
be stationed in the Rye House to attack the Guards who were to escort
Charles and James from Newmarket to London. In these conferences Rumbold
had borne a part from which he would have shrunk with horror, if his
clear understanding had not been overclouded, and his manly heart
corrupted, by party spirit. [324]
A more important exile was Ford Grey, Lord Grey of Wark. He had been a
zealous Exclusionist, had concurred in the design of insurrection, and
had been committed to the Tower, but had succeeded in making his keepers
drunk, and in effecting his escape to the Continent. His parliamentary
abilities were great, and his manners pleasing: but his life had been
sullied by a great domestic crime. His wife was a daughter of the noble
house of Berkeley. Her sister, the Lady Henrietta Berkeley, was allowed
to associate and correspond with him as with a brother by blood. A
fatal attachment sprang up. The high spirit and strong passions of
Lady Henrietta broke through all restraints of virtue and decorum. A
scandalous elopement disclosed to the whole kingdom the shame of two
illustrious families. Grey and some of the agents who had served him
in his amour were brought to trial on a charge of conspiracy.
been the injustice of requiring civil functionaries to take religious
tests, established in Scotland, when he resided there as Viceroy, the
most rigorous religious test that has ever been known in the empire.
[285] He, who had expressed just indignation when the priests of his own
faith were hanged and quartered, amused himself with hearing Covenanters
shriek and seeing them writhe while their knees were beaten flat in the
boots. [286] In this mood he became King; and he immediately demanded
and obtained from the obsequious Estates of Scotland as the surest
pledge of their loyalty, the most sanguinary law that has ever in our
island been enacted against Protestant Nonconformists.
With this law the whole spirit of his administration was in perfect
harmony. The fiery persecution, which had raged when he ruled Scotland
as vicegerent, waxed hotter than ever from the day on which he became
sovereign. Those shires in which the Covenanters were most numerous
were given up to the license of the army. With the army was mingled a
militia, composed of the most violent and profligate of those who called
themselves Episcopalians. Preeminent among the bands which oppressed
and wasted these unhappy districts were the dragoons commanded by John
Graham of Claverhouse. The story ran that these wicked men used in their
revels to play at the torments of hell, and to call each other by the
names of devils and damned souls. [287] The chief of this Tophet, a
soldier of distinguished courage and professional skill, but rapacious
and profane, of violent temper and of obdurate heart, has left a name
which, wherever the Scottish race is settled on the face of the globe,
is mentioned with a peculiar energy of hatred. To recapitulate all the
crimes, by which this man, and men like him, goaded the peasantry of the
Western Lowlands into madness, would be an endless task. A few instances
must suffice; and all those instances shall be taken from the history
of a single fortnight, that very fortnight in which the Scottish
Parliament, at the urgent request of James, enacted a new law of
unprecedented severity against Dissenters.
John Brown, a poor carrier of Lanarkshire, was, for his singular piety,
commonly called the Christian carrier. Many years later, when Scotland
enjoyed rest, prosperity, and religious freedom, old men who remembered
the evil days described him as one versed in divine things, blameless
in life, and so peaceable that the tyrants could find no offence in
him except that he absented himself from the public worship of the
Episcopalians. On the first of May he was cutting turf, when he was
seized by Claverhouse's dragoons, rapidly examined, convicted of
nonconformity, and sentenced to death. It is said that, even among the
soldiers, it was not easy to find an executioner. For the wife of the
poor man was present; she led one little child by the hand: it was easy
to see that she was about to give birth to another; and even those wild
and hardhearted men, who nicknamed one another Beelzebub and Apollyon,
shrank from the great wickedness of butchering her husband before her
face. The prisoner, meanwhile, raised above himself by the near
prospect of eternity, prayed loud and fervently as one inspired, till
Claverhouse, in a fury, shot him dead. It was reported by credible
witnesses that the widow cried out in her agony, "Well, sir, well; the
day of reckoning will come;" and that the murderer replied, "To man I
can answer for what I have done; and as for God, I will take him into
mine own hand. " Yet it was rumoured that even on his seared conscience
and adamantine heart the dying ejaculations of his victim made an
impression which was never effaced. [288]
On the fifth of May two artisans, Peter Gillies and John Bryce, were
tried in Ayrshire by a military tribunal consisting of fifteen soldiers.
The indictment is still extant. The prisoners were charged, not with any
act of rebellion, but with holding the same pernicious doctrines which
had impelled others to rebel, and with wanting only opportunity to act
upon those doctrines. The proceeding was summary. In a few hours the two
culprits were convicted, hanged, and flung together into a hole under
the gallows. [289]
The eleventh of May was made remarkable by more than one great crime.
Some rigid Calvinists had from the doctrine of reprobation drawn the
consequence that to pray for any person who had been predestined to
perdition was an act of mutiny against the eternal decrees of the
Supreme Being. Three poor labouring men, deeply imbued with this
unamiable divinity, were stopped by an officer in the neighbourhood
of Glasgow. They were asked whether they would pray for King James the
Seventh. They refused to do so except under the condition that he was
one of the elect. A file of musketeers was drawn out. The prisoners
knelt down; they were blindfolded; and within an hour after they had
been arrested, their blood was lapped up by the dogs. [290]
While this was done in Clydesdale, an act not less horrible was
perpetrated in Eskdale. One of the proscribed Covenanters, overcome by
sickness, had found shelter in the house of a respectable widow, and
had died there. The corpse was discovered by the Laird of Westerhall, a
petty tyrant who had, in the days of the Covenant, professed inordinate
zeal for the Presbyterian Church, who had, since the Restoration,
purchased the favour of the government by apostasy, and who felt towards
the party which he had deserted the implacable hatred of an apostate.
This man pulled down the house of the poor woman, carried away her
furniture, and, leaving her and her younger children to wander in the
fields, dragged her son Andrew, who was still a lad, before Claverhouse,
who happened to be marching through that part of the country.
Claverhouse was just then strangely lenient. Some thought that he had
not been quite himself since the death of the Christian carrier, ten
days before. But Westerhall was eager to signalise his loyalty, and
extorted a sullen consent. The guns were loaded, and the youth was told
to pull his bonnet over his face. He refused, and stood confronting his
murderers with the Bible in his hand. "I can look you in the face," he
said; "I have done nothing of which I need be ashamed. But how will you
look in that day when you shall be judged by what is written in this
book? " He fell dead, and was buried in the moor. [291]
On the same day two women, Margaret Maclachlin and Margaret Wilson, the
former an aged widow, the latter a maiden of eighteen, suffered death
for their religion in Wigtonshire. They were offered their lives if they
would consent to abjure the cause of the insurgent Covenanters, and to
attend the Episcopal worship. They refused; and they were sentenced to
be drowned. They were carried to a spot which the Solway overflows twice
a day, and were fastened to stakes fixed in the sand between high and
low water mark. The elder sufferer was placed near to the advancing
flood, in the hope that her last agonies might terrify the younger into
submission. The sight was dreadful. But the courage of the survivor
was sustained by an enthusiasm as lofty as any that is recorded in
martyrology. She saw the sea draw nearer and nearer, but gave no sign
of alarm. She prayed and sang verses of psalms till the waves choked her
voice. After she had tasted the bitterness of death, she was, by a cruel
mercy unbound and restored to life. When she came to herself, pitying
friends and neighbours implored her to yield. "Dear Margaret, only say,
God save the King! " The poor girl, true to her stern theology, gasped
out, "May God save him, if it be God's will! " Her friends crowded round
the presiding officer. "She has said it; indeed, sir, she has said it. "
"Will she take the abjuration? " he demanded. "Never! " she exclaimed.
"I am Christ's: let me go! " And the waters closed over her for the last
time. [292]
Thus was Scotland governed by that prince whom ignorant men have
represented as a friend of religious liberty, whose misfortune it was to
be too wise and too good for the age in which he lived. Nay, even
those laws which authorised him to govern thus were in his judgment
reprehensibly lenient. While his officers were committing the murders
which have just been related, he was urging the Scottish Parliament
to pass a new Act compared with which all former Acts might be called
merciful.
In England his authority, though great, was circumscribed by ancient
and noble laws which even the Tories would not patiently have seen him
infringe. Here he could not hurry Dissenters before military tribunals,
or enjoy at Council the luxury of seeing them swoon in the boots. Here
he could not drown young girls for refusing to take the abjuration, or
shoot poor countrymen for doubting whether he was one of the elect. Yet
even in England he continued to persecute the Puritans as far as his
power extended, till events which will hereafter be related induced him
to form the design of uniting Puritans and Papists in a coalition for
the humiliation and spoliation of the established Church.
One sect of Protestant Dissenters indeed he, even at this early period
of his reign, regarded with some tenderness, the Society of Friends.
His partiality for that singular fraternity cannot be attributed to
religious sympathy; for, of all who acknowledge the divine mission of
Jesus, the Roman Catholic and the Quaker differ most widely. It may seem
paradoxical to say that this very circumstance constituted a tie between
the Roman Catholic and the Quaker; yet such was really the case. For
they deviated in opposite directions so far from what the great body of
the nation regarded as right, that even liberal men generally considered
them both as lying beyond the pale of the largest toleration. Thus the
two extreme sects, precisely because they were extreme sects, had a
common interest distinct from the interest of the intermediate sects.
The Quakers were also guiltless of all offence against James and his
House. They had not been in existence as a community till the war
between his father and the Long Parliament was drawing towards a
close. They had been cruelly persecuted by some of the revolutionary
governments. They had, since the Restoration, in spite of much ill
usage, submitted themselves meekly to the royal authority. For they
had, though reasoning on premises which the Anglican divines regarded as
heterodox, arrived, like the Anglican divines, at the conclusion,
that no excess of tyranny on the part of a prince can justify active
resistance on the part of a subject. No libel on the government had ever
been traced to a Quaker. [293] In no conspiracy against the government
had a Quaker been implicated. The society had not joined in the clamour
for the Exclusion Bill, and had solemnly condemned the Rye House plot as
a hellish design and a work of the devil. [294] Indeed, the friends then
took very little part in civil contentions; for they were not, as now,
congregated in large towns, but were generally engaged in agriculture,
a pursuit from which they have been gradually driven by the vexations
consequent on their strange scruple about paying tithe. They were,
therefore, far removed from the scene of political strife. They
also, even in domestic privacy, avoided on principle all political
conversation. For such conversation was, in their opinion, unfavourable
to their spirituality of mind, and tended to disturb the austere
composure of their deportment. The yearly meetings of that age
repeatedly admonished the brethren not to hold discourse touching
affairs of state. [295] Even within the memory of persons now living
those grave elders who retained the habits of an earlier generation
systematically discouraged such worldly talk. [296] It was natural that
James should make a wide distinction between these harmless people and
those fierce and reckless sects which considered resistance to tyranny
as a Christian duty which had, in Germany, France, and Holland, made
war on legitimate princes, and which had, during four generations, borne
peculiar enmity to the House of Stuart.
It happened, moreover, that it was possible to grant large relief to the
Roman Catholic and to the Quaker without mitigating the sufferings of
the Puritan sects. A law was in force which imposed severe penalties on
every person who refused to take the oath of supremacy when required to
do so. This law did not affect Presbyterians, Independents, or Baptists;
for they were all ready to call God to witness that they renounced all
spiritual connection with foreign prelates and potentates. But the Roman
Catholic would not swear that the Pope had no jurisdiction in England,
and the Quaker would not swear to anything. On the other hand, neither
the Roman Catholic nor the Quaker was touched by the Five Mile Act,
which, of all the laws in the Statute Book, was perhaps the most
annoying to the Puritan Nonconformists. [297]
The Quakers had a powerful and zealous advocate at court. Though, as
a class, they mixed little with the world, and shunned politics as a
pursuit dangerous to their spiritual interests, one of them, widely
distinguished from the rest by station and fortune, lived in the
highest circles, and had constant access to the royal ear. This was the
celebrated William Penn. His father had held great naval commands,
had been a Commissioner of the Admiralty, had sate in Parliament, had
received the honour of knighthood, and had been encouraged to expect a
peerage. The son had been liberally educated, and had been designed
for the profession of arms, but had, while still young, injured his
prospects and disgusted his friends by joining what was then generally
considered as a gang of crazy heretics. He had been sent sometimes to
the Tower, and sometimes to Newgate. He had been tried at the Old Bailey
for preaching in defiance of the law. After a time, however, he had been
reconciled to his family, and had succeeded in obtaining such powerful
protection that, while all the gaols of England were filled with his
brethren, he was permitted, during many years, to profess his opinions
without molestation. Towards the close of the late reign he had
obtained, in satisfaction of an old debt due to him from the crown, the
grant of an immense region in North America. In this tract, then peopled
only by Indian hunters, he had invited his persecuted friends to settle.
His colony was still in its infancy when James mounted the throne.
Between James and Penn there had long been a familiar acquaintance. The
Quaker now became a courtier, and almost a favourite. He was every
day summoned from the gallery into the closet, and sometimes had long
audiences while peers were kept waiting in the antechambers. It was
noised abroad that he had more real power to help and hurt than many
nobles who filled high offices. He was soon surrounded by flatterers and
suppliants. His house at Kensington was sometimes thronged, at his
hour of rising, by more than two hundred suitors. [298] He paid dear,
however, for this seeming prosperity. Even his own sect looked coldly
on him, and requited his services with obloquy. He was loudly accused of
being a Papist, nay, a Jesuit. Some affirmed that he had been educated
at St. Omers, and others that he had been ordained at Rome. These
calumnies, indeed, could find credit only with the undiscerning
multitude; but with these calumnies were mingled accusations much better
founded.
To speak the whole truth concerning Penn is a task which requires some
courage; for he is rather a mythical than a historical person. Rival
nations and hostile sects have agreed in canonising him. England is
proud of his name. A great commonwealth beyond the Atlantic regards him
with a reverence similar to that which the Athenians felt for Theseus,
and the Romans for Quirinus. The respectable society of which he was a
member honours him as an apostle. By pious men of other persuasions he
is generally regarded as a bright pattern of Christian virtue. Meanwhile
admirers of a very different sort have sounded his praises. The French
philosophers of the eighteenth century pardoned what they regarded as
his superstitious fancies in consideration of his contempt for priests,
and of his cosmopolitan benevolence, impartially extended to all races
and to all creeds. His name has thus become, throughout all civilised
countries, a synonyme for probity and philanthropy.
Nor is this high reputation altogether unmerited. Penn was without doubt
a man of eminent virtues. He had a strong sense of religious duty and a
fervent desire to promote the happiness of mankind. On one or two points
of high importance, he had notions more correct than were, in his day,
common even among men of enlarged minds: and as the proprietor and
legislator of a province which, being almost uninhabited when it came
into his possession, afforded a clear field for moral experiments,
he had the rare good fortune of being able to carry his theories into
practice without any compromise, and yet without any shock to existing
institutions. He will always be mentioned with honour as a founder of
a colony, who did not, in his dealings with a savage people, abuse the
strength derived from civilisation, and as a lawgiver who, in an age of
persecution, made religious liberty the cornerstone of a polity. But his
writings and his life furnish abundant proofs that he was not a man of
strong sense. He had no skill in reading the characters of others. His
confidence in persons less virtuous than himself led him into great
errors and misfortunes. His enthusiasm for one great principle sometimes
impelled him to violate other great principles which he ought to
have held sacred. Nor was his rectitude altogether proof against the
temptations to which it was exposed in that splendid and polite, but
deeply corrupted society, with which he now mingled. The whole court was
in a ferment with intrigues of gallantry and intrigues of ambition. The
traffic in honours, places, and pardons was incessant. It was natural
that a man who was daily seen at the palace, and who was known to have
free access to majesty, should be frequently importuned to use his
influence for purposes which a rigid morality must condemn. The
integrity of Penn had stood firm against obloquy and persecution.
But now, attacked by royal smiles, by female blandishments, by the
insinuating eloquence and delicate flattery of veteran diplomatists and
courtiers, his resolution began to give way. Titles and phrases against
which he had often borne his testimony dropped occasionally from his
lips and his pen. It would be well if he had been guilty of nothing
worse than such compliances with the fashions of the world. Unhappily
it cannot be concealed that he bore a chief part in some transactions
condemned, not merely by the rigid code of the society to which he
belonged, but by the general sense of all honest men. He afterwards
solemnly protested that his hands were pure from illicit gain, and
that he had never received any gratuity from those whom he had obliged,
though he might easily, while his influence at court lasted, have made a
hundred and twenty thousand pounds. [299] To this assertion full credit
is due. But bribes may be offered to vanity as well as to cupidity; and
it is impossible to deny that Penn was cajoled into bearing a part in
some unjustifiable transactions of which others enjoyed the profits.
The first use which he made of his credit was highly commendable. He
strongly represented the sufferings of his brethren to the new King,
who saw with pleasure that it was possible to grant indulgence to these
quiet sectaries and to the Roman Catholics, without showing similar
favour to other classes which were then under persecution. A list was
framed of prisoners against whom proceedings had been instituted for
not taking the oaths, or for not going to church, and of whose loyalty
certificates had been produced to the government. These persons were
discharged, and orders were given that no similar proceeding should be
instituted till the royal pleasure should be further signified. In this
way about fifteen hundred Quakers, and a still greater number of Roman
Catholics, regained their liberty. [300]
And now the time had arrived when the English Parliament was to meet.
The members of the House of Commons who had repaired to the capital were
so numerous that there was much doubt whether their chamber, as it was
then fitted up, would afford sufficient accommodation for them. They
employed the days which immediately preceded the opening of the session
in talking over public affairs with each other and with the agents
of the government. A great meeting of the loyal party was held at the
Fountain Tavern in the Strand; and Roger Lestrange, who had recently
been knighted by the King, and returned to Parliament by the city of
Winchester, took a leading part in their consultations. [301]
It soon appeared that a large portion of the Commons had views which did
not altogether agree with those of the Court. The Tory country gentlemen
were, with scarcely one exception, desirous to maintain the Test Act and
the Habeas Corpus Act; and some among them talked of voting the revenue
only for a term of years. But they were perfectly ready to enact severe
laws against the Whigs, and would gladly have seen all the supporters
of the Exclusion Bill made incapable of holding office. The King, on the
other hand, desired to obtain from the Parliament a revenue for life,
the admission of Roman Catholics to office, and the repeal of the Habeas
Corpus Act. On these three objects his heart was set; and he was by no
means disposed to accept as a substitute for them a penal law against
Exclusionists. Such a law, indeed, would have been positively unpleasing
to him; for one class of Exclusionists stood high in his favour, that
class of which Sunderland was the representative, that class which had
joined the Whigs in the days of the plot, merely because the Whigs were
predominant, and which had changed with the change of fortune. James
justly regarded these renegades as the most serviceable tools that he
could employ. It was not from the stouthearted Cavaliers, who had
been true to him in his adversity, that he could expect abject and
unscrupulous obedience in his prosperity. The men who, impelled, not
by zeal for liberty or for religion, but merely by selfish cupidity and
selfish fear, had assisted to oppress him when he was weak, were the
very men who, impelled by the same cupidity and the same fear, would
assist him to oppress his people now that he was strong. [302] Though
vindictive, he was not indiscriminately vindictive. Not a single
instance can be mentioned in which he showed a generous compassion
to those who had opposed him honestly and on public grounds. But he
frequently spared and promoted those whom some vile motive had induced
to injure him. For that meanness which marked them out as fit implements
of tyranny was so precious in his estimation that he regarded it with
some indulgence even when it was exhibited at his own expense.
The King's wishes were communicated through several channels to the Tory
members of the Lower House. The majority was easily persuaded to forego
all thoughts of a penal law against the Exclusionists, and to consent
that His Majesty should have the revenue for life. But about the Test
Act and the Habeas Corpus Act the emissaries of the Court could obtain
no satisfactory assurances. [303]
On the nineteenth of May the session was opened. The benches of the
Commons presented a singular spectacle. That great party, which, in
the last three Parliaments, had been predominant, had now dwindled to a
pitiable minority, and was indeed little more than a fifteenth part of
the House. Of the five hundred and thirteen knights and burgesses only
a hundred and thirty-five had ever sate in that place before. It is
evident that a body of men so raw and inexperienced must have been, in
some important qualities, far below the average of our representative
assemblies. [304]
The management of the House was confided by James to two peers of the
kingdom of Scotland. One of them, Charles Middleton, Earl of Middleton,
after holding high office at Edinburgh, had, shortly before the death
of the late King, been sworn of the English Privy Council, and appointed
one of the Secretaries of State. With him was joined Richard Graham,
Viscount Preston, who had long held the post of Envoy at Versailles.
The first business of the Commons was to elect a Speaker. Who should
be the man, was a question which had been much debated in the cabinet.
Guildford had recommended Sir Thomas Meres, who, like himself, ranked
among the Trimmers. Jeffreys, who missed no opportunity of crossing the
Lord Keeper, had pressed the claims of Sir John Trevor. Trevor had been
bred half a pettifogger and half a gambler, had brought to political
life sentiments and principles worthy of both his callings, had become
a parasite of the Chief Justice, and could, on occasion, imitate, not
unsuccessfully, the vituperative style of his patron. The minion of
Jeffreys was, as might have been expected, preferred by James, was
proposed by Middleton, and was chosen without opposition. [305]
Thus far all went smoothly. But an adversary of no common prowess was
watching his time. This was Edward Seymour of Berry Pomeroy Castle,
member for the city of Exeter. Seymour's birth put him on a level with
the noblest subjects in Europe. He was the right heir male of the body
of that Duke of Somerset who had been brother-in-law of King Henry the
Eighth, and Protector of the realm of England. In the limitation of the
dukedom of Somerset, the elder Son of the Protector had been postponed
to the younger son. From the younger son the Dukes of Somerset were
descended. From the elder son was descended the family which dwelt at
Berry Pomeroy. Seymour's fortune was large, and his influence in the
West of England extensive. Nor was the importance derived from descent
and wealth the only importance which belonged to him. He was one of the
most skilful debaters and men of business in the kingdom.
He had sate
many years in the House of Commons, had studied all its rules and
usages, and thoroughly understood its peculiar temper. He had been
elected speaker in the late reign under circumstances which made that
distinction peculiarly honourable. During several generations none
but lawyers had been called to the chair; and he was the first country
gentleman whose abilities and acquirements had enabled him to break that
long prescription. He had subsequently held high political office, and
had sate in the Cabinet. But his haughty and unaccommodating temper had
given so much disgust that he had been forced to retire. He was a Tory
and a Churchman: he had strenuously opposed the Exclusion Bill: he had
been persecuted by the Whigs in the day of their prosperity; and he
could therefore safely venture to hold language for which any person
suspected of republicanism would have been sent to the Tower. He had
long been at the head of a strong parliamentary connection, which
was called the Western Alliance, and which included many gentlemen of
Devonshire, Somersetshire, and Cornwall. [306]
In every House of Commons, a member who unites eloquence, knowledge, and
habits of business, to opulence and illustrious descent, must be highly
considered. But in a House of Commons from which many of the most
eminent orators and parliamentary tacticians of the age were excluded,
and which was crowded with people who had never heard a debate, the
influence of such a man was peculiarly formidable. Weight of moral
character was indeed wanting to Edward Seymour. He was licentious,
profane, corrupt, too proud to behave with common politeness, yet not
too proud to pocket illicit gain. But he was so useful an ally, and so
mischievous an enemy that he was frequently courted even by those who
most detested him. [307]
He was now in bad humour with the government. His interest had been
weakened in some places by the remodelling of the western boroughs: his
pride had been wounded by the elevation of Trevor to the chair; and he
took an early opportunity of revenging himself.
On the twenty-second of May the Commons were summoned to the bar of the
Lords; and the King, seated on his throne, made a speech to both Houses.
He declared himself resolved to maintain the established government
in Church and State. But he weakened the effect of this declaration
by addressing an extraordinary admonition to the Commons. He was
apprehensive, he said, that they might be inclined to dole out money to
him from time to time, in the hope that they should thus force him to
call them frequently together. But he must warn them that he was not to
be so dealt with, and that, if they wished him to meet them often they
must use him well. As it was evident that without money the government
could not be carried on, these expressions plainly implied that, if they
did not give him as much money as he wished, he would take it. Strange
to say, this harangue was received with loud cheers by the Tory
gentlemen at the bar. Such acclamations were then usual. It has now
been, during many years, the grave and decorous usage of Parliaments
to hear, in respectful silence, all expressions, acceptable or
unacceptable, which are uttered from the throne. [308]
It was then the custom that, after the King had concisely explained his
reasons for calling Parliament together, the minister who held the Great
Seal should, at more length, explain to the Houses the state of public
affairs. Guildford, in imitation of his predecessors, Clarendon,
Bridgeman, Shaftesbury, and Nottingham, had prepared an elaborate
oration, but found, to his great mortification, that his services were
not wanted. [309]
As soon as the Commons had returned to their own chamber, it was
proposed that they should resolve themselves into a Committee, for the
purpose of settling a revenue on the King.
Then Seymour stood up. How he stood, looking like what he was, the chief
of a dissolute and high spirited gentry, with the artificial ringlets
clustering in fashionable profusion round his shoulders, and a mingled
expression of voluptuousness and disdain in his eye and on his lip, the
likenesses of him which still remain enable us to imagine. It was not,
the haughty Cavalier said, his wish that the Parliament should withhold
from the crown the means of carrying on the government. But was there
indeed a Parliament? Were there not on the benches many men who had, as
all the world knew, no right to sit there, many men whose elections
were tainted by corruption, many men forced by intimidation on reluctant
voters, and many men returned by corporations which had no legal
existence? Had not constituent bodies been remodelled, in defiance
of royal charters and of immemorial prescription? Had not returning
officers been everywhere the unscrupulous agents of the Court? Seeing
that the very principle of representation had been thus systematically
attacked, he knew not how to call the throng of gentlemen which he saw
around him by the honourable name of a House of Commons. Yet never was
there a time when it more concerned the public weal that the character
of Parliament should stand high. Great dangers impended over the
ecclesiastical and civil constitution of the realm. It was matter of
vulgar notoriety, it was matter which required no proof, that the Test
Act, the rampart of religion, and the Habeas Corpus Act, the rampart
of liberty, were marked out for destruction. "Before we proceed to
legislate on questions so momentous, let us at least ascertain whether
we really are a legislature. Let our first proceeding be to enquire into
the manner in which the elections have been conducted. And let us look
to it that the enquiry be impartial. For, if the nation shall find that
no redress is to be obtained by peaceful methods, we may perhaps ere
long suffer the justice which we refuse to do. " He concluded by
moving that, before any supply was granted, the House would take into
consideration petitions against returns, and that no member whose right
to sit was disputed should be allowed to vote.
Not a cheer was heard. Not a member ventured to second the motion.
Indeed, Seymour had said much that no other man could have said with
impunity. The proposition fell to the ground, and was not even entered
on the journals. But a mighty effect had been produced. Barillon
informed his master that many who had not dared to applaud that
remarkable speech had cordially approved of it, that it was the
universal subject of conversation throughout London, and that the
impression made on the public mind seemed likely to be durable. [310]
The Commons went into committee without delay, and voted to the King,
for life, the whole revenue enjoyed by his brother. [311]
The zealous churchmen who formed the majority of the House seem to have
been of opinion that the promptitude with which they had met the wish of
James, touching the revenue, entitled them to expect some concession
on his part. They said that much had been done to gratify him, and that
they must now do something to gratify the nation. The House, therefore,
resolved itself into a Grand Committee of Religion, in order to consider
the best means of providing for the security of the ecclesiastical
establishment. In that Committee two resolutions were unanimously
adopted. The first expressed fervent attachment to the Church of
England. The second called on the King to put in execution the penal
laws against all persons who were not members of that Church. [312]
The Whigs would doubtless have wished to see the Protestant dissenters
tolerated, and the Roman Catholics alone persecuted. But the Whigs were
a small and a disheartened minority. They therefore kept themselves as
much as possible out of sight, dropped their party name, abstained from
obtruding their peculiar opinions on a hostile audience, and steadily
supported every proposition tending to disturb the harmony which as yet
subsisted between the Parliament and the Court.
When the proceedings of the Committee of Religion were known at
Whitehall, the King's anger was great. Nor can we justly blame him for
resenting the conduct of the Tories If they were disposed to require
the rigorous execution of the penal code, they clearly ought to have
supported the Exclusion Bill. For to place a Papist on the throne, and
then to insist on his persecuting to the death the teachers of that
faith in which alone, on his principles, salvation could be found, was
monstrous. In mitigating by a lenient administration the severity of the
bloody laws of Elizabeth, the King violated no constitutional principle.
He only exerted a power which has always belonged to the crown. Nay, he
only did what was afterwards done by a succession of sovereigns zealous
for Protestantism, by William, by Anne, and by the princes of the House
of Brunswick. Had he suffered Roman Catholic priests, whose lives
he could save without infringing any law, to be hanged, drawn, and
quartered for discharging what he considered as their first duty, he
would have drawn on himself the hatred and contempt even of those to
whose prejudices he had made so shameful a concession, and, had he
contented himself with granting to the members of his own Church a
practical toleration by a large exercise of his unquestioned prerogative
of mercy, posterity would have unanimously applauded him.
The Commons probably felt on reflection that they had acted absurdly.
They were also disturbed by learning that the King, to whom they looked
up with superstitious reverence, was greatly provoked. They made haste,
therefore, to atone for their offence. In the House, they unanimously
reversed the decision which, in the Committee, they had unanimously
adopted and passed a resolution importing that they relied with entire
confidence on His Majesty's gracious promise to protect that religion
which was dearer to them than life itself. [313]
Three days later the King informed the House that his brother had left
some debts, and that the stores of the navy and ordnance were nearly
exhausted. It was promptly resolved that new taxes should be imposed.
The person on whom devolved the task of devising ways and means was Sir
Dudley North, younger brother of the Lord Keeper. Dudley North was one
of the ablest men of his time. He had early in life been sent to the
Levant, and had there been long engaged in mercantile pursuits. Most men
would, in such a situation, have allowed their faculties to rust. For
at Smyrna and Constantinople there were few books and few intelligent
companions. But the young factor had one of those vigorous
understandings which are independent of external aids. In his solitude
he meditated deeply on the philosophy of trade, and thought out by
degrees a complete and admirable theory, substantially the same with
that which, a century later, was expounded by Adam Smith. After an exile
of many years, Dudley North returned to England with a large fortune,
and commenced business as a Turkey merchant in the City of London.
His profound knowledge, both speculative and practical, of commercial
matters, and the perspicuity and liveliness with which he explained
his views, speedily introduced him to the notice of statesmen.
The government found in him at once an enlightened adviser and an
unscrupulous slave. For with his rare mental endowments were joined lax
principles and an unfeeling heart. When the Tory reaction was in full
progress, he had consented to be made Sheriff for the express purpose
of assisting the vengeance of the court. His juries had never failed
to find verdicts of Guilty; and, on a day of judicial butchery, carts,
loaded with the legs and arms of quartered Whigs, were, to the great
discomposure of his lady, driven to his fine house in Basinghall
Street for orders. His services had been rewarded with the honour of
knighthood, with an Alderman's gown, and with the office of Commissioner
of the Customs. He had been brought into Parliament for Banbury, and
though a new member, was the person on whom the Lord Treasurer chiefly
relied for the conduct of financial business in the Lower House. [314]
Though the Commons were unanimous in their resolution to grant a further
supply to the crown, they were by no means agreed as to the sources from
which that supply should be drawn. It was speedily determined that part
of the sum which was required should be raised by laying an additional
impost, for a term of eight years, on wine and vinegar: but something
more than this was needed. Several absurd schemes were suggested. Many
country gentlemen were disposed to put a heavy tax on all new buildings
in the capital. Such a tax, it was hoped, would check the growth of
a city which had long been regarded with jealousy and aversion by the
rural aristocracy. Dudley North's plan was that additional duties should
be imposed, for a term of eight years, on sugar and tobacco. A great
clamour was raised Colonial merchants, grocers, sugar bakers and
tobacconists, petitioned the House and besieged the public offices. The
people of Bristol, who were deeply interested in the trade with Virginia
and Jamaica, sent up a deputation which was heard at the bar of the
Commons. Rochester was for a moment staggered; but North's ready wit and
perfect knowledge of trade prevailed, both in the Treasury and in the
Parliament, against all opposition. The old members were amazed at
seeing a man who had not been a fortnight in the House, and whose life
had been chiefly passed in foreign countries, assume with confidence,
and discharge with ability, all the functions of a Chancellor of the
Exchequer. [315]
His plan was adopted; and thus the Crown was in possession of a clear
income of about nineteen hundred thousand pounds, derived from England
alone. Such an income was then more than sufficient for the support of
the government in time of peace. [316]
The Lords had, in the meantime, discussed several important questions.
The Tory party had always been strong among the peers. It included the
whole bench of Bishops, and had been reinforced during the four
years which had elapsed since the last dissolution, by several fresh
creations. Of the new nobles, the most conspicuous were the Lord
Treasurer Rochester, the Lord Keeper Guildford, the Lord Chief Justice
Jeffreys, the Lord Godolphin, and the Lord Churchill, who, after his
return from Versailles, had been made a Baron of England.
The peers early took into consideration the case of four members of
their body who had been impeached in the late reign, but had never been
brought to trial, and had, after a long confinement, been admitted to
bail by the Court of King's Bench. Three of the noblemen who were thus
under recognisances were Roman Catholics. The fourth was a Protestant
of great note and influence, the Earl of Danby. Since he had fallen from
power and had been accused of treason by the Commons, four Parliaments
had been dissolved; but he had been neither acquitted nor condemned.
In 1679 the Lords had considered, with reference to his situation,
the question whether an impeachment was or was not terminated by a
dissolution. They had resolved, after long debate and full examination
of precedents, that the impeachment was still pending. That resolution
they now rescinded. A few Whig nobles protested against this step, but
to little purpose. The Commons silently acquiesced in the decision of
the Upper House. Danby again took his seat among his peers, and became
an active and powerful member of the Tory party. [317]
The constitutional question on which the Lords thus, in the short space
of six years, pronounced two diametrically opposite decisions, slept
during more than a century, and was at length revived by the dissolution
which took place during the long trial of Warren Hastings. It was
then necessary to determine whether the rule laid down in 1679, or the
opposite rule laid down in 1685, was to be accounted the law of the
land. The point was long debated in both houses; and the best legal and
parliamentary abilities which an age preeminently fertile both in
legal and in parliamentary ability could supply were employed in the
discussion. The lawyers were not unequally divided. Thurlow, Kenyon,
Scott, and Erskine maintained that the dissolution had put an end to
the impeachment. The contrary doctrine was held by Mansfield, Camden,
Loughborough, and Grant. But among those statesmen who grounded their
arguments, not on precedents and technical analogies, but on deep and
broad constitutional principles, there was little difference of opinion.
Pitt and Grenville, as well as Burke and Fox, held that the impeachment
was still pending Both Houses by great majorities set aside the decision
of 1685, and pronounced the decision of 1679 to be in conformity with
the law of Parliament.
Of the national crimes which had been committed during the panic excited
by the fictions of Oates, the most signal had been the judicial murder
of Stafford. The sentence of that unhappy nobleman was now regarded
by all impartial persons as unjust. The principal witness for the
prosecution had been convicted of a series of foul perjuries. It was
the duty of the legislature, in such circumstances, to do justice to the
memory of a guiltless sufferer, and to efface an unmerited stain from a
name long illustrious in our annals. A bill for reversing the attainder
of Stafford was passed by the Upper House, in spite of the murmurs of a
few peers who were unwilling to admit that they had shed innocent blood.
The Commons read the bill twice without a division, and ordered it to
be committed. But, on the day appointed for the committee, arrived news
that a formidable rebellion had broken out in the West of England. It
was consequently necessary to postpone much important business. The
amends due to the memory of Stafford were deferred, as was supposed,
only for a short time. But the misgovernment of James in a few months
completely turned the tide of public feeling. During several generations
the Roman Catholics were in no condition to demand reparation for
injustice, and accounted themselves happy if they were permitted to live
unmolested in obscurity and silence. At length, in the reign of King
George the Fourth, more than a hundred and forty years after the day on
which the blood of Stafford was shed on Tower Hill, the tardy expiation
was accomplished. A law annulling the attainder and restoring the
injured family to its ancient dignities was presented to Parliament by
the ministers of the crown, was eagerly welcomed by public men of all
parties, and was passed without one dissentient voice. [318]
It is now necessary that I should trace the origin and progress of
that rebellion by which the deliberations of the Houses were suddenly
interrupted.
CHAPTER V.
TOWARDS the close of the reign of Charles the Second, some Whigs who had
been deeply implicated in the plot so fatal to their party, and who knew
themselves to be marked out for destruction, had sought an asylum in the
Low Countries.
These refugees were in general men of fiery temper and weak judgment.
They were also under the influence of that peculiar illusion which seems
to belong to their situation. A politician driven into banishment by a
hostile faction generally sees the society which he has quitted through
a false medium. Every object is distorted and discoloured by his
regrets, his longings, and his resentments. Every little discontent
appears to him to portend a revolution. Every riot is a rebellion. He
cannot be convinced that his country does not pine for him as much as
he pines for his country. He imagines that all his old associates, who
still dwell at their homes and enjoy their estates, are tormented by
the same feelings which make life a burden to himself. The longer his
expatriation, the greater does this hallucination become. The lapse of
time, which cools the ardour of the friends whom he has left behind,
inflames his. Every month his impatience to revisit his native land
increases; and every month his native land remembers and misses him
less. This delusion becomes almost a madness when many exiles who
suffer in the same cause herd together in a foreign country. Their chief
employment is to talk of what they once were, and of what they may yet
be, to goad each other into animosity against the common enemy, to feed
each other with extravagant hopes of victory and revenge. Thus they
become ripe for enterprises which would at once be pronounced hopeless
by any man whose passions had not deprived him of the power of
calculating chances.
In this mood were many of the outlaws who had assembled on the
Continent. The correspondence which they kept up with England was, for
the most part, such as tended to excite their feelings and to mislead
their judgment. Their information concerning the temper of the public
mind was chiefly derived from the worst members of the Whig party, from
men who were plotters and libellers by profession, who were pursued by
the officers of justice, who were forced to skulk in disguise through
back streets, and who sometimes lay hid for weeks together in cocklofts
and cellars. The statesmen who had formerly been the ornaments of the
Country Party, the statesmen who afterwards guided the councils of the
Convention, would have given advice very different from that which was
given by such men as John Wildman and Henry Danvers.
Wildman had served forty years before in the parliamentary army, but had
been more distinguished there as an agitator than as a soldier, and had
early quitted the profession of arms for pursuits better suited to
his temper. His hatred of monarchy had induced him to engage in a long
series of conspiracies, first against the Protector, and then against
the Stuarts. But with Wildman's fanaticism was joined a tender care for
his own safety. He had a wonderful skill in grazing the edge of
treason. No man understood better how to instigate others to desperate
enterprises by words which, when repeated to a jury, might seem
innocent, or, at worst, ambiguous. Such was his cunning that, though
always plotting, though always known to be plotting, and though long
malignantly watched by a vindictive government, he eluded every
danger, and died in his bed, after having seen two generations of his
accomplices die on the gallows. [319] Danvers was a man of the same
class, hotheaded, but fainthearted, constantly urged to the brink of
danger by enthusiasm, and constantly stopped on that brink by cowardice.
He had considerable influence among a portion of the Baptists, had
written largely in defence of their peculiar opinions, and had drawn
down on himself the severe censure of the most respectable Puritans by
attempting to palliate the crimes of Matthias and John of Leyden. It is
probable that, had he possessed a little courage, he would have trodden
in the footsteps of the wretches whom he defended. He was, at this time,
concealing himself from the officers of justice; for warrants were
out against him on account of a grossly calumnious paper of which the
government had discovered him to be the author. [320]
It is easy to imagine what kind of intelligence and counsel men, such
as have been described, were likely to send to the outlaws in the
Netherlands. Of the general character of those outlaws an estimate may
be formed from a few samples.
One of the most conspicuous among them was John Ayloffe, a lawyer
connected by affinity with the Hydes, and through the Hydes, with James.
Ayloffe had early made himself remarkable by offering a whimsical
insult to the government. At a time when the ascendancy of the court
of Versailles had excited general uneasiness, he had contrived to put a
wooden shoe, the established type, among the English, of French tyranny,
into the chair of the House of Commons. He had subsequently been
concerned in the Whig plot; but there is no reason to believe that he
was a party to the design of assassinating the royal brothers. He was
a man of parts and courage; but his moral character did not stand high.
The Puritan divines whispered that he was a careless Gallio or something
worse, and that, whatever zeal he might profess for civil liberty, the
Saints would do well to avoid all connection with him. [321]
Nathaniel Wade was, like Ayloffe, a lawyer. He had long resided at
Bristol, and had been celebrated in his own neighbourhood as a vehement
republican. At one time he had formed a project of emigrating to New
Jersey, where he expected to find institutions better suited to
his taste than those of England. His activity in electioneering had
introduced him to the notice of some Whig nobles. They had employed him
professionally, and had, at length, admitted him to their most secret
counsels. He had been deeply concerned in the scheme of insurrection,
and had undertaken to head a rising in his own city. He had also been
privy to the more odious plot against the lives of Charles and James.
But he always declared that, though privy to it, he had abhorred it, and
had attempted to dissuade his associates from carrying their design into
effect. For a man bred to civil pursuits, Wade seems to have had, in an
unusual degree, that sort of ability and that sort of nerve which make a
good soldier. Unhappily his principles and his courage proved to be not
of sufficient force to support him when the fight was over, and when in
a prison, he had to choose between death and infamy. [322]
Another fugitive was Richard Goodenough, who had formerly been Under
Sheriff of London. On this man his party had long relied for services
of no honourable kind, and especially for the selection of jurymen not
likely to be troubled with scruples in political cases. He had been
deeply concerned in those dark and atrocious parts of the Whig plot
which had been carefully concealed from the most respectable Whigs. Nor
is it possible to plead, in extenuation of his guilt, that he was misled
by inordinate zeal for the public good. For it will be seen that after
having disgraced a noble cause by his crimes, he betrayed it in order to
escape from his well merited punishment. [323]
Very different was the character of Richard Rumbold. He had held a
commission in Cromwell's own regiment, had guarded the scaffold before
the Banqueting House on the day of the great execution, had fought at
Dunbar and Worcester, and had always shown in the highest degree the
qualities which distinguished the invincible army in which he served,
courage of the truest temper, fiery enthusiasm, both political and
religious, and with that enthusiasm, all the power of selfgovernment
which is characteristic of men trained in well disciplined camps to
command and to obey. When the Republican troops were disbanded, Rumbold
became a maltster, and carried on his trade near Hoddesdon, in that
building from which the Rye House plot derives its name. It had been
suggested, though not absolutely determined, in the conferences of the
most violent and unscrupulous of the malecontents, that armed men should
be stationed in the Rye House to attack the Guards who were to escort
Charles and James from Newmarket to London. In these conferences Rumbold
had borne a part from which he would have shrunk with horror, if his
clear understanding had not been overclouded, and his manly heart
corrupted, by party spirit. [324]
A more important exile was Ford Grey, Lord Grey of Wark. He had been a
zealous Exclusionist, had concurred in the design of insurrection, and
had been committed to the Tower, but had succeeded in making his keepers
drunk, and in effecting his escape to the Continent. His parliamentary
abilities were great, and his manners pleasing: but his life had been
sullied by a great domestic crime. His wife was a daughter of the noble
house of Berkeley. Her sister, the Lady Henrietta Berkeley, was allowed
to associate and correspond with him as with a brother by blood. A
fatal attachment sprang up. The high spirit and strong passions of
Lady Henrietta broke through all restraints of virtue and decorum. A
scandalous elopement disclosed to the whole kingdom the shame of two
illustrious families. Grey and some of the agents who had served him
in his amour were brought to trial on a charge of conspiracy.
