Carr was succeeded in the royal favor by Villiers, and he, more fortunate, ever retained the ascendency over the mind and heart of James, as well as of his son Charles I. George Villiers owed his fortune, not to his birth or talents, but to his fine clothes, his Parisian manners, smooth face, tall figure, and bland smiles. He became cup-bearer, then knight, then gentleman of the privy council, then earl, then marquis, and finally duke of Buckingham, lord high admiral, warden of the Cinque Ports, high steward of Westminster, constable of Windsor Castle, and chief justice in eyre of the parks and forests. "The doting and gloating king" had taught Somerset Latin; he attempted to teach Buckingham divinity, and called him ever by the name of "Steenie." And never was there such a mixture of finery, effeminacy, insolence, and sycophancy in any royal minion before or since. Beau Brummell never equalled him in dress, Wolsey in magnificence, Mazarin in peculation, Walpole in corruption, Jeffries in insolence, or Norfolk in pride. He was the constant companion of the king, to whose vices he pandered, and through him the royal favor flowed. But no rewards, or favors, or greatness satisfied him; not so much because he was ambitious, as because, like a spoiled child, he did not appreciate the magnitude of the gifts which were bestowed on him. Nor did he ever know his place; but made love to the queen of France herself, when he was sent on an emba.s.sy. He trampled on the const.i.tution, subverted the laws, ground down the people by taxes, and taught the king to disregard the affections of his subjects, and to view them as his slaves. But such a triumph of iniquity could not be endured; and Buckingham was finally a.s.sa.s.sinated, after he had gained an elevation higher than any English subject ever before attained, except Wolsey, and without the exercise of any qualities which ent.i.tled him to a higher position than a master of ceremonies at a fashionable ball. It is easy to conceive that such a minion should arrive at power under such a monarch as James; but how can we understand that such a man as Lord Bacon, the chancellor, the philosopher, the statesman, the man of learning, genius, and wisdom, should have bowed down to the dust, in vile subserviency, to this infamous favorite of the king. Surely, what lessons of the frailty of human nature does the reign of James teach us! The most melancholy instance of all the singular cases of human inconsistency, at this time, is the conduct of the great Bacon himself, who reached the zenith of his power during this reign. It is not the receiving of a bribe, while exercising the highest judicial authority in the land, on which alone his shame rests, but his insolent conduct to his inferiors, his acquiescence in wrong, his base and unmanly sycophancy, his ingrat.i.tude to his friends and patrons, his intense selfishness and unscrupulous ambition while climbing to power, and, above all, his willingness to be the tool of a despot who trampled on the rights and liberties which G.o.d had given him to guard; and this in an age of light, of awakened intelligence, when even his crabbed rival c.o.ke was seeking to explode the abuses of the Dark Ages. But "the difference between the soaring angel and the creeping snake, was but a type of the difference between Bacon the philosopher and Bacon the attorney-general, Bacon seeking for truth and Bacon seeking for the Seals." As the author of the Novum Organum, as the pioneer of modern science, as the calm and patient investigator of nature's laws, as the miner and sapper of the old false systems of philosophy which enslaved the human mind, as the writer for future generations, he has received, as he has deserved, all the glory which admiring and grateful millions can bestow, of his own nation, and of all nations. No name in British annals is more ill.u.s.trious than his, and none which is shaded with more lasting shame. Pope alone would have given him an immortality as the "wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind." The only defence for the political baseness of Bacon--and this is insufficient--is, that all were base around him. The years when he was in power are among the darkest and most disgraceful in English history.

[Sidenote: Trial and Execution of Raleigh.]

Allusion has been made to the reign of favorites; but this was but a small part of the evils of the times. Every thing abroad and at home was mismanaged. Patents of monopolies were multiplied; the most grievous exactions were made; indefensible executions were ordered; the laws were perverted; justice was sold; and an ignominious war was closed by a still more ignominious peace. The execution of Raleigh was a disgrace to the king, the court, and the nation, because the manner of it was so cowardly and cruel. He had been convicted, in the early part of the reign, of treason, and committed to the Tower. There he languished twelve years, amusing himself by writing a universal history, and in seeking the elixir of life; for, in the mysteries of chemistry, and in the mazes of historical lore, as in the intrigues of courts, and dangers of camps, he was equally at home.

He was released from his prison in order to take command of an adventurous expedition to Guiana in quest of gold. In a former voyage he had visited the banks of the Oronoco in quest of the city of Manoa, where precious stones and gold existed in exhaustless treasures. That El Dorado he could not find; but now, in prison, he proposed to Secretary Winwood an expedition to secure what he had before sought in vain. The king wavered a while between his cupidity and fear; for, while he longed for gold, as the traveller does for water on the desert of Sahara, he was afraid of giving offence to the Spanish amba.s.sador. But his cupidity was the stronger feeling, and Raleigh was sent with fourteen ships to the coasts of South America. The expedition was in every respect unfortunate to Raleigh and to the king. The gallant commander lost his private fortune and a promising son, the Spaniards attacked his armament, his troops mutinied and deserted, and he returned to England, with a sullied fame, to meet a disappointed sovereign and implacable enemies. In such times, failure is tantamount to crime, and Raleigh was tried for offences he never committed. The most glaring injustice, harshness, and sophistry were resorted to, even by Bacon; but still Raleigh triumphantly defended himself. But no innocence or eloquence could save him; and he was executed on the sentence which had been p.r.o.nounced against him for treason fifteen years before. To such meanness and cowardice did his enemies resort to rid the world of a universal genius, whose crime--if crime he ever committed--had long been consigned to oblivion.

[Sidenote: Encroachments of James.]

But we cannot longer dwell on the lives of eminent individuals during the reign of James. However interesting may be the details of their fortunes, their history dwindles into insignificance when compared with the great public injuries which an infatuated monarch inflicted.

Not cruel in his temper, not stained by personal crimes, quite learned in Greek and Latin, but weak and ignorant of his duties as a king, he was inclined to trespa.s.s on the rights of his subjects. As has been already remarked, the genius of his reign was the contest between prerogative and liberty. The Commons did not acquiesce in his measures, or yield to his wishes, as they did during the reign of Elizabeth. He had a notion that the duty of a king was to command, and that of the subject was to obey, in all things; that kings ruled by divine right, and were raised by the Almighty above all law. But such notions were not approved by a parliament which swarmed with Puritans, and who were not careful to conceal their views from the king. They insisted on their privileges as tenaciously as the king insisted on his prerogative, and often came into collision with him. And they inst.i.tuted an inquiry into monopolies, and attacked the monstrous abuses of purveyance, and the incidents of feudal tenure, by which, among other things, the king became guardian to wards, and received the profits of their estates during their minority. These feudal claims, by which the king, in part, received his revenue, were every year becoming less valuable to the crown, and more offensive to the people. The king, at length, was willing to compound, and make a bargain with the Commons, by which he was to receive two hundred thousand pounds a year, instead of the privileges of wardship, and other feudal rights. But his necessities required additional grants, which the Commons were unwilling to bestow; and the king then resorted to the sale of monopolies and even peerages, sent the more turbulent of the Commons to prison, and frequently dissolved parliament. He was resolved to tax the people if supplies were not granted him, while the Commons maintained that no taxation could be allowed without their consent. Moreover, the Commons refused to grant such supplies as the king fancied he needed, unless certain grievances were redressed, among which was the High Commission Court, an arbitrary tribunal, which fined and imprisoned without appeal. But James, though pressed for money, stood firm to his notions of prerogative, and supplied his most urgent necessities by illegal means. People were dragged to the Star Chamber, on all kinds of accusations, that they might be sentenced to pay enormous fines; new privileges and monopolies were invented, and new dignities created. Baronets, who are hereditary knights, were inst.i.tuted, and baronetcies were sold for one thousand pounds each.

[Sidenote: Quarrel between James and Parliament.]

But the monopolies which the king granted, in order to raise money, did not inflame the Commons so much as the projected marriage between the prince of Wales and the infanta of Spain. James flattered himself that this Spanish match, to arrange which he had sent Buckingham to the court of Madrid, would procure the rest.i.tution of the Palatinate to the elector, who had been driven from his throne. But the Commons thought differently. They, as well as the people generally, were indignant in view of the inactivity of the government in not sending aid to the distressed Protestants of Germany; and the loss of the Palatinate was regarded as a national calamity. They saw no good which would accrue from an alliance with the enemies and persecutors of these Protestants; but, on the other hand, much evil. As the const.i.tutional guardians, therefore, of the public welfare and liberty, they framed a remonstrance to the king, representing the overgrown power of Austria as dangerous to the liberties of Europe, and entreated his majesty to take up arms against Spain, which was allied with Austria, and by whose wealth Austrian armies were supported.

James was inflamed with indignation at this remonstrance, which militated against all his maxims of government; and he forthwith wrote a letter to the speaker of the House of Commons, commanding him to admonish the members "not to presume to meddle with matters of state which were beyond their capacity, and especially not to touch on his son's marriage." The Commons, not dismayed, and conscious of strength, sent up a new remonstrance in which they affirmed that they _were_ ent.i.tled to interpose with their counsel in all matters of state, and that entire freedom of speech was their ancient and undoubted right, transmitted from their ancestors. The king, in reply, told the Commons, that "their remonstrance was more like a denunciation of war, than an address of dutiful subjects, and that their pretension to inquire into state affairs was a plenipotence to which none of their ancestors, even during the weakest reigns, had ever dared to aspire."

He farther insinuated that their privileges were derived from royal favor. On this, the Commons framed another protest,--that the liberties, franchises, privileges, and jurisdictions of parliament are the ancient and undoubted birthright of Englishmen, and that every member has the right of freedom of speech. This protest they entered upon their journals, upon which James lost all temper, ordered the clerk to bring him the journals, erased the protestation with his own hand, in presence of the judges and the council, and then dissolved the parliament.

Nothing else of note occurred in this reign, except the prosecution of the Spanish match, which was so odious to the nation that Buckingham, to preserve his popularity, broke off the negotiations, and by a system of treachery and duplicity as hateful as were his original efforts to promote the match. War with Spain was the result of the insult offered to the infanta and the court. An alliance was now made with France, and Prince Charles married Henrietta Maria, daughter of Henry IV. The Commons then granted abundant supplies for war, to recover the Palatinate; and liberty of conscience was granted by the monarch, on the demands of Richelieu, to the Catholics--so long and, perseveringly oppressed.

[Sidenote: Death of James I.]

Shortly after, (March 27, 1625,) King James died at Theobalds, his favorite palace, from a disease produced by anxiety, gluttony, and sweet wines, after a reign in England of twenty-two years; and his son, Charles I., before the breath was out of his body, was proclaimed king in his stead.

The course pursued by James I. was adopted by his son; and, as their reigns were memorable for the same struggle, we shall consider them together until revolution gave the victory to the advocates of freedom.

Charles I. was twenty-five years of age when he began his reign. In a moral and social point of view he was a more respectable man than his father, but had the same absurd notions of the royal prerogative, the same contempt of the people, the same dislike of const.i.tutional liberty, and the same resolution of maintaining the absolute power of the crown, at any cost. He was moreover, perplexed by the same embarra.s.sments, was involved in debt, had great necessities, and was dependent on the House of Commons for aid to prosecute his wars and support the dignity of the crown. But he did not consider the changing circ.u.mstances and spirit of the age, and the hostile and turbulent nature of his people. He increased, rather than diminished, the odious monopolies which irritated the nation during the reign of his father; he clung to all the old feudal privileges; he retained the detestable and frivolous Buckingham as his chief minister; and, when Buckingham was a.s.sa.s.sinated, he chose others even more tyrannical and unscrupulous; he insisted on taxing the people without their consent, threw contempt on parliament, and drove the nation to rebellion. In all his political acts he was infatuated, after making every allowance for the imperfections of human nature. A wiser man would have seen the rising storm, and might possibly have averted it. But Charles never dreamed of it, until it burst in all its fury on his devoted head, and consigned him to the martyr's grave. We pity his fate, but lament still more his blindness. And so great was this blindness, that it almost seems as if Providence had marked him out to be a victim on the altar of human progress.

With the reign of Charles commences unquestionably the most exciting period of English history, and a period to which historians have given more attention than to any other great historical era, the French Revolution alone excepted. The attempt to describe the leading events in this exciting age and reign would be, in this connection, absurd; and yet some notice of them cannot be avoided.

[Sidenote: The Struggle of Cla.s.ses.]

For more than ten centuries, great struggles have been going on in society between the dominant orders and sects. The victories gained by the oppressed millions, over their different masters, const.i.tute what is called the Progress of Society. Defenders of the people have occasionally arisen from orders to which they did not belong. When, then, any great order defended the cause of the people against the tyranny and selfishness of another order, then the people have advanced a step in civil and social freedom.

When Feudalism weighed fearfully upon the people, "the clergy sought, on their behalf, a little reason, justice, and humanity, and the poor man had no other asylum than the churches, no other protectors than the priests; and, as the priests offered food to the moral nature of man, they acquired a great ascendency, and the preponderance pa.s.sed from the n.o.bles to the clergy." By the aid of the church, royalty also rose above feudalism, and aided the popular cause.

The church, having gained the ascendency, sought then to enslave the kings of the earth. But royalty, borrowing help from humiliated n.o.bles and from the people, became the dominant power in Europe.

[Sidenote: Rise of Popular Power.]

In these struggles between n.o.bles and the clergy, and between the clergy and kings, the people had acquired political importance. They had obtained a knowledge of their rights and of their strength; and they were determined to maintain them. They liked not the tyranny of either n.o.bles, priests, or kings; but they bent all their energies to suppress the power of the latter, since the two former had been already humiliated.

The struggle of the people against royalty is preeminently the genius of the English Revolution. It is to be doubted whether any king could have resisted the storm of popular fury which hurled Charles from his throne. But no king could have managed worse than he, no king could be more unfortunately and unpropitiously placed; and his own imprudence and folly hastened the catastrophe.

The House of Commons, which had acquired great strength, spirit, and popularity during the reign of James, fully perceived the difficulties and necessities of Charles, but made no adequate or generous effort to relieve him from them. Some of the more turbulent rejoiced in them.

They knew that kings, like other men, were selfish, and that it was not natural for people to part with their privileges and power without a struggle, even though this power was injurious to the interests of society. In the Middle Ages, barons, bishops, and popes had fought desperately in the struggle of cla.s.ses; and it was only from their necessities that either kings or people had obtained what they demanded. King Charles, no more than Pope Boniface VIII., would surrender, as a boon to man, without compulsion, his supposed omnipotence.

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

The king ascended his throne burdened by the debts of his father, and by an expensive war, which the Commons incited, but would not pay for.

They granted him, to meet his difficulties and maintain his honor, the paltry sum of one hundred and forty thousand pounds, and the duties of tonnage and poundage, not for life, as was customary, but for a year.

Nothing could be more provoking to a young king. Of course, the money was soon spent, and the king wanted more, and had a right to expect more. But, if the Commons granted what the king required, he would be made independent of them, and he would rule tyrannically, as the kings of England did before him. So they resolved not to grant necessary supplies to carry on the government, unless the king would part with the prerogatives of an absolute prince, and those old feudal privileges which were an abomination in the eyes of the people.

Charles was not the man to make such a bargain. Few kings, in his age, would have seen its necessity. But necessity there was. Civil war was inevitable, without a compromise, provided both parties were resolved on maintaining their ground. But Charles fancied that the Commons could be browbeaten and intimidated into submission; and, moreover, in case he was brought into collision with his subjects, he fancied that he was stronger than they, and could put down the spirit of resistance. In both of these suppositions he was wrong. The Commons were firm, and were stronger than he was, because they had the sympathy of the people. They believed conscientiously, especially the Puritans, that he was wrong; that G.o.d gave him no divine right to enslave them, and that they were ent.i.tled, by the eternal principles of justice, and by the spirit of the const.i.tution, to civil and religious liberty, in the highest sense of that term. They believed that their rights were inalienable and absolute; that, among them, they could not be taxed without their own consent; and that their const.i.tutional guardians, the Commons, should be unrestricted in debate. These notions of the people were _ideas_. On ideas all governments rest. No throne could stand a day unless the people felt they owed it their allegiance. When the main support of the throne of Charles was withdrawn, the support of popular ideas, and this support given to the House of Commons, at issue with the sovereign, what could he do? What could Louis XVI. do one hundred and fifty years afterwards? What could Louis Philippe do in our times? A king, without the loyalty of the people, is a phantom, a mockery, and a delusion, unless he have physical force to sustain him; and even then armies will rebel, if they feel they are not bound to obey, and if it is not for their interest to obey.

Now Charles had neither _loyalty_ nor _force_ to hold him on his throne. The agitations of an age of unprecedented boldness in speculations destroyed the former; the House of Commons would not grant supplies to secure the latter. And they would not grant supplies, because they loved themselves and the cause of the people better than they loved their king. In short, it was only by his concessions that they would supply his necessities. He would not make the concessions, and the contest soon ended in an appeal to arms.

[Sidenote: The Counsellors of Charles.]

But Charles was not without friends, and some of his advisers were men of sagacity and talent. It is true they did not fully appreciate the weakness of the king, or the strength of his enemies; but they saw his distress, and tried to remove it. They, very naturally in such an age, recommended violent courses--to grant new monopolies, to extort fines, to exercise all his feudal privileges, to p.a.w.n the crown jewels, even, in order to raise money; for money, at all events, he must have. They advised him to arrest turbulent and incendiary members of the Commons, to prorogue and dissolve parliaments, to raise forced loans, to impose new duties, to shut up ports, to levy fresh taxes, and to raise armies friendly to his cause. In short, they recommended unconst.i.tutional measures--measures which both they and the king knew to be unconst.i.tutional, but which they justified on the ground of necessity.

And the king, in his perplexity, did what his ministers advised. But every person who was sent to the Tower, every new tax, every sentence of the Star Chamber, every seizure of property, every arbitrary command, every violation of the liberties of the people, raised up new enemies to the king, and inflamed the people with new discontents.

[Sidenote: Death of Buckingham--Pet.i.tion of Right.]

At first the Commons felt that they could obtain what they wanted--a redress of grievances, if the king's favorite adviser and minister were removed. Besides, they all hated Buckingham--peers, commons, and people,--and all sought his downfall. He had no friends among the people, as Ess.e.x had in the time of Elizabeth. His extravagance, pomp, and insolence disgusted all orders; and his reign seemed to be an insult to the nation. Even the people regarded him as an upstart, setting himself above the old n.o.bility, and enriching himself by royal domains, worth two hundred eighty-four thousand three hundred and ninety-five pounds. So the Commons violently attacked his administration, and impeached him. But he was shielded by the king, and even appointed to command an expedition to relieve La Roch.e.l.le, then besieged by Richelieu. But he was stabbed by a religious fanatic, by the name of Felton, as he was about to embark at Portsmouth. His body was removed to London, and he was buried with great state in Westminster Abbey, much lamented by the king, who lost his early friend, one of the worst ministers, but not the worst man, which that age despised, (1628.)

Meanwhile the indignant Commons persevered with their work. They pa.s.sed what is called the "Pet.i.tion of Right,"--a string of resolutions which a.s.serted that no freeman ought to be detained in prison, without being brought to trial, and that no taxes could be lawfully levied, without consent of the Commons--the two great pillars of the English const.i.tution, yet truths involved in political difficulty, especially in cases of rebellion. The personal liberty of the subject is a great point indeed; and the act of _habeas corpus_, pa.s.sed in later times, is a great step in popular freedom; but, if never to be suspended, no government could guard against conspiracy in revolutionary times.

The Pet.i.tion of Right, however, obtained the king's a.s.sent, though unwillingly, grudgingly, and insincerely given; and the Commons, gratified for once, voted to the king supplies.

But Charles had no notion of keeping his word, and soon resorted to unconst.i.tutional measures, as before. But he felt the need of able counsellors. His "dear Steenie" was dead, and he knew not in whom to repose confidence.

[Sidenote: Earl of Strafford.]

The demon of despotism raised up an agent in the person of Thomas Wentworth, a man of wealth, talents, energy, and indomitable courage; a man who had, in the early part of his career, defended the cause of liberty; who had even suffered imprisonment sooner than contribute to an unlawful loan, and in whom the hopes of the liberal party were placed. But he was bribed. His patriotism was not equal to his ambition. Seduced by a peerage, and by the love of power, he went over to the side of the king, and defended his arbitrary rule as zealously as he had before advocated the cause of const.i.tutional liberty. He was created Viscount Wentworth, and afterwards earl of Strafford--the most prominent man of the royalist party, and the greatest traitor to the cause of liberty which England had ever known. His picture, as painted by Vand.y.k.e, and hung up in the princely hall of his descendant, Earl Fitzwilliam, is a faithful portrait of what history represents him--a cold, dark, repulsive, unscrupulous tyrant, with an eye capable of reading the secrets of the soul, a brow lowering with care and thought, and a lip compressed with determination, and twisted into contempt of mankind. If Wentworth did not love his countrymen, he loved to rule over them: and he gained his end, and continued the prime minister of absolutism until an insulted nation rose in their might, and placed his head upon the block.

[Sidenote: John Hampden.]

Under the rule of this minister, whom every one feared, the Puritans every where fled, preferring the deserts of America, with freedom, to the fair lands of England, with liberty trodden under foot. The reigns of both James and Charles are memorable for the resistance and despair of this intrepid and religious sect, in which were enrolled some of the finest minds and most intelligent patriots of the country. Pym, Cromwell, Hazelrig, and even Hampden, are said to have actually embarked; but Providence detained them in England, they having a mission of blood to perform there. In another chapter, the Puritans, their struggles, and principles, will be more fully presented; and we therefore, in this connection, abstain from further notice. It may, however, be remarked, that they were the most inflexible enemies of the king, and were determined to give him and his minister no rest until all their ends were gained. They hated Archbishop Laud even more intensely than they hated Wentworth; and Laud, if possible, was a greater foe to religious and civil liberty. Strafford and Laud are generally coupled together in the description of the abuses of arbitrary power. The churchman, however, was honest and sincere, only his views were narrow and his temper irritable. His vices were those of the bigot--such as disgraced St. Dominic or Torquemada, but faults which he deemed excellencies. He was an enthusiast in high churchism and toryism; and his zeal in defence of royal prerogative and the divine rights of bishops has won for him the panegyrics of his friends, as well as the curses of his enemies. For Strafford, too, there is admiration, but only for his talents, his courage, his strength--the qualities which one might see in Milton's Satan, or in Carlyle's picture gallery of heroes.

While the king and his minister were raising forced loans and contributions, sending members of the House of Commons to the Tower, fining, imprisoning, and mutilating the Puritans, a new imposition called out the energies of a great patriot and a great man, John Hampden--a fit antagonist of the haughty Wentworth. This new exaction was a tax called _ship money_.

It was devised by Chief Justice Finch and Attorney-General Noy, two subordinate, but unscrupulous tools of despotism, and designed to extort money from the inland counties, as well as from the cities, for furnishing ships--a demand that Elizabeth did not make, in all her power, even when threatened by the Spanish Armada. Clarendon even admits that this tax was not for the support of the navy, "but for a spring and magazine which should have no bottom, and for an everlasting supply on all occasions." And this the nation completely understood, and resolved desperately to resist.

Hampden, though a wealthy man, refused to pay the share a.s.sessed on him, which was only twenty shillings, deeming it an illegal tax. He was proceeded against by the crown lawyers. Hampden appealed to a decision of the judges in regard to the legality of the tax, and the king permitted the question to be settled by the laws. The trial lasted thirteen days, but ended in the condemnation of Hampden, who had shown great moderation, as well as courage, and had won the favor of the people. It was shortly after this that Hampden, as some historians a.s.sert, resolved to leave England with his cousin Oliver Cromwell. But the king prevented the ships, in which they and other emigrants had embarked, from sailing. Hampden was reserved for new trials and new labors.

[Sidenote: Insurrection in Scotland.]

About a month after Hampden's condemnation, an insurrection broke out in Scotland, which hastened the crisis of revolution. It was produced by the attempt of Archbishop Laud to impose the English liturgy on the Scottish nation, and supplant Presbyterianism by Episcopacy. The revolutions in Scotland, from the time of Knox, had been popular; not produced by great men, but by the diffusion of great ideas. The people believed in the spiritual independence of their church, and not in the supremacy of a king. The instant, therefore, that the Episcopal worship was introduced, by authority, in the cathedral of Edinburgh, there was an insurrection, which rapidly spread through all parts of the country. An immense mult.i.tude came to Edinburgh to protest against the innovation, and crowded all the houses, streets, and halls of the city. The king ordered the pet.i.tioners home, without answering their complaints. They obeyed the injunction, but soon returned in greater numbers. An organization of resistance was made, and a provisional government appointed. All cla.s.ses joined the insurgents, who, menaced, but united, at last bound themselves, by a solemn league and covenant, not to separate until their rights and liberties were secured. A vast majority of all the population of Scotland--gentlemen, clergy, citizens, and laborers, men, women, and children--a.s.sembled in the church, and swore fealty to the covenant. Force, of course, was necessary to reduce the rebels, and civil war commenced in Scotland.

But war increased the necessities of the king, and he was compelled to make peace with the insurgent army.

Eleven years had now elapsed since the dissolution of the last parliament, during which the king had attempted to rule without one, and had resorted to all the expedients that the ingenuity of the crown lawyers could suggest, in order to extort money. Imposts fallen into desuetude, monopolies abandoned by Elizabeth, royal forests extended beyond the limits they had in feudal times, fines past all endurance, confiscations without end, imprisonments, tortures, and executions,--all marked these eleven years. The sum for fines alone, in this period, amounted to more than two hundred thousand pounds. The forest of Rockingham was enlarged from six to sixty miles in circuit, and the earl of Salisbury was fined twenty thousand pounds for encroaching upon it. Individuals and companies had monopolies of salt, soap, coals, iron, wine, leather, starch, feathers, tobacco, beer, distilled liquors, herrings, b.u.t.ter, potash, linen cloth, rags, hops, gunpowder, and divers other articles, which, of course, deranged the whole trade of the country. Prynne was fined ten thousand pounds, and had his ears cut off, and his nose slit, for writing an offensive book; and his sufferings were not greater than what divers others experienced for vindicating the cause of truth and liberty.

At last, the king's necessities compelled him to summon another parliament. He had exhausted every expedient to raise money. His army clamored for pay; and he was overburdened with debts.

[Sidenote: Long Parliament.]

On the 13th of April, 1640, the new parliament met. It knew its strength, and was determined now, more than ever, to exercise it. It immediately took the power into its own hands, and from remonstrances and pet.i.tions it proceeded to actual hostilities; from the denunciation of injustice and illegality, it proceeded to trample on the const.i.tution itself. It is true that the members were irritated and threatened, and some of their number had been seized and imprisoned. It is true that the king continued his courses, and was resolved on enforcing his measures by violence. The struggle became one of desperation on both sides--a struggle for ascendency--and not for rights.