The History of England, from the Accession of James the Second - Volume 1, Thomas Babington Macaulay [ebook pc reader txt] 📗
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the books of Judges and Kings. Their thoughts and discourse ran
much on acts which were assuredly not recorded as examples for
our imitation. The prophet who hewed in pieces a captive king,
the rebel general who gave the blood of a queen to the dogs, the
matron who, in defiance of plighted faith, and of the laws of
eastern hospitality, drove the nail into the brain of the
fugitive ally who had just fed at her board, and who was sleeping
under the shadow of her tent, were proposed as models to
Christians suffering under the tyranny of princes and prelates.
Morals and manners were subjected to a code resembling that of
the synagogue, when the synagogue was in its worst state. The
dress, the deportment, the language, the studies, the amusements
of the rigid sect were regulated on principles not unlike those
of the Pharisees who, proud of their washed hands and broad
phylacteries, taunted the Redeemer as a sabbath-breaker and a
winebibber. It was a sin to hang garlands on a Maypole, to drink
a friend's health, to fly a hawk, to hunt a stag, to play at
chess, to wear love-locks, to put starch into a ruff, to touch
the virginals, to read the Fairy Queen. Rules such as these,
rules which would have appeared insupportable to the free and
joyous spirit of Luther, and contemptible to the serene and
philosophical intellect of Zwingle, threw over all life a more
than monastic gloom. The learning and eloquence by which the
great Reformers had been eminently distinguished, and to which
they had been, in no small measure, indebted for their success,
were regarded by the new school of Protestants with suspicion, if
not with aversion. Some precisians had scruples about teaching
the Latin grammar, because the names of Mars, Bacchus, and Apollo
occurred in it. The fine arts were all but proscribed. The solemn
peal of the organ was superstitious. The light music of Ben
Jonson's masques was dissolute. Half the fine paintings in
England were idolatrous, and the other half indecent. The extreme
Puritan was at once known from other men by his gait, his garb,
his lank hair, the sour solemnity of his face, the upturned white
of his eyes, the nasal twang with which he spoke, and above all,
by his peculiar dialect. He employed, on every occasion, the
imagery and style of Scripture. Hebraisms violently introduced
into the English language, and metaphors borrowed from the
boldest lyric poetry of a remote age and country, and applied to
the common concerns of English life, were the most striking
peculiarities of this cant, which moved, not without cause, the
derision both of Prelatists and libertines.
Thus the political and religious schism which had originated in
the sixteenth century was, during the first quarter of the
seventeenth century, constantly widening. Theories tending to
Turkish despotism were in fashion at Whitehall. Theories tending
to republicanism were in favour with a large portion of the House
of Commons. The violent Prelatists who were, to a man, zealous
for prerogative, and the violent Puritans who were, to a man,
zealous for the privileges of Parliament, regarded each other
with animosity more intense than that which, in the preceding
generation, had existed between Catholics and Protestants.
While the minds of men were in this state, the country, after a
peace of many years, at length engaged in a war which required
strenuous exertions. This war hastened the approach of the great
constitutional crisis. It was necessary that the King should have
a large military force. He could not have such a force without
money. He could not legally raise money without the consent of
Parliament. It followed, therefore, that he either must
administer the government in conformity with the sense of the
House of Commons, or must venture on such a violation of the
fundamental laws of the land as had been unknown during several
centuries. The Plantagenets and the Tudors had, it is true,
occasionally supplied a deficiency in their revenue by a
benevolence or a forced loan: but these expedients were always of
a temporary nature. To meet the regular charge of a long war by
regular taxation, imposed without the consent of the Estates of
the realm, was a course which Henry the Eighth himself would not
have dared to take. It seemed, therefore, that the decisive hour
was approaching, and that the English Parliament would soon
either share the fate of the senates of the Continent, or obtain
supreme ascendency in the state.
Just at this conjuncture James died. Charles the First succeeded
to the throne. He had received from nature a far better
understanding, a far stronger will, and a far keener and firmer
temper than his father's. He had inherited his father's political
theories, and was much more disposed than his father to carry
them into practice. He was, like his father, a zealous
Episcopalian. He was, moreover, what his father had never been, a
zealous Arminian, and, though no Papist, liked a Papist much
better than a Puritan. It would be unjust to deny that Charles
had some of the qualities of a good, and even of a great prince.
He wrote and spoke, not, like his father, with the exactness of a
professor, but after the fashion of intelligent and well educated
gentlemen. His taste in literature and art was excellent, his
manner dignified, though not gracious, his domestic life without
blemish. Faithlessness was the chief cause of his disasters, and
is the chief stain on his memory. He was, in truth, impelled by
an incurable propensity to dark and crooked ways. It may seem
strange that his conscience, which, on occasions of little
moment, was sufficiently sensitive, should never have reproached
him with this great vice. But there is reason to believe that he
was perfidious, not only from constitution and from habit, but
also on principle. He seems to have learned from the theologians
whom he most esteemed that between him and his subjects there
could be nothing of the nature of mutual contract; that he could
not, even if he would, divest himself of his despotic authority;
and that, in every promise which he made, there was an implied
reservation that such promise might be broken in case of
necessity, and that of the necessity he was the sole judge.
And now began that hazardous game on which were staked the
destinies of the English people. It was played on the side of the
House of Commons with keenness, but with admirable dexterity,
coolness, and perseverance. Great statesmen who looked far behind
them and far before them were at the head of that assembly. They
were resolved to place the King in such a situation that he must
either conduct the administration in conformity with the wishes
of his Parliament, or make outrageous attacks on the most sacred
principles of the constitution. They accordingly doled out
supplies to him very sparingly. He found that he must govern
either in harmony with the House of Commons or in defiance of all
law. His choice was soon made. He dissolved his first Parliament,
and levied taxes by his own authority. He convoked a second
Parliament, and found it more intractable than the first. He
again resorted to the expedient of dissolution, raised fresh
taxes without any show of legal right, and threw the chiefs of
the opposition into prison At the same time a new grievance,
which the peculiar feelings and habits of the English nation made
insupportably painful, and which seemed to all discerning men to
be of fearful augury, excited general discontent and alarm.
Companies of soldiers were billeted on the people; and martial
law was, in some places, substituted for the ancient
jurisprudence of the realm.
The King called a third Parliament, and soon perceived that the
opposition was stronger and fiercer than ever. He now determined
on a change of tactics. Instead of opposing an inflexible
resistance to the demands of the Commons, he, after much
altercation and many evasions, agreed to a compromise which, if
he had faithfully adhered to it, would have averted a long series
of calamities. The Parliament granted an ample supply. The King
ratified, in the most solemn manner, that celebrated law, which
is known by the name of the Petition of Right, and which is the
second Great Charter of the liberties of England. By ratifying
that law he bound himself never again to raise. money without the
consent of the Houses, never again to imprison any person, except
in due course of law, and never again to subject his people to
the jurisdiction of courts martial.
The day on which the royal sanction was, after many delays,
solemnly given to this great Act, was a day of joy and hope. The
Commons, who crowded the bar of the House of Lords, broke forth
into loud acclamations as soon as the clerk had pronounced the
ancient form of words by which our princes have, during many
ages, signified their assent to the wishes of the Estates of the
realm. Those acclamations were reechoed by the voice of the
capital and of the nation; but within three weeks it became
manifest that Charles had no intention of observing the compact
into which he had entered. The supply given by the
representatives of the nation was collected. The promise by which
that supply had been obtained was broken. A violent contest
followed. The Parliament was dissolved with every mark of royal
displeasure. Some of the most distinguished members were
imprisoned; and one of them, Sir John Eliot, after years of
suffering, died in confinement.
Charles, however, could not venture to raise, by his own
authority, taxes sufficient for carrying on war. He accordingly
hastened to make peace with his neighbours, and thenceforth gave
his whole mind to British politics.
Now commenced a new era. Many English Kings had occasionally
committed unconstitutional acts: but none had ever systematically
attempted to make himself a despot, and to reduce the Parliament
to a nullity. Such was the end which Charles distinctly proposed
to himself. From March 1629 to April 1640, the Houses were not
convoked. Never in our history had there been an interval of
eleven years between Parliament and Parliament. Only once had
there been an interval of even half that length. This fact alone
is sufficient to refute those who represent Charles as having
merely trodden in the footsteps of the Plantagenets and Tudors.
It is proved, by the testimony of the King's most strenuous
supporters, that, during this part of his reign, the provisions
of the Petition of Right were violated by him, not occasionally,
but constantly, and on system; that a large part of the revenue
was raised without any legal authority; and that persons
obnoxious to the government languished for years in prison,
without being ever called upon
the books of Judges and Kings. Their thoughts and discourse ran
much on acts which were assuredly not recorded as examples for
our imitation. The prophet who hewed in pieces a captive king,
the rebel general who gave the blood of a queen to the dogs, the
matron who, in defiance of plighted faith, and of the laws of
eastern hospitality, drove the nail into the brain of the
fugitive ally who had just fed at her board, and who was sleeping
under the shadow of her tent, were proposed as models to
Christians suffering under the tyranny of princes and prelates.
Morals and manners were subjected to a code resembling that of
the synagogue, when the synagogue was in its worst state. The
dress, the deportment, the language, the studies, the amusements
of the rigid sect were regulated on principles not unlike those
of the Pharisees who, proud of their washed hands and broad
phylacteries, taunted the Redeemer as a sabbath-breaker and a
winebibber. It was a sin to hang garlands on a Maypole, to drink
a friend's health, to fly a hawk, to hunt a stag, to play at
chess, to wear love-locks, to put starch into a ruff, to touch
the virginals, to read the Fairy Queen. Rules such as these,
rules which would have appeared insupportable to the free and
joyous spirit of Luther, and contemptible to the serene and
philosophical intellect of Zwingle, threw over all life a more
than monastic gloom. The learning and eloquence by which the
great Reformers had been eminently distinguished, and to which
they had been, in no small measure, indebted for their success,
were regarded by the new school of Protestants with suspicion, if
not with aversion. Some precisians had scruples about teaching
the Latin grammar, because the names of Mars, Bacchus, and Apollo
occurred in it. The fine arts were all but proscribed. The solemn
peal of the organ was superstitious. The light music of Ben
Jonson's masques was dissolute. Half the fine paintings in
England were idolatrous, and the other half indecent. The extreme
Puritan was at once known from other men by his gait, his garb,
his lank hair, the sour solemnity of his face, the upturned white
of his eyes, the nasal twang with which he spoke, and above all,
by his peculiar dialect. He employed, on every occasion, the
imagery and style of Scripture. Hebraisms violently introduced
into the English language, and metaphors borrowed from the
boldest lyric poetry of a remote age and country, and applied to
the common concerns of English life, were the most striking
peculiarities of this cant, which moved, not without cause, the
derision both of Prelatists and libertines.
Thus the political and religious schism which had originated in
the sixteenth century was, during the first quarter of the
seventeenth century, constantly widening. Theories tending to
Turkish despotism were in fashion at Whitehall. Theories tending
to republicanism were in favour with a large portion of the House
of Commons. The violent Prelatists who were, to a man, zealous
for prerogative, and the violent Puritans who were, to a man,
zealous for the privileges of Parliament, regarded each other
with animosity more intense than that which, in the preceding
generation, had existed between Catholics and Protestants.
While the minds of men were in this state, the country, after a
peace of many years, at length engaged in a war which required
strenuous exertions. This war hastened the approach of the great
constitutional crisis. It was necessary that the King should have
a large military force. He could not have such a force without
money. He could not legally raise money without the consent of
Parliament. It followed, therefore, that he either must
administer the government in conformity with the sense of the
House of Commons, or must venture on such a violation of the
fundamental laws of the land as had been unknown during several
centuries. The Plantagenets and the Tudors had, it is true,
occasionally supplied a deficiency in their revenue by a
benevolence or a forced loan: but these expedients were always of
a temporary nature. To meet the regular charge of a long war by
regular taxation, imposed without the consent of the Estates of
the realm, was a course which Henry the Eighth himself would not
have dared to take. It seemed, therefore, that the decisive hour
was approaching, and that the English Parliament would soon
either share the fate of the senates of the Continent, or obtain
supreme ascendency in the state.
Just at this conjuncture James died. Charles the First succeeded
to the throne. He had received from nature a far better
understanding, a far stronger will, and a far keener and firmer
temper than his father's. He had inherited his father's political
theories, and was much more disposed than his father to carry
them into practice. He was, like his father, a zealous
Episcopalian. He was, moreover, what his father had never been, a
zealous Arminian, and, though no Papist, liked a Papist much
better than a Puritan. It would be unjust to deny that Charles
had some of the qualities of a good, and even of a great prince.
He wrote and spoke, not, like his father, with the exactness of a
professor, but after the fashion of intelligent and well educated
gentlemen. His taste in literature and art was excellent, his
manner dignified, though not gracious, his domestic life without
blemish. Faithlessness was the chief cause of his disasters, and
is the chief stain on his memory. He was, in truth, impelled by
an incurable propensity to dark and crooked ways. It may seem
strange that his conscience, which, on occasions of little
moment, was sufficiently sensitive, should never have reproached
him with this great vice. But there is reason to believe that he
was perfidious, not only from constitution and from habit, but
also on principle. He seems to have learned from the theologians
whom he most esteemed that between him and his subjects there
could be nothing of the nature of mutual contract; that he could
not, even if he would, divest himself of his despotic authority;
and that, in every promise which he made, there was an implied
reservation that such promise might be broken in case of
necessity, and that of the necessity he was the sole judge.
And now began that hazardous game on which were staked the
destinies of the English people. It was played on the side of the
House of Commons with keenness, but with admirable dexterity,
coolness, and perseverance. Great statesmen who looked far behind
them and far before them were at the head of that assembly. They
were resolved to place the King in such a situation that he must
either conduct the administration in conformity with the wishes
of his Parliament, or make outrageous attacks on the most sacred
principles of the constitution. They accordingly doled out
supplies to him very sparingly. He found that he must govern
either in harmony with the House of Commons or in defiance of all
law. His choice was soon made. He dissolved his first Parliament,
and levied taxes by his own authority. He convoked a second
Parliament, and found it more intractable than the first. He
again resorted to the expedient of dissolution, raised fresh
taxes without any show of legal right, and threw the chiefs of
the opposition into prison At the same time a new grievance,
which the peculiar feelings and habits of the English nation made
insupportably painful, and which seemed to all discerning men to
be of fearful augury, excited general discontent and alarm.
Companies of soldiers were billeted on the people; and martial
law was, in some places, substituted for the ancient
jurisprudence of the realm.
The King called a third Parliament, and soon perceived that the
opposition was stronger and fiercer than ever. He now determined
on a change of tactics. Instead of opposing an inflexible
resistance to the demands of the Commons, he, after much
altercation and many evasions, agreed to a compromise which, if
he had faithfully adhered to it, would have averted a long series
of calamities. The Parliament granted an ample supply. The King
ratified, in the most solemn manner, that celebrated law, which
is known by the name of the Petition of Right, and which is the
second Great Charter of the liberties of England. By ratifying
that law he bound himself never again to raise. money without the
consent of the Houses, never again to imprison any person, except
in due course of law, and never again to subject his people to
the jurisdiction of courts martial.
The day on which the royal sanction was, after many delays,
solemnly given to this great Act, was a day of joy and hope. The
Commons, who crowded the bar of the House of Lords, broke forth
into loud acclamations as soon as the clerk had pronounced the
ancient form of words by which our princes have, during many
ages, signified their assent to the wishes of the Estates of the
realm. Those acclamations were reechoed by the voice of the
capital and of the nation; but within three weeks it became
manifest that Charles had no intention of observing the compact
into which he had entered. The supply given by the
representatives of the nation was collected. The promise by which
that supply had been obtained was broken. A violent contest
followed. The Parliament was dissolved with every mark of royal
displeasure. Some of the most distinguished members were
imprisoned; and one of them, Sir John Eliot, after years of
suffering, died in confinement.
Charles, however, could not venture to raise, by his own
authority, taxes sufficient for carrying on war. He accordingly
hastened to make peace with his neighbours, and thenceforth gave
his whole mind to British politics.
Now commenced a new era. Many English Kings had occasionally
committed unconstitutional acts: but none had ever systematically
attempted to make himself a despot, and to reduce the Parliament
to a nullity. Such was the end which Charles distinctly proposed
to himself. From March 1629 to April 1640, the Houses were not
convoked. Never in our history had there been an interval of
eleven years between Parliament and Parliament. Only once had
there been an interval of even half that length. This fact alone
is sufficient to refute those who represent Charles as having
merely trodden in the footsteps of the Plantagenets and Tudors.
It is proved, by the testimony of the King's most strenuous
supporters, that, during this part of his reign, the provisions
of the Petition of Right were violated by him, not occasionally,
but constantly, and on system; that a large part of the revenue
was raised without any legal authority; and that persons
obnoxious to the government languished for years in prison,
without being ever called upon
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