iiii! iiliiiPiiiiilii ENGLISH ~" DRY Hi SELECTED READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY COMPILED BY HARRIET E. iTUELL, Ph.D. AND ROY W. HATCH, A.B. OF THE DEPARTMENT OF HISTORY, HIGH SCHOOL SOMERVILLE, MASSACHUSETTS r I'll 1.1 - ,0^ »». GINN AND COMPANY BOSTON ■ NEW YORK • CHICAGO • LONDON COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY HARRIET E. TUELL and ROY W. HATCH ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 913-8 • •• • • •• t t • • • ( • • • • • • « • • • • • • • • . • • • • • » c • c GINN AND COMPANY • PRO- PRIETORS • BOSTON • U.S.A. ci PREFACE j^. In offering to teachers of English histor)^ a new collection [ of readings the compilers of this volume believe that they I arc meeting a widely recognized need. The time was when I teachers in convention discussed the value of such collateral ^ reading. Now they seek for ways and means. The value of the work is no longer in question. The general sentiment of teachers and the requirements of the colleges alike demand more than the best textbook can offer. The new demand, however, creates new problems. Where and how may suitable readings be obtained } The best equip- ment, undoubtedly, is furnished by a large school library with a great variety of books from which to choose and many uplicate copies of the most useful works. But the expense involved is very great — so great as to be in many cases prohibitor)'. The best alternative appears to be a collection of such extracts as are suited to the purpose. By this means the pupil is furnished at moderate cost with the best a library ■~\ affords. If the selections prove interesting he is impelled to go further afield by himself. ~N The selection of such material is not easy. The need is for vivid and interesting reading calculated to produce a clear ^^nd definite impression. At first sight the field from which one may choose appears wide and fruitful, but it soon narrows down to a very limited area. Selections from the sources have been widely recommended and somewhat lavishly sup- plied. For an occasional vivid sidelight they are indeed iii iv READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY unsurpassed ; yet, in common with many teachers, we beheve that they should be used but sparingly. Speaking generally, where there is no mental background of historical knowledge, the student gains more from a good modern narrative than from a study of the raw materials out of which histories are made. Of the secondary authorities many are open to serious objections. There are histories which are as interesting as historical novels — and as inaccurate. Of those which meet the requirements of criticism too many are so dull as to in- spire a permanent distaste for historical literature. Excellent books which delight the mature mind are not always suitable for younger readers. Indeed we have in some few^ cases de- liberately passed by the more scholarly work for another, less masterly in treatment, perhaps, but better suited to the taste and capacity of the high-school pupil. Sound historical con- tent combined with good literary workmanship and an appeal to vouthful imagination has been the basis of selection. The final choice of material has been dictated by experience. Except for a few extracts not readily accessible, these read- ings have stood the test of actual class work. The selections from John Bright, C. H. Firth, Lord Berners' Froissart, Justin McCarthy {Life of Gladstone), John Milton, Kate Xorgate, Frederic Austin Ogg, and Goldwdn Smith are used by arrangement with The Macmillan Company ; and the selections from John Fiske and James K. Hosmer, by arrangement with Houghton Mifflin Company, the authorized publishers. The compilers take this opportunity to acknowledge their indebtedness to the following publishing houses: to D. Apple- ton and Company for permission to print selections from The Obvions Orient, Albert Bushnell Hart, and A History of England in the Eighteenth Century, \V, E. H. Lecky ; PREFACE V to VI. P. Dutton & Co. for the poem by Andrew Marvel ; to Ginn and Company for the use of Readings in English History, E, P. Cheyney, and The Development of Modem Europe, Robinson and Beard ; to Harper & Brothers for readings taken from The Conquest of England and A Short History of the English People, J. R. Green; to Longmans, Green, & Co. for extracts from The Age of Elizabeth, Mandell Creighton ; History of England, 160J-1642 and Oliver Cromwell, S. R. Gardiner ; Liberty Documents, Mabel Hill ; The Elements of English Constitutional History, F. C. Mon- tague ; The Theory and Practice of the English Government, T. F. Moran ; and A Short History of England, Cyril Ran- some ; to McCliires Magazine for the article entitled Some English Statesmen, Sydney Brooks ; to the Outlook Com- pany for the editorial from The Oictlook ; to G. P. Putnam's Sons for the use of The Coming of the Eriars and other His- toric Essays, C. A. Jessopp ; A Literary History of the English People, J.J. Jusserand ; The Story of the People of Engla7id in the Nineteenth Century, Justin McCarthy ; and England under the Stuarts, G. M. Trevelyan ; to Charles Scribner's Sons for excerpts from The Age of Anne, E. E. Morris, and English Voyages of Adventure and Discovery, E. M. Bacon ; and to the London Times for The True Conception of Empire, Joseph Chamberlain. Thanks are also due to Professor Arthur C. Howland of the University of Pennsylvania for permission to use passages from his translation of the Gcrmania of Tacitus published in the University of Pennsylvania Translations and Reprints. H. E. T. SoMKK\ iLi.E, Massachusetts R- W. H. CONTENTS NO. '•AGE 1. The Early Germans Tacitus i 2. The Saxon Sea-Rovers Apollinaris Sidomus 9 3. The Conversion of the English Bede 11 4. The Government of the English .... Cyril Ransome 15 5. DUNSTAN John Richard Green 19 6. Alfred the Great Sir Walter Besatit 26 7. The Coronation of William the Norman Edward Augustus Freeman 36 8. The Results of the Norman Conque.st Ethoard Augustus Freeman 39 9. The Charter of Henry I Roger of Wendover 51 10. Henry II Peter of Blois 55 11. Henry II and Becket Alfred Tennyson 59 12. Portrait of King Richard I Richard {of the Holy Trinity?) 70 13. An Incident of the Third Crusade Richard {of the Holy Trinity?) 71 14. The Winning of the Great Charter . . . Kate Norgate 74 15. The Great Charter, 12 1 5 . F.C.Montague 83 16. The Significance of Magna Charta Chatham 87 17. Simon de Montfort Charles Bemont 89 18. The Lament of Earl Simon Anonymous 92 19. Daily Life in a Mediaeval Monastery . Augustus Jessopp 95 20. Village Life Si.x Hundred Years Ago . Augustus Jessopp 106 21. The Towns, Industrial Villages, and Fairs //. de B. Gihbins 122 22. Medi/EVAL Towns and Gilds .... Edward P. Cheyney 129 23. Life at Oxford University in the Middle Ages Goldwin Smith 134 24. Bruce's Address to his Akmv at Bannock hurn Robert Bums 145 25. The Battle of Cressy Froissart 147 vii viii READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY NO. PAGE 26. The Siege of Calais FroissaH 156 27. Edward the Bl.a.CK Prince . . . Arthur Pert rhyn Stanley 161 28. The Voyages of John Cabot (Retold from Hakluyt) Edwin M. Bacon 172 29. The Character of Henry VIII J. J. Jusserand 177 30. The Character of Wolsey Sebastian Giustinian 185 31. The Do\vnfall of Wolsey William Shakespeare 187 32. Sir Thomas More William Roper 194 33. The Education of Lady Jane Grey and of Queen Elizabeth Roger Ascham 203 34. The Character of Elizabeth . . . John Richard Green 206 35. Education and Accomplishments of Mary Queen of Scots George Conn 211 36. An Interview between Mary Queen of Scots and John Xnox John Knox 212 37. Mary Queen of Scots at Carlisle . Sir Francis K^tollys 215 38. The Elizabethan Sea Kings and the Spanish Armada John Fiske 216 39. English Life in Elizabeth's Reign . . Mandell Creighton 222 40. The Character of James I John Richard Green 231 41. The Divine Right of Kings James I 233 42. Of Plimoth Plantation William Bradford 234 43. Sir John Eliot George W. Trevelyan 2i,i 44. The Petition of Right Sir John Eliot 245 45. Attempted Arrest of Five Members of the House of Commons by Charles I . . . . Samuel Raioson Gardiner 250 46. John Hampden Charles H. Firth 256 47. Defense of the Earl of Strafford Strafford 266 48. Letters of Charles I Charles I 270 49. The Death of Charles I Andretv Marvel 272 50. Oliver Cromwell (A Royalist View) .... Clarendon 273 51. To the Lord General Cromwell (A Puritan View) John Milton 275 52. Oliver Cromwell (A Modern View) Samuel Rawson Gardiner 276 53. The Character of Charles II . . . John Richard Green 277 54. The Fire in London Samuel Pepys 280 CONTENTS IX NO. TAGE 55. Thk So.Nf; ok the We.stkrx Men . Roboi. Stephc/i Hawker 284 56. The State of Engl.and i.n" 16S5 . Thomas Babington Macaulay 286 57. The Bill ok Rights, 16S9 (Selections with Notes) Mabel Hill 310 58. The Character OK William III Thomas Babingion Macaiilay 324 59. The Duke ok Marlborough E. E. Morris 332 60. The Enclanp ok Queen Anne E. E. Morris 335 61. The Causes ok the American Revolution James K. Hosmer 345 62. William Pitt the Elder . William Edward Hartpole Lecky 350 63. The War with America Chatham 359 64. Sale of Seats in Parliament (Eighteenth Century) Samuel Rom illy 364 65. The Battle ok Trakalgar Robert Southey 366 66. Ye Mariners of England Thomas Campbell y]-j 67. The Great Rekorm Bill Justin McCarthy 379 68. Gladstone and Disraeli Justin McCarthy 393 69. The Industrial Revolution .... Robinson and Beard 399 70. Richard Cobden John Bright 415 71. Development ok the English Cabinet . . /". C Montague 422 72. Cabinet Government in England . . Robinson and Beard 432 73. The Extension of the Franchise William Ewari Gladstone 437 74. Home Rule for Ireland .... William Ewart Gladstone 442 75. Asquith and Lloyd-George Sydney Brooks 446 76. The Restriction of the Veto Power ok the House of Lords H. H. Asquith 459 77. The English Revolution ok 191 i . . . Outlook Editorial 461 78. Impressions of Parliament Thomas E. Moran 467 79. Oriental Pax Britannica Albert Bushnell Hart 474 80. The True Conception ok Empire . . Joseph Chamberlain 4S3 81. The Pl.'VCE ok the Crown in the English Government Frederick A. Ogg 488 82. The Parties of To-day Frederick A. Ogg 495 BIBLIOGRAPHY 503 INDEX 507 SELECTED READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Number i THE EARLY GERMANS Tacitus Germania. University of Pennsylvania Translations and Re- prints, Vol. VI. No. 3, Sects. IV-XVII, XX, XXII, XXIV, XXVII. Translation with notes by A. C. Howland. Tacitus was a famous Roman historian. In his Germania he gave a de- scription of the Germanic barbarians as they appeared to Roman observers in the first century .\.D. IV. I myself subscribe to the opinion of those who hold that the German tribes have never been contaminated by in- termarriage with other nations, but have remained peculiar and unmixed and wholly unlike other people. Hence the bodily type is the same among them all, notwithstanding the extent of their population. They all have fierce blue eyes, reddish hair and large bodies fit only for sudden exertion ; they do not submit patiently to work and effort and cannot endure thirst and heat at all, though cold and hunger they are accustomed to because of their climate. \'. In general the country, though varying here and there in appearance, is covered over with wild forests or filth)- swamps, being more luiniid on the side of Gaul but bleaker toward Noricum and Pannonia. It is suitable enough for grain but does not permit the cultivation of fruit trees ; and 2 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY though rich in flocks and herds these are for the most part small, the cattle not even possessing their natural beauty nor . spreading horns. The people take pride in possessing a large number of animals, these being their sole and most cherished wealth. Whether it was in mercy or wrath that the gods de- nied them silver or gold, I know not. . . . VI. Not even iron is abundant, as is shown by the char- acter of their weapons. Some few use swords or long spears, but usually they carry javelins, called in their language /ra;«^^r, tipped with a short narrow piece of iron but so sharp and so easy to handle that as occasion demands they employ the same weapon for fighting at close range or at a distance. A horseman is content with a shield and a javelin, but the footmen, either nude or lightly clad in a small cloak, rain missiles, each man having many and hurling them to a great distance. . . . One would say that on the whole their chief strength lies in their infantry. A picked body of these are chosen from among all the youth and placed in advance of the line where they fight mixed with the horsemen, since their swiftness makes them fully equal to engaging in a cavalry contest. . . . They carry off the bodies of the fallen even when they are not victorious. It is the greatest ignominy to have left one's shield on the field, and it is unlawful for a man so disgraced to be present at the sacred rites or to enter the assembly ; so that many after escaping from battle have ended their shame with the. halter. VII. They choose their kings on account of their ancestry, their generals for their valor. The kings do not have free and unlimited power and the generals lead by example rather than command, winning great admiration if they are energetic and fight in plain sight in front of the line. But no one is allowed to put a culprit to death or to imprison him, or even to beat him with stripes except the priests, and then not by THE EARLY GERMANS 3 way of a punishment or at the command of the general but as though ordered by the god who they believe aids them in their fighting. Certain figures and images taken from their sacred groves they carry into battle, but their greatest incite- ment to courage is that a division of horse or foot is not made up by chance or by accidental association but is formed of families and clans ; and their dear ones are close at hand so that the wailings of the women and the crying of the children can be heard during the battle. These are for each warrior the most sacred witnesses of his bravery, these his dearest applauders. They carry their wounds to their mothers and their wives, nor do the latter fear to count their number and examine them while they bring them food and urge them to deeds of valor. VIII. It is related how on certain occasions their forces already turned to flight and retreating have been rallied by the women who implored them by their prayers and bared their breasts to their weapons, signifying thus the captivity close awaiting them, which is feared far more intensely on account of their women than for themselves ; to such an extent indeed that those states are more firmly bound in treaty among whose hostages maidens of noble family are also re- quired. Further they believe that the sex has a certain sanctity and prophetic gift, and they neither despise their counsels nor disregard their answers. . . . IX. . . . On the other hand they hold it to be incon- sistent with the sublimity of the celestials to confine the gods in walls made by hands, or to liken them to the form of any human countenance. They consecrate woods and sacred groves to them and give the names of the deities to that hid- den mystery which they perceive by faith alone. X. . . . Even the practice of divination from the notes and flights of birds is known ; but it is peculiar to this people to 4 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY seek omens and warnings from horses also. These sacred animals are white and never defiled by labor, being kept at public expense in the holy groves and woods. They are yoked to the sacred chariot by the priest and the king or chief of the tribe, who accompany them and take note of their neigh- ing and snorting. In no other kind of divination is there greater confidence placed either by the common people or by the nobles ; for the priests are considered merely the servants of the gods, but the horses are thought to be ac- quainted with their counsels. They have another sort of div- ination whereby they seek to know the result of serious wars. They secure in any way possible a captive from the hostile tribe and set him to fight with a warrior chosen from their own people, each using the weapons of his own country. The victory of the one or the other is accepted as an indica- tion of the results of the war. XI, Concerning minor affairs the chiefs deliberate, but in important affairs all the people are consulted, although the subjects referred to the common people for judgment are discussed beforehand by the chiefs. Unless some sudden and unexpected event calls them together they assemble on fixed days either at the new moon or the full moon, for they think these the most auspicious times to begin their undertakings. They do not reckon time by the number of days, as we do, but by the number of nights. So run their appointments, their contracts ; the night introduces the day, so to speak. A disadvantage arises from their regard for liberty in that they do not come together at once as if commanded to attend, but two or three days are wasted by their delay ia assembling. When the crowd is sufficient they take their places fully armed. Silence is proclaimed by the priests, who have on these occasions the right to keep order. Then the king or a chief addresses them, each being heard according to his age, THE EARLY GERMANS 5 noble blood, reputation in warfare and eloquence, though more because he has the power to persuade than the right to com- mand. If an opinion is displeasing they reject it by shouting; if they agree to it they clash with their spears. The most complimentary form of assent is that which is expressed by means of their weapons. XII. It is also allowable in the assembly to bring up accu- sations, and to prosecute capital offenses. Penalties are dis- tinguished according to crime. Traitors and deserters are hung to trees. Weaklings and cowards and those guilty of infamous crimes are cast into the mire of swamps with a hurdle placed over their heads. ^ This difference of penalty looks to the distinction that crime should be punished pub- licly while infamy should be hidden out of sight. Lighter offenses also are punished according to their degree, the guilty parties being fined a certain number of horses or cattle. A part of the fine goes to the king or the tribe, part to the injured party or his relatives.''^ In these same assemblies arc chosen the magistrates who decide suits in the cantons and villages. Each one has the assistance of a hundred asso- ciates as advisers and with power to decide. XIII. . . . Distinguished rank or the great services of their parents secure even for mere striplings the claim to be ranked as chiefs. Thev attach themselves to certain more experienced chiefs of approved merit ; nor are they ashamed to be looked upon as belonging to their followings. There are grades even within the train of followers assigned by the judgment of its leaders. There is great rivalry among these companions as to who shall rank first with the chief, and among the chiefs as to who shall have the most and bravest followers. . . . 1 In which stones could be thrown to cause them to sink. ■- In case the offense was homicide. 6 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTOR XIV. When they go into battle it is a disgrace for the chief to be outdone in deeds of valor and for the following not to match the courage of their chief ; furthermore for any one of the followers to have survived his chief and come unharmed out of a battle is life-long infamy and reproach. It is in accordance with their most sacred oath of allegiance to defend and protect him and to ascribe their bravest deeds to his renown. The chief fights for victory ; the men of his following, for their chief. . . . Nor could you persuade them to till the soil and await the yearly produce so easily as you could induce them to stir up an enemy and earn glorious wounds. Nay even they think it tame and stupid to acquire by their sweat what they can purchase by their blood. XV. In the intervals of peace they spend little time in hunting but much in idleness, given over to sleep and eating ; all the bravest and most warlike doing nothing, while the hearth and home and the care of the fields is given over to the women, the old men and the various infirm members of the family. The masters lie buried in sloth by that strange contradiction of nature that causes the same men to love indo- lence and hate peace. . -. . XVI. It is well known that none of the German tribes live in cities, nor even permit their dwellings to be closely joined to each other. They live separated and in various places, as a spring or a meadow or a grove strikes their fancy. They lay out their villages not as with us in connected or closely-joined houses, but each one surrounds his dwelling with an open space, either as a protection against conflagra- tion or because of their ignorance of the art of building. They do not even make use of rough stone or tiles. They use for all purposes undressed timber, giving no beauty or comfort. Some parts they plaster carefully with earth of such purity THE EARLY GERMANS 7 and brilliancy as to form a substitute for painting and designs in color. They are accustomed also to dig out subterranean caves which they cover over with great heaps of manure as a refuge against the cold and a place for storing grain, for re- treats of this sort render the extreme cold of their winters bearable and, whenever an enemy has come upon them, though he lays waste the open country he is either ignorant of what is hidden underground or else it escapes him for the very reason that it has to be searched for. XVII. Generally their only clothing is a cloak fastened with a clasp, or if they have n't that, with a thorn ; this being their only garment, they pass whole days about the hearth or near a fire. . . . The women wear the same sort of dress as the men except that they wrap themselves in linen garments which they adorn with purple stripes and do not lengthen out the upper part of the tunic into sleeves, but leave the arms bare the whole length. . . . However, their marriage code is strict, and in no other part of their manners are they to be praised more than in this. For almost alone among barbarian peoples they are content with one wife each. . . . XX. In every household the children grow up naked and unkempt into that lusty frame and those sturdy limbs that we admire. Each mother nurses her own children ; they are not handed over to servants and paid nurses. The lord and the slave are in no way to be distinguished by the delicacy of their bringing up. They live among the same flocks, they lie on the same ground, until age separates them and valor distinguishes the free born. The young men marry late and their vigor is thereby unimpaired. Nor is the marriage of the girls hastened. They have the same youthful vigor, the same stature as the young men. Thus well-matched and strong when they marr>', the children reproduce the robustness of their parents, . . . 8 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY XXII. As soon as they awake from sleep, which they prolong till late in the day, they bathe, usually in warm water as their winter lasts a great part of the year. After the bath they take food, each sitting in a separate seat and having a table to himself. Then they proceed to their business or not less often to feasts, fully armed. It is no disgrace to spend the whole day and night in drinking. Quarreling is frequent enough as is natural among drunken men, though their dis- putes are rarely settled by mere wrangling but oftener by bloodshed and wounds. Yet it is at their feasts that they consult about reconciling enemies, forming family alliances, electing chiefs, and even regarding war and peace, as they think that at no other time is the mind more open to fair judgment or more inflamed to mighty deeds. . . . On the next day the matter is reconsidered and a particular advantage is secured on each occasion. They take counsel when they are unable to practise deception ; they decide when they cannot be misled. XXIV. . . . They indulge in games of chance, strange as it may seem, even when sober, as one of their serious oc- cupations, with such great recklessness in their gains and losses that when everything else is gone they stake their lib- erty and their own persons on the last and decisive throw. The loser goes into voluntary slavery. Though he may be the younger and stronger of the two, he suffers himself to be bound and led away. Such is their stubbornness in a bad practice. They themselves call it honor. They sell slaves of this description to others that they may not feel the shame of such a success. XXVII. There is no pomp in the celebration of their fu- nerals. The only custom they observe is that the bodies of illustrious men should be burned with certain kinds of wood. They do not heap garments and perfumes upon the funeral IIIK SAXON SEA-ROVERS 9 pile. In every case a man's arms are burned with him, and sometimes his horse also. They believe that stately monu- ments and sculptured columns oppress the dead with their weight ; the green sod alone covers their graves. Their tears and lamentations are quickly laid aside ; sadness and grief linger long. It is fitting for women to mourn, for men to remember. Such are the facts I have obtained in general concerning the origin and customs of the Germans as a whole. Number 2 THE SAXON SEA-ROVERS AiHjLLiN'ARis SiDuNius. Lcttcrs. Thomas Ilodgkin, Italv a?id her Iii- vaders. Vol. II, pp. 366-367. At the end of a long letter, written by Sidonius to his friend Xammatius, after dull compliments and duller banter, we suddenly find flashed upon us this life-like picture, by a contemporary hand, of the brothers and cousins of the men, if not of the very men themselves who had fought at Aylesford under Ilengcst and Ilorsa, or who were slowly winning the kingdom of the South Saxons. — T. 11. " Behold, when 1 was on the point of concluding this epistle in which 1 have already chattered on too long, a messenger suddenly arrived from Saintongc with whom I have spent some hours in conversing about you and your doings, and who constantly affirms that }ou have just sounded your trumpet on board the fleet, and that, combining the duties of a sailor and a soldier, you are roaming along the winding shores of the Ocean, looking out for the curved jjinnaces of the Saxons. When you see the rowers of that nation \ou may at once make up \-our mind that every one of them is an arch-pirate ; with such wonderful unanimity do all at once command, obey, teach, and learn their one chosen business lO READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY of brigandage. For this reason I ought to warn you to be more than ever on your guard in this warfare. Your enemy is the most truculent of all enemies. Unexpectedly he at- tacks, when expected he escapes, he despises those who seek to block his path, he overthrows those who are off their guard, he always succeeds in cutting off the enemy whom he follows, while he never fails when he desires to effect his own escape. Moreover, to these men a shipwreck is capital practice rather than an object of terror. The dangers of the deep are to them, not casual acquaintances, but intimate friends. For since a tempest throws the invaded off their guard, and pre- vents the invaders from being descried from afar, they hail with joy the crash of waves on the rocks, which gives them their best chance of escaping from other enemies than the elements, ' Then again, before they raise the deep-biting anchor from the hostile soil, and set sail from the Continent for their own country, their custom is to collect the crowd of their prisoners together, by a mockery of equity to make them cast lots which of them shall undergo the iniquitous sentence of death, and then at the moment of departure to slay every tenth man so selected by crucifixion, a practice which is the more lamen- table because it arises from a superstitious notion that they will thus ensure for themselves a safe return. Purifying them- selves as they consider by such sacrifices, polluting them- selves as we deem by such deeds of sacrilege, they think the foul murders which they thus commit are acts of worship to their gods, and they glory in extorting cries of agony instead of ransoms from these doomed victims.' THE CONVERSION OF THE ENGLISH 1 1 Ntimber j THE CONVERSION OF THE ENGLISH Bede. Ecclesiastical History of the English Nation, Lib. I, c. 25; Lib. II, c. 13. Translated by J. A. (liles. Bede has been called the " Father of English History." His Ecclesiastical History of the English Nation, written in the first part of the eighth cen- tury, is the chief source of information for the early history of the English people. I THE MISSION OF AUGUSTINE Augustine, thus strengthened by the confirmation of the blessed Father Gregory,^ returned to the work of the word of God, with the servants of Christ, and arrived in Britain. The powerful Ethclbert was at this time king of Kent ; he had extended his dominions as far as the great river H umber, by which the Southern Saxons are divided from the Northern. On the east of Kent is the large Isle of Thanet containing according to the English way of reckoning, 600 families, divided from the other land by the river Wantsum, which is about three furlongs over, and fordable only in two places, for both ends of it run into the sea. In this island landed the servant of our Lord, Augustine, and his companions, being, as is reported, nearly forty men. They had, by order of the blessed Pope Gregory, taken interpreters of the nation of the Franks, and sending to Ethclbert, signified that they, were come from Rome, and brought a joyful message, which most undoubtedly assured to all that took advantage of it everlasting joys in heaven, and a kingdom that would never end, with the living and true God. The king, having heard this, ordered them to stay in that island where they had landed, 1 Pope Gregory 1, who sent Augustine into Britain. 12 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY and that they should be furnished with all necessaries, till he should consider what to do with them. For he had before heard of the Christian religion, having a Christian w^ife of the royal family of the Franks, called Bertha ; whom he had received from her parents, upon condition that she should be permitted to practise her religion with the Bishop Luidhard, who was sent with her to preserve her faith. Some days after, the king came into the island, and sitting in the open air, ordered Augustine and his companions to be brought into his presence. For he had taken precaution that they should not come to him in any house, lest, according to an ancient super- stition, if they practised any magical arts, they might impose upon him, and so get the better of him. But they came furnished with Divine, not with magic virtue, bearing a silver cross for their banner, and the image of our Lord and Saviour painted on a board ; and singing the litany, they offered up their prayers to the Lord for the eternal salvation both of themselves and of those to whom they were come. When he had sat down, pursuant to the king's commands, and preached to him and his attendants there present, the word of life, the king answered thus : — " Your words and promises are very fair, but as they are new to us, and of uncertain import, I cannot approve of them so far as to forsake that which I have so long followed with the whole English nation. But because you are come from far into my kingdom, and, as I conceive, are desirous to impart to us those things which you believe to •be true, and most beneficial, we will not molest you, but give you favourable entertainment, and take care to supply you with your necessary sustenance ; nor do we forbid you to preach and gain as many as you can to your religion." Accordingly he permitted them to reside in the city of Canterbury, which was the metropolis of all his dominions, and, pursuant to his promise, besides allowing them sustenance, did not refuse THE COWKRSIOX C)V I HE ENGLISH 13 them liberty to preach. It is reported that, as they drew near to the city, after their manner, with the holy cross, and the image of our sovereign Lord and King, Jesus Christ, they, in concert, sung this litany : " We beseech thee, O Lord, in all thy mercy, that thy anger and wrath be turned away from this city, and from thy holy house, because we have sinned. Hallelujah." II THE CONVERSION OF NORTHUiMBRIA The king,i hearing these words, answered, that he was both willing and bound to receive the faith which he taught ; but that he would confer about it with his principal friends and counsellors, to the end that if they also were of his opinion, they might all together be cleansed in Christ the Fountain of Life. Paulinus consenting, the king did as he said ; for, holding a council with the wise men, he asked of every one in particular what he thought of the new doctrine, and the new worship that was preached .? To which the chief of his own priests, Coifi, immediately answered, "' O king, consider what this is which is now preached to us ; for I verily declare to you, that the religion which we have hitherto professed has, as far as I can learn, no virtue in it. For none of your people has applied himself more diligently to the worship of our gods than I ; and yet there are many who receive greater favours from )-ou, and are more preferred than I, and are more prosperous in all their undertakings. Now if the gods were good for any thing, they would rather forward me, who have been more careful to serve them. It remains, therefore, that if upon examination you find those new doctrines, which are now preached to us, better and more efficacious, we im- mediately receive them without any delay." 1 Edwin, king of Northumbria. H READINGS IX ENGLISH HISTORY Another of the king's chief men, approving of his words and exhortations, presently added : " The present hfe of man, O king, seems to me, in comparison of that time which is unknown to us, hke to the swift flight of a sparrow through the room wherein you sit at supper in winter, with your com- manders and ministers, and a good fire in the midst, whilst the storms of rain and snow prevail abroad ; the sparrow, I say, flying in at one door, and immediately out at another, whilst he is within, is safe from the wintry storm ; but after a short space of fair weather, he immediately vanishes out of your sight, into the dark winter from which he had emerged. So this life of man appears for a short space, but of what went before, or what is to follow, we are utterly ignorant. If, therefore, this new doctrine contains something more certain, it seems justly to deserve to be followed." The other eldeis and king's counsellors, by Divine inspiration, spoke to the same effect. But Coifi added, that he wished more attentively to hear Paulinus discourse concerning the God whom he preached ; which he having by the king's command performed, Coifi, hearing his words, cried out, " I have long since been sensible that there was nothing in that which we worshipped ; be- cause the more diligently I sought after truth in that worship, the less I found it. But now I freely confess, that such truth evidently appears in this preaching as can confer on us the gifts of life, of salvation, and of eternal happiness. For which reason I advise, O king, that we instantly abjure and set fire to those temples and altars which we have consecrated without reaping any benefit from them." In short, the king publicly gave his licence to Paulinus to preach the Gospel, and, renouncing idolatr}^ declared that he received the faith of Christ : and when he inquired of the high priest who should first profane the altars and temples of their idols, with the TIIK (lOVERXMKNT OF THE ENGLISH 15 enclosures that were about them, he answered, "" I ; for who can more properly than myself destroy those things which I worshipped through ignorance, for an example to all others, through the wisdom which has been given me by the true God?" Then immediately, in contempt of his former su- perstitions, he desired the king to furnish him with arms and a stallion ; and mounting the same, he set out to destroy the idols ; for it was not lawful before for the high priest either to carry arms, or to ride on any but a marc. Having, there- fore, girt a sword about him, with a spear in his hand, he mounted the king's stallion and proceeded to the idols. The multitude, beholding it, concluded he was distracted ; but he lost no time, for as soon as he drew near the temple he pro- faned the same, casting into it the spear which he held ; and rejoicing in the knowledge of the worship of the true God, he commanded his companions to destroy the temple, with all its enclosures, b\- (ire. Ntimba'- 4. THE GOVERNMENT OE THE ENGLISH CVKii. Ransome. a Short History of England, pp. 20-22. We saw tliat in all probability the luiglish kingdoms were formed gradually by the union of a number of small settle- ments, just as the kingdom of l^lngland was formed, in its turn, by the union of the smaller kingdoms themselves. The larger kingdoms, such as Wessex and Mercia, were divided into shires ; the smaller, such as Essex and Sussex, also became shires after tlK'\- lost their own kings and were made part of one of the larger kingdoms. Each shire was divided into smaller districts called hundreds, whicli were l6 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY larger or smaller in different parts of England. Each hun- dred contained a number of townships. The officer of the township was the town-reeve. He called the grown men of the township to meet in the town-moot ; there they settled matters which concerned the township. If the town was defended by a mound, it was called a burgh, a borough, or bury, which are only different ways of spelling the same word, which means defence. The head officer of a borough was called a borough- reeve. If the town was a place of trade he was not unfrequently called a port-reeve. The men of the township had to keep in repair the bridges and fortifications which the township con- tained, and, if need were, they had to fight. The hundred was presided over by the hundred-man, or hundred-elder. Its meeting was the hundred-moot, and this dealt with the busi- ness of the hundred. The head of the shire was the ealdor- man, elderman, or alderman, who was placed over it by the king and wise men of the whole kingdom. Beside him, in Christian times, was the bishop ; and the king was represented by the shire-reeve, or, as we now call him, sheriff. The meet- ing of the men of the shire was called the shire-moot. There they settled all quarrels. If a man was accused of theft or murder, he had to get his relations to swear that he was in- nocent. If they did not do this, he was put to the ordeal ; i. e. he had to plunge his hand into boiling water, carry a bar of red-hot iron, or walk over red-hot ploughshares, and if he was not healed in the course of a fixed time, he was held guilty and punished. Punishment usually consisted of a fine paid to the sufferers, or to the family of the slaughtered man, and an extra fine was paid to the king. When war was to be made, or the country was invaded, word was sent to the ealdormen, each of whom sent notice to the hundred-men of his shire to meet at an appointed place. Each hundred-man called on the town-reeves of his hundred. They 'I'HK GOVERNMENT OV I UK ENGLISH 17 assembled the men of each township. l'2very man between sixteen and sixty had to come ; they ranged themselves in families, and marched, under the command of the reeve and the parish priest, to the meeting-place of the hundred. There they met the men of other townships, and, forming one body, they marched under the hundred-man to the meeting-place of the shire, where the whole force of the shire was united under the lead of the ealdorman and the bishop ; and then marched against the enemy, or joined the men of other shires, as the case might be. The whole force collected in this way was called the Fyrd. In this way the shire managed its own affairs, its own justice, and was able to fight its own battles. A group of shires made the kingdom. This was governed by the king and his witena-gemot, which means " meeting of the wise men." Every man could not come to the witena- gemot. It was made up of the king and the members of his family, the ealdormen, the archbishops and bishops, and the king's thegns. The king's thegns were originally the king's servants. The bishops and ealdormen also had thegns. But, among the English, it was thought an honour to be the serv- ant of a great man, so the king's thegns were really nobles. Even in the large kingdoms the witena-gemot was quite a small body ; but it is very important, because the Parliament of our own day is the representative of the old witena-gemot, as we shall see by-and-by. The witena-gemot elected the king ; but it very rarely chose a man who was not a member of the royal family. The late king's eldest son was usually chosen, but if he was young, foolish, or very wicked, they preferred the late king's brother. If the king turned out badly, they often deposed him, and set up another in his stead. Besides this, the archbishops, bishops, and ealdormen were named bv the king in the witena-gemot. Questions of peace and war were discussed l8 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY by the wise men ; they settled disputes among the great men. In fact, they helped the king to govern. The king, on the other hand, had great power. As the supposed descendant of Woden, he was looked upon with awe. His family were royal. The whole kingdom looked up to him as its representative. In war he led the army. The nobles were the king's thegns. He had palaces and estates. The power of the king varied with the size of his kingdom, for the King of Northumbria was naturally a much greater man than the King of Sussex, and as England became more and more united, the power of the kings steadily grew. In each English shire there was a quantity of land which belonged to the settlement, but had not been given to any one man. This was called folkland. The king and the wise men used to make grants of this land, and the pieces thus granted were called bocland, because they were given to their owners by book or title-deed. By-and-by the kings began to give out this land without consulting the wise men, and this helped them to increase their power, because men looked to them for reward. Thus we see that each shire was strong and well organ- ized ; but the kingdoms were weak, because the shires, many of which had been originally hostile settlements, had little sympathy with each other. This made it very hard to make England into a strong kingdom. DUNSTAN 19 N timber 5 DUNSTAN John Richard Green. The Conquest of England, pp. 269-275, 281-283, 286-287, 304-309. With the death of Eadmund a new figure comes to the front of English affairs, and the story of Abbot Dunstan of Glastonbury gives us a welcome glimpse into the inner life of England at a time when history hides it from us beneath the weary details of wars with the Danes. In the heart of Somerset, at the base of the Tor, a hill that rose out of the waste of flood-drowned fen which then filled the valley of Glastonbury, lay in yEthelstan's day the estate of Heorstan, a man of wealth and noble blood, the kinsman of three bishops of the time and of many thegns of the court, if not of the king himself. It was in Heorstan's hall that his son Dunstan, as yet a fair, diminutive child, with scant but beau- tiful hair, caught the passion for music that showed itself in his habit of carrying harp in hand on journey or visit, as in his love for the " vain songs of ancient heathendom, the trifling legends, and funeral chants," relics, doubtless, of a mass of older poetry that time has reft from us. But nobler strains than those of ancient heathendom were round the child as he grew to boyhood. Alfred's strife with the North- men was fresh in the memory of all. Athelney lay a few miles off across the Polden hills ; and Wedmore, where the final frith was made . . . , rose out of the neighboring marshes. Memories of Inc met the boy as he passed to school at Glastonbury, which .still remained notable as a place of pil- grimage, though but a few secular priests clung to the house which the king had founded, and its lands had for the most part been stripped from it. The ardor of Dunstan 's temper 20 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY was seen in the eagerness with which he plunged into the study of letters ; and his knowledge became at last so famous in the neighborhood that news of it reached the court. Dun- stan was called there, no doubt, as one of the young nobles who received their training in attendance on the king during boyhood and early youth ; but his appearance was the signal for a burst of jealousy among the royal thegns, though many were kinsmen of his own ; he was forced to withdraw, and when he was again summoned, on the accession of Eadmund, his rivals not only drove him from the king's train, but threw him from his horse as he rode through the marshes, and with the wild passion of their rage trampled him under- foot in the mire. The outrage brought fever, and in the bitterness of dis- appointment and shame Dunstan rose from his bed of sick- ness a monk. But in England the monastic profession was at this time little more than a vow of celibacy and clerical life, and his devotion took no ascetic turn. His nature, in fact, was sunny, versatile, artistic, full of strong affections, and capable of inspiring others with affections as strong. Through- out his life he won the love of women, and in these earlier years of retirement at Glastonbur}- he became the spiritual guide of a woman of high rank who lived only for charity and the entertainment of pilgrims. " He ever clave to her and loved her in wondrous fashion." Quick-witted, of tena- cious memor)^, a ready and fluent speaker, gay and genial of address, an artist, a musician, an indefatigable worker alike at books or handicraft, his sphere of activity widened as the wealth of his devotee was placed unreservedly at his com- mand. We see him followed by a train of pupils, busy with literature, harping, painting, designing. In one pleasant tale of these days a lady summons him to her house to design a robe which she is embroidering, and as Dunstan bends with DUNSTAN 21 her maidens over their toil, the harp which he has hung on the wall sounds, without mortal touch, tones which the startled ears around frame into a joyous antiphon. But the tie which bound Dunstan to this scholar-life was broken by the death of his patroness ; and towards the close of Eadmund's reign the young scholar was again called to the court. Even in /Ethelstan's day he seems to have been known to both the younger sons of Eadward the Elder ; and with one of these, Eadred, his friendship became of the closest kind. But the old jealousies revived ; his life was again in danger ; and the game seemed so utterly lost that Dunstan threw himself on the protection of some envoys who had come at this time from the German court of Otto to the English king. He was preparing to return with them to their home in Saxony when an unlooked-for chance restored him suddenly to power. A red-deer w^hich Eadmund was chasing over Mendip dashed down the Cheddar cliffs, and the king only checked his horse on the brink of the ravine. In the bitterness of anticipated death he had repented of his injustice to Dunstan, and on his return from the chase the young priest was summoned to his presence. " Saddle your horse," said Eadmund, " and ride with me ! " The royal train swept over the marshes to Dunstan's home, and greet- ing him with the kiss of peace, the king seated him in the abbot's chair, as Abbot of Glastonbur)-. From that moment Dunstan ma}- have exercised some in- fluence on public affairs ; but it was not till Eadmund's murder that his influence became supreme. Eadmund was but twenty-five years old w'hen he died ; and as his children, Eadwig and Eadgar, were too young to follow him on the throne, the crown passed to his last surviving brother, the /Etheling Eadred. Eadred had long been bound by a close friendship to Dunstan ; and a friendship as close bound the 22 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY young abbot to the mother of the king, the wife of Eadward the Elder, who seems to have wielded the main influence at Eadred's court. . . . Under Eadred his influence became yet greater ; he seems to have displaced Wulfgar, whose signature through Eadmund's days had preceded his own, as the leading counsellor of the crown, and signs first of all secular nobles through the coming reign. . . . Dunstan seems to have accompanied the king into North- umbria after its subjugation, at least as far as Chester-le-Street, where he saw the remains of St. Cuthbert still resting in the temporary refuge which they had found after their removal from Lindisfarne ; and it was probably under his counsel that Eadred resolved to put an end to the subject royalty of the north and to set up the new earldom of the Northumbrians. The abbot's post probably answered in some way to that of the later chancellor ; and as we find the hoard in his charge at the end of the reign, he must then have combined with this the office of the later treasurer. Of the details of his political work, however, during this period nothing is told us. But of the intellectual and literary work which he was carrying on throughout the reign we are allowed to see a little more. It was, in fact, in these nine years that the more important part of his educational work was done. If much of his time was necessarily spent at Winchester, or with the royal court, the bulk of it seems still to have been given to his Abbey of Glas- tonbury, and to the school which was growing up within its walls. He himself led the way in the work of teaching. Tradition told of the kindliness with which he won the love of his scholars, the psalms sung with them as they journeyed together, the vision that comforted Dunstan for the loss of one little scholar as he saw the child borne heavenward in the arms of angels. In the library of Glastonbury some interesting memorials of his scholastic work were preserved even to the DUNSTAN 23 time of the Reformation : b(xjks on the Apocalypse, a collec- tion of canons drawn from his Irish teachers, passages tran- scribed from Frank and Roman law-books, notes on measure and numbers, a pamphlet on grammar, a mass of biblical quotations, tables for calculating Easter, and a book of Ovid's Art of Love which jostled oddly with an luiglish homily on the Invention of the Cross. . . . But whatever was the result of Dunstan's literary work, it was interrupted by Eadred's death. . . . Dunstan was at Glastonbury, where the royal Hoard was then in keeping, when news came in November, 955, that the king lay death- smitten at Frome. The guardians of the Hoard were bidden to bring their treasures that Eadred might see them ere he died ; but while the heavy wains were still toiling along the Somersetshire lanes, the death-howl of the women about the court told the abbot as he hurried onward that the friend he loved was dead. He found the corpse already forsaken, for the thegns of the court had hurried to the presence of the new king ; and Dunstan was left alone to carry Eadred to his grave beside Eadmund at Glastonbury. . . . [As a result of a quarrel at Eadwig's coronation feast Dun- stan was outlawed during Eadwig's reign. He was recalled by the next king, Eadgar, and made Bishop of Worcester and of London, and later Archbishop of Canterbury. He then went to Rome to receive the pallium from the Pope.] It was only on his return, in 960, that he seems to have taken the main direction of affairs. His policy was that of a cool, cautious churchman, intent not so much on outer aggrandizement as on the practical business of internal gov- ernment. While withdrawing, save in the harmless arrogance of royal titles, from an)- effort to enforce the supremacy of Wessex over Welshmen or Cumbrians, and practically aban- doning the bulk of England itself to the great nobles, the 24 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY young king and the primate devoted themselves to the en- forcement of order and justice in their own Wessex. In itself this union of archbishop and king in the government of the realm was of no small moment. The Church and the mon- archy were the two national powers which had been raised to a height above all others through the strife with heathen- dom and the Danes ; and from the very outset of the strife in Ecgberht's days they had been drawn together as natu- ral allies. But it was only at the close of the struggle that this natural alliance hardened into something like complete unity. . . . The rule of the realm was in the hands at once of Dunstan and Eadgar ; and king and primate were almost blended together in the thoughts of Englishmen. So far, indeed, as their work could be distinguished, there was a curious inversion of parts. The king was seen devoting him- self to the task of building up again the Church, of diffusing monasticism, of fashioning his realm in accordance with a religious ideal. On the other hand the primate was busy with the task of civil administration ; and if he dealt with the Church at all, dealt with it mainly as a political power to be utilized for the support of the monarchy. But, in fact, it is hardly possible to distinguish between the work of the one and the work of the other. . . . As we have said, it is impossible, in the main acts of his reign, to distinguish between the work of the king and the work of the primate. But it was to Eadgar, and not to Dunstan, that after-tradition attributed the general character of his reign. A chronicler, writing at the close of the Norman rule, tells us that among Englishmen of his time there was a strong belief that, in any fair judgment, no English king of that or any other age could be compared with Eadgar. The great characteristic of his rule was the characteristic of peace. At his birth, Dunstan was said to have heard the DUNSTAN 25 voice of an anj^cl proclaiming peace for England as long as the child should reign and Dunstan should live. The prophecy, if it was ever uttered, was certainly fulfilled. " He dwelt in peace," says the chronicler, " the while that he lived, God so granted it him." In the centuries before the Danish war- fare, there had been constant strife either between the English states, into which Britain was divided, or between the tribes that made up each separate state. For more than a hundred and fifty years the country had been a scene of fierce and brutal warfare between Englishman and Dane. The history of the new England had, in fact, been a series of troubles within, and then of troubles without. But with the accession of Eadgar foreign war and internal dissension seemed alike to cease. Within, he "bettered the public peace more than most of the kings who were before him in man's memory." His rule over the dependent realms and ealdormanries was, no doubt, the more tranquil for the wise limitation of his claims to government or over-lordship. " God him so helped that kings and earls gladly to him bowed and were submis- sive to that he willed, and without war he ruled all that himself would." Such a peace within and without was partly, as we have seen, the result of other men's labors, but in no small part it must have been the result of the wisdom and effort of Eadgar and Dunstan themselves. The chronicles tell us in significant words that the king " earned diligently " the peace in which he dwelt. 26 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Number 6 ALFRED THE GREAT Sir Walter Besant. Introduction to Alfred the Great, pp. 11-33. Edited by Alfred Bowker. It was in the year 832 ^- seventeen years before the birth of Alfred — that the Danes first made their appearance on these shores. . . . . . . They ahvays made straight for the nearest monas- teries, which they sacked : there were not many towns in Saxon England; but there were some — Canterbury, London, Southampton, York — they attacked these, seized, plundered, and left them in ruins. For twenty years they came every year: sometimes we hear' of a victory over them: but still they came again : there was never a victoiy so decisive as to keep them from returning in ever-increasing numbers. Then they began to stay in the country : they left off going home in the autumn: they established themselves in winter quarters, first on Sheppey Island, then on the Isle of Thanet : then in Norfolk. Then they went farther afield. In a word, they overran and conquered East Anglia : then the Kingdom of Northumbria : then that of Mercia : then the united King- doms of Wessex and Kent. It was at this crisis, when all the power of the Danes was brought to bear against Wessex and Kent, Alfred succeeded to the throne. . . . . . . The Danes had seized Chippenham, in Wiltshire, and made that place their stronghold and headquarters. From Chippenham they sent out their light troops, moving rapidly here and there, devastating and murdering. For nine long years, growing every year weaker, Alfred fought them : in one year he fought nine battles. At the end of that time he ALFRED THE GREAT 27 found himself deserted, save ior a few faithful followers : his country prostrate : everything in the hands of the enemy : his cause lost, and apparently no loop-hole or glimmer of hope left of recovery. No darker or more gloomy time ever fell upon tills country. Everywhere the churches and the monasteries were pillaged and destroyed. All those — bishops, priests, monks, and nuns — who could get away had fled, carrying with them such of their treasures as they could convey. The towns were in ruins : the farms were deserted : the people had lost hope and heart : they bowed their heads and entered into slavery : their religion was destroyed with the flight or the murder of their priests. Their arts, their learning, their civilisation, all that they had once possessed, were destroyed in those nine years' warfare : destroyed and gone — it seemed for ever. And the king, with his wife and her sister, and his children, and the few who still remained with him, had taken refuge on a litde hill rising out of a broad marsh, whither the enemy could not follow him. . . . Alfred remained inactive during the whole long winter. It was the rule of the old Kriegs Spiel, the war game of that time, that the armies should not go forth to fight in winter. The men would have refused to go out in the cold season. In fact, they could not. The country was covered with un- cleared forests : the roads in winter were deep tracks of mud : it was impossible for the men to sleep on the cold, wet ground. The delay suited Alfred : he wanted time to organise a rising in force : he sent messengers to the Somersetshire people, among whom, in winter quarters, were l\ing few or none of the Danish conquerors : he bade them make ready for the spring : he ordered those of the thanes who were still left to come to him at Athelney : and in May, when the spring arrived, Alfred appeared once more as one risen from the dead : once more he raised the W'essex standard of the 28 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Golden Dragon : once more the people, taking renewed courage, flocked together : as he marched along they joined him, the fugitives from the woods and those who had been made slaves in their own farms, and swelled his force. What follows is like a dream. Or it is like the uprising of the F"rench under Joan of Arc. There had been nine years of continuous defeat. The people had lost heart : they had apparently given in. Yet, on the reappearance of their king, they sprang to arms once more : they followed him with one consent, and on the first encounter with the Danes they inflicted upon them a defeat so crushing that they never rallied again. In one battle, on one field, the country was recovered. In a single fortnight after this battle the Danes were turned out of Wessex. Alfred had recovered the whole of his own country, and acquired in addition a large part of Mercia. . . . Alfred had got back his kingdom. It remained for him to recover it in a fuller and a larger sense : to restore its former prosperity and its ancient strength. He began by recognising the separate rights of the Mer- cians. He would not call himself King of Mercia. He placed his son-in-law Ethelred as Earl of Mercia, and because Lon- don was at that time considered a Mercian city, Ethelred took up his residence there as soon as the Danes had gone out. The condition of London was as desolate and as ruinous as that of the whole country. The walls were falling down : there was no trade : there were no ships in the river : no merchandise on the wharves : there were no people in the streets, save the Danish soldiers and the slaves who worked for them. Alfred restored the walls : rebuilt the gates : brought back trade and merchants : repaired the Bridge, and made London once more the most important city of his king- dom : its strongest defence : its most valuable possession. ALFRED THE T.REAT 29 This was, in fact, the third foundation of London. If Alfred had failed to understand the importance of London — that great port, hai3i)il\' placed, not on the coast open to attack, but a long way up a tidal riwr, in the very heart of the country — a place easy of access from every part of the kingdom — a port convenient for every kind of trade, whether from the Baltic or the Mediterranean — the whole of the commercial history of England would have been changed, the island might have remained what it had been for centuries before the Roman Conquest, a place which exported iron, tin, skins, wool, and slaves, and imported for the most part weapons to kill each other with. . . . Alfred, I repeat, gave us London. This was a great service which he rendered to the safety of the country. But there was still a greater service. The Saxon had quite forgotten the seamanship in which he had formerly known no master and no equal. Alfred saw that for the sake of safety there must be a first line of defence before the coast could be reached. England could only be invaded in ships, and by those who had the command of the seas. Therefore, he created a navy : he built ships longer, heavier, swifter than those of the Danes, and he sent these ships out to meet the Danes on what they supposed to be their own element. They went out : they met the Danes : they defeated them : and before long the Saxons had afloat a fleet of a hundred ships to hold the mastery of the Channel. The history of the English navy is chequered : there have been periods when its pretensions were low and its achievements humble : but since the days of Alfred the conviction has never been lost that the safety of England lies in her command of the sea. Fortresses and walled cities are useful : it is a very great achievement to have given them to the country : London alone, restored by Alfred, was the nation's stronghold, the nation's treasure '>0 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY house, a city full of wealth, filled with valiant citizens, uncon- quered and defiant : that was a very great gift to the country : but it was a greater achievement still to have gi\'en to the country a fleet which was ready to meet the enemy before they had time to land, and to give them most excellent reasons why they should not land : to make the people under- stand that above all things, and before all, it was necessary for all time to keep the mastery of the seas. Remember, therefore, that Alfred, thus, gave us the com- mand of the seas. As Rudyard Kipling, our patriot poet, says : We have fed our seas for a thousand years, And she calls us, still unfed, Though there 's never a wave of all her waves But marks our English dead. "Never a wave of all her waves" — and it was Alfred who first sent out the English blood to redden those waves in defence of hearth and home. . . . We have considered Alfred as a captain, a conqueror, and the founder of our navy. We will now consider him in the capacity of king, administrator, and law-giver. . . . , . . He must not be considered as a modern king — the modern king reigns while the people rule : he was the king who ruled : his will ruled the land : he had his Parliament : his Meeting of the Wise : but his will ruled them : he ap- pointed his earls or aldermen : his will ruled them : he had his bishops : his will ruled them. From the time when he began to address himself to the organisation of a strong nation — that is to say, from the time when the Dane was baptized, his will ruled supreme. No law existed then to limit the king's prerogative. The king was imperator, commander of the army, and every man in the country was his soldier. ALFRED TTTK ORF.AT 31 Among the monuments of his reign there stands out pre- eminent his code of laws. He did not, I say, originate or invent his code. He simply took the old code and rewrote it, with additions and alterations to suit the altered conditions of the time. He understood, in fact, the great truth, which law-makers hardl\- ever grasp, that successful institutions must be the outcome of national character. Now, the laws and customs of these nations — Saxons, Angles, and Jutes — were similar, but there were differences. They had grown with the people, and were the outcome of the national char- acter. Alfred took over as the foundation of his work for Wessex the code compiled for the West Saxons by his an- cestor. King Ina : for Mercia, that compiled by Offa, King of Mercia : for the Jutes, that compiled by Ethelbert, King of Kent. In his work two main principles guided the law- giver : first, that justice should be provided for every one, high and low, rich and poor : next, that the Christian religion should be recognised as containing the Law of God : which must be the basis of all laws. Both these principles were especially necessary to be observed at this time. The devas- tation of the long wars had caused justice to be neglected : and the destruction of the churches, and the murder or flight of the clergy, had caused the people to relapse into their old superstitions. King Alfred then boldly began his code by reciting the Laws of God. His opening words were: "Thus saith the Lord, T am the Lord thy God.' " That is his keynote. The laws of a people must conform with the Laws of God. If they are contrary to the spirit of these laws they cannot be righteous laws. In order that every one might himself compare his laws with the Laws of God, he prefaced his laws first by the Ten Commandments ; after this he quoted at length certain chapters of the Mosaic Law. These chapters he followed by 32 READINGS IX ENGLISH HISTORY the short epistle in the Acts of the Apostles concerning what should be expected and demanded of Christians. Finally, Alfred adds the precept from St. Matthew, "' Whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them." . . . This firm determination to link the Divine Law and the Human Law : this firm reliance on the Divine Law as the foundation of all law : is to me the most characteristic point in the whole of Alfred's work. The view — the intention — the purpose of King Alfred are summed up, without inten- tion, by the poet whom I have already quoted. The following words of Rudyard Kipling might be the very words of Alfred : they breathe his very spirit — they might be, I say, the very words spoken by Alfred : Keep ye the law : be swift in all obedience — Clear the land of evil : drive the road and bridge the ford. Make ye sure to each his own That he reap where he hath sown : By the Peace among our Peoples let men know we serve the Lord ! Alfred endeavoured to rebuild the monasteries. He then made the discovery that the old passion for the monastic life was gone : he could get no one to go into them. Forty years of a life and death struggle had killed the desire for the cloister : the people had learned to love action better than seclusion — their ideal was now the soldier, not the monk. . . . His chief design in rebuilding the monasteries was to re- store the schools. The country had fallen so low in learning that there was hardly a single priest who could translate the Church Ser\dce into Saxon, or could understand the words he sang. Alfred sent abroad for scholars : he made his Reli- gious House not only a place for the retreat of pious men and women, but also the home — the only possible home — of learning, and the seat of schools. It is long since we have ALFRED I'lIK GREAT 33 regarded a monastery as a seat of learning, or the proper place for a school. Go back to Alfred's time and consider what a monastery meant in a land still full of violence : in which morals had been lost : justice trampled down : learning de- stroyed : no schools or teachers left : the monastery stood as an example and a reminder of self-restraint : peace : and order : a life of industry^ and such works as the most ignorant must acknowledge to be good : where the poor and the sick were received and cared for : the young were taught : and the old sheltered. It was the Life which the monastery Rule pro- fessed ; the aim rather than any lower standards accepted by the monks : which made a monastery in that age like a bea- con steadily and brightly burning, so that the people had al- ways before their eyes a reminder of the self-governed life. Most of us would be very unwilling to see the monaster}^ again become a necessity of the national life : yet we must admit that in the ninth century Alfred had no more powerful weapon for the maintenance of a religious standard than the monastery. In the cause of education, indeed, Alfred was before his age, and even before our age. He desired universal education. At his Court he provided instructors for his children and the children of the nobles. They learned to read and write, they studied their own language and its poetry : they learned Latin: and they learned what were called the "liberal sci- ences," among them the art of music. But he thought also of the poorer class. " My desire," he says, " is that all the freeborn youths of my people may persevere in learning until they can perfectly read the English Scriptures." Unhappily he was unable to carry out this wish. Only in our own days has been at last attempted the dream of the Saxon King — the extension of education to the whole people. One more aspect of Alfred's foresight. He endeavoured to remove the separation of his island from the rest of the 34 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY world : he connected his people with the civilisation of West- ern Europe by encouraging scholars and men of learning, workers in gold, and craftsmen of all kinds, to come over : he created commercial relations with foreign countries : a merchant who made three voyages to the Mediterranean he ennobled : he sent an embassy every year to Rome : he sent an embassy as far as India : he brought to bear upon the somewhat sluggish minds of his people the imagination and the curiosity which would hereafter engender a spirit of en- terprise to which no other nation can offer a parallel. It was partly with this view that he strongly enforced the connection with Rome. One bond of union the nations of the West should have — a common Faith : and that defined and interpreted for them by the same authority. Had it not been for that central authority the nations would have been divided, rather than drawn towards each other, by a Christi- anity split up into at least as many sects as there were lan- guages. Imagine the evil, in an ignorant time, of fifty nations, each swearing by its own creed, and every creed different. From this danger Alfred kept his country free. The last, not the least, of his achievements is that to Alfred we owe the foundations of our literature : the most noble lit- erature that the world has ever seen. He collected and pre- served the poetry based on the traditions and legends brought from the German Forests. He himself delighted to hear and to repeat these legends and traditions : the deeds of the mighty warriors who fought with monsters, dragons, wild boars, and huge serpents. He made his children learn their songs : he had them sung in his Court. The tradition goes that he could him- self sing them to the music of his own harp. This wild and spontaneous poetry which Alfred preserved is the beginning of our own noble choir of poets. In other words, the founda- tion of that stately Palace of Literature, built up by our poets ALFRED THE GREAT 35 and writers for the admiration and instruction and consolation of mankind, was laid by Alfred. Well, but he did more than collect the poetry, he began the prose. Before Alfred there was no Anglo-Saxon prose. ... It is not the part of this Introduction to dwell upon the whole of Alfred's literary work. It is enough if we recognise that he introduced education and restored learning. In the course of time, innumerable books were attributed to him : it is said that he translated the Psalms. A book of proverbs and sayings is attributed to him — each one begins with the words ""Thus said Alfred." The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle and contemporary record of events is said to have been com- menced by him. And since it is certain from the life of the king by one of his own Court that he was regarded by all classes of his people with the utmost reverence and respect, I think it is extremely likely that some of his people listened and took down in writing the sayings of the king, so that the book of Alfred's sayings may be as authentic as the sayings of Dr. Johnson, recorded by his admirer Boswell. There is next to be observed the permanence of Alfred's in- stitutions. They do not perish, but remain. His Witenagemot — Meeting of the Wise — is our Parliament — it has devel- oped into our many Parliaments. His order of King, Thane, and Freeman is our order of King, Lords, and Commons. His theory of education was carried out in some of the towns, and in all the monasteries and cathedrals : there are schools still existing which owe their origin to a period before the Norman Conquest. His foundation of all law upon the Laws of God remains our own : his liberties are our liberties : his navy is the ancestor of our navy : the literature which he planted has grown into a goodly tree — the Monarch of the Forest : the foreign trade that he began is the forerunner of our foreign trade : it would seem as if there was hardly any 36 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY point in which we have reason to be grateful or proud which was not foreseen by this wise king. To look for the secret of his wisdom is like looking for the secret of making a great poem or writing a great play : it may be arrived at and described, but it is not therefore the easier of imitation. Alfred's secret is quite simple. His work tvas pcnnanciit because it zvas established on the Jiational character. It was in order to make this point clear that I dwelt at length on the character of the people over whom Alfred ruled. He knew their character, and by instinct, which we call genius, he gave his people the laws and the education, and the power of development for which they were fitted. No other laws, no other kind of government, will enable a peo- ple to prosper except those laws to which they have grown and are adapted. Only those institutions, I repeat, are per- manent which are based on the national character. That was the secret of King Alfred the law-giver. N timber y THE CORONATION OF WILLIAM THE NORMAN E. A. Freeman. The I/isi07y of the jVonna>i Conquest of England, Vol. Ill, PP- 557-56^- The Christmas morn ^ at last came ; and once more, as on the day of the Epiphany,^ a King-elect entered the portals of the West Minster to receive his Crown. But now, unlike the day of the Epiphany, the approach to the church was kept by a guard of Norman horsemen. Otherwise all was peaceful. Within the church all was in readiness ; a new crown, rich with gems, was ready for the ceremony ; a crowd of spectators of both nations filled the minster. The great procession then 1 The day set for W'illiam's coronation. 2 xhe day of Harold's coronation. CORONATION OF WILLIAM THE NORMAN 37 swept on. A crowd of dergy bearing crosses marched first ; then followed the Bish()[)s ; lastly, surrounded by the chief men of his own land and of his new Kingdom, came the re- nowned Duke himself, with Ealdred and Stigand on cither side of him. Amid the shouts of the people, William the Conqueror passed on to the royal seat before the high altar, there to go through the same solemn rites which had so lately been gone through on the same spot by his fallen rival. The Te Deum which had been sung over Harold was now again sung over William. And now again, in ancient form, the crowd that thronged the minster was asked whether they would that the candidate who stood before them should be crowned King over the land. But now a new thing, unknown to the coronation of Eadward or of Harold, had to mark the coronation of William. A King was to be crowned who spake not our ancient tongue, and, with him, many who knew not the speech of England stood there to behold the rite. It was therefore not enough for Ealdred to demand in his native tongue whether the assembled crowd consented to the con- secration of the Duke of the Normans. The question had to be put a second time in French by (ieoffrey, Bishop of Cou- tances, . . . The assent of the assembled multitude of both nations was given in ancient form. The voices which on the Epiphany had shouted " Yea, yea. King Harold," shouted at Christmas with equal apparent zeal, " Yea, yea. King William." Men's hearts had not changed, but they had learned, through the events of that awful year, to submit as cheerfully as might be to the doom which could not be escaped. The shout rang loud through the minster ; it reached the ears of the Norman horsemen who kept watch around the building. They had doubtless never before heard the might)- voice of an assem- bled people. They deemed, or professed to deem, that some evil was being done to the newly chosen sovereign. Instead c>8 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY however of rushing in to his help, they hastened, with the strange instinct of their nation, to set fire to the buildings around the minster. At once all was confusion ; the glare was seen, the noise v/as heard, within the walls of the church. Men and women of all ranks rushed forth to quench the flames or to save their goods, some, it is said, to seek for their chance of plunder in such a scene of terror. The King-elect, with the officiating Prelates and clergy and the monks of the Abbey, alone remained before the altar. They trembled, and perhaps for the first and the last time in his life, William trembled also. His heart had never failed him either in council or in batde, but here was a scene the like of which William him- self was not prepared to brave. But the rite went on ; the trembling Duke took the oaths of an English King, the oaths to do justice and mercy to all within his realm, and a special oath, devised seemingly to meet the case of a foreign King, an oath that, if his people proved loyal to him, he would rule them as well as the best of the Kings who had gone before him. The prayers and litanies and hymns went on ; the rite, hurried and maimed of its splendour, lacked nothing of sacra- mental virtue or of ecclesiastical significance. All was done in order ; while the flames were raging around, amid the up- roar and the shouts which surrounded the holy place, Ealdred could still nerve himself to pour the holy oil upon the royal head, to place the rod and the sceptre in the royal hands. In the presence of that small band of monks and Bishops the great rite was brought to its close, and the royal diadem with all its gleaming gems rested firmly on the brow of William, King of the English. The work of the Conquest was now formally completed ; the Conqueror sat in the royal seat of England. He had claimed the Crown of his kinsman ; he had set forth his claim in the ears of Europe ; he had maintained it on the field RESULTS OF THE NORMAN CONQUEST 39 of battle, and now it had been formally acknowledged by the nation over which he sought to rule. As far as words and outward rites went, nothing was now wanting ; William was King, chosen, crowned, and anointed. But how far he still was from being in truth ruler over the whole land, the tale which is yet in store will set before us. We have yet to see how gradually William won, how sternly yet how wisely, he ruled, the land which he had conquered. We have to see how, one by one, the native chiefs of England were subdued, won over, or cut off, and how the highest offices and the rich- est lands of England were parted out among strangers. We have to see the Conqueror in all his might ; we have to see him too in those later and gloomier years, when home-bred sorrows gathered thickly around him, and when victory at last ceased to wait upon his banners. At last, by a cycle as strange as any in the whole range of histor}', we shall follow him to his burial as we have followed him to his crowning, and we shall see the body of the Conqueror lowered to his grave, in the land of his birth and in the minster of his own rearing, amid a scene as wild and awful as that of the day which witnessed his investiture with the royalty of England. Number S THE RESULTS OE THE NORMAN CONQUEST E. A. Freeman. A Short History of the Norman Conquest, pp. 134-147. 1. General Results of the Conquest. We must carefully distinguish the immediate effects of the Norman Conquest, the changes which it made at the moment, from its lasting results which have left their mark on all the times which have come after. . . . And we shall find that the Norman Con- quest did not very greatly bring in things which were quite 40 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY new, but rather strengthened and hastened tendencies which were already at work. We shall see many examples of this as we go on. 2. Intercourse with Other Lands. One very clear case of this rule is the way in which England now began to have much more to do with other lands than she had had before. But this was only strengthening a tendency which was already at work. From the reign of yEthelred onwards England was beginning to have more and more to do with the mainland. Or rather, whereas England had before had to do, whether in war or in peace, almost wholly with the kindred lands of Scandinavia, Germany, and Flanders, she now began to have much to do with the Latin-speaking people, first in Normandy, then in France itself. The great beginning of this was, as we have already said, the marriage of ^thelred and Emma. Then came the reign of their son Edward, with his foreign ways and foreign favourites. All this in some sort made things ready for the fuller introduction of foreigners and for- eign ways at the Conquest. When the same prince reigned over England and Normandy, and when in after times the same prince reigned, not only over England and Normandy, but over other large parts of Gaul, men went backwards and forwards freely from one land to another. ... In every way, in short, Britain ceased to be a world of its own ; Eng- land, and Scotland too, became part of the general world of Western Europe. 3. Effects of the Conquest on the Church. In nothing did this come out more strongly than in the affairs of the Church. The English Church was, more strictly than any other, the child of the Church of Rome, and she had always kept a strong reverence for her parent. But the Church of Eng- land had always held a greater independence than the other churches of the West, and the kings and assemblies of the RESULTS OF THE NORMAN CONQl^EST 41 nation had never given up ihcir power in ecclesiastical mat- ters. Church and State were one. But from the time of the Conquest, the Popes got more and more power, as was not wonderful when the Conqueror himself had asked the Pope to judge between him and Harold. Gradually all the new notions spread in England ; the Popes encroached more and more, and laws after laws had to be made to restrain them, till the time came when we threw off the Pope's authority altogether. The affairs of Church and State got more and more distinct ; the clergy began to claim to be free from all secular jurisdiction and to be tried only in the ecclesiastical courts ; the marriage of the clergy too was more and more strictly forbidden. All this was the direct result of the Nor- man Conquest. . . . 4. Foreign Wars. It was also owing to the Norman Con- quest that l^Lngland began to be largely entangled in conti- nental wars. ... As long as Normandy was a separate state lying between England and France, England and France could hardly have any grounds of quarrel. But when England and Normandy had one prince, England got entangled in the quarrels between Normandy and France. England and France became rival powers, and the rivalry went on for ages after Normandy had been conquered by France. Then too both England and Normandy passed to princes who had other great possessions in Gaul, and the chief of these, the duchy of Aquitaine, was kept by the English kings long after the loss of Normandy. Thus, through the Norman Conquest, England became a continental power, mixed up with conti- nental wars and politics, and above all, engaged in a long rivalry with France. 5. Effects on the Kingly Power. One chief result of the Norman Conquest was great!)' to strengthen the power of the kings. The Norman kings kept all the powers, rights, and 42 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY revenues which the Enghsh kings had had, and they added some new ones. A king may be looked on in two ways. He may either be looked on as the head of the state, of which other men are members, or else as the chief lord, with the chief men of the land for his men, holding their lands of him. Both these notions of kingship were known in Europe ; both were known in England ; but William the Conqueror knew how to use both to the strengthening of the kingly power. Where the king is merely the lord of the chief men, the kingdom is likely to split up into separate principalities, as happened both in Germany and in Gaul. William took care that this should not happen in England by making his great law which made every man the man of the king. But when this point was once secured, it added greatly to the king's power that he should be personal lord as well as chief of the state, and that all men should hold their lands of him. The Norman kings were thus able to levy the old taxes as heads of the state, and also to raise money in various ways off the lands which were held of them. They could, like the old kings, call the whole nation to war, and they could further call on the men who held lands of them either to do military service in their own persons or to pay money to be let off. Thus the king could have at pleasure either a national army, or 2i feiLcial army, that is an army of ^ men who did military service for \ki€v!: fiefs, or lastly an army of hired mercenaries. And the kings made use of all three as suited them. Another thing also happened. In the older notion, kingship was an office, the highest office, an office bestowed by the nation, though commonly bestowed on the descendants of former kings. But now kingship came to be looked on more and more as a possession, and it was deemed that it ought to pass, like any other possession, according to the strict rules of inheritance. Thus the crown became more and more RESULTS OF TTTE NORMAN CONQUEST 43 hereditary and less and less elective. For several reigns after the Norman Conquest, things so turned out that strict heredi- tary succession could not be observed. Still, from the time of the Conquest, the tendency was in favour of strict hereditary succession, and it became the rule in the long run. 6. Effects on the Constitution and Administration. Wq have already seen that both William the Conqueror and the Norman kings after him made very few direct changes in the law. Nor did they make many formal changes in government and administration. They destroyed no old institutions or offices, but they set up some new ones by the side of the old. And of these sometimes the old lived on till later times, and sometimes the new. And sometimes old things got new names, which might make us think that more change hap- pened than really did. And in this case again sometimes the old names lived on and sometimes the new. Thus the Nor- mans called the s/nre the county, and the king's chief officer in it, the sheriff, they called the viscount. Now we use the word county oftener than the word shire ; but the sheriff is never called viscount, a word which has got another meaning. So in the greatest case of all, the King is still called King by his Old English name, but the assembly of the nation, the Witenagcmot or Meeting of the Wise Men, is called a Parlia- ment. But this is simply because the wise men spoke or parleyed with the king, as we read before that King William had "' very deep speech with his Wise Men " before he or- dered the great survey. What is much more important than the change of name is that the assembly has quite changed its constitution. And yet it is truly the same assembly going on ; there has been no sudden break ; changes have been made bit by bit ; but we have never been without a national assembly of some kind, and there never was any time when one kind of assemblv was abolished and another kind put in 44 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY its stead. The greatest change that ever happened in a short time was that, in the twenty-one years of the Conqueror's reign, an assembly which was almost wholly an assembly of Englishmen changed into one which was almost wholly an assembly of Normans. But even this change was not made all at once. There was no time when Englishmen as a body were turned out, and Normans as a body put in. Only, as the Englishmen who held great ofifices died or lost them one by one, Normans and other strangers were put in their places one by one. Thus there came a great change in the spirit and working of the assembly ; but there was little or no im- mediate change in its form. And so it was in everything else. Without any sudden change, without ever abolishing old things and setting up new ones, new ideas came in and practically made great changes in things which were hardly at all changed in form. It is a mistake to think that our Old-English insti- tutions were ever abolished and new Norman institutions set up in their stead. But it is quite true that our Old-English institutions were greatly changed, bit by bit, by new ways of thinking and doing brought over from Normandy. 7. Effects of the Conqueror's Personal Character. Besides all other more general causes, there can be no doubt that the personal character of William himself had a great effect on the whole later course of English history. As William had no love for oppression for its own sake, so neither had he any love for change for its own sake. He saw that, without making any violent changes in English law, he could get to himself as much power as he could wish for. Both he and the kings for some time after him were practically despots, kings, that is, who did according to their own will. But they did according to their own will, because they kept on all the old forms of freedom ; so, in after times, as the kings grew weaker and the nation grew stronger, life could be put again RESUTTS DI' 'I'lIF. NORMAN CONQUEST 45 into the forms, and the old freedom could be won back again. A smaller man than Williani. one less strong and wise, would most likely ha\e changed a great deal more. And by so do- ing he would have raised far more opposition, and would have done far more mischief in the long run. William's whole position was that he was lawful King of the English, reign- ing according to P'lnglish law. But a smaller man than William would hardly have been able at once outwardly to keep that position, and at the same time really to do in all things as he thought fit. It is largely owing to William's wisdom that there was no violent change, no sudden break, but that the general system of things went on as before, allow- ing this and that to be changed bit by bit in after times, as change was found to be needed. 8. Relations of Normans and Englishmen. It followed almost necessarily from the peculiar nature of William's con- quest that in no conquest did the conquerors and the conquered sooner join together into one people. . . . Of course in this mixing together, the two nations influenced one another ; each learned and borrowed something from the other. The Eng- lish did not become Normans ; the Normans did become Englishmen ; but the Normans, in becoming Englishmen, greatly influenced tlic English nation, and brought in many ways of thinking and doing which had not been known in England before. 9. Effects of the Conquest on Language. Above all things, this took place in the matter of language. In this we carry about us to this day the most speaking signs of the Norman Conquest. . . . Our own Old-English tongue, as it was spoken when the Normans came, was a pure Teutonic tongue, that is, it was as ncarl\' pure as any tongue ever is ; for there is no tongue which has not borrowed some words from others. So we had, since we came into Britain, picked up a few words 46 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY from the Welsh, and more from the Latin. But these were simply names of things which we knew nothing about till we came hither, foreign things which we called by foreign names. And we had kept our grammar, and what grammarians call the inflexions, that is, the forms and endings of words, quite untouched. The Normans, on the other hand, after their settlement in Gaul, had quite forgotten their old Danish tongue, allied to the English, and, when they came to Eng- land, they all spoke French. F"rench is the Romajice tongue of Northern Gaul, that is, the tongue which grew up there as the Latin tongue lost its old form, and a good many Teu- tonic words crept in. The effect of the Norman Conquest on our tongue has been twofold. We have lost nearly all our inflexions ; we should \ery likely have lost most of them if there had been no Norman Conquest, for the other Teutonic tongues have all lost some or all of their inflexions ; but the Norman Conquest made this work begin sooner and go on quicker. Then we borrowed a vast number of French words, many of them words which we did not want at all, names of things which already had English names. But this happened very gradually. For some while the two languages, French and English, were spoken side by side without greatly affect- ing one another. French was the polite speech, Latin the learned speech, English the speech of the people ; but for a hundred and fifty years after the Conquest, French was never used in public documents. Before long the Normans in Eng- land learned to speak English, and they seem to have done so commonly by the end of the twelfth century, though of ^course they could speak French as well. Then there came in a French as distinguished from a Norman influence ; French came in as a fashion, and it was not till the fourteenth cen- tury that English quite won the day ; and when it came in, it had lost many of its inflexions, and borrowed very many RESULTS OF THE NORMAN CONQUEST 47 French words. And since this we have gone on taking in new words from French, Latin, and other tongues, because we have lost the habit of making new words in our own tongue. All these later changes are not direct effects of the Norman Conquest ; still they are effects. The French fashion could never have set in so strongly if the French tongue had not been already brought in by the Normans. 10. Effects of the Conquest on Learning and Literature. There can be no doubt that in all matters of learning the Norman Conquest caused a great immediate advance in Eng- land. There had in earlier times been more than one learned period in England ; but the Danish wars had thrown things back, and it docs not seem that Edward, with all his love for strangers, did much to encourage foreign scholars. But with the coming of William this changed at once. Lanfranc and Anselm, for instance, the first archbishops of Canterbury after the Conquest, were the greatest scholars of their time. Men of learning and science of all kinds came to England, and men in England, both of Norman and of English blood, took to learning and science. We have therefore during the twelfth century a large stock of good writers who were born or who lived in England. But they wrote in Latin, as was usual then and long after with learned men throughout Wes- tern Europe ; they therefore did nothing for the encourage- ment of a native literature. Still men did not leave off writing in English ; the English Chronicle goes on during the first half of the twelfth centur)', and small pieces, chiefly religious, were still written. But the Norman Conquest had the effect of thrusting down Trnglish literature into a lower place ; even when it was commonly spoken, it ceased to be either a learned or a polite tongue. On the other hand, the newly-born French literature took great root in England. It was about the time of the Conquest that men in Northern 48 READINGS IX ENGLISH HISTORY Gaul found out that the French tongue which they talked had become so different from the Latin which they wrote that it would be possible to write in French as well as to speak it. The oldest French books, like the oldest books of most lan- guages, are in verse, and this new French verse flourished greatly among the Normans, both in Normandy and in Eng- land. Thus Wace wrote the story of the Norman dukes, and specially of the Conquest of England. Others, who were set- tled in England and began to love their new land, wrote books of English and British history and legend. Thus, for a long time after the Conquest, there was much writing going on in England in all three languages. Many French writings were translated into English, and some English writings into French. But all this, though it showed how men's minds were at work, kept down the real tongue and the real litera- ture of the land for several ages. IL Effects of the Conquest on Art. In those days there was not much art in Western Europe, save the art of building. Books were illuminated, and there was both painting and sculpture in churches, but they were what would be now thought YQry rude work. Both in Germany and in England the art of embroidery seems to have flourished ; but that is hardly art in any high sense. But in the art of building the Norman Conquest of England marks a great stage. When we speak of building, we have mainly to do with churches and castles ; houses were commonly of wood, as indeed churches and castles often were also. In the eleventh century men still built throughout Christendom with round arches, after the manner of the old Romans. And in Western Europe they built everywhere very much after the same pattern, one which came from Italy. But in the eleventh century men began to strike out new ways in architecture, and, without wholly for- saking the old Roman models with their round arches, they RKSriTS OF THF XORMAX COXQUEST 49 devised new local styles in different parts. Thus one form of what is called Romanesque architecture arose in Italy, another in Southern Gaul, another in Northern Gaul, and so on. The Normans of William's day were great builders, and the Ro- manesque style of Northern Gaul grew up chiefly in Nor- mandy, and is commonly called Norman. In Edward's day this new style came into England among other Norman fashions, and under William it took firmer root. The new prelates despised the P^nglish churches as too small, and they rebuilt them on a greater scale, and of course in the new style. For a while the old style which England had in common with the rest of Western Europe was still used in smaller build- ings ; but by the end of the eleventh century the Norman style had taken full root in England, and in the twelfth cen- tury it grew much richer and lighter. And as stone building came more and more into use, the style spread to houses and other buildings. 12. Effect of the Conquest on Warfare. Military architec- ture, the building of castles and other strong places, is in some sort a part of the history of the building art, no less than the building of churches and houses. Still it has a char- acter and a history of its own. In this matter, and in all matters which had to do with warfare, the Norman Conquest made the greatest change of all. In England men could fence in a town with walls, but they had no strong castles. Their strong places were great mounds with a wooden defence on the top. But the Normans brought in the fashion of building castles, as we have seen in the history of Edward's reign. They sometimes built lighter keeps on the old mounds ; sometimes they built massive strong towers ; and in either case they were fond of surrounding them with deep ditches. These w-ere the t\pcs which the Normans brought in, and they grew into the elaborate castles of later times. Thus the 50 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY land was filled with castles, and warfare took mainly the form of attacking and besieging them. After the Norman Conquest we hear for a long time much more of sieges, and much less of battles in the open field, while in the Danish wars we heard much more of battles than of sieges. The Normans also brought their own way of fighting into England, and made great changes in English armies. Before the Conquest we had no horsemen and very few archers ; from this time we have both, and the old array goes out of use. Yet we some- times read of the Norman knights getting down from their horses and fighting with swords or axes in Old-English fash- ion. And, as the archers came to be the strongest part of an English army, and that which was thought specially English, it was in one way a going back to the old state of things. The weapon was changed ; but, in times when horsemen were most thought of, a stout body of foot was still the strength of an English army. 13. Summary. Thus we see the special way in which the Norman Conquest, owing to its own special nature and to the personal character of William, acted upon England. It did not destroy or abolish our old laws or institutions ; but by influencing, it gradually changed, and in the end pre- served. And in this way the Conquest worked in the end for good. We have really kept a more direct connexion with the oldest times, without any sudden break or change, than those kindred nations which have never in the same way been conquered by strangers. There has been great change, but it has been all bit by bit, with no general upsetting at any particular time. THE CHARTER OF HENRY I 51 Number g THE CHARTER OF HENRY I Roger of Wkndover. The Flowers of History, Vol. I, pp. 446-448. Translated by J. A. Giles. The Flowers of History was a chronicle compiled at the monastery of St. Albans. King William being dead, the nobles of England did not know what had become of his eldest brother Robert, duke of Normandy, who had now been five years on the expedition to Jerusalem, and they were unwilling for the kingdom to remain long without a ruler. Henr)^ the youngest and most prudent of the brothers, perceiving this, assembled together the clergy and people of England at London, and, to induce them to espouse his cause and make him king, he promised them to revise and amend the laws by which England had been oppressed in the time of his deceased brother. To this the clerg)' and people replied, that if he would confirm to them by charter all the liberties and customs which were ob- served in the reign of the holy king Eadward, they would accede to his wishes and make him their king. This Henry readily engaged to do, and, confirming the same by an oath, he was crowned king at Westminster, on the day of the an- nunciation of St. Mary, with the acclamations of the clergy and people ; after which he caused these privileges to be re- duced to writing, to the honour of the holy church and the peace of his people. Henry by the grace of God, king of England, to Hugh de Bocland sheriff, and all his faitliful people, both French and English, in Hertfordshire, health. Know that I, by the mercy of God and by the unanimous consent of the barons of the kingdom, have been crowned king of England : and, 52 READINGS IX ENGLISH HISTORY whereas the kingdom has been oppressed with many unjust exactions, I, to the honour of God, and in the love which I bear to all of you, do hereby grant liberty to God's holy church, that I will not make it subject to sale or let it out to farm, nor, when an archbishop, bishop, or abbat is dead, will I receive anything from the domain of the church, or of its vassals, until a successor is appointed to it : and all the evil customs by which the kingdom of England has been unjustly oppressed, I hereby annul, which evil customs I here in part enumerate. If any of my barons, earls, or others, who hold of me, shall die, his heir shall not redeem his lands, as he was accustomed to do in the time of my father, but shall pay a just and lawful relief ^ for the same : in the same way also, the vassals of my barons shall pay a just and equitable relief to resume their lands from their lords. And, if any of my barons or others shall wish to give his daughter or sister, or niece or cousin, to any one in marriage, he may communicate with me thereon ; but I will not take anything from him for a licence, nor will I prevent him from giving her in marriage, unless it be to a man who is my enemy. And if any of my barons or others shall die, leaving a daughter to be his heir, I will give her in marriage together with her inheritance with the consent of my barons ; and if, when the husband is dead, the wife re- mains alive without children, she shall have her dowr)' and her right of marriage, neither will I give her in marriage against her own will. But if the wife remains alive having children, she shall have her dowry and right of marriage, whilst she shall keep her person according to law, neither will I give her in marriage against her own consent, and the lands of the children shall be in the custody of the wife, or some near relation, according to what is just and 1 The money paid by an incoming heir for admission to his inheritance. — Stubbs. 11 IE CllAR'lKR or IIKNRV I 53 right, and I command my vassals to conduct themselves in the same way towards the sons, daughters, and wives of their vassals. As regards the monetage ^ in common use, which was taken throughout the cities and counties, which was not so in the time of king Eadward, I utterly annul and prohibit it; and if any one shall be taken, either moneyer^ or other, with false money, let justice be done upon him according to law. I forgixe all the pleas and debts which were due to the king my brother, except my farms,^ and except such as were contracted for the inheritances of others, or for those things which more justly concerned other people. And if any one had made any bargain for his inheritance, I forgive it, together with all reliefs, which were agreed on for their true inheritances. And if any of my barons or vassals shall be rich, in whatever way he ma}' dispose of his money, it shall be confirmed by me ; but if, prevented by the casualties of war, or sickness, he shall not have given away or disposed of his money, his wife, children, or parents, and lawful vas- sals, shall divide it for the good of his soul, as to them shall seem best. If any one of my barons or vassals shall commit forfeiture,^ he shall not give bail in mercy for his money, as he would have done in the time of my father or brother, but according to the degree of the forfeiture, nor shall he atone 1 A payment by the moneyers for the privilege of coining ; otherwise explained as a payment by the subjects to prevent loss by the depreciation or change of coinage. — Stubbs. 2 ,\ person empowered to coin. — Stubbs. '^ A fixed sum or rent payable by way of composition ; the profits of the county jurisdictions let at fixed sums to the sheriffs. — Stubbs. * Professor E. P. Cheyney in " Readings in English Histor)-,'' p. 122, gives a clearer version of this passage : If any of my barons or men shall have committed an offense he shall not give security to the extent of forfeiture of his money, as he did in the time of my father, or of my brother, but according to the measure of the offense so shall he pay, as he would have paid from the time of my father backward, in the time of my other predecessors; so that if he shall have been convicted of treachery or of crime, he shall pay as is just. 54 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY for it as he would have done in the time of my father or my brother ; but if he shall be convicted of perfidy or a crime, according to the crime, so shall be the atonement. All past murders, up to the day of my coronation, are hereby forgiven ; but those which shall in future be committed shall be justly atoned for, according to the law of king Eadward. I retain the forests in my own hands, by the consent of all my barons, in the same way as my father held them. I concede to all knights who defend their own lands by arms, to hold all the lands of their domains free from all gelds and gifts to myself, that, being relieved from their great burden, they may acquire experience in horses and arms, and be ready for my service and for the defence of the whole kingdom. I establish peace throughout all my dominions, and I command it henceforth to be observed. I restore to you the law of king Eadward, with those improvements, by which my father, with the con- sent of the barons, amended it. If any one has taken anything of men or of another's, since the death of my brother king William, let the whole be speedily restored without altera- tion ; and if any one shall keep back any part thereof, he on whom it is found, shall make heavy atonement to me for it. Witness the following, Maurice bishop of London, William elect of Winchester, Girard bishop of Hereford, earl Henry, earl Simon, earl Walter Gifford, Robert de Montford, Roger Bigod, and many others. There were as many of these charters made, as there are counties in England, and by the king's orders, they were placed in the abbeys of each county for a memorial. HENRV 11 55 Number lo HENRY II Peter of Blois. Materials for the History of A7xhbishop Thomas Becket, Vol. VII, pp. 571-575. J. C. Robertson, editor. Translated by II. E. Tuell. Peter of Blois was secretary to the Archbishop of Canterbury. He knew Henry II well, and the two letters from which these extracts are translated give a vivid picture of Henry Plantagenct as he appeared to his friends. What you have urgently asked me, — to send you a true account of the appearance and habits of the lord king of England, is indeed beyond my power. For that task even the genius of a Virgil would seem insufficient. But what I know I will tell you without malice or slander. Of David it is written in praise of his beauty, that he was of a ruddy complexion, and you know that the lord king was somew'hat ruddy until venerable old age and the coming of gray hair changed him a little. ^ He is of medium height, so that among short men he appears tall and not insignificant among taller ones. His head is round in shape, as if it were the seat of great wisdom and the special sanctuary of noble counsel. In size it harmonises well with his neck and the proportions of his whole body. His eyes are round, and when he is in a peaceable mood, dovelike and quiet ; but when he is angr)' and his spirit is disturbed, they seem to fiash fire and are like lightening. He is not bald, but his hair is kept close-cut. His face is lion-like and quadrangular in shape. His nose is prominent, in keeping with the symmetry of his whole body ; his highly-arched feet, limbs suited for horsemanship, broad 1 This was written in 1177 a.u. 56 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY chest and brawny arms proclaim him a man strong, active and daring. ... His hands by their coarseness show the in- difference of the man, for he neglects them absolutely and never puts on a glove except when he is hawking. Every day, all day long, he is standing on his feet, whether at mass, in council, or engaged in other public business, and although his limbs are terribly bruised and discoloured from the effects of hard riding, he never sits down unless he is on horseback or is eating. In one day, if business demands it, he accom- plishes four or five days' journeys, and so, by his rapid and unexpected movements he often forestalls and defeats the plans of his enemies. He wears straight boots, a plain hat, and easy dress. An ardent lover of field sports, he is no sooner through with a battle than he is exercising with hawk and hound. He would find his heavy weight a burden did he not overcome his tendency to corpulence by fasting and exercise. He is still able to mount a horse and to ride with all the lightness of youth, and he tires out the strongest men by his travels nearly every day. For he does not, like other kings, stay quiet in his palace, but rushing through the prov- inces he inquires into the deeds of all men, judging especially those whom he has appointed to be judges over others. No one is more shrewd in counsel, more ready in speech, more fearless in danger, in prosperity more prudent, in adver- sity more steadfast. The man whom he has once loved he always loves, but he will rarely admit to familiarity one whom he has once found disagreeable. Unless he is in council or at his books he always has in his hands a bow, a sword, spears and arrows. For whenever he can take a respite from cares and anxieties he occupies himself with private reading, or in the midst of a group of clergymen, endeavours to solve some knotty problem. Your king knows literature well, but ours is much better versed in it. For I know the attainments HENRY 57 of each of them in the knowledge of books. You know that the lord king of Sicily was my pupil for a year, and after he had learned from you the elements of versification and literary art, by my industry and care he gained the benefit of fuller knowledge. But, as soon as I left the kingdom, throwing aside his books, he gave himself up to the idleness of the palace. But as for the lord king of England, his daily leisure is habitually devoted to the conversation of learned men and the discussion of questions. None more than our king is honorable in speech, restrained in eating, moderate in drink- ing, none is more noble at home ; hence his name is spread out like sweet ointment and the whole church of the saints celebrates his alms. Our king is of a peaceful disposition, victorious in war, glorious in peace, and above all the desir- able things in this world he zealously looks out for the peace of his people. Whatever he thinks or says or does is for the peace of his people. That his people may have peace he constantly undergoes troublesome and grievous toil. With a view to the peace of his people he calls councils, makes treaties, forms alliances, humbles the proud, threatens war, strikes terror to rulers. For the peace of his people he uses that enormous wealth which he gives, receives, collects and spends. No one is more skillful or lavish than he in building walls, defences, fortifications, moats, places of enclosure for game and fish, and in building palaces. His father, a very powerful and noble count, made great additions to his territory, but he, by the strength of his own hand adding to his father's possessions the duchies of Nor- mandy, Aquitaine and Brittany, the kingdoms of England, Scotland, Ireland and Wales, has beyond measure surpassed his noble father's claims to greatness. No one is more gentle to the afflicted, more kind to the poor, more oppressive to the proud ; for he has always made it a study like a god to put 58 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY down the insolent, to raise the oppressed, and to the arrogance of pride to oppose continual and grievous persecutions. But although, after the custom of the kingdom, he takes a very powerful and important part in making appointments, yet he has always kept his hands clean and free from all venality. I will not describe, but will merely touch in passing those other gifts, both of mind and body, with which nature has endowed him far above other men ; for I confess my incom- petence, and indeed I should consider Cicero or Virgil un- equal to so great a task. . . . II Petri Blesensis Opera Omnia, Vol. I, pp. 229-230. Migne, Patrologia. Translated by H. E. Tuell. Peter of Blois, archdeacon of Bath, to Roger the deacon, greeting and good counsel : No teacher is more trustworthy or more efficient than he who has tested by experience the theory which he teaches. Not long since I was sent to the king on business connected with the church of Canterbury. As usual I went into his presence cheerfully, but reading and understanding from his face the vexation of his spirit, I immediately closed my lips and held my tongue, fearful lest I should increase his irrita- tion, for to me his face was a faithful interpreter of his mind. So I postponed my business until a more favorable hour and a more serene countenance should prosper it. For he who approaches an angry prince on business is like unto one who spreads his nets in a storm. He who offers himself to the tempest without waiting for smoother water quickly destroys both himself and his nets. I know that your mission to the king is a disagreeable one, therefore it behooves you to carry yourself all the more cautiously. For even pleasant news may HENRY II AND BECKET 59 be irritating at an inopportune time and sometimes disagree- able matter may be so presented as to give pleasure. Be careful then. Do not hurry to bring your business before the king until the way is prepared by me or by some one else who knows his habits. For he is a lamb when his m.ind is at ease, but a lion or more fierce than a lion when he is aroused. It is no joke to incur the anger of one in whose hands are honor and disgrace, heirship and exile, life and death. Witness Solomon : the anger of a king is the mes- senger of death. Number 1 1 HENRY II AND BECKET Alfred Tennyson. Becket. Prologue Scene. A Castle in Normandy. Interior of the Hall. Roofs of a City seen thro' Windows Henry and Becket at chess Henry. So then our good Archbishop Theobald Lies dying. Becket. I am grieved to know as much. Henry. But we must h^ive a mightier man than he For his successor. Becket. Have you thought of one } Henry. A cleric lately poison 'd his own mother, And being brought before the courts of the Church, They but degraded him. I hope they whipt him. I would have hang'd him. 6o READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY The Church in the pell-mell of Stephen's time Hath climb'd the throne and almost clutch'd the crown ; But by the royal customs of our realm The Church should hold her baronies of me, Like other lords amenable to law. I'll have them written down and made the law. And if I live, No man without my leave shall excommunicate My tenants or my household. • •■•••■•• No man without my leave shall cross the seas To set the Pope against me — Henry. A moment ! thou didst help me to my throne In Theobald's time, and after by thy wisdom Hast kept it firm from shaking ; but now I, For my realm's sake, myself must be the wizard To raise that tempest which will set it trembling Only to base it deeper. I, true son Of Holy Church — no croucher to the Gregories That tread the kings their children underheel — Must curb her ; and the Holy Father, while This Barbarossa butts him from his chair, Will need my help — be facile to my hands. Now is my time. Yet — lest there should be flashes And fulminations from the side of Rome, An interdict on England — I will have My young son Henry crown'd the King of England, That so the Papal bolt may pass by England, As seeming his, not mine, and fall abroad. I'll have it done — and now. HENRY 11 AM) IJECKET 6 1 Becket. Surely too young Even for this shadow of a crown ; and tho' I love him heartily, 1 can spy already A strain of hard and headstrong in him. Say, The Queen should play his kingship against thine ! Henry. I will not think so, Thomas. Who shall crown him .'' Canterbury ^ is dying. Becket. The next Canterbury. Hctiry. And who shall he be, my friend Thomas } Who.? Becket. Name him ; the Holy Father will confirm him. Henry {lays his hand on Becket's sJionlder). Here ! Becket. Mock me not. I am not even a monk. Thy jest — no more. Why — look — is this a sleeve for an archbishop } Henry. But the arm within Is Becket's, who hath beaten down my foes. Becket. A soldier's, not a spiritual arm. Henry. I lack a spiritual soldier, Thomas ^ A man of this world and the next to boot. Becket. Sire, the business Of thy whole kingdom waits me ; let me go. Henry. Answer mc first. Becket. Then for thy barren jest Take thou mine answer in bare commonplace — N^olo cpiscopari. Hemy. A\', but Nolo ArcJiiepiscopari, my good friend, Is quite another matter. ' The Archbishop of Canterbury, Theobald. 62 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Becket. A more awful one. Make me archbishop ! Why, my hege, I know Some three or four poor priests a thousand times Fitter for this grand function. Me archbishop ! God's favor and king's favor might so clash That thou and I That were a jest indeed ! Henry. Thou angerest me, man ; I do not jest. Act I Scene I. Becket's House in London Chamber barely furnished. Becket unrobing. Herbert OF BosHAM and Servant Herbert. Was not the people's blessing as we passed Heart-comfort and a balsam to thy blood ? Becket. The people know their Church a tower of strength, A bulwark against Throne and l^aronage. Too heavy for me, this ; off with it, Herbert ! Herbert. Is it so much heavier than thy Chancellor's robe? Becket. No ; but the Chancellor's and the Archbishop's Together more than mortal man can bear. Herbert. Not heavier than thine armor at Toulouse ? Becket. O Herbert, Herbert, in my chancellorship I more than once have gone against the Church. Herbert. To please the King } Becket. Ay, and the King of kings. Or justice ; for it seem'd to me but just The Church should pay her scutage like the lords. But hast thou heard this crv of Gilbert Foliot HENRV II AND UKCRKT 63 That I am not the man to be your primate, For Henry could not work a miracle — Make an archbishop of a soldier ? Am I the man ? That rang Within my head last night, and when I slept Methought I stood in Canterbury Minster, And spake to the Lord God, and said, ' O Lord, I have been a lover of wines, and delicate meats, And secular splendors, and a favorer Of players, and a courtier, and a feeder Of dogs and hawks, and apes, and lions, and lynxes. Am / the man ? ' And the Lord answer'd me, ' Thou art the man, and all the more the man.' And then I asked again, ' O Lord my God, Henry the King hath been my friend, my brother. And mine uplifter in this world, and chosen me For this thy great archbishopric, believing That I should go against the Church with him, And I shall go against him with the Church, And I have said no word of this to him. Am / the man ? ' And the Lord answer'd me, ' Thou art the man, and all the more the man.' And thereupon, methought. He drew toward me, And smote me down upon the minster floor. I fell. ••••••••a Herbert. Be comforted. Thou art the man — be thou A mightier Anselm. Becket. I do believe thee, then. I am the man. And yet I seem appall'd — on such a sudden At such an eagle-height I stand and see The rift that runs between me and the King. 64 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY I served our Theobald well when I was with him ; I served King Henry well as Chancellor ; I am his no more, and I must serve the Church. This Canterbury is only less than Rome, And all my doubts I fling from me like dust, Winnow and scatter all scruples to the wind, And all the puissance of the warrior, And all the wisdom of the Chancellor, And all the heap'd experiences of life, I cast upon the side of Canterbury — Our holy mother Canterbury, who sits With tatter' d robes. Laics and barons thro' The random gifts of careless kings, have graspt Her livings, her advowsons, granges, farms. And goodly acres — we will make her whole ; Not one rood lost. And for these Royal customs. These ancient Royal customs — they arc Royal, Not of the Church — and let them be anathema. And all that speak for them anathema. Herbert. Thomas, thou art moved too much. Beeket. O Herbert, here I gash myself asunder from the King, Tho' leaving each, a wound ; mine own, a grief To show the scar for ever — his, a hate Not ever to be heal'd. My friend, the King ! — O thou Great Seal of England, Given me by my dear friend, the King of England — We long have wrought together, thou and I — Now must I send thee as a common friend To tell the King, my friend, I am against him. We are friends no more ; he will say that, not I. The worldly bond between us is dissolved, HENRY TT AND P.KCKKT Cy. Not yet the love. Can I be under him As Chancellor ? as Archbishop over him ? Go therefore like a friend slighted by one That hath climb'd up to nobler company. Not slighted — all but moan'd for. Thou must go, I have not dishonor'd thee — I trust I have not — Not mangled justice. May the hand that next Inherits thee be but as true to thee As mine hath been ! O my dear friend, the King ! brother ! — I may come to martyrdom. 1 am martyr in myself already. . . . Scene III. The Hall in Northampton Castle Becket. Where is the King 1 Roger of York. Gone hawking on the Nene, His heart so gall'd with thine ingratitude, He will not see thy face till thou hast sign'd These ancient laws and customs of the realm. Thy sending back the Great Seal madden 'd him ; He all but pluck'd the bearer's eyes away. Take heed lest he destroy thee utterl)-. Efiter King Henry Henr^i. Where 's Thomas } hath he signed .? show me the papers ! Sign'd and not seal'd ! How 's that .? John of Oxford. He would not seal. And when he sign'd, his face was stormy-red — Shame, wrath, I know not what. He sat down there And dropt it in his hands, and then a paleness, 66 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Like the wan twilight after sunset, crept Up even to the tonsure, and he groan'd, ' False to myself ! It is the will of God ! ' Henry. God's will be what it will, the man shall seal, Or I will seal his doom. My burgher's son — Nay, if I cannot break him as the prelate, I'll crush him as the subject. Send for him back. \Sits on J lis throne Barons and bishops of our realm of England, After the nineteen winters of King Stephen — A reign which was no reign, when none could sit By his own hearth in peace ; when murder common As nature's death, like Egypt's plague, had fill'd All things with blood ; when every door-way blush'd, Dash'd red with that unhallow'd passover ; When every baron ground his blade in blood ; The household dough was kneaded up with blood ; The mill-wheel turn'd in blood ; the wholesome plow Lay rusting in the furrow's yellow weeds, TiU'famine dwarf t the race — I came, your King ! Nor dwelt alone, like a soft lord of the East, In mine own hall, and sucking thro' fools' ears The flatteries of corruption — went abroad Thro! all my counties, spied my people's ways ; Yea, heard the churl against the baron — yea. And did him justice ; sat in mine own courts Judging my judges, that had found a King Who ranged confusions, made the twilight day. And struck a shape from out the vague, and law From madness. And the event — our fallows till'd, Much corn, repeopled towns, a realm again. So far my course, albeit not glassy-smooth. Had prosper'd in the main, but suddenly HENRY II AND I'.F.CKET 67 Jarr'd on this rock. A cleric violated The daughter of his host, and murder'd him. Bishops — York, London, Chichester, Westminster — Ye haled this tonsured devil into your courts ; But since your canon will not let you take Life for a life, ye but degraded him Where I had hang'd him. What doth hard murder care For degradation ? and that made me muse. Being boundcn by my coronation oath To do men justice. Look to it, your own selves ! Say that a cleric murder'd an archbishop, What could ye do ? Degrade, imprison him — Not death for death. Jo/in of Oxford. But I, my liege, could swear, To death for death. Hemy. And, looking thro' my reign, I found a hundred ghastly murders done By men, the scum and offal of the Church ; Then, glancing thro' the story of this realm, I came on certain wholesome usages. Lost in desuetude, of my grandsire's day. Good royal customs — had them written fair For John of Oxford here to read to you. John of Oxford. And I can easily swear to these as being The King's will and God's will and justice ; yet I could but read a part to-day, because — Fitznrsc. Because my lord of Canterbury — De Tracy. Ay, This lord of Canterbury — De Bfito. As is his wont Too much of late whene'er your royal rights Are mooted in our councils — Fitznrsc. — made an uproar. 68 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Henry. And Becket had my bosom on all this ; If ever man by bonds of gratefulness — I raised him from the puddle of the gutter, I made him porcelain from the clay of the city — Thought that I knew him, err'd thro' love of him, Hoped, were he chosen archbishop, Church and Crown, Two sisters gliding in an equal dance. Two rivers gently flowing side by side — But no ! The bird that moults sings the same song again. The snake that sloughs comes out a snake again. Snake — ay, but he that lookt a fangless one Issues a venomous adder. For he, when having dofft the Chancellor's robe — Flung the Great Seal of England in my face — Claim'd some of our crown lands for Canterbury — My comrade, boon companion, my co-reveller. The master of his master, the King's king. — God's eyes ! I had meant to make him all but king. Chancellor-Archbishop, he might well have sway'd All England under Henr)', the young King, When I was hence. What did the traitor say ? False to himself, but ten-fold false to me ! The will of God — why, then it is my will — Is he coming } Messenger {entering). With a crowd of worshippers, And holds his cross before him thro' the crowd. As one that puts himself in sanctuary. HENRY II AND P,KCKET 69 Act V Scene III. North Transept of Canterbury Cathedral Enter the Four Knights . . . Fitstcrse. Here, here, King's men ! [Catches hold of the last flying- Monk Where is the traitor Becket ? Monk. I am not he, I am not he, my lord. I am not he indeed. Fitaurse. Hence to the fiend ! [P?ishcs hivi aivay Where is this treble traitor to the King .? De Tracy. Where is the Archbishop, Thomas Becket } Becket. Here. No traitor to the King, but Priest of God, Primate of England. [Descending into the transept I am he ye seek. What would you have of me .? Fitznrse. Your life. De Tracy. Your life. De Tracy {lays hold of the pall). Come ; as he said, thou art our prisoner. Becket. Down ! [ Throws him headlong Fitcnrse {advances with drazvn stvord). I told thee that I should remember thee ! Becket. Profligate pander ! JO READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Fitzurse. Do you hear that ? Strike, strike. \St7ikes off the Archbishop's mitre, and zvoimds him in the forehead Becket {covers his eyes zvith his hand). I do commend my cause to God, the Virgin, Saint Denis of France and Saint Alphege of England, And all the tutelar Saints of Canterbury. • •••>•..•• Becket {falling on his knees). At the right hand of Power — Power and great glory — for thy Church, O Lord — Into thy hands, O Lord — into thy hands ! — \_Sinks prone Number 12 PORTRAIT OF KING RICHARD I Richard (of the Holy Trinity?). Itinemrium Pt'iri^n-hioriim et Gesta Regis Ricardi, Lib. II, c. 45. T. A. Archer, The Crusade of Richard /, pp. 7-S. The Itinerarium Peregrinorum et Gesta Regis Ricardi is supposed to be the work of a certain Richard, canon of the Church of the Holy Trinity in London. It appears to be largely a Latin translation of the narrative of a French poet who went on the Third Crusade. The author claims that he was an eyewitness to the scenes he describes. He was lofty in stature, of a shapely build, with hair half- way between red and yellow. His limbs were straight and flexible, his arms somewhat long and, for this very reason, better fitted than those of most folk to draw or wield the sword. Moreover he had long legs, matching the character of his whole frame. His features showed the ruler, while his man- ners and his bearing added not a little to his general presence. AN INCIDENT OF THE TlllRD CRUSADE 71 Not only could he claim the loftiest position and j^raise in virtue of his noble birth, but also by reas(;n of his virtues. But why should I extol so great a man with laboured praise? Honour enough his merit brings, He needs no alien praise, In whose train, Glory, like a king's Follows through all his days. He far surpassed other men in the courtesy of his manners and the vastness of his strength ; memorable was he for his warlike deeds and power, while his splendid achievements would throw a shade over the greatest praise we could give them. Ntimber 13 AN INCIDENT OF THE THIRD CRUSADE Richard (of the Holy Trin'ity?). Itinerarium Peregritiorum et Gesta Regis KicarJi, Lib. IV, c. 30. T. A. Archer, The Cnisade of Richard I, pp. 1 77- 181. For the author, see Number 12, above. On the sixth day after All Saints, that is on the Feast of St. Leonard, there went out into the country certain camp fol- lowers and men-at-arms to seek grass for the horses and fodder for the mules. The Templars went ahead of the men-at-arms so as to ensure them safety as they wandered away from one another over the valleys on the look out for grassy places. For they were wont to scatter themselves in this way when in quest of herbage — herbage which they not seldom washed with their blood owing to their lack of caution. While the Templars, as we have said, were keeping a watch over the men-at-arms, suddenly from the direction of Bombrac some 4000 Turkish horsemen, orderly drawn up in four squadrons, leapt forth and attacked the Templars boldly. So closely did they hem the Templars in as to bid fair to 72 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY destroy or take them captive. This band of Turks was con- stantly being increased by fresh-comers, till the Templars, hedged in as they were, and seeing it was a case of emer- gency, dismounted from their steeds. Then setting back to back firmly, and turning their faces to the enemy, they began to defend themselves manfully. But the Turks swooping down killed three Templars on the spot. Then might be seen indeed a fierce fight, and blows most valorous. Helms rang and fiery sparks darted out where sword clashed with sword ; armour rattled, and there was a din of [many] voices. The Turks pressed on like men ; the Templars [as] firmly hurled them back : the one body threat- ened ; the other repelled. The Turks came on bravely ; the Templars defended themselves with the utmost courage. At last the Turks, swarming up in greater numbers, put out their hands to seize the Templars who were now almost overpow- ered, when lo ! Andrew de Chavigni, coming up to their aid at full speed with 1 5 knights, rescued them from the hands of their foes. Most valiantly did the same Andrew bear him- self on this occasion, as did also his comrades when they set upon this crowd of enemies and routed it. But, for all this, the host of the Turks kept on growing larger; now they pressed on ; now they fled ; then once more the battle was renewed. Meanwhile king Richard who was carefully super- vising the fortification of Casal Maen, hearing the din of conflict, bade the two earls of St. Pol and Leicester ride with all speed to the Templars' aid. With them he sent William de Cageu and Otho de Trasynges. As these knights were on the point of starting there rose a cry for help from the before-mentioned men-at-arms. Hear- ing this the king bade the earls make speed and, seizing his own arms as fast as he could, followed in their wake. Now, as the two earls were hastily riding along, on a sudden AN INCIDENT OF THE THIRD CRUSADE 73 about 4000 of the enemy, leaping out of an ambush from the neighborhood of a certain stream, formed themselves into two masses. Of these two thousand attacked the Templars, while the other two thousand turned against the two earls and their comrades. Seeing this the earls, drawing up their men in fitting order, got ready for battle. . . . The battle was already raging more fiercely on either side, when Richard came up trembling [with wrath]. Some of his followers reckoning the men he led too few to attack so vast a host of enemies, said to him : '" Lord king, we judge it un- wise to begin what we are not sure of being able to carry out. We do not judge it safe to attack so great and so valiant a force with only a few [warriors]. Even if )ou are minded to make so bold a venture you will not be able to bear their on- set or to gain your object, if it is your intention to succour our friends by driving off their assailants. For our numbers are not sufficient against so many. Surely it were better to let these men — surrounded as they are by our foes — perish than for thee to get encompassed by the Turks. For, in that case, the very hope of Christendom would perish, and the mainstay of all our confidence fall. We deem it the wiser counsel to secure your safety and decline the fight." To their persuasion the king replied, changing colour : "When I sent my loved comrades out to war it was with the promise of bringing them aid. And if I fail to do this, so far as I can, I shall deceive those who trusted to me. And should they meet with death in my absence — which I pray may never happen — never more will I bear the name of king." Utter- ing no more words he spurred forward his steed, bursting upon the Turks with wonderful fury, by his vigorous onset scattering their close ranks like a thunderbolt, and laying many low by the mere vigour of his movements. Then, turn- ing back to his own men, he scattered the whole body of the 74 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY enemy, brandishing his sword, going hither and thither, back- wards and forwards, bold as a Hon. . . . Amongst others, he smote and slew a certain emir of gigantic strength and great fame, Ar-al-chais by name. Why recount details ? When the enemy had been routed and pursued our men returned to their own quarters with very many captives. Thus was the battle waged on this day without any aid from the French. On the same day three Turkish apostates, renouncing their vain superstition and becoming Christians, submitted to King Richard — it may be through fear of death. Number i^ THE WINNING OF THE GREAT CHARTER Kate Norgate. Jolui Lackland, pp. 211-234, passim. . . .'On August 25, 1 21 3, he [Archbishop Stephen of Can- terbury] had gathered the bishops, abbots and other ecclesi- astical dignitaries, with some of the lay magnates, around him in S. Paul's cathedral that they might receive his instructions concerning a partial relaxation of the interdict, which he was empowered to grant, pending the arrival of the legate. It was said that he had afterwards called aside the lay members of the assembly to a secret meeting in which he laid before them a yet weightier matter. '" Ye have heard " — thus he was reported to have addressed them — "how, when I ab- solved the king at Winchester, I made him swear to put down bad laws and enforce throughout his realm the good laws of Edward, Now, there has been found also a certain charter of King Henry I.^ by which, if ye will, ye may recall to their 1 For the charter of Henry I, see Number g above. THE WINNING OF THE GREAT CHARTER 75 former estate the liberties which ye have so long lost." — ... "And when this charter had been read through and interpreted to the barons, they rejoiced with very great joy, and all swore in the archbishop's presence that when they saw a fitting time they would fight for those liberties, if it were needful, even unto death ; the archbishop, too, promised them his most faithful help to the utmost of his power. And, a confederacy being thus made between them, the conference was dissolved." This story is given by Roger of Wendover ^ only as a rumour ; but whether the rumour were literally true or not, it was at any rate founded upon a fact : the fact that the movement which was to result in the Great Charter owed its true im- pulse to the patriotism, as it owed its success to the statesman- ship, not of any of the barons, but of Stephen Langton. . . . England in the sixteenth year of King John was suffer- ing under an accumulation of grievances consisting, as Ralph of Coggeshair-^ truly says, of all " the evil customs which the king's father and brother had raised up for the oppression of the Church and realm, together with the abuses which the king himself had added thereto." No doubt these last formed the worst part of the evil, and it was the addition of them that gave such an increase of bitterness to all the rest, . . . Again, the corrupt administration of the sheriffs had been matter of complaint under Henry ; but it was far worse under John ; for whereas Henry, and after him Hubert Walter acting for Richard, had endeavoured by various means to check the independent action and curtail the powers of the sheriffs, now the king himself was almost openly in league with those officers, and their usurpations and extortions were not merely 1 Roger of Wendover was the compiler of the " Flowers of History," a chronicle written at the Abbey of St. Albans. He gives a contemporary account of the events of this period. 2 Ralph of Coggeshall was abbot of the Cistercian Abbey of Coggeshall. His " Chronicon Anglicanum " gives a contemporary account of the reign of John. 76 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY condoned, but encouraged, if not even directly instigated, by him for his own interest. . . . The whole judicial administration of the realm was corrupt. There was very distinctly one law for the rich and another for the poor. Justice was sold, delayed, or refused altogether, at the king's will. . . . . The exactions and usurpations of the Crown were of the most various kinds, and affected every class of society. . . . The only class which was as yet capable of making any corporate opposition or protest was the baronage ; and hitherto the discontent of the barons had shown itself only in the re- sistance of some of their number to the king's demands on certain special occasions and in reference to certain special points which affected them personally as tenants-in-chief. But there was now one man in England who looked at the questions at issue between them and the king from a higher standpoint than theirs, and in whose eyes those questions were only small parts of a much wider and deeper question, on the solution of which he had set his mind from the very hour of his landing in the realm. One chronicler relates that John's first impulse on hearing of Archbishop Stephen's arrival in England had been to withdraw himself to some remote place and put off their meeting as long as possible, and that he had only been induced to abandon this intention by the remonstrances of some of the barons. Whether this particular story be true or not, it seems plain that John's con- duct throughout his quarrel with the Church was to a great extent dictated by personal dislike to the archbishop. This feeling must have been mainly instinctive ; for the two men had never seen each other till they met at Winchester on July 20, 12 1 3. The instinct, however, was a true one: it was Stephen Eangton who was to give the first impulse to the work which was destined — though not till long after THE WINNINC; OF THE {}REAT CHARTER 77 he had passed away — to make the rule of such a king as John impossible for evermore. The archbishop was determined to be satisfied with nothing short of a literal fulfilment of the promise on which he had insisted as a condition of the king's absolution, the promise that to " all men " their rights should be restored. He saw that this end could be gained only by the instrumentality of the barons ; he also saw that it could be gained only by a policy based on clearer and firmer, as well as broader and nobler, lines than any of them were capable of designing. They, indeed, had no definite scheme of policy ; nor had they any leader able to furnish them with such a scheme. . . . Another guide offered himself to them in the person of Stephen Langton, and offered to them at the same time a definite basis of action in the charter of Henry I. Whether the offer was made at the meeting in S. Paul's in August 121 3, or at some later date and in some other way, is of little consequence ; it is enough that antecedent probability and after-history alike justify the general belief of which Roger of Wendover is the spokesman : — that it was Langton who brought to light the charter of which the very existence seems to have been forgotten, and it was from him that the barons adopted it as the basis of their demands. The step which they took in so doing was weightier than, probably, they themselves had any idea of. . . . For the greater purpose which Langton had in view, the value of the charter lay in its opening of the way to wider reforms by the incidental claims which bound the tenants-in-chief to extend to their sub-tenants the same benefits which they themselves received from the king, arid in the comprehensive sentence which declared the abolition of "all evil customs whereby the realm was unjustly oppressed." The more thoughtful among the confederate barons may perhaps by this 78 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY time have begun to see that, even from a selfish point of view, they had nothing to lose, and might have something to gain, by identifying their cause with that of the nation as a whole. . . . But whatever the barons may have thought about these matters, the king was statesman enough to see as clearly as the primate how weighty and far-reaching might be the consequences involved in the demand for a renewal of the charter. He therefore postponed its discussion till after Christmas. Such is the brief statement of the Barnwell annalist. In its stead Roger of Wendover gives us a dramatic scene in S. Edmund's abbey. " The earls and barons of England," he tells us, came together in that sanctuary, " as if for prayer ; but there was something else in the matter, for after they had held much secret discourse, there was brought forth in their midst the charter of King Henry I., which the same barons had received in London, as hath been before said, from Arch- bishop Stephen of Canterbury. Then they went all together to the church of S. Edmund the King and Martyr, and be- ginning with the eldest, they swore on the high altar that if the king sought to evade their demand for the laws and lib- erties which that charter contained, they would make war upon him and withdraw from fealty to him till he should, by a charter furnished with his seal, confirm to them all that they demanded. They also agreed that after Christmas they would go all together to the king, and ask him for a confirmation of the aforesaid liberties ; and that meanwhile they would so provide themselves with horses and arms that if the king should seek to break his oath, they might by seizing his castles compel him to make satisfaction. And when these things were done they returned every man to his own home." ... He [John] kept Christmas at Worcester, and re- turned to London at the opening of the new year. There, at '[HE WINNING OF THE GREAT CHARTER 79 Epiphany, the confederate barons came to him in a body, " in somewhat showy military array," and prayed him " that certain laws and liberties of King Edward, with other liberties granted to them and to the English Church and realm, might be confirmed, as they were written in the charter of King Henry I. and the laws aforesaid ; moreover they declared that at the time of his absolution at Winchester, he had promised those ancient laws and liberties, and thus he was bound by his own oath to the observance of the same." John cautiously answered that " the matter which they sought was great and difficult, wherefore he asked for a delay till the close of Easter, that he might consider how to satisfy both their demands and the dignity of his crown." . , . ... At length John — secure in the consciousness tliat he could refuse every petition on the plea that it was not just — authorized his commissioners to demand of the barons, in his name, a categorical statement of the laws and liberties which they desired. This message was delivered to the insurgents by the pri- mate and the Marshal, at Brackley, on Monday, April 27 — the day after that originally fixed for the meeting of the bar- ons and the king. " Then they [the barons] presented to the envoys a certain schedule, which consisted for the most part of ancient laws and customs of the realm, declaring that if the king did not at once grant these things and confirm them with his seal, they would compel him by force." . . . Lang- ton and the Marshal carried it back to the king, who was now in Wiltshire. One bv one the articles were read out to him by the primate. John listened with a scornful smile : " Why do these barons not ask for my kingdom at once } " he said. "Their demands are idle dreams, without a shadow of reason." Then he burst into a fuiy, and swore that he would never grant to them liberties which would make himself a slave. In 8o READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY vain the archbishop and the Marshal endeavoured to persuade him to yield ; he only bade them go back to the barons and repeat ever)' word that he had said. They performed their errand ; and the barons immediately sent to the king a formal renunciation of their homage and fealty, and chose for them- selves a captain-general in the person of Robert Fitz-Walter, to whom they gave the title of " Marshal of the army of God and Holy Church." They then marched back to Northampton, occupied the town and laid siege to the castle. The king was not behindhand in his preparations for war. His friends were already mustering. . . . Orders were issued for strengthening the fortifications of London, Oxford, Nor- wich, Bristol and Salisbury. The earls of Salisbury, Warren, Pembroke and others perambulated the country to see that the royal castles were properly fortified and manned ; help was summoned from Flanders and from Poitou. . . . Mean- while the " northern " barons had found Northampton castle too strong to be taken without military engines which they did not possess ; so at the end of a fortnight they had raised the siege and moved on to Bedford. Here the castle was given up to them by its commandant, William de Beauchamp. Their forces were rapidly increasing in number ; the younger men especially, sons and nephews of the greater barons, joined them readily, " wishing to make for themselves a name in war " ; the elder magnates for the most part, clave to the king "as their lord." . . . John knew, however, that the game was lost. . . . The king was almost deserted ; at one moment he is said to have had only seven knights left in his suite ; the sessions of the Exchequer and of the sheriff's courts throughout the country had ceased, because no one would pay him anything or obey him in any matter. . . . Finally he despatched William the Marshal and some other trusty envoys to tell the barons in THE WINNING OF THE GREAT CHARTER 8 1 London " that for the sake of peace and for the welfare and honour of his realm, he would freely concede to them the laws and liberties which they asked ; and that they might appoint a place and day for him and them to meet, for the settlement of all these things." The messengers " guilelessly performed the errand which had been guilefully imposed upon them " ; and the barons, '" buoyed up with immense joy," fixed the meeting to take place on June 1 5 in a meadow between Staines and Windsor, called Runnimead. There on the appointed morning, the two parties pitched their tents at a little distance from each other on the long reach of level grass-land which stretched along the river-bank. The barons came, "with a multitude of most illustrious knights, all thoroughly well armed." "' It is useless," says another chronicler, " to enumerate those who were present on the side of the barons, for they comprised well-nigh all the nobility of England." With the king were the archbishops of Canterbury and Dublin, seven bishops, Pandulf — who had been sent back to England as the Pope's representative , . . — the Master of the English Templars, the earls of Pem- broke, Salisbury, Warren and Arundel, and about a dozen barons of lesser degree, including Hubert de Burgh. It was to these chosen few, and above all to the first of them, that John really capitulated. His declaration that he granted the Great Charter b\- their counsel may well have been true of them all ; his most devoted adherents could, if they had any political sagacity, advise him nothing else for his own interest. The terms of capitulation, however, imply more than this. Nominally, the treaty — for it was nothing less — was based upon a set of forty-nine articles " which the barons demanded and the lord king granted." But those articles are obviously not the composition of " the barons " mustered under Robert Fitz- Waltcr. livery step of tlic proceedings of these insurgents 82 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY up to that moment, every step of their proceedings after- wards, as well as everything that is known of the character of their leaders, goes to show that they were no more capable of rising to the lofty conception embodied in the Charter — the conception of a contract between king and people which should secure equal rights to every class and every individual in the nation — than they were capable of formulating it in the minute detail and the carefully chosen phraseology of the Charter or even of the Articles. The true history of the treaty of Runnimead is told in one brief sentence by Ralph of Coggeshall : "By the intervention of the archbishop of Can- terbury, with several of his fellow-bishops and some barons, a sort of peace was made." In other words, the terms were drawn up by Stephen Langton with the concurrence of the other bishops who were at hand, and of the few lay barons, on either side, who were statesmen enough to look at the crisis from a higher standpoint than that of personal interest ; they were adopted — for the moment — by the mass of the insur- gents as being a weapon, far more effective than any that they could have forged for themselves, for bringing the strug- gle with the king ( so at least they hoped ) to an easy and a speedy end ; and they were accepted — also for the moment — by John, as his readiest and surest way of escape from a position of extreme difficulty and peril. Thus before night- fall the Great Charter was sealed ; and in return John received anew the homage of the barons who had defied him. THE GREAT CHARTER, 1215 83 Nti}7iber i^ THE GREAT CHARTER, 1215 F. C. MoNTAfUJK. Elements of English Constitutional History, pp. 53-57. The whole of the constitutional history of England, it has been said, is a commentary on this charter. It consists of sixty-three articles, which differ greatly in length and in im- portance, and which are not arranged in any regular order ; but its principal provisions may be brought under a few heads. I, The CJuircJi. — ^ John, we have seen, had already granted freedom of election to the clergy. He now confirmed the grant, thus parting with a power which his predecessors had enjoyed since the Conquest. He also confirmed to the Church all her other liberties. The barons could not ask less for the clergy who had supported them, and John could not offer less, as he depended on the assistance of the Pope. n. The Te?ia?its-in-ehief. — The king undertook not to abuse his feudal rights so as to extract from his tenants-in- chicf more than was due. (i) No tenant-in-chief was to be called upon for more than the regular service. (2) Upon the death of the tenant, his heir was to succeed on payment of a fixed relief. (3) If the heir was a minor, the king was to act honestly as his guardian, not taking more than the cus- tomary payments and services from those who lived upon the estate, nor wasting the buildings and enclosures. (4) If the king chose a husband or wife for the heir, he was to choose a person of suitable rank. The king was not to compel any widow to marry. (5) No scutage or aid was to be levied without the consent of the common council of the realm, except in the three customary cases — to ransom the king's person, to marry his eldest daughter, and to make his eldest son a knight. 84 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY When the consent of the common council of the realm was required for an extraordinary aid, the king was to sum- mon all his tenants-in-chief ; the archbishops, bishops, earls, and greater barons singly by letters addressed to each, and the other tenants-in-chief by a general summons sent to the sheriff of each county. Forty days' notice was to be given, and the place of meeting and the causes of summons were to be expressly stated. III. The Rights of Cities and Tozvns. — To London, and to all other cities, boroughs, and ports, the king guaranteed all their ancient liberties. IV. Administration of Jtistice. — The king promised (i) that the administration of justice should no longer be made a source of gain to the Crown. " To no man will we sell, to no man will we deny or delay, right or justice." (2) That no man should be punished without due trial. " No free man shall be taken, or imprisoned, disseised, or outlawed, or exiled, or in any way destroyed, nor will we go upon him, or send upon him, save by the lawful judgment of his peers or the law of the land." Lawful judgment of his peers was afterwards construed to mean trial by jury, but it is now agreed that the words do not bear this meaning. (3) That unreasonable and oppressive fines should no longer be im- posed. Fines were to be proportioned to the offence, so as not to take from the freeholder his land, from the merchant his merchandise, or from the villein his wainage (i.e., farm- ing stock). (4) That suitors who came to have their private disputes determined in the King's court should not be put to the inconvenience of following him wherever he happened to be. Such suits (called common pleas) were to be heard in some fixed place. This led to the establishment of a new branch of the King's court, distinct from the King's Bench, and known as the Court of Common Pleas. This, the second THE GREAT CHARTER, 1215 85 court of common law, continued to exist until the year 1873. (5) That the judges should go circuit four times a year to decide questions of title to property. V. The Forests. — All forests made since the accession of John were to be disforested. In every county twelve knights were to be chosen and sworn to inquire into the evil customs in force in the forests. All such customs reported by them were to be annulled within forty days. VI. Miscellaneous. — (i) In time of peace all merchants were to be free to come to England, to stay in England, and to leave England without being subjected to extortion of any kind. (2) No servant of the king was to take the horses or carts of any free man for the king's ser\dce without the owner's leave, or to take the corn or goods of any man with^ out paying for them. (3) One system of weights and meas- ures was to be established throughout the kingdom. The charter concludes with a singular provision intended to secure its observance. The king empowered the barons to choose twenty-five of tHeir number to watch over its ob- servance. Any four out of the twenty-five might demand re- dress for any infringement of the charter from the king, or, if he were absent, from the justiciar. If redress was not granted within forty days, the twenty-five barons were author- ised to put constraint upon the king by seizing his lands and castles, or by any other means, saving always the liberty of himself, his queen, and children. Observations upon the Great Charter. — The following points deserve special notice : — (i) The demand for the Great Charter was made virtually by the whole nation. The barons took the leading part, but they were supported by London and the other towns. In former times the common people had supported the king against the barons ; they now supported the barons against 86 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY the king. From this fact we may infer how much Henry II. had weakened the power of the nobles and increased the power of the Crown. We may also infer that the barons were now fighting for the interest of the whole nation, not, as in former times, for their private advantage. The clerg)' could not openly take part with the barons, for John was now a vassal of the Pope, and under his protection. But Archbishop Langton had helped the barons to put their grievances into a precise form, by suggesting that they should ask for the observ'ance of the charter of Henry I. There is little doubt that the secret sympathy of the clergy was with the people. Even the few English nobles who followed John to the last approved of the Great Charter. (2) As the barons were speaking for the nation, so they demanded justice, not for themselves only, but for all con- ditions of men. By the Great Charter all the privileges which the king granted to his tenants-in-chief were to be granted by the tenants-in-chief to their vassals. All free men were en- sured against injustice and oppression. Even for the class which was not free, the villein class, it was provided that their stock should not be taken by way of fine. The freedom prom- ised to the towns and the lessening of the royal forests were especially beneficial to the middle and lower classes. (3) Although John said that to grant the demands of the barons would be giving away his crown, their demands were remarkably moderate. They made scarcely a single demand for which there was not a precedent. Their scheme of re- dress was based upon the charter granted by so despotic a prince as Henry I. They did not endeavour to set up a new constitution. They only asked for righteous government on the old principles. It is true that John drove them to ask with arms in their hands, and that the precedent of success- ful resistance to the king had immeasurable consequences. THE SIGNIFICANCE OF MAGNA CHARTA 87 But the barons had not resorted to force until John con- vinced them that they would not get redress in any other way. (4) The Great Charter left the King still supreme in the state. It was only for the purpose of obtaining an extraor- dinary aid that the King was bound to summon a great coun- cil. This great council, too, was strictly on the feudal model. It was to include all the tenants-in-chief, and the tenants-in- chief only. Such a council was rarely called either before or after the date of the Great Charter. It would have been too large for business and too narrow for representation. The kings of England had usually summoned only their greater tenants to advise them in council. Only the greater tenants were entitled, under the Great Charter, to a separate sum- mons. The barons found in the next reign that, if they were to curb the king, they must associate with themselves the representatives of the commons. In the struggle for the observance of the Great Charter the English Parliament had its origin. Number 16 THE SIGNIFICANCE OF MAGNA CHARTA William Pitt, Earl of Chatham. Excerpts from speeches delivered in the House of Lords. Chauncey A. Goodrich, Select British Eloquence, pp. 112, 113, 115. For Chatham, see Number 62. The Constitution has its Political Bible, by which, if it be fairly consulted, every political question may, and ought to be determined. Magna Charta, the Petition of Rights, and the Bill of Rights, form that code which I call the Bible of the Ens'lisJi Constitution. 88 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY II ... It is to j/otir ancestors, my Lords, it is to the English barons, that we are indebted for the laws and Constitution we possess. Their virtues were rude and uncultivated, but they were great and sincere. Their understandings were as little polished as their manners, but they had hearts to distin- guish right from wrong ; they had heads to distinguish truth from falsehood ; they understood the rights of humanity, and they had spirit to maintain them. My Lords, I think that history has not done justice to their conduct, when they obtained from their sovereign that great acknowledgment of national rights contained in Magna Charta : they did not confine it to themselves alone, but delivered it as a common blessing to the whole people. They did not say, these are the rights of the great barons, or these are the rights of the great prelates. No, my I^ords, they said, in the simple Latin of the times, " nullus liber homo " [no free man], and provided as carefully for the meanest subject as for the greatest. These are uncouth words, and sound but poorly in the ears of scholars ; neither are they addressed to the criticism of scholars, but to the hearts of free men. These three words, " nullus liber homo," have a meaning which interests us all. They deserve to be remembered — they de- serve to be inculcated in our minds — ///rj/ are worth all the classics. Let us not, then, degenerate from the glorious ex- ample of our ancestors. Those iron barons (for so I may call them when compared with the silken barons of modern days) were the guardians of the people ; . . . . . . There is one ambition, at least, which I ever will acknowledge, which I will not renounce but with my life. It is the ambition of delivering to my posterity those rights of freedom which I have received from my ancestors. SIMON DE MONTFORT 89 Number // SIMON DE MONTFORT Charles B6mont. Simon de Montfort, Comte de Leicester, pp. 259-261. Translated by H. E. Tuell. Simon de Montfort has been variously regarded by histo- rians. Exalted by some, severely judged by others, he has at least been considered by all as a man above the ordinary. Called by circumstances to play a part at a critical moment in the destinies of a great country, both his character and his talents placed him in the forefront of affairs. Brought up in France and coming to England in early manhood, he did not long remain a stranger to the passions, the ideas, and the needs of his adopted country. He might, like so many others, have founded his fortune on the royal favor and maintained it by subservience. At first he was successful at the trade of courtier; but he was born to rule, not to serve. After a quarrel with the King, his brother-in-law, he took his stand against arbitrary power, and soon, especially after his service as Gov- ernor of Gascony, became its determined enemy. His rela- tions with some of the loftiest spirits and purest characters of the time had a salutary influence upon him. His enmity to Henry HI appeared at first to indicate immoderate pride or unsatisfied ambition, but it really took its rise in a nobler sentiment, a passion for the public good. Before the Parlia- ment of Oxford his friends put all their trust in him ; after 1258 the whole country looked to him as the leader of the Revolution. He was then and he remained the head of a party. The Revolution was started by and in the interest of the aristoc- racy in state and church ; and its object was to keep the power in the hands of this aristocracy. The Great Charter hardly 90 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY restricted the arbitrary power of the King. New guarantees were necessary. In his opinion the Parhament alone could furnish these guarantees by putting the King in tutelage. At that time the same question was under discussion in most of the great states of Europe. The kings, who wished to build up absolute power for their own advantage, were forced to struggle against feudalism. In England the feudal system was peculiar, quite different from the system in Germany or in France. The great English nobles, counts, and barons were not petty sovereigns as they were on the continent. Their estates did not form, as it were, separate states within the state. Doubdess they had important privileges ; the pos- session of numerous fiefs gave them real influence, but ordi- narily these fiefs were widely scattered, not in compact groups. By themselves these great lords had but little political power. They could not rule unless they acted in unison ; nay more, they could not rule if isolated from the rest of the nation. Moreover, the local institutions of England made such isola- tion impossible : in the counties ordinary business was trans- acted in the presence of an assembly which included the great nobles and higher clergy, and also the representatives of the lesser nobles, the towns and the country districts. It is not surprising that the same system gradually crept into the Par- liament of the realm. Usually the Parliament included only the prelates and great nobles of the kingdom ; usually the county court met without the great nobles and prelates ; but at times of crisis the two orders came together. This is what took place in 1265 : the situation was peculiarly difficult and important, so the three orders of the state came together with unusual solemnity. It was the force of English institutions that brought about this result, not the will of any one man. Simon de Montfort is not, as has been sometimes said, the founder of the House of Commons. SIMON DE MONTFORT 9 1 Nevertheless, however narrow his ideas of reform, he served the cause of EngHsh hberty to the bitter end ; hke Thomas Becket he died for it ; his martyrdom certainly ac- complished more for the triumph of the good cause than his projects would have brought to pass, even if he had been able to carry them out at leisure. His rivals, his enemies even, took up his work. Two years after Evesham, the statute of Marlborough embodied in part the Provisions of Oxford, which thus became the law of the land instead of the war measure of a single party. This was the logic of events : royalty must needs yield to the desires of reform, that it might the better guide them. With the fine instinct of a born ruler, Edward I turned legislator. He was of those who can learn from revolutions. Towards the end of his reign he introduced into the state a new element ; after 1295 he only called Parliaments made up after the model of the Parliament of 1265. This is the definite advent of the third estate as a political power. To this, the work of a whole century, Simon de Montfort, " that great and courageous party leader," gave the decisive impulse. Perhaps without being aware of it, he created one of the most characteristic precedents which paved the way for the slow evolution of England towards political liberty. He created nothing else, but that is enough for his glory. 92 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Number i8 THE LAMENT OF EARL SIMON Simon de Montfort and his Cause, pp. 166-168. Edited by W. H. Hutton. The authorship of this song is unknown. It is one of many political songs written during the Barons' War. 1 . Sing must I now, my heart wills so, Altho' my tongue be rude, With tearful thought, this song was wrought, Of England's barons good : Who for the peace, made long ago, Went gladly to the grave. Their bodies gashed and scarred and slashed, Our English land to save. Refrain. — Now low there lies, the flower of price. That knew so much of war, ; The Earl Montfort, whose luckless sort The land shall long deplore. 2. On a Tuesday, as I heard say. The battle it was fought, From horseback all they fight and fall. Of footmen had they nought. Full cruelly they struck that day All with the brandished brand, But in the end Sir Edward's men They got the upper hand. Refrain 3. But by his death earl Simon hath In sooth the victory won. Like Canterbury's martyr he There to the death was done. THE LAMENT V¥ EARL SLMON Thomas the good, that never would Let holy Church be tried, Like him he fought and flinching not The good earl like him died. Refrain 4. Death did they face to keep in place Both righteousness and peace. Wherefore the saint from sin and taint Shall give their souls release ; They faced the grave that they might save The people of this land, For so his will they did fulfill, As we do understand. Refrain 5. Next to the skin when they stripped him They found a shirt of hair, Those felons strong that wrought the wrong, And foully slew him there ; But worse their sin to mangle him, A man that was so good, That how to fight and keep the right So truly understood. Refrain 6. Sir Hugh the proud, Despenser good, That noble judge and wise, So wrongfully was doomed to die In very evil guise ; Sir Henry too, I tell you true. The earl of Lincoln's son. Others also earl Gloucester slew. As ye shall hear anon. Refrain 94 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY 7. No earl or lord but sore hath erred And done things men must blame, Both squire and knight have wrought un-right, They all are put to shame. Through them, in sooth, both faith and truth Are perished from this land. The wicked man unchecked may reign The fool in folly stand, Refrain Sir Simon now, that knight so true. With all his company. Are gone above to joy and love In life that cannot die ; But may our Lord that died on rood And God send succour yet To them that lie in misery. Fast in hard prison set ! Refrain Wherefore I pray, sweet friends alway Seek of Saint Mary's Son, That He may lead to His high meed Him that this rime hath done ; I will not name the scholar's name, I would not have it known For love of Him, that saves from sin Pray for clerks all and one. Refrain DAILY LIFE IN A MEDI^.VAL MONASTERY 95 Number ig DAILY LIFE IN A MEDI/EVAL MONASTERY Augustus Jessopp. The Coming of the Friars, and Other Historic Essays, chap, iii, passim. " Now I think on't, They should be good men ; their affairs as righteous : But all hoods make not monks." . When the monasteries were suppressed by Henry VIII. there was an utter obliteration of an order of things which had existed in our island for certainly more than a thousand years, and how much longer it is impossible to say. The names of religious houses which are known to have existed before the Norman Conquest count by hundreds ; the names of men and women who presided over such houses during the centuries preceding that event count by thousands. Some of these religious houses had passed through the strangest vicissitudes ; they had been pillaged again and again ; they had been burnt by Danish marauders ; their inmates driven out into the wilderness or ruthlessly put to the sword ; their lands given over to the spoiler or gone out of cultivation ; their very existence in some cases almost forgotten ; yet they had revived again and again from their ashes. When William the Conqueror came among us, and the stern rule of his began, there was scarcely a county in England and Wales in which one or more religious houses were not to be found, and during his reign of twenty-one years about thirty new monasteries of one sort or another were added to those already existing. . . . It was natural enough, when society was in a condition of profound disorganization, and sensuality and violence were in the ascendant, that men and women of gentle nature should become convinced that the higher life could only be lived in 96 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY lonely retirement, far from the sound of human voices and the contact of human creatures, whose very nearness almost implies sin. . . . In the thirteenth century (and I shall as much as possible confine myself to the limits of that period), a monastery meant what we now understand it to mean — viz., the abode of a society of men or women who lived together in common — who were supposed to partake of common meals ; to sleep together in one common dormitory ; to attend certain services together in their common church ; to transact certain business or pursue certain employments in the sight and hearing of each other in the common cloister ; and, when the end came, to be laid side by side in the common graveyard, where in theory none but members of the order could find a resting- place for their bones. . . . A monastery in theory then was, as it was called, a Reli- gious House. It was supposed to be the home of people whose lives were passed in the worship of God, and in taking care of their own souls, and making themselves fit for a better world than this hereafter. As for this world, it was lying in wickedness ; if men remained in this wicked world they would most certainly become contaminated by all its pollutions ; the only chance of ever attaining to holiness lay in a man or woman's turning his back upon the world and running away from it. It was no part of a monk's duty to reform the world ; all he had to do was to look after himself, and to save himself from the wrath to come. It is hardly overstating the case if I say that a monastery was not intended to be a benevolent institution ; and if a great religious house became, as it almost inevitably did become, the centre of civilization and refine- ment, from which radiated light and warmth and incalculable blessings far and wide, these results flowed naturally from that growth and development which the original founders DAILY LIFE IN A MEDI.*:VAL MONASTERY 97 had never looked forward to or could have foreseen, but it was never contemplated as an end to be aimed at in the beginning. Being a home for religious men, whose main business was to spend their days and nights in worshipping God, the first requisite, the first and foremost, the sitic qiia non was, that there should be a church. On the church of a monastery, as a rule, no amount of money spent, no amount of lavish ornament or splendour of decoration, was grudged. Sculpture and painting, jewels and gold, gorgeous hangings, and stained-glass that the moderns vainly attempt to imitate, the purple and fine linen of the priestly vestments, embroidery that to this hour remains unapproachable in its delicacy of finish and in the perfect harmony of colours — all these were to be found in almost in- credible profusion in our monastic churches. You hear some people work themselves into a frenzy against the idolatrous worship of our forefathers ; but to a monk of a great monas- tery his church was his idol — to possess a church that should surpass all others in magnificence, and which could boast of some special unique glory — that seemed to a monk some- thing worth living for. . . . The church of a monastery was the heart of the place. It was not that the church was built for the monastery, but the monastery existed for the church ; there were hundreds and thousands of churches without monasteries, but there could be no monastery without a church. The monks were always at work on the church, always spending money upon it, always adding to it, always "restoring" it; it was always needing repair. We are in the habit of saying, " Those old monks knew how to build ; look at their work — see how it stands ! " But we are very much mistaken if we suppose that in the twelfth or the thirteenth or the fourteenth century there was no bad building. On the contrary, nothing is more 98 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY common in the monastic annals than the notices of how this and that tower fell down, and how this and that choir was fall- ing into ruins, and how this or that abbot got into debt by his mania for building. There was an everlasting tinkering going on at the church ; and the surest token that a monastery was in a bad way was that its church was in a shabby condition. The church was, almost invariably, built in the form of a cross, facing east and west, the long limb of the cross being called the nave, the cross limbs being called the transepts, and the shorter limb, or head of the cross, being called the choir. The choir, as a rule, was occupied exclusively by the monks or nuns of the monastery. The servants, workpeople, and casual visitors who came to worship were not admitted into the choir ; they were supposed to be present only on sufferance. The church was built for the use of the monks ; it was tlieir private place of worship. Almost as essential to the idea of a monastery as the church was the cloister or great quadrangle, inclosed on all sides by the high walls of the monastic buildings. Its usual position was on the south of the church, to gain as much of the sun's rays as possible, and to insure protection from the northerly and easterly winds in the bitter season. All round this quad- rangle ran a covered arcade, whose roof, leaning against the high walls, was supported on the inner side by an open trellis work in stone — often exhibiting great beauty of design and workmanship — through which light and air was admitted into the arcade. The open space not roofed in was called the garth, and was sometimes a plain grass plat and sometimes was planted with shrubs, a fountain of running water being often found in the centre, which afforded a pleasant object for the eye to rest on. The cloister was really the living- place of the monks. Here they pursued their daily avocations, here they taught their school, they transacted their business, DAILY LIFE IN A MEDIAEVAL MONASTERY 99 they spent their time and pursued their studies, always in society, co-operating and consulting, and, as a rule, knowing no privacy. " But surely a monk always lived in a cell, didn't he ? " The sooner we get rid of that delusion the better. Be it understood that until Henry IL founded the Carthu- sian Abbey of Witham, in 1178, there was no such thing known in England as a monk's cell, as we understand the term. . . . The cloister arcade was said to have four zualks. The south walk ran along the south wall of the nave, the north walk was bounded by the refectory or great dining hall, the east walk extended along the south transept, and where the transept ended there usually came a narrow passage called a slype, passing between the end of the transept and the chapter- house, which may be described as the council-chamber of the convent. Beyond the chapter-house, and abutting partly upon the east wall of the cloister . . . ran the dormitory or common sleeping-place for the fraternity. ... We have been round three sides of the cloister : on the north the church ; on the east the chapter-house and dor- mitory ; on the south the refectory. There remain the build- ings abutting on the west wall. In the arrangement of these no strict rule was observed. But generally the western build- ings were dedicated to the cellarer's hall with cellars under it, the pitanciar's and kitchener's offices or chequers as they were called, and a guest-chamber for the reception of distin- guished strangers and for the duties of hospitality, to which great impoitancc was attached. These were the main buildings, the essential buildings of a monastery great or small. . . . You observe I have as yet said nothing about the library. I must remind you that in the thirteenth century the number of books in the world was, lOO READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY to say the least, small. A library of five hundred volumes would, in those days, have been considered an important collection, and, after making all due allowances for ridiculous exaggeration which have been made by ill-informed writers on the subject, it may safely be said that nobody in the thir- teenth centur}- — at any rate in England — would have erected a large and lofty building as a receptacle for books, simply because nobody could have contemplated the possibility of filling it. . . . A library, in any such sense as we now under- stand the term, was not only no essential part of a monastery in those days, but it may be said to have been a rarit}'. But if the thirteenth century monastery possessed neces- sarily no great Reading- Room ; the Scriptorium, or Writing- Room, was almost an essential adjunct. In the absence of the printing-press, the demand for skilled writers and copyists throughout the country was enormous. In the Scriptorium all the business, now transacted by half a dozen agents and their clerks, was carried on. The land of the country- in those days was subdivided to an extent that is now almost impos- sible for us to realize, and the tenure under which the small patches of arable or meadow-land were held was sometimes ver)' complex and intricate. The small patches were perpetu- ally changing hands, being bought or sold, settled upon trustees, or let out for a term of years, and every transaction would be registered in the books of the monastery interested, while the number of conveyances, leases, and enfeofments made out in the course of the year was incalculable. In such an abbey as that of Bury St. Edmunds a small army of writers must have been constantly employed in the business depart- ment of the Scriptorium alone. Obviously it became a great writing-school, where the copyists consciously or unconsciously wrote according to the prevailing fashion of the place ; and there have been, and there are, experts who could tell you DAILY LIFE IN A MEDIEVAL MONASTERY loi whether this or that document was or was not written in this or that monastic Scriptorium. Paper was very Uttle used, and the vellum and parchment required constituted a heavy item of expense. Add to this the production of school-books and all materials used for carrying on the education work, the constant replacement of church service books which the per- petual thumbing and fingering would subject to immense wear and tear, the great demand for music which, however simple, required to be written out large and conspicuous in order to be read with ease, and you get a rather serious list of the charges upon the stationery department of a great abbey. But though by far the greater portion of work done in the Scriptorium was mere office work, the educational department, if I may so term it, being subsidiary, it must not be forgotten that the literary and the historical department also was repre- sented in the Scriptorium of every great monaster)-. In the thirteenth century men never kept diaries or journals of their own daily lives, but monasteries did. In theory, every reli- gious house recorded its own annals, or kept a chronicle of great events that were happening in Church and State. Where a monastery had kept its chronicle going for a long time, it got to be regarded almost as a sacred book, and was treated with great veneration : it lay in a conspicuous place in the Scriptorium, and was under the care of an officer who alone was permitted to make entries in it. . . . I should only confuse my readers if I dwelt more at length upon the buildings of a monaster}^ It is enough for the present that we should understand clearly that the essential buildings were (i) the church, (2) the cloister, {3) the dormi- tory, (4) the refectory, {5) the chapter-house. In these five buildings the life of the convent was carried on. Having said thus much we will pass on to the corporation itself — that which strictlv was called the convent ; and for convenience I02 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY and distinctness it will be as well as if we use that word convent in the more accurate sense and employ it only as signifying the corporate body of persons occupying those buildings of which I have been speaking, and which in their aggregate were called a monastery. . . . The constitution of every convent, great or small, was monarchical. The head of the house was almost an absolute sovereign, and was called the Abbot. His dominions often extended, even in England, over a very wide tract of country, and sometimes over several minor monasteries which were called Cells. Thus the Abbot of St. Alban's had under him- self the cell of Tynemouth in Northumberland and two others in Norfolk — viz., Binham and Wymondham, the latter of which eventually became an independent abbey — and the heads of these cells or subject houses were called Priors. An addry was a monastery which was independent. A priory was a monastery which in theor}' or in fact was subject to an abbey. . . . The abbot not only had a separate residence within the monastery and lived apart from his monks, but he had his separate estates for the maintenance of his dignity, and to bear the very hea\7 expenses which that dignity neces- sitated, and he had the patronage of every office in the convent. . . . It looks as if it were the policy of the Benedictines to give as many monks as possible some special duty and responsi- bility — to give each, in fact, a personal interest in the pros- perity of the house to which he belonged — and the vacancies occurring from time to time in the various offices gave every- body something to look forward to. There was room for ambi- tion, and, I am bound to add, room for a good deal of petty scheming, on the one hand, and truckling to the abbot, on the other ; but it all went towards relieving the monotony of the life in the cloister — a monotony which has been very much DAILY LIFE IN A MEDL-I^:VAL MONASTERY 103 over-stated by those who have never studied the subject. To begin with, it does not follow that what would be very dull to us would be dull and insipid to the men of the thirteenth century. Before a man offered himself for admission to a monastery, he must have had a taste for a quiet life, and in many instances he had grown tired of the bustle, the struggle, and all the anxious wear of the work-day world. He wanted to be rid of bothers, in fact ; he was pretty sure to have had a fair education, and he was presumably a religious man, with a taste for religious exercises ; sometimes, and not unfre- quently, he was a disappointed man, who had been left wife- less and childless ; sometimes, too, he was one whose career had been cut short suddenly by some accident which incapaci- tated him from active exertion and made him long only for repose and obscurity. Moreover, in those distant times the in- stinct of devotion was incomparably stronger than it is now, and people found a real and intense delight in the services of the sanctuary, to say nothing of their entire belief in the spiritual advantages to be derived from taking part in those services. Add to this that a monk had to pass through rather a long training before he was regularly admitted to full membership. He had to submit to a term of probation, during which he was subject to a somewhat rigorous ordeal. A novice had the pride taken out of him in a very effec- tual way during his no\-itiate — he was pretty much in the position of ^fag at a great school nowadays, and by the time that he had passed through his novitiate he was usually very well broken in, and in harmony with the spirit of the place in which he found himself. . . . But, when we come to look a litde closer, we find that the monotony of monastic life was almost confined to the frequent services in the church. There were six services every day, of one kind or another, at which the whole convent was I04 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY supposed to be present, and one service at midnight. The lay brethren among the Cistercians, and the servants engaged in field labour, were excused attendance at the nocturnal service, and those officials of the convent whose business required them to be absent from the precincts were also excused. Indeed, it would have been simply impossible for the whole brotherhood to assemble at all these services ; there would have been a dead-lock in twenty-four hours if the attempt had been made in any of the large monasteries, where the inmates sometimes counted by hundreds, who all expected their meals punctually, and for whom even the simplest cookery necessi- tated that fires should be kept up, the porridge boiled, the beer drawn, and the bread baked. Hence, they whose hands were full and their engagements many really had no time to put in an appearance at church seven times in twenty-four hours. While, on the other hand, the monk out of office, with nothing particular to do, was all the better for having his time broken up ; going to church kept him out of mischief, and singing of psalms saved him from idle talk, and if it did him no good certainly did him very little harm. The ordinary life of the monastery began at six o'clock in the morning, and when the small bell, called the skilla, rang, all rose, washed themselves at the latrines, put on their day habit, and then presented themselves at the matin Mass. Mixtnm, or breakfast, followed, and that over the convent assembled in chapter for consultation. After chapter the offi- cials dispersed ; the kitchener to arrange for the meals, and not unfrequently to provide hospitality for distinguished guests and their retinue ; the precentor to drill his choir boys, to tune the organ, to look after the music, or to arrange for some procession in the church, or some extraordinary func- tion ; the infirmarer to take his rounds in the hospital ; the cellarer to inspect the brewhouse and bakeries ; and each or DAILY LIFE IN A MEDI^.VAL MONASTERY 105 all of these officers might find it necessary to go far a-ficld in looking after some bailiff or tenant who could not safely be left alone. At Evesham the sacristan, the chamberlain, and the infirmarer were allowed forage and the keep of one horse. Meanwhile in the cloister all was stir and movement without noise. In the west alley the school-master was teaching his little pupils the rudiments of Latin, or it might be the elements of singing ; in the south alley, where the light was best, a monk with a taste for art was trying his hand at illuminating a MS. or rubricating the initial letters; while on the other side, in the north alley, some were painfully getting by heart the psalms, or practising meditation — alone in a crowd. Within the retirement of that cloister, fenced all round, as I have said, with the high walls and the great buildings, there the monks were working, there the real conventual life was going on ; but outside the cloister, though yet within the pre- cincts, it is difficult for us now to realize what a vast hive of industr}' a great monastery in some of the lonely and thinly- populated parts of England was. Everything that was eaten or drunk or worn, almost everything that was made or used in a monastery, was produced upon the spot. The grain grew on their own land ; the corn was ground in their own mill ; their clothes were made from the wool of their own sheep ; they had their own tailors and shoemakers, and carpenters and blacksmiths, almost within call ; they kept their own bees ; they grew their own garden-stuff and their own fruit ; I suspect they knew more of fish-culture than, until ver)' lately, we moderns could boast of knowing. Nay, they had their own vineyards and made their own wine. . . . Io6 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Number 20 VILLAGE LIFE SIX HUNDRED YEARS AGO Augustus Jessopp. The Coming of the Friars and Other Historic Essays, chap, ii, passim. . . . The following address gives some of the results of my examination of the first series of the Rougham charters. It was delivered in the Public Reading-room of the village of Tittleshall, a parish adjoining Rougham, and was listened to with apparent interest and great attention by an audi- ence of farmers, village tradesmen, mechanics, and labourers. I was care- ful to avoid naming any place which my audience were not likely to know well ; and there is hardly a parish mentioned which is five miles from the lecture-room. . . . — A. J. ... In those days ^ there were the churches standing generally where they stand now. In those days, too, the main roads ran pretty much where they now run ; and there was the same sun overhead, and there were clouds, and winds, and floods, and storms, and sunshine ; but if you, any of you, could be taken up and dropped down in Tittleshall or Rougham such as they were at the time I speak of, you would feel almost as strange as if you had been suddenly trans- ported to the other end of the world. The only object that you would at all recognize would be the parish church. That stands where it did, and where it has stood, perhaps, for a thousand years or more ; but, at the time we are now concerned with, it looked somewhat different from what it looks now. It had a tower, but that tower was plainer and lower than the present one. The win- dows, too, were very different ; they were smaller and nar- rower ; I think it probable that in some of them there was stained glass, and it is almost certain that the walls were covered with paintings representing scenes from the Bible, and possibly some stories from the lives of the saints, which 1 About 1282. VILLAGE LIFE SLX HUNDRED YEARS AGO 107 everybody in those clays was familiar with. There was no pulpit and no reading desk. When the parson preached, he preached from the steps of the altar. The altar itself was much more ornamented than now it is. Upon the altar there were always some large wax tapers which were lit on great occasions, and over the altar there hung a small lamp which was kept alight night and day. . . . There was, I think, only one road deserving the name, which passed through Rougham. . . . But do not suppose that a road in those days meant what it does now. To begin with, people in the country never drove about in carriages. In such a place as Rougham, men and women might live all their lives without ever seeing a travelling carriage, whether on four wheels or two. The road was quite unfit for driving on. There were no highway rates. Now and then a roadway got so absolutely impassable, or a bridge over a stream became so dangerous, that people grumbled ; and then an order came down from the king to the high sheriff of the county, bid- ding him see to his road, and the sheriff thereupon taxed the dwellers in the hundred and forced them to put things straight. The village of Rougham in those days was in its general plan not very unlike the present village — that is to say, the church standing where it does, next to the churchyard was the par- sonage with a croft attached ; and next to that a row of houses inhabited by the principal people of the place, whose names I could give you, and the order of their dwellings, if it were worth while. Each of these houses had some outbuild- ings — cowsheds, barns, etc., and a small croft fenced round. Opposite these houses was another row facing west, as the others faced east ; but these latter houses were apparently occupied by the poorer inhabitants — the smith, the car- penter, and the general shopkeeper, who called himself, and was called bv others, the vtcrcJiaiit. There was one house lo8 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY which appears to have stood apart from the rest and near Wesenham Heath. It probably was encircled by a moat, and approached by a drawbridge, the bridge being drawn up at sunset. It was called the Lyng House, and had been probably built two or three generations back, and now was occupied by a person of some consideration — . . . The Lyng House, however, was not the great house of Rougham. I am inclined to think that stood not far from the spot where Rougham Hall now stands. It was in those days called the Manor House, or the Manor. And this brings me to a point where I must needs enter into some explanations. Six hundred years ago all the land in England was supposed to belong to the king in the first instance. The king had in former times parcelled it out into tracts of country, some large and some small, and made over these tracts to his great lords, or barons, as they were called. The barons were supposed to hold these tracts, called fiefs, as tenants of the king, and in return they were expected to make an acknowledgment to the king in the shape of some service, which, though it was not originally a money pay- ment, yet became so eventually, and was always a substan- tial charge upon the land. These fiefs were often made up of estates in many different shires ; and, because it was impos- sible for the barons to cultivate all their estates themselves, they let them out to sub-tenants, who in their turn were bound to render services to the lord of the fief. These sub- tenants were the great men in the several parishes, and became the actual lords of the manors, residing upon the manors, and having each, on their several manors, very large powers for good or evil over the tillers of the soil. A manor six hundred years ago meant something very different from a manor now. The lord was a petty king, having his subjects very much under his thumb. But his VILLAGE Llli-: SIX IIUNDRKD \KARS AG() 109 subjects differed greatly in rank and status. In the first place, there were those who were called the free tenants. The free tenants were they who lived in houses of their own and cultivated land of their own, and who made only an annual money payment to the lord of the manor as an acknowledg- ment of his lordship. The payment was trifling, amounting to some few pence an acre at the most, and a shilling or so, as the case might be, for the house. . . . The free tenant was neither a yearly tenant, nor a leaseholder. His holding was, to all intents and purposes, his own — subject, of course, to the payment of the ground rent. But if he wanted to sell out of his holding, the lord of the manor exacted a payment for the privilege. If he died, his heir had to pay for being admitted to his inheritance, and if he died wathout heirs, the property went back to the lord of the manor, who then, but only then, could raise the ground rent if he pleased, though he rarely did so. So much for the free tenants. Besides these were the villeins or villani, or natives, as they were called. The villeins were tillers of the soil, who held land under the lord, and who, besides paying a small money ground rent, were obliged to perform certain arduous services to the lord, such as to plough the lord's land for so many da}s in the year, to carry his corn in the har\^est, to provide a cart on occasion, etc. Of course these burdens pressed very heavily at times, and the services of the villeins were vexatious and irritating under a hard and unscrupulous lord. But there were other serious inconveniences about the condition of the villein or native, (^nce a villein, always a villein. A man or woman born in villeinage could never shake it off. Nay, they might not even go away from the manor to which they were born, and they might not marry without the lord's license, and for that license they always had to pay. Let a villein be ever so shrewd or enterprising or thriftv, no READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY there was no hope for him to change his state, except by the special grace of the lord of the manor.^ Yes, there zvas one means whereby he could be set free, and that was if he could get a bishop to ordain him. The fact of a man being ordained at once made him a free man, and a knowledge of this fact must have served as a very strong inducement to young people to avail themselves of all the helps in their power to obtain something like an education, and so to qualify themselves for admission to the clerical order and to the rank of free-man. At Rougham there was a certain Ralph Red, who was one of these villeins under the lord of the manor, a certain William le Buder. Ralph Red had a son Ralph, who I suppose was an intelligent youth, and made the most of his brains. He managed to get ordained about six hundred years ago, and he became a chaplain. ... His father, however, was still a villein, liable to all the villein services, and belonging to the manor and the lord, he and all his offspring. Young Ralph did not like it, and at last, getting the money together somehow, he bought his father's freedom, and, observe, with his freedom the freedom of all his father's children too, and the price he paid was twenty marks.^ That sounds a ridicu- lously small sum, but I feel pretty sure that six hundred years ago twenty marks would be almost as difficult for a penniless young chaplain to get together as ;^500 for a penniless young curate to amass now. Of the younger Ralph, who bought his father's freedom, I know litde more ; but, less than one hundred and fifty years after the elder man received his liberty, a lineal descendent of his became lord of the manor of Rougham, . . . 1 1 do not take account of those who ran away to the corporate towns. I suspect that there were many more cases of this than some writers allow. It was sometimes a serious inconvenience to the lords of manors near such towns as Norwich or Lynn. . . . 2 A man could not buy his own freedom. . . . VILLAGE LIFE SL\ HLXDKKD YEARS AGO iii When Ralph Red bought his father's freedom of WilUam le Butler, William gave him an acknowledgment for the money, and a written certificate of the transaction, but he did not sign his name. In those days nobody signed their names, not because they could not write, for I suspect that just as large a proportion of people in England could write well six hundred years ago, as could have done so forty years ago, but because it was not the fashion to sign one's name. Instead of doing that, everybody who was a free man, and a man of substance, in executing any legal instrument, affixed to it his seal, and that stood for his signature. People always carried their seals about with them in a purse or small bag, and it was no uncommon thing for a pickpocket to cut off this bag and run away with the seal, and thus put the owner to very serious inconvenience. . . . Six hundred years ago it may be said that there were two kinds of law in England, the one was the law of the land, the other was the law of the Church. The law of the land was hideously cruel and merciless, and the gallows and the pillor)% never far from any man's door, were seldom allowed to re- main long out of use. The ghastly frequency of the punish- ment by death tended to make people savage and bloodthirsty. It tended, too, to make men absolutely reckless of consequences when once their passions were roused. " As well be hung for a sheep as a lamb " was a saying that had a grim truth in it. When a violent ruffian knew that if he robbed his host in the night he would be sure to be hung for it, and if he killed him he could be no more than hung, he had nothing to gain by let- ting him live, and nothing to lose if he cut his throat. Where another knew that by tampering with the coin of the realm he was sure to go to the gallows for it, ho might as well make a good fight before he was taken, and murder any one who stood in the way of his escape. Hanging went on at a pace 112 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY which we cannot conceive, for in those days the criminal law of the land was not, as it is now, a strangely devised machinery for protecting the wrongdoer, but it was an awful and tre- mendous power for slaying all who were dangerous to the persons or the property of the community. The law of the Church, on the other hand, was much more lenient. To hurry a man to death with his sins and crimes fresh upon him, to slaughter men wholesale for acts that could not be regarded as enormously wicked, shocked those who had learnt that the Gospel taught such virtues as mercy and long- suffering, and gave men hopes of forgiveness on repentance. The Church set itself against the atrocious mangling, and branding, and hanging that was being dealt out blindly, hastily, and indiscriminately, to eveiy kind of transgressor ; and in- asmuch as the Church law and the law of the land six hun- dred years ago were often in conflict, the Church law acted to a great extent as a check upon the shocking ferocity of the criminal code. And this is how the check was exercised. A man who was a cleric was only half amenable to the law of the land. He was a citizen of the realm, and a subject of the king, but he was more ; he owed allegiance to the Church, and claimed the Church's protection also. Accordingly, when- ever a cleric got into trouble, and there was only too good cause to believe that if he were brought to his trial he would have a short shrift and no favour, scant justice and the inevitable gallows within twenty-four hours at the longest, he proclaimed himself a cleric, and demanded the protection of the Church, and was forthwith handed over to the custody of the ordinary or bishop. The process was a clumsy one, and led, of course, to great abuses, but it had a good side. As a natural and inevitable consequence of such a privilege accorded to a class, there was a very strong inducement to become a member of that class ; and as the Church made it easy for any fairly VILLAGE LIFE SIX HUNDRED YEARS AGO 113 educated man to be admitted at any rate to the lower orders of the ministry, any one who preferred a professional career, or desired to give himself up to a life of study, enrolled himself among the clerics, and was henceforth reckoned as belonging to tlie clergy. The country swarmed with these clerics. Only a small pro- portion of them ever became ministers of religion ; they were lawyers, or even lawyers' clerks ; they were secretaries ; some few were quacks with nostrums ; . . . But besides the clerics and the chaplains and the rector or vicar, there was another class, the members of which just at this time were playing a very important part indeed in the re- ligious life of the people, and not in the religious life alone ; these were the Friars. If the monks looked down upon the parsons, and stole their endowments from them whenever they could, and if in return the parsons hated the monks and regarded them with profound suspicion and jealousy, both parsons and monks were united in their common dislike of the Friars. Six hundred years ago the Friars had been established in England about sixty years, and they were now by far the most influential Religionists in the country. The Friars, though always stationed in the towns, and by this time occupying large establishments which were built for them in Lynn, Yarmouth, Norwich, and elsewhere, were always acting the part of itin- erant preachers, and travelled their circuits on foot, supported by alms. Sometimes the parson lent thcni the church, some- times they held a camp meeting in spite of him, and just as often as not they left behind them a feeling of great sore- ness, irritation, and discontent ; but six hundred years ago the preaching of the Friars was an immense and incalculable blessing to the country, and if it had not been for the won- derful reformation wrought b\- their activity and burning 114 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY enthusiasm, it is difficult to see what we should have come to or what corruption might have prevailed in Church and State. When the Friars came into a village, and it was known that they were going to preach, you may be sure that the whole population would turn out to listen. Sermons in those days in the country were very rarely delivered. As I have said, there were no pulpits in the churches then. A parson might hold a benefice for fifty years, and never once have written or composed a sermon. A preaching parson, one who regularly exhorted his people or expounded to them the Scriptures, would have been a wonder indeed, and thus the coming of the Friars and the revival of pulpit oratory was all the more welcome because the people had not become wearied by the too frequent iteration of truths which may be repeated so fre- quently as to lose their vital force. A sermon was an event in those days, and a preacher with any real gifts of oratory was looked upon as a prophet sent by God. Never was there a time when the people needed more to be taught the very rudiments of morality. Never had there been a time when people cared less whether their acts or words were right or wrong, true or false. It had almost come to this, that what a man thought would be to his profit, that was good ; what would entail upon him a loss, that was evil. And this brings me to another point, viz., the lawlessness and crime in country villages six hundred years ago. But before I can speak on that subject it is necessary that I should first try to give you some idea of the every-day life of your forefathers. What did they eat and drink ? what did they wear ? what did they do from day to day ? Were they happy ? content ? prosperous ? or was their lot a hard and bitter one .? For according to the answer we get to questions such as these, so shall we be the better prepared to expect the people to have been peaceable citizens, or sullen, miserable, and dangerous VILLAGE LIFE SIX HUNDRED YEARS AGO 115 ruffians, goaded to frequent outbursts of ferocious savagedom by hunger, oppression, hatred and despair. Six hundred years ago no parish in Norfolk had more than a part of its land under tillage. As a rule, the town or village, with its houses, great and small, consisted of a long street, the church and parsonage being situated about the middle of the parish. Not far off stood the manor house, with its hall where the manor courts were held, and its farm-buildings, dovecote, and usually its mill for grinding the corn of the tenants. No tenant of the manor might take his corn to be ground any- where except at the lord's mill ; and it is easy to see what a grievance this would be felt to be at times, and how the lord of the manor, if he were needy, unscrupulous, or extortionate, might grind the faces of the poor while he ground their corn. Behind most of the houses in the village might be seen a croft or paddock, an orchard or a small garden. But the contents of the gardens were very different from the vegetables we see now ; there were, perhaps, a few cabbages, onions, parsnips, or carrots, and apparently some kind of beet or turnip. The potato had never been heard of. As for the houses themselves, they were squalid enough for the most part. The manor house was often built of stone, when stone was to be had, or where, as in Norfolk, no stone was to be had, then of flint, as in so many of our church towers. Usually, however, the manor house was built in great part of timber. The poorer houses were dirty hovels, run up "anyhow," sometimes covered with turf, sometimes with thatch. None of them had chimneys. Six hundred years ago houses with chimnevs were at least as rare as houses heated by hot-water pipes are now.^ Moreover, there were no brick houses. It is a curious fact that the art of making bricks seems to have been lost in England for some hundreds of 1 1S97. Il6 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY years. The labourer's dwelling had no windows ; the hole in the roof which let out the smoke rendered windows unnec- essary, and, even in the houses of the well-to-do, glass win- dows w^ere rare. In many cases oiled linen cloth served to admit a feeble semblance of light, and to keep out the rain. The labourer's fire was in the middle of his house ; he and his wife and children huddled round it, sometimes grovelling in the ashes ; and going to bed meant flinging themselves down upon the straw which served them as mattress and feather bed, exactly as it does to the present day in the g}-psy's tent in our by ways. The labourer's only light by night was the smouldering fire. Why should he burn a rushlight when there was nothing to look at.? and reading was an accomplishment which few labouring men were masters of. As to the food of the majority, it was of the coarsest. The fathers of many a man and woman in every village in Nor- folk can remember the time when the labourer looked upon wheat-bread as a rare delicacy ; and those legacies which were left by kindly people a century or two ago, providing for the weekly distribution of so many xvhite loaves to the poor, tell us of a time when the poor man's loaf was as dark as mud, and as tough as his shoe-leather. In the winter-time things went very hard indeed with all classes. There was no lack of fuel, for the brakes and waste afforded turf which all might cut, and kindling which all had a right to carry away ; but the poor horses and sheep and cattle were half starved for at least four months in the year, and one and all were much smaller than they are now. I doubt whether people ever fatted their hogs as we do. When the corn was reaped, the swine were turned into the stubble and roamed about the underwood ; and when they had increased their weight by the feast of roots and mast and acorns, they were slaughtered and salted for the winter fare, only so many being kept alive as might not VILLAGE LIFE SIX HUNDRED \'EARS AGO 117 prove burdensome to the scanty resources of the people. Salting down the animals for the winter consumption was a very serious expense. All the salt used was produced by evap- oration in pcx)is near the seaside, and a couple bushels of salt often cost as much as a sheep. This must have compelled the people to spare the salt as much as possible, and it must have been only too common to find the bacon more than ran- cid, and the ham alive again with maggots. If the salt was dear and scarce, sugar was unknown except to the very rich. The poor man had little to sweeten his lot. The bees gave him honey ; and long after the time I am dealing with people left not only their hives to their children by will, but actually bequeathed a summer flight of bees to their friends ; while the hive was claimed by one, the next swarm might become the property of another. As for the drink, it was almost exclusively water, beer, and cider. . . . . . . Tobacco was quite unknown ; it was first brought into England about three hundred years after the days we are deal- ing with. When a man once sat himself down with his pot he had nothing to do but drink. He had no pipe to take off his attention from his liquor. If such a portentious sight could have been seen in those days as that of a man vomiting forth clouds of smoke from his mouth and nostrils, the beholders would have undoubtedly taken to their heels and run for their lives, protesting that the devil himself had appeared to them, breathing forth fire and flames. Tea and coffee, too, were absolutely unknown, unheard of ; and wine was the rich man's beverage, as it is now. The fire-waters of our own time — the gin and the rum, which have brought us all such incal- culable mischief — were not discovered then. Some little ardent spirits, known under the name of cordials, were to be found in the better appointed establishments, and were kept Il8 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY by the lady of the house among her simples, and on special occasions dealt out in thimblefuls ; but the vile grog, that maddens people now, our forefathers of six hundred years ago had never even tasted. The absence of vegetable food for the greater part of the year, the personal dirt of the people, the sleeping at night in the clothes worn in the day, and other causes, made skin diseases frightfully common. At the outskirts of every town in England of any size there were crawling about emaciated creatures covered with loathsome sores, living heaven knows how. They were called by the common name of lepers, and probably the leprosy strictly so called was awfully common. But the children must have swarmed with vermin ; and the itch, and the scurvy, and the ringworm, with other hideous erup- tions, must have played fearful havoc with the weak and sickly. As for the dress of the working classes, it was hardly dress at all. I doubt whether the great mass of the labourers in Norfolk had more than a single garment — a kind of tunic leaving the arms and legs bare, with a girdle of rope or leather round the waist, in which a man's knife was stuck, to use sometimes for hacking his bread, sometimes for stabbing an enemy in a quarrel. As for any cotton goods, such as are familiar to you all, they had never been dreamt of, and I sus- pect that no more people in Norfolk wore linen habitually than now wear silk. Money was almost inconceivably scarce. The labourer's wages were paid partly in rations of food, pardy in other allowances, and only partly in money ; he had to take what he could get. Even the quit- rent, or what I have called the ground rent, was frequently compounded for by the tenant being required to find a pair of gloves, or a pound of cum- min, or some other acknowledgment in lieu of a money payment ; . . . VILLAGE LIFE SIX HUNDRED YEARS AGO 119 The picture we get of the utter lawlessness of the whole coun- try, however, at the beginning of King Edward's reign is quite dreadful enough. Nobody seems to have resorted to the law to maintain a right or redress a wrong, till every other method had been tried. Starting with the squires, if I may use the term, and those well-to-do people who ought to have been among the most law-abiding members of the community — we find them setting an example of violence and rapacity, bad to read of. . . . It really looks as if nothing was more easy than to collect a band of people who could be let loose anywhere to work any mischief. ... As when John de la Wade in 1270 per- suaded a band of men to help him in invading the manor of Hamon de Clere, in this very parish of Tittleshall, seizing the corn and threshing it, and, more wonderful still, cutting down timber, and carrying it off. ... A much more serious case, however, occurred some years after this when two gentlemen of position in Norfolk, with twenty-five followers, who appear to have been their regular retainers, and a great multitude on foot and horse, came to Little Karningham, where in the Hall there lived an old lady, Petronilla de Gros ; they set fire to the house in five places, dragged out the old lady, treated her with the most brutal violence, and so worked upon her fears that they compelled her to tell them where her money and jewels were, and, having seized them, I conclude that they left her to warm herself at the smoul- dering ruins of her mansion. . . . If the gentry, and they who ought to have known better, set such an example, and gave their sanction to outrage and savagery, it was only natural that the lower orders should be quick to take their pattern by their superiors, and should be only too ready to break and defy the law. And so it is clear enough that they were. In a single year, the year 1285, in the hundred of North lu-pingham, containing thirty-two I20 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY parishes, the catalogue of crime is so ghastly as positively to stagger one. Without taking any account of what in those days must have been looked upon as quite minor offences — such as simple theft, sheep-stealing, fraud, extortion, or harbouring felons — there were eleven men and five women put upon their trial for burglary, eight men and four women were murdered ; there were five fatal fights, three men and two women being killed in the frays ; and, saddest of all, there were five cases of suicide, among them two women, one of whom hanged herself, the other cut her throat with a razor. We have in the roll recording these horrors very minute particulars of the several cases, and we know too that, not many months before the roll was drawn up, at least eleven desperate wretches had been hanged for various offences, and one had been torn to pieces by horses for the crime of debasing the king's coin. It is impossible for us to realize the hideous ferocity of such a state of society as this ; the women were as bad as the men, furious beldames, danger- ous as wild beasts, without pity, without shame, without remorse ; and finding life so cheerless, so hopeless, so very very dark and miserable, that when there was nothing to be gained by killing any one else they killed themselves. Anywhere, anywhere out of the world ! Sentimental people who plaintively sigh for the good old times will do well to ponder upon these facts. Think, twelve poor creatures butchered in cold blood in a single year within a circuit of ten miles from your own door ! Two of these unhappy victims were a couple of lonely women, apparently living together in their poverty, gashed and battered in the dead of night, and left in their blood, stripped of their little all. The motive, too, for all this horrible housebreaking and bloodshed, being a lump of cheese or a side of bacon, \ ILLAGE Lll'E SIX llLXDREl) YEARS AGO 121 and the shuddering creatures cowering in the corner of a hovel, being too paralyzed with terror to utter a cry, and never dreaming of making resistance to the wild-eyed assas- sins, who came to slay rather than to steal. . . . I can tell you nothing of the amusements of the people in those days. I doubt whether they had any more amusement than the swine or the cows had. Looking after the fowls or the geese, hunting for the hen's nest in the furze brake, and digging out a fox or a badger, gave them an hour's excite- ment or interest now and again. Now and then a wandering minstrel came by, playing upon his rude instrument, and now and then somebody would come out from Lynn, or Yarmouth, or Norwich, with some new batch of songs for the most part scurrilous and coarse, and listened to much less for the sake of the music than for the words. . . . And this reminds me that though archdeacons, and bishops, and even an archbishop, in those days might be and were very important and very powerful personages, they were all very small and insignificant in comparison with the great King Edward, the king who at this time was looked upon as one of the most mighty and magnificent kings in all the world. He, too, paid many a visit to Norfolk six hundred years ago. He kept his Christmas at Burgh in 1280, and in 1284 he came down with the good Queen Eleanor and spent the whole of Lent in the county ; and next year, again, they were in your immediate neighbourhood, making a pilgrimage to W'alsingham. A few years after this he seems to have spent a week or two within five miles of where we are ; he came to Castle Acre, and there he stayed at the great priory whose ruins you all know well. There a very stirring interview took place between the king and Bishop Walpole, and a number of other bishops, and great persons who had come down as a deputation to expostulate with the king, and respectfully to 122 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY protest against the way in which he was robbing his subjects, and especially the clergy, whom he had been for years plun- dering in the most outrageous manner. The king gave the deputation no smooth words to carry away, but he sent them off with threatening frowns and insults and in hot anger. . . . My friends, the people who lived in this village six hundred years ago were living a life hugely below the level of yours. They were more wretched in their poverty, they were incomparably less prosperous in their prosperity, they were worse clad, worse fed, worse housed, worse taught, worse tended, worse governed ; they were sufferers from loathsome diseases which you know nothing of ; the ver)^ beasts of the field were dwarfed and stunted in their growth, and I do not believe there were any giants in the earth in those days. The death-rate among the children must have been tremendous. The disregard of human life was so callous that we can hardly conceive it. There was ever)'thing to harden, nothing to soften ; everywhere oppression, greed, and fierceness. Judged by our modern standards, the people of our county village were beyond all doubt coarser, more brutal, and more wicked, than they are. Progress is slow, but there has been progress. . . . Number 21 THE TOWNS, INDUSTRIAL VILLAGES, AND FAIRS H. DE B. GiBBlNS. Industrial History of England, pp. 57-64. 1 . The chief manufacturing towns. — During the period between the Norman Conquest and the middle of the thir- teenth century, the towns, as we saw, had been gradually grow- ing in importance, gaining fresh privileges, and becoming TOWNS, INDUSTRIAL VILLAGES, AND FAIRS 123 almost, in some cases quite, independent of the lord or king, by the grant of a charter. Moreover they had grown from the mere trading centres of ancient times into seats of specialized industries, regulated and organized by the craft- gilds. This new feature of the industrial or manufacturing aspect of certain towns is well shown in a compilation, dated about 1250, and quoted by Professor Rogers in Six Cen- turies of Work and Wages, which gives a list of English towns and their chief products. Hardly any of the manu- facturing towns mentioned are in the North of England, but mostly in the East and South. The following table gives the name of the town, and its manufacture or articles of sale. Town Product (l) Textile manufactures Scarlet cloth Blanket IJurnet cloth Russet " Linen fabrics Lincoln Bligh . . Beverley . Colchester Shaftesbury Lewes . . Aylesbury Warwick . Bridi'urt . Cord Cord and Hempen fabrics (2) Bakeries Wycombe . . Fine bread Hungerfoki) " " St. Albans . (3) Cutlery Maxtead . . Knives Wilton . . . Needles Leicester . . Razors (4) Bre-iveries Banbury . . Brewing 1 1 itch IN . . Ki.v .... Town Product (5) Markets RiPON Horses Nottingham . . O.xen Gloucester . . . Iron Bristol Leather and Hides Coventry .... Soap Northampton . . Saddlery DoNCASTER . . . Horse-girths Chester .... Skins and Furs Shrewsbury ... " Corfe Marble Cornwall towns Tin (6) Fishing Towns Grimsby .... Cod Rye Whiting Yarmouth . . . Herrings Berwick .... Salmon (7) Ports Norwich Southampton DuNWicH .... Mills 124 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY This list is obviously incomplete, for it omits towns like Sheffield and Winchester, both of which were important as manufacturing towns from ver)' early times, though the woollen manufactures of the latter were soon outstripped by those of Hull, York, Beverley, Lincoln, and especially Norwich. But such as it is the list is curious, chiefly as showing how manu- factures have long since deserted their original abodes, and have been transferred to towns of quite recent origin. 2. Staple towns and the merchants. — It will have been obser\-ed that by the time this list was compiled, most towns were either the seat of a certain manufacture, or the market where such manufactures were sold. Now, in the davs of Edward I. and Edward II. (i 272-1 327) several such towns were specially singled out and granted the privilege of sell- ing a particular product, the staple of the district, and were hence called staple toiuns. Besides a number of towns in England, staples were fixed at certain foreign ports for the sale of English goods. At first Antwerp was selected as the staple town for our produce, and afterwards St. Omer. A staple was also set up at Calais when we took it (1347), but at the loss of that town in 1558 it was transferred to Bruges. The staple system thus begun by the first two Edwards, was established upon a firm legal basis by Edward III. The statute 27 Edward III. c. 9 (1354), enumerates all the staple towns of England, and sets forth the ancient customs pay- able upon staple goods. It enacts that only merchants of a particular staple, i.e. those engaged in a particular trade like wool or hides, may export these goods, and that each staple should be governed by its own mayor and constables. Now, although regulations like these are opposed to our modern ideas of free competition, they were to a certain extent useful in the Middle Ages, because the existence of staple towns facilitated the collection of custom duties, and also secured in TOWNS, INDUSTRIAL \ iLl.AGKS, AM) FAIRS 125 some degree the good quality of the goods made in, or ex- ported from, a town. For special officers were appointed to mark them if of the proper quality and reject them if inferior. The system also had the important /^/zyzVa/ result of bringing into prominence the merchants as a class, and of increasing their influence. So much were they a special class, that the sovereign always negotiated with them separately. Thus in 1339, when Edward III. was as usual fighting against France, and, also as usual, in great want of money, he was liberally supplied with loans by Sir William de la Pole, a rich mer- chant of Hull, who acted on behalf of himself and many other merchants. Sir Richard Whittington performed simi- lar services for Henry IV. and Henry V. 3. Markets. — Another class of towns were the country market towns, many of which exist in agricultural districts to-day, in much the same fashion as they did six centuries ago. The control and regulation of the town market was at first in the hands of the lord of the manor, but by this period it had been bought by the corporation or by the merchant gild, or by both, and was now one of the most valued of municipal privileges. The market-place was always some large open space within the city walls, such as, for instance, exists very' noticeably in Nottingham to this day. London had several such spaces, of which the names Cornhill, Cheapside, the Poultry, still remain. The capital was indeed a perpetual market, though of course provincial towns only held a market on one or two days of the week. It is curious to notice how these days have persisted to modern times. The Wed- nesday and Saturday market of Oxford has existed for at least six centuries, if not more. The control of these mar- kets was undertaken by the corporation for various purposes. The first of these was to prevent frauds and adulteration of goods, and for this purpose special officers were appointed, 126 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY as in the staple towns. . . . This was possible in a time when industry was limited, and the competitive idea was as yet unborn, and one cannot help thinking that it must have been of great use to purchasers. The second object of the regulators of the market was to keep prices at a "natu- ral level," and to regulate the cost of manufactured articles. The price of provisions in especial was a subject of much regulation, but our forefathers were not very successful in this point, laudable though their object was. 4. The great fairs. — Now, besides the weekly markets there were held annually in various parts of the kingdom large fairs, which often lasted many days, and which form a most important and interesting economic feature of the time. They were necessary for two reasons : (i) because the ordi- nary trader could not and did not exist in the small villages, in which it must be remembered most of the population lived, nor could he even find sufficient customers in a town of that time, for very few contained over 5000 inhabitants ; (2) because the inhabitants of the villages and towns could find in the fairs a wider market for their goods, and more variety for their purchases. The result was that these fairs were frequented by all classes of the population, from noble and prelate to the villein, .and hardly a family in England did not at one time of the year or another send a representa- tive, or at least give a commission to a friend, to get goods at some celebrated fair. They afforded an opportunity for commercial intercourse between inhabitants of all parts of England, and with traders from all parts of Europe. They were, moreover, a necessity arising from the economic con- ditions of a time when transit of goods was comparatively slow, and when ordinary people disliked travelling frequently or far beyond the limits of their own district. The spirit of isolation which is so marked a feature of the mediaeval town TOWNS, INDUSTRIAL \ ILLAGKS, ANJJ lAIRS 127 or village encouraged this feeling, and except the trading class few people travelled about, and those who did so were re- garded with suspicion. Till the epoch of modern railways, in fact, fairs were a necessity, though now the rapidity of loco- motion and the facility with which goods can be ordered and dispatched, have annihilated their utility and rendered their relics a nuisance. But even in the present day there are plenty of people to be found in rural districts who have rarely, and sometimes never, been a dozen miles from their native village. 5. The fairs of Winchester and Stourbridge. — Fairs were held in every part of the country at various parts of the year. Thus there was a fair at Leeds, which for several centuries served as a centre where the wool-growers of Yorkshire and Lancashire met English and foreign merchants from Hull and other eastern ports, and sold them the raw material that was to be worked up in the looms of Flanders. But there were a few great fairs that eclipsed all others in magnitude and importance, and of these two deserve special mention, those at Winchester and Stourbridge, (i ) That at WiiicJicstcr was founded in the reign of William the Norman, who granted the Bishop of Winchester leave to hold a fair on St. Giles' Hill, for one day in the year. Henry H., however, granted a charter for a fair of sixteen days. During this time the great common was covered with booths and tents, and divided into streets called after the name of the goods sold therein, as, e.g., "The Draper)^" "The Pottery," "The Spicery." Tolls were levied on every bridge and roadway to the fair, and brought in a large revenue. The fair was of importance till the fourteenth centur)% for in the Msion of Peres the Plowman, Covetousness tells how " To Wye and to Winchester I went to the fair." But it declined from the time of Edward HI., chieflv owing 128 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY to the fact that the woollen trade of Norwich and other east- ern towns had become far more important, while on the other hand Southampton was found to be a more convenient spot for the Venetian traders' fleet to do business. (2) Stourbridge Fair. — But the greatest of all English fairs, and that which kept its reputation and importance the longest, was the Fair of Stourbridge, near Cambridge. It was of European renown, and lasted for a whole month, from the end of August to the end of September. Its importance was due to the fact that it was within easy reach of the ports of the east coast, which at that time were very accessible and much frequented. Hither came the Venetian and Genoese merchants, with stores of Eastern produce — silks and velvets, cotton, and precious stones. The Flemish merchants brought the fine linens and cloths of Bruges, Liege, and Ghent, and other manufacturing towns. Frenchmen and Spaniards were present with their wines ; Norwegian sailors with tar and pitch ; and the mighty traders of the Hanse towns exposed for sale furs and amber for the rich, iron and copper for the farmers, flax for their wives ; while homely fustian, buckram, wax, herrings, and canvas mingled incongruously in their booths with strange, far-off Eastern spices and ornaments. And in return the English farmers — or traders on their behalf — carried to the fair hundreds of huge wool-sacks, wherewith to clothe the nations of Europe ; or barley for the Flemish breweries, with corn and horses and cattle also. Lead was brought from the mines of Derbyshire, and tin from Cornwall ; even some iron from Sussex, but this was accounted inferior to the imported metal. All these wares were, as at Winchester, exposed in stalls and tents in long streets, some named after the various nations that congre- gated there, and others after the kind of goods on sale. This vast fair lasted down to the eighteenth century in unabated MEDLKVAL TOWNS AND (HLDS 129 vigour, and was at that time descriJDed by Daniel Defoe, in a work now easily accessible to all, which contains a most interesting description of all the proceedings of this busy month. It is not much more than a hundred years ago that the Lancashire merchants alone used to send their goods to Stourbridge upon a thousand pack-horses, but now the pack- horses and fairs have gone, and the telegraph and railway have taken their place. Number 22 MEDIyEVAL TOWNS AND GILDS Edward P. Cheyney. Readings in English //is'to?y,,Tp-p. 20S-211. The period in which most of the large towns obtained their first charters was during the reigns of Henry II, Richard, and John ; but it was during the period covered by this chapter, the thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries, that they first became really important. Each city or borough of any size in England had a charter, somewhat like that of Lincoln, which is here given, granting or confirming to it various rights and privileges of self-government. Henry, ])y the grace of God king of England, duke of Normandy and Aquitaine, count of Anjou, to the bishop of Lincoln, justiciars, sheriffs, barons, officers, and all his faith- ful, h^rench and English, of Lincoln, greeting. Know that I have conceded to my citizens of Lincoln all their liberties and customs and laws, which they had in the time of Edward and William and Henry, kings of England ; and their gild mer- chant of the men of the city and of other merchants of the county, just as they had it in the time of our aforesaid prede- cessors, kings of luigland, best and most freely. And all men who dwell within the four divisions of the citv and attend i:>0 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY the market are to be at the gilds and customs and assizes of the city as they have been best in the time of Edward, Wilham, and Henry, kings of England. I grant to them, moreover, that if any one shall buy any land within the city, of the burgage of Lincoln, and shall have held it for a year and a day without any claim, and he who has bought it is able to show that the claimant has been in the land of England within the year and has not claimed it, for the future as be- fore he shall hold it well and in peace, and without any pros- ecution. I confirm also to them, that if any one shall have remained in the city of Lincoln for a year and a day without claim on the part of any claimant, and has given the customs, and is able to show by the laws and customs of the city that the claimant has been in the land of England and has not made a claim against him, for the future as in the past he shall remain in peace, in my city of Lincoln, as my citizen. Witnesses, E., bishop of Lisieux ; Thomas, chancellor; H,, constable ; Henry of Essex, constable. At Nottingham. The early craft gilds seldom had charters. Bodies of rules or ordinances were drawn up by their leading members, approved by the town authorities, and became the basis of their legal existence. These were added to or changed from time to time. The ordi- nances of the spur makers, here given, are fairly representative of the rules of a vast number of such organized trades in London and other cities and towns. Be it remembered that on Tuesday, the morrow of St. Peter's Chains, in the nineteenth year of the reign of King Edward HI, the articles underwritten were read before John Ham- mond, mayor, Roger de Depham, recorder, and the other aldermen ; and seeing that the same were deemed befitting, they were accepted and enrolled in these words. In the first place, that no one of the trade of spurriers shall work longer than from the beginning of the day until curfew MEDIyEVAL I'OWNS AMJ (ilLiJS i;i rung out at the church of St. Sepulcher, without Newgate ; by reason that no man can work so neatly by night as by day. And many persons of the said trade, who compass how to practice deception in their work, desire to work by night rather than by day ; and then they introduce false iron, and iron that has been cracked, for tin, and also they put gilt on false cop- per, and cracked. And further, many of the said trade are wandering about all day, without working at all at their trade ; and then, when they have become drunk and frantic, they take to their work, to the annoyance of the sick, and all their neighborhood, by reason of the broils that arise between them and the strange folks who are dwelling among them. And then they proceed to blow up their fires so vigorously that their forges begin all at once to blaze, to the great peril of themselves and of all the neighborhood around. And then, too, all the neighbors are much in dread of the sparks, which so vigorously issue forth in all directions from the mouths of the chimneys in their forges. By reason thereof it seems best that working by night should be put an end to, in order to avoid such false work and such perils ; and therefore the mayor and the aldermen do will, by the assent of the good folks of the said trade, and for the common profit, that from hence- forth such time for working, and such false work made in the trade, shall be forbidden. And if any person shall be found in the said trade to do the contrary hereof, let him be amerced, the first time in 40(^j!'., one half thereof to go to the use of the Chamber of the Guildhall of London, and the other half to the use of the said trade ; the second time, in half a mark, and the third time in los., to the use of the same Chamber and trade ; and the fourth time, let him forswear the trade forever. Also that no one of the said trade shall hang his spurs out on Sundays or any other days that are double feasts ; but only a sign indicating his business ; and such spurs as they shall n,2 READIxXGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY so sell they are to show and sell within their shops, without exposing them without, or opening the doors or windows of their shops, on the pain aforesaid. Also, that no one of the said trade shall keep a house or shop to carry on his business, unless he is free of the city ; and that no one shall cause to be sold, or exposed for sale, any manner of old spurs for new ones, or shall garnish them or change them for new ones. Also, that no one of the said trade shall take an apprentice for a less term than seven years, and such apprentice shall be enrolled according to the usages of the said city. Also, that if any one of the said trade, who is not a free- man, shall take an apprentice for a term of years, he shall be amerced as aforesaid. Also, that no one of the said trade shall receive the appren- tice, serving man, or journeyman of another in the same trade, during the term agreed upon between his master and him, on the pain aforesaid. Also, that no alien of another country, or foreigner of this country, shall follow or use the said trade, unless he is en- franchised before the mayor, alderman, and chamberlain ; and that, by witness and surety of the good folks of the said trade, who will undertake for him, as to his loyalty and his good behavior. Also, that no one of the said trade shall work on Saturdays, after noon has been rung out in the city ; and not from that hour until the Monday morning following. The more charitable side of the craft gilds comes out in the following extracts from the ordinances of the white-leather dressers. In honor of God, of Our Lady, and of all saints, and for the nurture of tranquillity and peace among the good folks, the megucers, called white-tawyers, the folks of the same MEDL'i'.VAl- TOWNS AND (]1LI)S n,r> trade have, by assent of Richard Lacer, mayor, and of the aldermen, ordained the points underwritten. In the first place, they have ordained that they will find a wax candle to burn before Our Lady in the church of Allhal- lows, near London wall. Also, that each person of the said trade* shall put in the box such sum as he shall think fit, in aid of maintaining the said candle. Also, if by chance any one of the said trade shall fall into poverty, whether through old age or because he cannot labor or work, and have nothing with which to keep himself, he shall have every week from the said box yd. for his support, if he be a man of good repute. And after his decease, if he have a wife, a woman of good repute, she shall have weekly for her support yd. from the said box, so long as she shall behave herself well and keep single. . . . And if any one of the said trade shall have work in his house that he cannot complete, or if for want of assistance such work shall be in danger of being lost, those of the said trade shall aid him, that so the said work be not lost. And if any one of the said trade shall depart this life, and have not wherewithal to be buried, he shall be buried at the expense of their common box. And when any one of the said trade shall die, all those of the said trade shall go to the vigil and make offering on the morrow. . . . 134 READINGS IX ENGLISH HISTORY Number 23 LIFE AT OXFORD UNIVERSITY IN THE MIDDLE AGES GoLDWiN Smith. Oxford and her Colleges, pp. 25-29, 39-67. ... To recall the Oxford of the thirteenth century, one must bid vanish all the buildings which now meet our eyes, ex- cept yonder grim castle to the west of the city, and the stern tower of St. Michael's Church, at once the bell tower of the Church and a defence of the city gate facing the dangerous north. The man-at-arms from the castle, the warder from' the gate, looks down upon a city of five or six thousand in- habitants, huddled for protection under the castle, and within those walls of which a fine remnant is seen bounding the do- main of New College. In this city there is a concourse of students brought together to hear a body of teachers who have been led, we know not how, to open their mart of knowledge here. Printing not having been invented, and books being scarce, the fountain of knowledge is the lecture-room of the professor. It is the age of an intellectual revival so remarkable as to be called the Mediaeval Renaissance. After the migra- tions and convulsions, by which the world was cast in a new mould, ensues a reign of comparative peace and settled gov- ernment, under which the desire of knowledge has been re- awakened. Universities have been coming out all over Europe like stars in the night ; Paris, famous for theolog}' and phi- losophy, perhaps being the brightest of the constellation, while Bologna was famed for law and Salerno for medicine. It was probably in the reign of Henry I. that the company of teachers settled at Oxford, and before the end of the thirteenth century students had collected to a number which fable exaggerates LIFE AT (JXFOKI) IN TlIK MIDIHJ': ACJKS 135 to thirty thousand, hut which was really hr<;e enough to crowd the little city and even the bastions of its walls. A light had shone on youths who sat in the shadow of feudal servitude. There is no more romantic period in the history of human intellect than the thirteenth century. The teachers, after the fashion of that age, formed them- selves into a guild, which guarded its monopoly. The under- graduate was the apprentice ; the degree was a license to teach, and carried with it the duty of teaching, though in time it became a literary title, unconnected with teaching, and coveted for its own sake. The University obtained a charter, elected its Chancellor, formed its academical Legislature of graduates, obtained jurisdiction over its own members. In time it marshalled its teachers and students into regular Fac- ulties of theology, law, and medicine, with arts, or general and liberal culture, if the name can be applied to anything so rudi- mentary as the literature and science of that day, forming the basis of all. At first the professors taught where they could ; in the cloisters, perhaps, of St. Frydeswide's monastery, sub- sequently absorbed by Christ Church ; in the porches of houses. A row of lecture-rooms, called the Schools, was after- wards provided in School Street, which ran north and south just under the Radcliffe. So little anchored was the Univer- sity by buildings, that when maltreated at Oxford it was ready to pack up its literary wares and migrate to another city such as Northampton or Stamford. . . . At first the students lodged as " Chamberdekyns " with cit- izens, but that system proving dangerous to order, they were gathered into hostels, or, to use the more dignified name. Halls ( a!//(e ) under a Principal, or Master of the University, who boarded and governed them. Of these Halls there were a great number, with their several nanies and signs. Till lately a few of thcni remained, though these had lost their 136 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY original character, and become merely small Colleges, without any foundation except a Principal. The students in those days were mostly poor. Their indigence was almost taken for granted. Some of them begged ; chests were provided by the charitable for loans to them. A poor student's life was hard ; if he was earnest in study, heroic. He shared a room with three or four chums, he slept under a rug, his fare was coarse and scanty, his garment was the gown which has now become merely an academical symbol, and thankful he was to be pro- vided with a new one. He had no fire in his room, no glass in his window. As his exercises in the University Schools be- gan at five in the morning, it is not likely that he read much at night, otherwise he would have to read by the light of a feeble lamp flickering with the wdnd. His manuscript was painful to read. The city was filthy, the water polluted with sewage ; pestilence often swept through the crowded hive. Mediceval students were a rough set ; not less rough than enthusiastic ; rougher than the students of the Ouartier Latin or Heidelberg, their nearest counterparts in recent times. They wore arms, or kept them in their chambers, and they needed them not only in going to and from the University over roads beset with robbers, but in conflicts with the towns- people, with whom the University was at war. With the townspeople the students had desperate affrays, ancient pre- cursors of the comparatively mild town and gown rows of this centur)'. The defiant horns of the town were answered by the bells of the University. Arrows flew ; blood was shed on both sides ; Halls were stormed and defended ; till Royalty from Abingdon or Woodstock interfered with its men-at-arms, seconded by the Bishop with bell, book, and candle. A Papal Legate, an Italian on whom national feeling looks with jeal- ousy, comes to Oxford. Scholars crowd to see him. There is a quarrel between them and his train. His cook flings a LIFE AT OXFORD IN THE MIDDLE AGES 137 cauldron of boiling broth over an Irish student. The scholars fly to arms. The Legate is ignominiously chased from Ox- ford. Excommunications, royal thunders, and penitential per- formances follow. Jews settle in Oxford, ply their trade among the scholars, and form a quarter with invidiously wealthy mansions. There is a royal edict, forbidding them to exact more than forty-three per cent interest from the student. Wealth makes them insolent ; they assault a relig- ious procession, and with them also the students have affrays. Provincial feeling is strong, for the students are divided into two nations, the Northern and the Southern, which are always wrangling, and sometimes fight pitched battles with bows and arrows. The two Proctors, now the heads of University police, were appointed as tribunes of the two nations to set- tle elections and other matters between them without battle. Amusements as well as everything else were rude. Football and other rough games were played at Beaumont, a piece of ground to the north of the city ; but there was nothing like that cricket field in the parks, nor like the sensation now cre- ated by the appearance of a renowned cricketer in his pad- dings before an admiring crowd, to display the fruit of his many years of assiduous practice in guarding his stumps. The Crown and local lords had to complain of a good deal of poaching in Bagley, Woodstock, Shotover, and Stowe Wood, To this Oxford, with its crowd of youth thirsting for knowledge, its turbulence, its vice, its danger from monkish encroachment, came Walter de Merton, one of the same his- toric group as Grosseteste and Grosseteste's friend, Adam de Marisco, the man of the hour, with the right device in his mind. Merton had been Chancellor of Henry III. amidst the political storms of the time, from which he would gladly turn aside to a work of peaceful improvement. It was thus that violence in those ages paid with its left hand a tribute to I -,S READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY civilisation. Merton's foundation is the first College, though University and Balliol come before it in the Calendar in deference to the priority of the benefactions out of which those Colleges grew. Yonder noble chapel in the Decorated style, with its tower and the old quadrangle beneath it, called, nobody knows why. Mob Quad, are the cradle of College life. Merton's plan was an academical brotherhood, which combined monastic order, discipline, and piety with the pur- suit of knowledge. No monk or friar was ever to be admitted to his House. The members of the House are called in his statutes by the common name of Scholars, that of Fellows {Socii), which afterwards prevailed here and in all the other Colleges, denoting their union as an academical household. They were to live like monks in common ; they were to take their meals together in the Refectory, and to study together in the common library, which may still be seen, dark and austere, with the chain by which a precious volume was at- tached to the desk. They had not a common dormitory, but they must have slept two or three in a room. Probably they were confined to their quadrangle, except when they were attending the Schools of the University, or allowed to leave it only with a companion as a safeguard. They were to elect their own Warden, and fill up by election vacancies in their own number. The Warden whom they had elected, they were to obey. They were to watch over each other's lives, and hold annual scrutinies into conduct. The Archbishop of Canter- bury was to visit the College and see that the rule was kept. But the rule was moral and academical, not cloistral or ascetic. The mediaeval round of religious services was to be duly performed, and prayers were to be said for the Found- er's soul. But the main object was not prayer, contem- plation, or masses for souls ; it was study. Monks were permanently devoted to their Order, shut up for life in their LIFE AT OXFORD L\ THE MIDDLE AGES 139 monastery, and secluded from the world. The Scholars of Merton were destined to serve the world, into which they were to go forth when they had completed the course of preparation in their College. They were destined to serve the world as their Founder had served it. In fact, we find Wardens and Fellows of Merton employed by the State and the Church in important missions. A Scholar of Merton, though he was to obey the College authorities, took no monastic vow of obedience. He took no monastic vow of poverty ; on the contrary, it was anticipated that he would gain wealth, of which he was exhorted to bestow a portion on his College, He took no monastic vow of celibacy, though, as one of the clerical order, he would of course not be per- mitted to marry. He was clerical as all Scholars in those days were clerical, not in the modern and professional sense of the term. Hie allowances of the Fellow were only his Commons, or food, and his Livery, or raiment, and there were to be as many Fellows as the estate could provide with these. Instruction was received not in College, but in the Schools of the University, to which the Scholars of Merton, like the other Scholars, were to resort. A sort of grammar school, for boys of the Founder's kin, was attached to the College. But otherwise the work of the College was study, not tuition, nor did the statutes contemplate the admission of any members except those on the foundation. Merton's plan, meeting the need of the hour, found accept- ance. His College became the pattern for others both at Oxford and Cambridge. University, Balliol, Exeter, Oriel, and Queen's were modelled after it, and monastic Orders seem to have taken the hint in founding Houses for their novices at Oxford. University College grew out of the bene- faction of William of Durham, an ecclesiastic who had studied at Paris, and left the University a sum of money for 140 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY the maintenance of students of divinity. The University lodged them in a Hall styled the Great Hall of the Uni- versity, which is still the proper corporate name of the College. . . . Oriel was founded by a court Almoner, Adam de Brome, who displayed his courtliness by allow- ing his Scholars to speak French as well as Latin. Queen's was founded by a court Chaplain, Robert Egglesfield, and dedicated to the honour of his royal mistress. Queen Phi- lippa. It was for a Provost and twelve Fellows who were to represent the number of Christ and his disciples, to sit at a table as Egglesfield had seen in a picture the Thir- teen sitting at the Last Supper, though in crimson robes. Egglesfield's building has been swept away to make room for the Palladian palace on its site. But his name is kept in mind by the quaint custom of giving, on his day, a needle {aigidlle) to each member of the foundation, with the injunction. Take that and be thrifty. Yonder stone eagles too on the building recall it. Exeter College was the work of a political Bishop who met his death in a London insurrection. As the fashion of founding Colleges grew, that of found- ing Monasteries decreased, and the more as the mediaeval faith declined, and the great change drew near. That change was heralded by the appearance of Wycliffe, a genuine off- spring of the University, for while he was the great religious reformer, he was also the great scholastic philosopher of his day. To what College or Hall his name and fame belong is a moot point among antiquaries. We would fain imagine him in his meditations pacing the old Mob Quadrangle of Merton. His teaching took strong and long hold of the University. His reforming company of '" poor priests " drew with it the spiritual aspiration and energy of Oxford youth. But if his movement has left any traces in the shape of IJFE AT OXFORD IN THE MIDDFE AGES 141 foundations, it is in the shape of loundations produced by the reaction against it, and destined for its overthrow. Yonder rises the bell tower of New College over a famous group of buildings, with ample quadrangle, rich religious chapel, a noble I lall and range of tranquil cloisters, defaced only by the addition of a modern upper story to the quad- rangle and Vandalic adaptation of the upper windows to modern convenience. This pile was the work of William of Wykeham, l^ishop of Winchester, a typical character of the Middle Ages, prelate, statesman, and court architect in one, who negotiated the peace of Bretigny and built Windsor Castle. The eye of the great architect as well as of the pious Founder must have ranged with delight over his fair creation. It is likely that New College, as a foundation highly religious in its character, was intended to counteract Wyclififism as well as to replenish the clergy which had been decimated by the Black Death. Wykeham was a reformer in liis way, and one of the party headed by the Black Prince which strove to correct the abuses of the court in the dark decline of Edward III. But he was a conservative, religious after the orthodox fashion, and devoted to the worship of the Virgin, to whom his College was dedicated, after whom it was named, and whose image surmounts its gate. The College of St. Mary of Winton his foundation was entitled. In its day it might well be called New College. New it was in its scale, having seventy F'ellows and Scholars besides ten Chaplains, three Clerks, and sixteen Choristers for the services of the Chapel, which is still famous for its choir. New it was in the extent and magnificence of its buildings. New it was in the provision made for solemn services in its Chapel, for religious processions round its cloisters, for the daily orisons of all its members. New it was in the state assigned to its Warden, who was not to be like the W^arden of Merton, only 142 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY the first among his humble peers, Hving with them at the common board, but to resemble more a great Abbot with a separate establishment of his own, keeping a sumptuous hospitality and drawn by six horses when he went abroad. New it was in having undergraduates as well as graduates on the foundation, and providing for the training of the youth during the whole interval between school and the highest University degree. Even further back than the time of admittance to the University, stretched the care of the reformer of education. The most important novelty of all, perhaps, in his creation, was the connection between his College and the school which he founded at Winchester, his cathedral city, to feed his College with a constant supply of model Scholars. This was the first of those great Public Schools which have largely moulded the character of the rul- ing class in England. The example was followed by Henry VI. in connecting King's College, Cambridge, with Eaton, and would have been followed by Wolsey had he carried out his design of connecting Cardinal College with his school at Ipswich. From the admission of an undergraduate element into the College it naturally followed that there should be in- struction of the juniors by the seniors, and superintendence of study within the College walls. This was yet another novelty, and Wykeham seems to have had an additional motive for adopting it in the low condition of the University Schools, from the exercises of which attention had perhaps been diverted by the religious movement. In the careful provision for the study of Grammatica, that is, the elements of Latin, we perhaps see a gleam of the Renaissance, as the style of the buildings belonging to the last order of mediaeval architecture indicates that the Middle Age was hastening to its close. But it was one of Wykeham's objects to strengthen the orthodox priesthood in a time of revolutionary peril. Ten LIFE AT OXFORD IN THE MIDDLE AGES 143 of his Fellows were assigned to the study of civil, ten to that of canon, law. Two were permitted to study medicine. All the rest were to be theologians. The F\)undcr was false to his own generous design in giving a paramount and perpet- ual preference in the election of Fellows to his kin, who, being numerous, became at length a fearful incubus on his institution. It is not likely that his own idea of kinship was unlimited, or extended beyond the tenth degree. All the Fellows and Scholars were to be poor and indigent. This was in unison with the mediaeval spirit of almsgiving as well as with the mediaeval theory of poverty as a state spiritually superior, held, though not embodied, by wealthy prelates. Study, not teaching, it is always to be remembered, was the principal duty of those who were to eat the Founder's bread. The Statutes of New College are elaborate, and w^ere largely copied by other founders. They present to us a half- monastic life, with the general hue of asceticism which per- vades everything mediaeval. Here, as in the case of Merton, there are no vows, but there is strict discipline, with frugal fare. The Commons, or allowances for food, are not to ex- ceed twelve pence per week, except in the times of dearth. Once a year there is an allowance of cloth for a gown. There is a chest for loans to the very needy, but there is no stipend. The Warden rules with abbatial power, though in greater matters he requires the consent of the Fellows, and is himself under the censorship of the Visitor, the Bishop of Winchester, who, however, rarely interposed. Evciy year he goes on " progress " to view the College estates, there being in those days no agents, and is received by tenants with homage and rural hospitality. The Fellows and Scholars are lodged three or four in a room, the seniors as monitors to the juniors. Each Scholar undergoes two years of probation. As in a baronial hall the nobles, so in the College Hall the seniors, 144 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY occupy the dais, or high table, while the juniors sit at tables arranged down the Hall. In the dining-hall the Fellows and Scholars sit in silence, and listen to the reading of the Bible. In speaking they must use no tongue but the Latin. There is to be no lingering in the Hall after dinner, except when in winter a fire is lighted on some church festival. Then it is permitted to remain awhile and rehearse poems, or talk about the chronicles of the kingdom, the wonders of the world, and other things befitting clerical discourse. This seems to be the principal concession made to the youthful love of amusement. As a rule, it appears that the students were confined to the College and its cloisters when they were not attending the Schools of the University. They are forbidden to keep hounds or hawks, as well as to throw stones or indulge in any rough or noisy sports. The injunctions against spilling wine and slops in the upper rooms, or beer on the floor of the Hall, to the annoyance of those who lodged beneath, betoken a rough style of living and rude manners. The admission of strangers is jealously restricted, and on no account must a woman enter the College, except a laundress, who must be of safe age. There were daily prayers for the Founder's soul, daily masses, and fifty times each day every member of the College was to repeat the salutation to the Virgin. The Founder's obit was to be celebrated with special pomp. Self-love in a mediaeval ascetic was not annihilated by humility, though it took a re- ligious form. Thrice every year are held scrutinies into life and conduct, at which the hateful practice of secret denun- ciation is admitted, and the accused is forbidden to call for the name of his accuser. Every cloistered society, whether monastic or academic, is pretty sure to seethe with cabals, suspicions, and slanders. Leave of absence from the College was by statute very sparingly allowed, and seldom could the young Scholar pay what, in the days before the letter post, BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY 145 must have been angel's visits lo the old people on the paternal homestead. The ecclesiastical and ascetic system of the Mid- dle Ages had litde regard for domestic affection. It treated the boy as entirely the child of the Church. In times of pes- tilence, then common, the inmates of the Colleges usually went to some farm or grange belonging to the College in the neighborhood of Oxford, and those were probably pleasant days for the younger members. Oaths of fearful length and stringency were taken to the observation of the statutes. They proved sad traps for conscience when the statutes had become obsolete, a contingency of which the Founders, ignorant of progress and evolution, never dreamed. Number 24 BRUCE'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY AT BANNOCKBURN Robert Burns. Scots, Wha Hae. I Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, Scots, wham Bruce has aften led. Welcome to your gory bed, Or to victorie ! II Now's the day, and now's the hour : See the front o' battle lour, See approach proud Edward's power — Chains and slaverie ! 146 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY III Wha will be a traitor knave ? Wha can fill a coward's grave ? Wha sae base as be a slave ? — Let him turn, and flee ! IV Wha for Scotland's King and Law Freedom's sword will strongly draw^ Freeman stand or freeman fa', Let him follow me ! V By Oppression's woes and pains, By your sons in servile chains, We will drain our dearest veins But they shall be free ! VI Lay the proud usurpers low ! Tyrants fall in every foe ! Liberty's in every blow ! Let us do, or die ! THE BATTLE OF CRESSY 147 N^imhcr 25 THE BATTLE OF CRESSY Froissart. Chronicles, chaps, cxxviii-cxxx. Translated by T.ord Berners. This selection is from a translation of the famous Chronicles of Froissart, a Frenchman who came to England in the service of Queen PhiHppa. He had a chance to know personally the nobles who took part in the Hundred Years' War. On the Friday, as I said before, the king of England lay in the fields, for the country was plentiful of wines and other victual, and if need had been, they had provision following in carts and other carriages. That night the king made a supper to all his chief lords of his host and made them good cheer ; and when they were all departed to take their rest, then the king entered into his oratory and kneeled down before the altar, praying God devoutly, that if he fought the next day, that he might achieve the journey to his honour : then about midnight he laid him down to rest, and in the morning he rose betimes and heard mass, and the prince his son with him, and the most part of his company were confessed and houselled ; and after the mass said, he commanded every man to be armed and to draw to the field to the same place before appointed. Then the king caused a park to be made by the wood side behind his host, and there was set all carts and carriages, and within the park were all their horses, for every man was afoot ; and into this park there was but one entry. Then he ordained three battles ^ : in the first was the young prince of Wales, with him the earl of Warwick and Oxford, the lord Godfrey of Harcourt, sir Raynold Cobham, sir Thomas Holland, the lord Stafl'ord, the lord of Mohun, the lord Delaware, sir John Chandos, sir Bartholomew de Burghersh, sir Robert Nevill, the lord Thomas Clifford, the 1 Battalions. 148 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY lord Bourchier, the lord de Latimer, and divers other knights and squires that I cannot name : they were an eight hundred men of arms and two thousand archers, and a thousand of other with the Welshmen : ever)^ lord drew to the field ap- pointed under his own banner and pennon. In the second battle was the earl of Northampton, the earl of Arundel, the lord Ros, the lord Lucy, the lord Willoughby, the lord Basset, the lord of Saint-Aubin, sir Louis Tufton, the lord of Multon, the lord Lascelles and divers other, about an eight hundred men of arms and twelve hundred archers. The third battle had the king : he had seven hundred men of arms and two thousand archers. Then the king leapt on a hobby, with a white rod in his hand, one of his marshals on the one hand, and the other on the other hand : he rode from rank to rank desiring every man to take heed that day to his right and honour. He spake it so sweetly and with so good countenance and merry cheer, that all such as were discomfited took cour- age in the seeing and hearing of him. And when he had thus visited all his batdes, it was then nine of the day : then he caused every man to eat and drink a little, and so they did at their leisure. And afterward they ordered again their battles : then every man lay down on the earth and by him his salet and bow, to be the more fresher when their enemies should come. This Saturday the French king rose betimes and heard mass in Abbeville in his lodging in the abbey of Saint Peter, and he departed after the sun-rising. When he was out of the town two leagues, approaching toward his enemies, some of his lords said to him : ' Sir, it were good that ye ordered your battles, and let all your footmen pass somewhat on be- fore, that they be not troubled with the horsemen.' Then the king sent four knights, the Moine [of] Bazeilles, the lord of Noyers, the lord of Beaujeu and the lord d'Aubigny to THE UATTLE OF CRESSY 149 ride to aview the English host ; and so they rode so near that they might well see part of their dealing. The Englishmen saw them well and knew well how they were come thither to aview them : they let them alone and made no countenance toward them, and let them return as they came. And when the French king saw these four knights return again, he tarried till they came to him and said : ' Sirs, what tidings .'' ' These four knights each of them looked on other, for there was none would speak before his companion ; finally the king said to [the] Moine, who pertained to the king of Bohemia and had done in his days so much, that he was reputed for one of the valiantest knights of the world : ' Sir, speak you.' Then he said : ' Sir, I shall speak, sith it pleaseth you, under the cor- rection of my fellows. Sir, we have ridden and seen the be- having of your enemies : know ye for truth they are rested in three battles abiding for you. Sir, I will counsel you as for my part, saving your displeasure, that you and all your company rest here and lodge for this night : for or they that be behind of your company be come hither, and or your battles be set in good order, it will be ver)- late, and your people be weary and out of array, and ye shall find your enemies fresh and ready to receix'e you. Early in the morning ye may order your battles at more leisure and advise your enemies at more deliberation, and to regard well what way ye will assail them ; for, sir, surely they will abide you.' Then the king commanded that it should be so done. Then his two marshals one rode before, another behind, say- ing to every banner : ' Tarry and abide here in the name of God and Saint Denis.' They that were foremost tarried, but they that were behind would not tarry, but rode forth, and said how they would in no wise abide till they were as far forward as the foremost : and when they before saw them come on behind, then they rode forward again, so that the I50 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY king nor his marshals could not rule them. So they rode without order or good array, till they came in sight of their enemies : and as soon as the foremost saw them, they re- culed then aback without good array, whereof they behind had marvel and were abashed, and thought that the foremost company had been fighting. Then they might have had lei- sure and room to have gone forward, if they had list : some went forth and some abode still. The commons, of whom all the ways between Abbeville and Cressy were full, when they saw that they were near to their enemies, they took their swords and cried : " Down with them ! let us slay them all.' There is no man, though he were present at the journey, that could imagine or shew the truth of the evil order that was among the French party, and yet they were a mar\'ellous great number. That I write in this book I learned it specially of the Englishmen, who well beheld their dealing ; and also certain knights of sir John of Hainault's, who was always about king Philip, shewed me as they knew. The Englishmen, who were in three battles lying on the ground to rest them, as soon as they saw the Frenchmen ap- proach, they rose upon their feet fair and easily without any haste and arranged their battles. The first, which 'was the prince's battle, the archers there stood in manner of a herse ^ and the men of arms in the bottom of the battle. The earl of Northampton and the earl of Arundel with the second battle were on a wing in good order, ready to comfort the prince's battle, if need were. The lords and knights of France came not to the assem- bly together in good order, for some came before and some came after in such haste and evil order, that one of them did trouble another. When the French king saw the Englishmen, his blood changed, and said to his marshals : ' Make the 1 Harrow. THE BATTLE OF CRESSY 151 Genoways go on before and begin the battle in the name of God and Saint Denis.' There were of the Genoways cross- bows about a fifteen thousand, but they were so weary of going afoot that day a six leagues armed with their cross-bows, that they said to their constables : ' We be not well ordered to fight this day, for we be not in the case to do any great deed of arms : we have more need of rest.' These words came to the earl of Alengon, who said : ' A man is well at ease to be charged with such a sort of rascals, to be faint and fail now at most need.' Also the same season there fell a great rain and a clipse with a terrible thunder, and before the rain there came flying over both battles a great number of crows for fear of the tempest coming. Then anon the air began to wax clear, and the sun to shine fair and bright, the which was right in the Frenchmen's eyen and on the Englishmen's backs. When the Genoways were assembled together and began to approach, they made a great leap and cry to abash the Eng- lishmen, but they stood still and stirred not for all that : then the Genoways again the second time made another leap and a fell cry, and stept forward a little, and the Englishmen removed not one foot : thirdly, again they leapt and cried, and went forth till they came within shot ; then they shot fiercely with their cross-bows. Then the English archers stept forth one pace and let fly their arrows so wholly [together] and so thick, that it seemed snow. When the Genoways felt the arrows piercing through heads, arms and breasts, manv of them cast down their cross-bows and did cut their strings and returned discomfited. When the French king saw them fly away, he said : ' Slay these rascals, for they shall let and trouble us without reason.' Then ye should have seen the men of arms dash in among them and killed a great number of them : and ever still the Englishmen shot whereas they saw thickest press ; the sharp arrows ran into the men of 152 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY arms and into their horses, and many fell, horse and men, among the Genoways, and when they were down, they could not relieve again, the press was so thick that one overthrew another. And also among the Englishmen there were certain rascals that went afoot with great knives, and they went in among the men of arms, and slew and murdered many as they lay on the ground, both earls, barons, knights and squires, whereof the king of England was after displeased, for he had rather they had been taken prisoners. The valiant king of Bohemia called Charles of Luxem- bourg, son to the noble emperor Henry of Luxembourg, for all that he was nigh blind, when he understood the order of the battle, he said to them about him : ' Where is the lord Charles my son ? ' His men said : ' Sir, we cannot tell ; we think he be fighting.' Then he said : ' Sirs, ye are my men, my com- panions and friends in this journey : I require you bring me so far forward, that I may strike one stroke with my sword.' They said they would do his commandment, and to the intent that they should not lose him in the press, they tied all their reins of their bridles each to other and set the king before to accomplish his desire, and so they went on their enemies. The lord Charles of Bohemia his son, who wrote himself king of Almaine and bare the arms, he came in good order to the battle ; but when he saw that the matter went awry on their party, he departed, I cannot tell you which way. The king his father was so far forward that he strake a stroke with his sword, yea and more than four, and fought valiantly and so did his company ; and they adventured themselves so forward, that they were there all slain, and the next day they were found in the place about the king, and all their horses tied each to other. The earl of Alen^on came to the battle right ordinately and fought with the Englishmen, and the earl of Flanders also on THE BATTLE OF CRESSY 153 his part. These two lords with their companies coasted the EngHsh archers and came to the prince's battle, and there fought valiantly long. The French king would fain have come thither, when he saw their banners, but there was a great hedge of archers before him. The same day the PVench king had given a great black courser to sir John of Hainault, and he made the lord Thierry of Senzeille to ride on him and to bear his banner. The same horse took the bridle in the teeth and brought him through all the currours of the English- men, and as he would have returned again, he fell in a great dike and was sore hurt, and had been there dead, an his page had not been, who followed him through all the battles and saw where his master lay in the dike, and had none other let but for his horse, for the Englishmen would not issue out of their battle for taking of any prisoner. Then the page alighted and relieved his master : then he went not back again the same way that they came, there was too many in his way. The battle between Broye and Cressy this Saturday was right cruel and fell, and many a feat of arms done that came not to my knowledge. In the night divers knights and squires lost their masters, and sometime came on the Englishmen, who received them in such wise that they were ever nigh slain ; for there was none taken to mercy nor to ransom, for so the Englishmen were determined. In the morning the day of the battle certain Frenchmen and Almains perforce opened the archers of the prince's battle and came and fought with the men of arms hand to hand. Then the second battle of the Englishmen came to succour the prince's battle, the which was time, for they had as then much ado ; and they with the prince sent a messenger to the king, who was on a little windmill hill. Then the knight said to the king : ' Sir, the earl of Warwick and the earl of Oxford, 154 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY sir Raynold Cobham and other, such as be about the prince your son, are fiercely fought withal and are sore handled ; wherefore they desire you that you and your battle will come and aid them ; for if the Frenchmen increase, as they doubt they will, your son and they shall have much ado.' Then the king said : ' Is my son dead or hurt or on the earth felled ? ' ' No, sir,' quoth the knight, ' but he is hardly matched ; wherefore he hath need of your aid.' ' Well,' said the king, ' return to him and to them that sent you hither, and say to them that they send no more to me for any adven- ture that falleth, as long as my son is alive : and also say to them that they suffer him this day to win his spurs ; for if God be pleased, I will this journey be his and the honour thereof, and to them that be about him.' Then the knight returned again to them and shewed the king's words, the which greatly encouraged them, and repoined in that they had sent to the king as they did. Sir Godfrey of Harcourt would gladly that the earl of Harcourt his brother might have been saved ; for he heard say by them that saw his banner how that he was there in the field on the French party : but sir Godfrey could not come to him betimes, for he was slain or he could come at him, and so was also the earl of Aumale his nephew. In another place the earl of Alen^on and the earl of Flanders fought valiantly, every lord under his own banner ; but finally they could not resist against the puissance of the Englishmen, and so there they were also slain, and divers other knights and squires. Also the earl Louis of Blois, nephew to the French king, and the duke of Lorraine fought under their banners, but at last they were closed in among a company of English- men and Welshmen, and there were slain for all their prowess. Also there was slain the earl of Auxerre, the earl of Saint-Pol and many other. THE BATTLE OK CRESSY 155 In the evening the French king, who had left about him no more than a three-score persons, one and other, whereof sir John of Hainault was one, who had remounted once the kine:, for his horse was slain with an arrrow, then he said to the king : ' Sir, depart hence, for it is time ; lose not yourself wilfully : if ye have loss at this time, ye shall recover it again another season.' And so he took the king's horse by the bridle and led him away in a manner perforce. Then the king rode till he came to the castle of Broye. The gate was closed, because it was by that time dark : then the king called the captain, who came to the walls and said : ' Who is that calleth there this time of night .? ' Then the king said : " Open your gate quickly, for this is the fortune of France.' The captain knew then it was the king, and opened the gate and let down the bridge. Then the king entered, and he had with him but five barons, sir John of Hainault, sir Charles of Montmorency, the lord of Beaujeu, the lord d'Aubigny and the lord of Montsault. The king would not tarry there, but drank and departed thence about midnight, and so rode by such guides as knew the country till he came in the morning to Amiens, and there he rested. This Saturday the Englishmen never departed from their battles for chasing of any man, but kept still their field, and ever defended themselves against all such as came to assail them. This battle ended about evensong time. 156 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Number 26 THE SIEGE OF CALAIS Froissart. Chy-onicles, chaps, cxxxiii, cxlvi. Translated by Lord Berners. For the author see Number 25, above. . . , When the king of England was come before Calais, he laid his siege and ordained bastides between the town and the river : he made carpenters to make houses and lodgings of great timber, and set the houses like streets and covered them with reed and broom, so that it was like a little town ; and there was everything to sell, and a market-place to be kept every Tuesday and Saturday for flesh and fish, mercery ware, houses for cloth, for bread, wine and all other things necessary, such as came out of England or out of Flanders ; there they might buy what they list. The Englishmen ran oftentimes into the country of Guines, and into Ternois, and to the gates of Saint-Omer's, and sometime to Boulogne ; they brought into their host great preys. The king would not assail the town of Calais, for he thought it but a lost labour : he spared his people and his artillery, and said how he would famish them in the town with long siege, without the French king come and raise his siege perforce. When the captain of Calais saw the manner and the order of the Englishmen, then he constrained all poor and mean people to issue out of the town, and on a Wednesday there issued out of men, women and children more than seventeen hundred ; and as they passed through the host, they were demanded why they departed, and they answered and said, because they had nothing to live on : then the king did them that grace that he suffered them to pass through his host without danger, and gave them meat and drink to dinner, THE SIEGE OF CALAIS 1 57 and every person two pence sterling in alms, for the which divers many of them prayed for the king's prosperity. Summary of Chapters CXLIV-CXLV. The French king raised an army to relieve Calais, but the passages were so well kept, that he could not approach. N^egotiations for peace were withotit effect. After that the French king was thus departed from San- gate, they within Calais saw well how their succour failed them, for the which they were in great sorrow. Then they desired so much their captain, sir John of Vienne, that he went to the walls of the town and made a sign to speak with some person of the host. When the king heard thereof, he sent thither sir Gaultier of Manny and sir Basset. Then sir John of Vienne said to them : ' Sirs, ye be right valiant knights in deeds of arms, and ye know well how the king my master hath sent me and other to this town and com- manded us to keep it to his behoof in such wise that we take no blame, nor to him no damage ; and we have done all that lieth in our power. Now our succours hath failed us, and we be so sore strained, that we have not to live withal, but that we must all die or else enrage for famine, without the noble and gentle king of yours will take mercy on us : the which to do we require you to desire him, to have pity on us and to let us go and depart as we be, and let him take the town and castle and all the goods that be therein, the which is great abundance.' Then sir Gaultier of Manny said : ' Sir, we know somewhat of the intention of the king our master, for he hath shewed it unto us : surely know for truth it is not his mind that ye nor they within the town should depart so, for it is his will that ye all should put yourselves into his pure will, to ransom all such as pleaseth liini and to put to death such as he list ; for they of Calais hath done him such contraries and despites, and hath caused him to dispend so much good, and 158 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY lost many of his men, that he is sore grieved against them.' Then the captain said : ' Sir, this is too hard a matter to us. We are here within, a small sort of knights and squires, who hath truly served the king our master as well as ye serve yours in like case. And we have endured much pain and unease ; but we shall yet endure as much pain as ever knights did, rather than to consent that the worst lad in the town should have any more evil than the greatest of us all : therefore, sir, we pray you that of your humility, yet that ye will go and speak to the king of England and desire him to have pity of us ; for we trust in him so much gentleness, that by the grace of God his purpose shall change.' Sir Gaultier of Manny and sir Basset returned to the king and declared to him all that had been said. The king said he would none otherwise but that they should yield them up simply to his pleasure. Then Sir Gaultier said : ' Sir, saving your displeasure, in this ye may be in the wrong, for ye shall give by this an evil ensample : if ye send any of us your serv- ants into any fortress, we will not be very glad to go, if ye put any of them in the town to death after they be yielded ; for in like wise they will deal with us, if the case fell like.' The which words divers other lords that were there present sus- tained and maintained. Then the king said : ' Sirs, I will not be alone against you all ; therefore, sir Gaultier of Manny, ye shall go and say to the captain that all the grace that he shall find now in me is that they let six of the chief burgesses of the town come out bare-headed, bare-footed, and bare-legged, and in their shirts, with halters about their necks, with the keys of the town and castle in their hands, and let them six yield themselves purely to my will, and the residue I will take to mercy.' Then sir Gaultier returned and found sir John of Vienne still on the wall, abiding for an answer. Then sir Gaultier THE SIEGE OF CALAIS 1 59 shewed him all ihe grace that he could get of the king. ' Well,' quoth sir John, ' sir, I require you tarry here a certain space till I go into the town and shew this to the commons of the town, who sent me hither. Then sir John went unto the mar- ket-place and sowned the common bell : then incontinent men and women assembled there : then the captain made report of all that he had done, and said, ' Sirs, it will be none otherwise ; therefore now take advice and make a short answer.' Then all the people began to weep and to make such sorrow, that there was not so hard a heart, if they had seen them, but that would have had great pity of them : the captain himself wept piteously. At last the most rich burgess of all the town, called Eustace of Saint-Pierre, rose up and said openly : ' Sirs, great and small, great mischief it should be to suffer to die such people as be in this town, other by famine or otherwise, when there is a mean to save them. I think he or they should have great merit of our Lord God that might keep them from such mischief. As for my part, I have so good trust in our Lord God, that if I die in the quarrel to save the residue, that (rod would pardon me : wherefore to save them I will be the first to put my life in jeopardy.' When he had thus said, every man worshipped him and divers kneeled down at his feet with sore weeping and sore sighs. Then another honest bur- gess rose and said : ' I will keep company with my gossip Eustace.' He was called John d'Aire. Then rose up Jaques of Wissant, who was rich in goods and heritage ; he said also that he would hold company with his two cousins. In like wise so did Peter of W^issant his brother : and then rose two other ; they said they would do the same. Then they went and apparelled them as the king desired. Then the captain went with them to the gate : there was great lamentation made of men, women and children at their departing : then the gate was opened and he issued out with l6o READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY the six burgesses and closed the gate again, so that they were between the gate and the barriers. Then he said to sir Gaultier of Manny : ' Sir, I dehver here to you as captain of Calais by the whole consent of all the people of the town these six burgesses, and I swear to you truly that they be and were today most honourable, rich and most notable burgesses of all the town of Calais. Wherefore, gentle knight, I require you pray the king to have mercy on them, that they die not.' Quoth sir Gaultier : ' I cannot say what the king will do, but I shall do for them the best I can.' Then the barriers were opened, the six burgesses went towards the king, and the captain entered again into the town. When sir Gaultier presented these burgesses to the king, they kneeled down and held up their hands and said : ' Gentle king, behold here we six, who were burgesses of Calais and great merchants; we have brought to you the keys of the town and of the castle and we submit ourselves clearly into your will and pleasure, to save the residue of the people of Calais, who have suffered great pain. Sir, we beseech your grace to have mercy and pity on us through your high nobless.' Then all the earls and barons and other that were there wept for pity. The king looked felly on them, for greatly he hated the people of Calais for the great damages and displeasures they had done him on the sea before. Then he commanded their heads to be stricken off : then every man required the king for mercy, but he would hear no man in that behalf : then sir Gaultier of Manny said : ' Ah, noble king, for God's sake refrain your courage : ye have the name of sovereign nobless ; therefore now do not a thing that should blemish your renown, nor to give cause to some to speak of you villainy. Every man will say it is a great cruelty to put to death such honest persons, who by their own wills put themselves into your grace to save their company.' Then EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE i6l the king wr)'cd away from him and commanded to send for the hangman, and said : " They of Calais have caused many of my men to be slain, wherefore these shall die in like wise.' Then the queen, . . . kneeled down and sore weeping said : ' Ah, gentle sir, sith I passed the sea in great peril, I have desired nothing of you ; therefore now I humbly require you in the honour of the Son of the Virgin Mary and for the love of me that ye will take mercy of these six burgesses.' The king beheld the queen and stood still in a study a space, and then said : 'Ah, dame, I would ye had been as now in some other place ; ye make such request to me that I cannot deny you. Wherefore I give them to you, to do your pleasure with them.' Then the queen caused them to be brought into her chamber, and made the halters to be taken from their necks, and caused them to be new clothed, and gave them their dinner at their leisure : and then she gave each of them six nobles and made them to be brought out of the host in safe-guard and set at their liberty. Number 2'j EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE A. P. Stanley, //istorical Memorials of Canterbioy, pp. 132-160, passim. This account is taken from a lecture delivered at Canterbury in 1852. The tomb and effigy of the Black Prince are among the most interesting monuments in Canterbury Cathedral. Over the tomb hang the Prince's surcoat, gauntlets, helmet, and shield. . . . Let US place ourselves in imagination by the tomb of the most illustrious layman who rests among us, ICdward Plan- tagenet, Prince of Wales, commonly called the Black Prince. Let us ask whose likeness it is that we there see stretched before us — why was he buried in this place, amongst the 1 62 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Archbishops and sacred shrines of former times — what can we learn from his hfe or his death ? [1330.] A few words must first be given to his birth and childhood. He was born on the 15th of June, 1330, at the old palace of Woodstock, near Oxford, from which he was sometimes called Prince Edward of Woodstock. He was you will remember, the eldest son of King Edward HI. and Queen Philippa, a point always to be remembered in his his- tory, because, like Alexander the Great, and a few other em- inent instances, he is one of those men in whom the peculiar qualities both of his father and his mother were equally exem- plified. Every one knows the story of the siege of Calais, of the sternness of King Edward and the gendeness of Queen Philippa, and it is the union of these qualities in their son which gave him the exact place which he occupies in the succession of our English princes, and in the history of Europe. . . . We now pass to the next events of his life ; those which have really made him almost as famous in war, as Wycliffe has been in peace — the two great battles of Cressy and of Poitiers. I will not now go into the origin of the war, of which these two battles formed the turning-points. It is enough for us to remember that it was undertaken by Edward III. to gain the crown of France, a claim, through his mother, which he had solemnly relinquished, but which he now re- sumed to satisfy the scruples of his allies, the citizens of Ghent, who thought that their oath of allegiance to the " Kins of France," would be redeemed if their leader did but bear the name. [1346.] And now, first for Cressy. . . . On the top of a windmill, of which the solid tower still is to be seen on the ridge overhanging the field, the King, for whatever reason, remained bareheaded, whilst the young Prince, who had been knighted a month before, went forward with his companions EDWARD HIE BLACK PRINCE 163 in arms, into the very thick of the fray ; and when his father saw that the victory was virtually gained, he forebore to inter- fere. " Let the child ^viii his spurs," he said, in words which have since become a proverb, " and let the day be his.'' The Prince was in very great danger at one moment ; he was wounded and thrown to the ground, and only saved by Richard de Beaumont, who carried the great banner of Wales, throwing the banner over the boy as he lay on the ground, and standing upon it till he had driven back the assailants. The assailants were driven back, and far through the long summer evening, and deep into the summer night, the battle raged. It was not till all was dark, that the Prince and his companions halted from their pursuit ; and then huge fires and torches were lit up, that the King might see where they were. And then took place the touching interview between the father and the son ; the King embracing the boy in front of the whole army, by the red light of the blazing fires, and saying, " Sweet SON, God give yoii good perseverance ; yon are my true son — rigJit loyally have yon acqiiitted yourself this day, and ivorthy atr you of a crown,'' — and the young Prince, after the reverential manner of those times, ' ' bowed to the ground, and gave all the honour to the King his father." The next day the King walked over the field of carnage with the Prince, and said, " What think yon of a battle, is it an agreeable game ? " The general result of the battle was the deliverance of the English army from a most imminent danger, and subse- quently the conquest of Calais, which the King immediately besieged and won, and which remained in the possession of the P2nglish from that day to the reign of Queen Mary. From that time the Prince became the darling of the English, and the terror of the PVench ; and, whether from this terror, or from the black armour which he wore on that day, and which 1 64 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY contrasted with the fairness of his complexion, he was called by them " Le Prince Noir," the Black Prince, and from them the name has passed to us ; so that all his other sounding titles, by which the old poems call him — " Prince of Wales, Duke of Aquitaine," — are lost in the one memorable name which he won for himself in his first fight at Cressy. [1356.] And now we pass over ten years, and find him on the field of Poitiers. . . . The spot, which is about six miles south of Poitiers, is still known by the name of the Battle- field. Its features are very slightly marked — two ridges of rising ground, parted by a gentle hollow ; behind the highest of these two ridges is a large tract of copse and underwood, and leading up to it from the hollow is a somewhat steep lane, there shut in by woods and vines on each side. It was on this ridge that the Prince had taken up his position, and it was solely by the good use which he made of this position that the victory was won. The French army was arranged on the other side of the hollow in three great divisions, of which the King's was the hindmost; the farm-house which marks the spot where this division was posted is visible from the walls of Poitiers. It was on Monday, Sept. 19, 1356, at 9 a.m., that the batde began. . . . The Prince offered to give up all the castles and prisoners he had taken, and to swear not to fight in France again for seven years. But the King would hear of nothing but his absolute surrender of himself and his army on the spot. . . . The story of the battle, if we remember the position of the armies, is told in a moment. The Prince remained firm in his position : the French charged with their usual chivalrous ardour — charged up the lane ; the English archers, whom the Prince had stationed behind the hedges on each side, let fly their showers of arrows, as at Cressy ; in an instant the lane was choked with the dead ; and the first check of such EDWARD VWK liLACK PRINCE 165 headstrong confidence was fatal. . . . The Prince in his turn charged ; a general panic seized the whole French army ; the first and second division fled in the wildest confusion ; the third alone where King John stood made a gallant resistance ; the King was taken prisoner, and by noon the whole was over. Up to the gates of the town of Poitiers the PVench army fled and fell ; and their dead bodies were buried by heaps within a convent which still remains in the city. It was a wonderful day. . . . " The day of the battle at night, the Prince gave a supper in his lodgings to the French King, and to most of the great lords that were prisoners. The Prince caused the King and his son to sit at one tabic, and other lords, knights, and squires at the others ; and the Prince always served the King very humbly, and would not sit at the King's table, although he requested him — he said he was not qualified to sit at the table with so great a prince as the King was. Then he said to the King, ' Sir, for God's sake make no bad cheer, though your will was not accomplished this day. For Sir, the King, my father, will certainly bestow on )ou as much honour and friendship as he can, and will agree with you so reasonably that you shall ever after be friends ; and. Sir, I think you ought to rejoice, though the battle be not as you will, for you have this day gained the high honour of prowess, and have surpassed all others on your side in valour. Sir, I say not this in railler\', for all our party, who saw every man's deeds, agree in this, and give you the palm and chaplet.' Therewith the French- men whispered among themselves that the Prince had spoken nobly, and that most probably he would prove a great hero if God preserved his life, to persevere in such good fortune." • ■••••■ ••• [1366.] And now we have to go again over ten years, and we find the Prince engaged in a war in Spain, helping 1 66 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Don Pedro, King of Spain, against his brother. But this would take us too far away — I will only say that here also he won a most brilliant victory, the battle of Nejara, in 1 367, and it is interesting to remember that the first great commander of the English armies had a peninsular war to fight as well as the last, and that the flower of English chivalry led his troops through the pass of Roncevalles, " Where Charlemagne and all his peerage fell," in the days of the old romances, [ 1 376.] Once again, then, we pass over ten years — for, by a singular coincidence, which has been observed by others, the life of the Prince thus naturally divides itself — and we find ourselves at the end, at that last scene which is, in fact, the main connection of the Black Prince with Canterbury, The expedition to Spain, though accompanied by one splendid victory, had ended disastrously. From that moment the for- tunes of the Prince were overcast. A long and wasting ill- ness, which he contracted in the southern climate of Spain, broke down his constitution ; a rebellion occasioned by his own wastefulness, which was one of the faults of his charac- ter, burst forth in his French provinces ; his father was now sinking in years, and surrounded by unworthy favourites — such was the state in which the Prince returned, for the last time, to England. P'or four years he lived in almost entire seclusion at Berkhampstead, in preparation for his approach- ing end ; often he fell into long fainting fits, which his at- tendants mistook for death, , , , Once more, however, his youthful energy, though in a different form, shot up in an ex- piring flame. His father, I have said, was sinking into dot- age, and the favourites of the court were taking advantage of him, to waste the public money. Parliament met — Parlia- ment, as you must remember, unlike the two great Houses KDWARI) THE BLACK PRINCE 167 which now sway the destiny of the empire, but still feeling its way towards its present ix:)wers — • Parliament met to check this growing evil ; and then it was that when they looked round in vain for a leader to guide their counsels and support their wavering resolutions, the dying Prince came forth from his long retirement, and was carried up to London, to assist his country in this time of its utmost need. His own residence was a palace which stood on what is now called Fish Street Hill, the street opposite the London monument. But he would not rest there : he was brought to the Royal Palace of West- minster, that he might be close at hand to be carried from his sick bed to the Parliament, which met in the chambers of the Palace. This was on the 28th of April, 1376. The spirit of the Pariiament and the nation revived as they saw him, and the purpose for which he came was accomplished. But it was his last effort. Day by day his strength ebbed away, and he never again moved from the Palace at Westminster. . . , It was at 3 P.M., on Trinity Sunday — a festival which he had always honoured with especial reverence : it was on the 8th of June, just one month before his birthday, in his forty- sixth year . . . that the Black Prince breathed his last. . . . For nearly four months — from the 8th of June to the 29th of September — the coffined body lay in state at Westminster, and then, as soon as Parliament met again, as usual in those times, on the festival of Michaelmas, was brought to Canterbur)'. . . . In this sacred spot — believed at that time to be the most sacred spot in England — the tomb stood in which ' ' alone in his glory," the Prince was to be deposited, to be seen and admired by all the countless pilgrims who crawled up the stone steps beneath it on their way to the shrine of the saint. ^ Let us turn to that tomb, and see how it sums up his whole Hfe. Its bright colours have long since faded, but enough still 1 St. Thomas of Canterbury. 1 68 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY remains to show us what it was as it stood after the sacred remains had been placed within it. There he Hes : no other memorial of him exists in the world so authentic, lliere he lies, as he had directed, in full armour, his head resting on his helmet, his feet with the likeness of " the spurs he won " at Cressy, his hands joined as in that last prayer which he had offered up on his deathbed. There you can see his fine face with the Plantagenet features, the flat cheeks, and the well-chiselled nose, to be traced perhaps in the effigy of his father in Westminster Abbey, and his grandfather in Gloucester Cathedral. On his armour, you can still see the marks of the bright gilding with which the figure was covered from head to foot, so as to make it look like an image of pure gold. High above are suspended the brazen gauntlets, the helmet, with what was once its gilded leopard-crest, and the wooden shield, the velvet coat also, embroidered with the arms of France and England, now tattered and colourless, but then blazing with blue and scarlet. There, too, still hangs the empty scabbard of the sword, wielded perchance at his three great bat- tles, and which Oliver Cromwell, it is said, carried away. On the canopy over the tomb, there is the faded representation — painted after the strange fashion of those times — of the Per- sons of the Holy Trinity, according to the peculiar devotion which he had entertained. In the pillars you can see the hooks to which was fastened the black tapestry with its crimson bor- der and curious embroidery, which he directed in his will should be hung round his tomb and the shrine of Becket. Round about the tomb, too, you will see the ostrich feathers, which, according to the old, but doubtful tradition, we are told he won at Cressy from the blind King of Bohemia, who per- ished in the thick of the fight ; and interwoven with them, the famous motto, with which he used to sign his name, '" Houmout," " Ich diene." If, as seems most likely, they are EUWARl) THE BLACK I'RINCE 169 German words, they exactly express what we have seen so often in his Hfe, the union of '" Hoch muth," that is, high spirit, with " Ich dien," I serve. They bring before us the very scene itself after the battle of Poitiers, where, after hav- ing vanquished the whole French nation, he stood behind the captive king, and served him like an attendant. And, lastly, carved about the tomb, is the long inscription, selected by himself before his death, in Norman French, still the language of the Court, written, as he begged, clearly and plainly, that all might read it. Its purport is to contrast his former splendour, and vigour, and beauty, with the wasted body which is now all that is left. . . , When we stand by the grave of a remarkable man, it is always an interesting and instructive question to ask — espe- cially by the grave of such a man, and in such a place — what evil is there, which we, trust is buried with him in his tomb 1 what good is there, which may still live after him .' what is it that, taking him from first to last, his life and his death teach us } First, then, the thought which we most naturally connect with the name of the Black Prince, is the wars of the Eng- lish and French — the victories of England over France. Out of those wars much noble feeling sprung, — feelings of chivalry and courtesy and respect to our enemies, and (perhaps a doubtful boon) of unshaken confidence in ourselves. Such feelings are amongst our most precious inheritances, and all honour be to him who first inspired them into the hearts of his countrymen, never to be again extinct. But it is a matter of still greater thankfulness to remember, as we look at the worn-out armour of the Black Prince, that those wars of Eng- lish conquest are buried with him, never to be revived. Other wars may arise in the unknown future still before us — but such wars as he and his father waged, we shall, we may I/O READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY thankfully hope, see no more again for ever. We shall never again see a King of England, or a Prince of Wales, taking advantage of a legal quibble to conquer a great neighboring country, and laying waste with fire and sword a civilized kingdom, from mere self-aggrandisement. , . . Secondly, he brings before us all that is most character- istic of the ages of chivalry. You have heard of his courtesy, his reverence to age and authority, his generosity to his fallen enemy. But before I speak of this more at length, here also I must in justice remind you that the evil as well as the good of chivalry was seen in him, and that this evil, like that which I spoke of just now, is also, I tmst, buried with him. One single instance will show what I mean. In those disastrous years which ushered in the close of his life, a rebellion arose in his French province of Gascony, provoked by his wasteful expenditure. One of the chief towns where the insurgents held out, was Limoges. The Prince, though then labouring under his fatal illness, besieged and took it ; and as soon as it was taken, he gave orders that his soldiers should massacre every one that they found ; whilst he himself, too ill to walk or ride, was carried through the streets in a litter, looking on at the carnage. Men, women, and children, threw themselves on their knees, as he passed through the devoted city, crying, " Mercy, mercy," but he went on relentlessly, and the massacre went on, till struck by the gallantry of three French knights, whom he saw fighting in one of the squares against fearful odds, he ordered it to cease. Now, for this dreadful scene there were doubtless many excuses — the irritation of illness, the affection for his father, whose dignity he thought outraged by so determined a resistance, and the indignation against the ingratitude of a city on which he had bestowed many favours. But what is especially to be observed, is not so much the cruelty of the individual man, as the great imperfection of that KDWARI) rili: liLACR I'RINCE 171 kind of virtue which could allow of such cruelty. Dreadful as this scene seems to us, to men of that time it seemed quite natural. The poet who recorded it, iiad nothing more to say concerning it, than that — " All the townsmen were taken or slain By the noble Prince of price, Whereat great joy had all around, Those who were his friends ; And his enemies were Sorely grieved, and repented That they had begun the war against him." This strange contradiction arose from one single cause. The Black Prince, and those who looked up to him as their pattern, chivalrous, kind, and generous as they were to their equals, and to their immediate dependents, had no sense of what was due to the poor, to the middle, and the humbler classes generally. He could be touched by the sight of a cap- tive king, or at the gallantry of the three French gentlemen ; but he had no ears to hear, no eyes to see, the cries and groans of the fathers, and mothers, and children, of the poorer citi- zens, who were not bound to him b\- the laws of honour and of knighthood. It is for us to remember, as we stand by his grave, that whilst he has left us the legacy of those noble and beautiful feelings, which are the charm and best ornaments of life, though not its most necessary virtues, it is our further privilege and duty to extend those feelings towards the classes on whom he never cast a thought ; to have towards all classes of society, and to make them have towards each other, and towards ourselves, the high respect and courtes)-, and kind- ness, which were then peculiar to one class only. 172 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Number 28 THE VOYAGES OF JOHN CABOT Edwin M. Bacox. English Voyages of Adventure and Discovery. Retold from Hakluyt, pp. do--] l, passim. This narrative is retold from the account included in the work of Richard Hakluyt, a famous geographer of the age of Elizabeth. His most important book is entitled " The Principall Navigations, Voiages, and Discoveries of the English Nation made by Sea or over Land to the most remote and far- thest distant Quarters of the Earth at any time within the compasse of these 1500 years." The news of Columbus' achievement filled all Europe with wonder and admiration. To " sail by the West into the East where spices grow by a way that was never known before " was affirmed "a thing more divine than human." Offering the promise of a direct route to Cathay, the feat was of tre- mendous import. There was especially " great-talk of it" in the English court with keen regret that England, through untoward happenings, had failed of the honour and profit of the momentous discovery, and Henry and his counsellors were eager to emulate Spain. Although the full significance of the discovery was not then realized — that the new-found islands were the barriers of a new continent — no underestimate of the value of the region was made by either nation. Ferdinand and Isabella gave it the name of the Indies, considering it, with the discoverer, to be a part of India, and no time was lost in clinching their rights. . . . Meanwhile in the English maritime city of Bristol the Ve- netian merchant, John Cabot ( or Zuan Caboto in the Venetian dialect), then resident there, had perfected his scheme of shortening the way to India by the Northwest Passage, and in 1496, before Columbus's return from his second voyage, it had been proposed to King Henry, had met his hearty TIIK V()V.\(;KS of JOTIN CABOT 173 approbation, had been endorsed by his letters patent issued to Cabot and Cabot's three sons, Lewis, Sebastian, and San- tius, and preparations for the venture had begun. Henry's patent, bearing date March 5, 1495/6, and dis- tinguished as " the most ancient American state paper of England," gave to the grantees sweeping powers and a pretty complete commercial monopoly. They were authorized to sail in all seas to the East, the West, and the North ; to seek out in any part of the undiscovered world islands, countries, and provinces of the heathen hitherto unknown to Christians ; affix the ensigns of England to all places newly found and take possession of them for the English crown. They were to have the exclusive right of frequenting the places of their discovery, and enjoy all the fruits and gains of their naviga- tions except a fifth part, which was to go to the king. The sole restriction imposed was that on their return voyages they should always land at the port of Bristol. With these gener- ous concessions, however, the canny king stipulated that the enterprise should be wholly at the Cabots' " own proper costs and charges." . . . Under this patent, the following year — 1 497 — John Cabot sailed out of Bristol with one small vessel, and supplemented the discovery of Columbus in finding the mainland of America. John Cabot, like Columbus, was a Genoese, but neither the exact place nor the date of his birth is known. He was in Venice as early as 1461, as appears from a record in the Venetian archives of his naturalization as a citizen of Venice under date of March 28, 1476, after the prescribed residence of fifteen years. Tlicre he was apparently a merchant. It is said that he also made voyages at times as a ship-master. He became proficient in the study of cosmography and in the sci- ence of navigation. W'ith Columbus he accepted the theory of the rotundity of the earth, and is said to have been early 174 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY desirous of himself putting it to a practical test. At one time he visited Arabia, where at Mecca he saw the caravans com- ing in laden with spices from distant countries. Asking where the spices grew, he was told by the carriers that they did not know ; that other caravans came to their homes with this rich merchandise from more distant parts, and that these others told them that it was brought from still more remote regions. So he came to reason in this wise : that " if the Orientals affirmed to the vSoutherners that those things come from a distance from them, and so from hand to hand, presupposing the rotundity of the earth, it must be that the last ones get them at the North toward the West." On this argument he later based his Northwest Passage scheme. He moved to England probably not long before the development of this scheme ( some early writers, however, place the date about the year 1477), and took up his residence in Bristol, to " follow the trade of merchandise." His wife, a Venetian, and his three sons, all supposed to have been born in Venice, accompanied him. Sebastian, the second son, . . . was then a youth, but sufficiently old to have already some "knowledge of the humanities and the sphere," as he long afterward stated. The brothers, it is supposed, were all of age when the king's patent was issued, and Sebastian about twenty-three. John Cabot's expedition sailed early in May and was absent three months. It was essentially a voyage of discovery. His vessel was a Bristol ship, and called the " Matthew." The ship's company comprised eighteen persons, "almost all Englishmen and from Bristol." The foreigners were a Bur- gundian and a Genoese. Sebastian, it is believed, accom- panied his father, but neither of the other sons. The chief men of the enterprise were " great sailors," The brave little ship plowed the mysterious sea for seven hundred leagues, as estimated, when on the twenty-fourth of THE VOYAGES OF JOHN CABOT 175 June, in the muining, land was sighted. This was supposed by the early historians, and so set down in their histories, to have been the island of Newfoundland, Ikit through nine- teenth century findings of data it has been made clear that it was the north part, or the eastern point of the present island of Cape Breton, off the coast of Nova Scotia. This is demon- strated by the inscription " prima tierra vista " at the head of the delineation of that island, on a map attributed to Sebastian Cabot composed in 1544, nearly half a century after the voy- age, and subsequently missing till the discovery of a copy three centuries later, in 1843, in Germany, at the house of a Bava- rian curate, whence it passed to the National Library at Paris. On this map Cape Breton island forms a part of the mainland of Nova Scotia, the Gut of Canso not then having been dis- covered. On the same day that the landfall was made a " large island adjacent" to it was discovered, and named St. John because of its finding on the day of the festival of St. John the Baptist. It is marked the '" I del Juan" on this map, and is the present Prince Edward Island. A landing was made at the landfall and Cabot planted a large cross with " one flag of England, and one of St. Mark by reason of his being a Venetian," and took possession for the English king. No human beings were seen, but, " certain snares set to catch game, and a needle for making nets," showing that the place was inhabited, were found and taken to be displayed to the king on the return home. . . . Cabot believed that the lands he had discovered lay in " the territory of the Grand Cham," as Columbus thought his were of eastern Asia. The expedition arrived back at Bristol early in August and the stor}' it brought created a sensation. With his report to the king Cabot exhibited a map of the region visited and a solid globe, and presented the game-snares and net-needle 176 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY which he had found. He told the king that he beheved it prac- ticable by starting from the parts which he had discovered, and constantly hugging the shore toward the equinoctial, to reach an island called by him Cipango, where he thought all the spices of the world and also the precious stones originated ; and this region found and colonized, there might be estab- lished in London a greater storehouse of spices than the chief one then existing, in Alexandria. All this much moved the king, and he promised to promote a second expedition for this purpose in the following spring. Meanwhile John Cabot became the hero of the hour, and great honours were paid him. The king gave him money and granted him an annual pension of twenty pounds (equal to two hundred modern pounds in purchasing value), which was to be charged upon the revenues of the port of Bristol ; he dressed in silk ; and he was styled the " Great Admiral." He also appears to have been knighted. He distributed largess with a free hand, if the tales of the letter-writers of the day are to be accepted. One wrote that he gave an island to the Burgundian of his crew and another to the Genoese, "a barber of his from Castiglione, of Genoa." And this writer adds, " both of them regard themselves counts." Reports of his exploits and of the king's further intentions were duly made known to rival courts by their envoys in England, and excited their jealousy. The second expedition was provided for by the king's license dated the third of F'ebruary, 1497/8. This was a patent granted to John Cabot alone, the sons not being named. Hakluyt gives only the following record from the rolls : " The king upon the third day of February, in the 1 3 yeere of his reigne, gave license to John Cabot to take sixe English ships in any haven or havens of the realme of England, being of the burden of 200 tunnes, or under, with all necessary THE CHARACTER OI' HKXRV VHI 177 furniture, and to take also into the said ships all such masters, mariners, and subjects of the king as willingly will go with him, etc." . . . Five ships were got together for this expedition. Three of them are supposed to have been furnished by Bristol mer- chants and two by the king ; one chronicler, however, says that the Cabots contributed two. London merchants joined with Bristol men in the adventure. It was understood to be an enterprise for colonization combined with further discovery. The number of men enlisted for the voyage was placed at three hundred. Among them, as on the first voyage, were mariners experienced in venturesome undertakings. The fleet sailed off at the beginning of May, 1498. One of the ships, aboard of which was the priest, " Friar Buel," put back to Ireland in distress. The other four continued the vovage. With the departure from Bristol nothing more is heard of John Cabot. He drops out of sight instantly and mysteriously. Various conjectures as to his fate are entertained b\- the his- torians. Some contend that he died when about to set sail. . . . No shred of satisfactory information has rewarded the searcher for a solution of the problem. Nobody knows what became of him. Ntimbcr 2g THE CHARACTER OF HENRY VHI J. J. JUSSERAND. A Literary History 0/ the English People, Vol. II, Part I, pp. 40-45. 150-154. The new king is eighteen years of age ; he is handsome, learned, vigorous ; he likes hunting, pleasure, fine arts ; he knows as much Latin as the clerks at Oxford ; he clears a ditch as well as any ; he could give points to the famous 178 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY wrestlers of Cornwall ; he is " a marvellous good archer and strong"; he favours painters, builds palaces, delights in fes- tivities ; he disguises himself as a Roman emperor, as the Knight of the '" Cure Loial " (Loyal Heart), as an archer of Robin Hood's. Judging from these early years, his reign will be a " Field of the cloth of gold," and a " Romaunt of the Rose " perpetual. He knows the merits of the English lan- guage, encourages the national drama, and discou rages_^bad authors by leaving in the middle when the play is too dull. A merry companion, brilliantly matched to Catherine of Ara- gon, daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, by which marriage the powerful support of the House of Spain is secured to him, he looks smilingly at the sunny side of life. He likes to be seen, and wants to be admired ; all eyes should turn towards him : those of the Pope, of the Emperor, the King of France, the people of England, the foreign ambassadors. He seeks out every occasion to shine, great or small. Scarcely seated on the throne, he dreams of renewing the exploits of the Plantagenets ; he wants to take Guyenne and begin anew the Hundred Years' War. He also wants to dazzle the en- voys of Venice, he speaks to them in four languages and exhibits himself covered with gems : "His fingers were one mass of jewelled rings." He overthrows in their presence a jouster and his horse ; then, taking off his helmet, " he came under the windows where we were, and talked and laughed with us to our very great honour." He hears with chagrin, from the same ambassadors, that, in point of height, Francis I. has nothing to envy him ; but with pleasure that, if the King of France's legs are long, at least they are thin. " Where- upon he opened his doublet and, placing his hand on his thigh, said : ' Look here ! and I have also a good calf to my leg.'" He remains, in this respect, the same to the last; every one knows it, and acts accordingly. Late in the reign, THE CHARACTFR Ol" IIKXRV VIII 179 he sends ten ladies of his court to admire an enormous ship he has had l)uill at Portsmouth, the largest which had yet been devised. They write to him a collective epistle, signed by all ten, in which they declare that they have seen the fleet and the " newe greate Shippe," and all this is " so goodlie to beholde, that in our licfs wee have not seene (excepting your royall person and my lord tlie I'rince your sonne) a more pleasaunt sight." Proud of his figure, he is proud also of his learning. If an audacious German monk surprises Christendom by the temerity of his attacks, Henry will not leave to theologians the honour of crushing "that serpent"; he will step forth, and, turning for a while " from those military occupations and those affairs of State to which," as he writes to the Pope, " he had had to devote his youth," he will confound the her- etic by his logic ; he will be the bulwark of the Church, and an object of universal admiration. lie learns with joy, by a despatch from the I£nglish envoy, that Leo X., on receiving the fine copy of the book, bound in cloth of gold, w'hich was destined to him, could not refrain from reading " five lefes with owt interruption ; and as I suppose, if tym and place and other of no small importance busynes had not lett (pre- vented) hym, he wold never a ceassed tyll he had redd it over." At all events, these five pages were greatly admired ; the Pope, while reading, marked by an exclamation or a nod the passages which most pleased him, " and that seemyd to be at every second line." Greatly admired also were the two verses written at the end of the volume in the king's own hand, but which had been supplied to liini b}- Wolsey. The book shall be sent by the Pope himself to all the kings of Christendom ; every reader will gain ten years' indulgence ; Henry will be the model of princes, the " Defender of the Faith." "Desirous," says the Pope, "of adorning thy l8o READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Majesty with such a title that Christians of all time should comprehend the gratitude we feel for the gift offered by thy Majesty, especially at such a moment, We, who occupy after Saint Peter . . . this sacred See from which emanate all titles and dignities, . . . have decided to bestow upon thy Majesty the title of Defender of the Faith . . . ordering all the faithful to give that title to thy Majesty, and when they shall write to thee, to add to the word King the words Defender of the Faith." Alone, of all the papal injunctions, the one thus formulated by Giovanni de Medici, as the occupant of the " sacred See from which emanate all titles and dignities," is still observed in England. Henry is extremely pious. He devotes a great deal of time to affairs of religion ; "he hears three masses daily when he hunts, and sometimes five on other days"; but, like a true prince of the Renaissance, he is interested in everything : in war, in the navy, in distant discoveries, in music ; he plays on several instruments, "sings from book at sight," composes songs, music and words ; he busies himself with medicine, protects and retains in England the Italian Gemini, vulgariser of the science of Vesale, and who has succeeded in " perfectly settyng forth all and syngular the bones, the joyntes, vaynes, arteries, synowes, muscles or brawnes, tendons and ligamentes of mannes bodye." Henry invents recipes against the plague : " Take on handfull of marygolds, a handfull of sorel," etc., etc., and the cure is certain, "' wyth Gods grace." For him- self, however, he follows another recipe, which consists in rapidly leaving the towns where the scourge breaks out. He is fond of curiosities from distant lands. A ship comes from India and brings him "first ij muske catts, iij lytyll munkkeys, a marmazat . . . more a chest of nutts of India contayneng xj whiche be greater than a man [h]is ffyste, and iij potts of erthe payntid, callid Porseland" (porcelain). He sends for riji': (■iiara(:tp:r of iikxrv viii iSi foreign artists to come to his court. Docs not King Francis do the same ? "He cleUghts now," writes the ambassador of France, "' in paintings and embroideries, having sent people to France, Flanders, Italy, and other countries to fetch masters excelling in that art, and also musicians and other ministers of pastimes." He makes the most agreeable use of the treasures amassed by his father and expends them lavishly. As soon as he comes to the throne he sends the two chief counsellors of Henry VII. to the scaffold, which gives the finishing touch to his popularity, but leaves him for that means of government a taste which he never lost. Erasmus is seen at his court ; Polydore Vergil makes a stay in his kingdom ; Holbein settles there. England, in her turn, is going, it seems, to seat herself at the table of the gods. . . . One night, that Wolsey held an assembly, there entered the presence chamber a troup of maskers disguised as French shepherds. They had left their flocks, they explained, to at- tend the gathering, and render homage to Beauty. " A thousand thanks, and pray them take their pleasures," said Wolsey, and each shepherd choosing at once a lady, the dances began. The leader of the troop was the young king, A'. Henry. The fairest hand I ever touch'd, O beauty ! Till now I never knew thee. . . . My Lord Chamberlain, Pr ythee, come hither : What fair lady's that t L. Chamberlain. An't please your grace, Sir Thomas Bullen's daughter — The Viscount Rochford — one of her highness' women. K. Henry. By heaven ! she is a dainty one. Sweetheart, I were unmannerly to take you out, And not to kiss you. From the day, whichever it was, when such a scene as the one described by Shakespeare took place, the real nature of 1 82 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY the king began to show, and the true characteristics of the period became manifest. Henry was not destined to outshine Augustus, Severus, and Antoninus Pius, nor was the epoch to be a golden age ; the illusion was soon dispelled. To pro- long it, an impossible combination of circumstances would have been requisite. England should have enjoyed, at that troublous period, the interior peace she passionately longed for after the turmoils of the fifteenth centur}', and which she expected to receive at the hand of her new master ; the mani- fold fancies, caprices, desires, passions, and ambitions of this master should have been easily and severally gratified, his highest ambitions and his pettiest whims. For men selfish to this degree deem nothing trifling which concerns them ; nothing counts for them save their own selves, the rest is their footstool. The opposition of a Pope or of an earthworm is all one in their eyes. The mask fell ; the Robin Hood archer, the Roman emperor, the " God Mars," the French shepherd vanished, and the second Tudor stood revealed. Disappointments had multiplied for him. At first, Wolsey's dexterity, his own youthful ardour, the hope of speedy re- venges, had soothed his mortifications and assuaged the smart of wounded vanity. But such natures never forget ; repeated blows, instead of hardening, make them more sensitive, and re-open old sores. Henry's vexations were to be the more numerous that he aimed at everything ; no goal was too high nor too low for him, he offered the broadest mark to Fortune's shafts. Warrior, statesman, sportsman, physician, musician, theologian, archer, lover, he meddled with all matters, and wanted to have every kind of thing in abundance. He would hear, we know, five masses daily, as though heaven were his sole care ; he tired ten horses in one chase ; he spoke four languages ; he appropriated fifteen million sterling of Church TlIK CIIAKAC'I KR Ol" HENRY VIII 183 property ; he wedded six wives ; he would have liked to be emperor and conquer France, to be Pope and well-nigh God in his own land. " There is as great difference between you and me, as between God and man," wrote Latimer, who knew how to please his sovereign. Fortune soon wearied of 'him and spared him no blows. True, the Scots had been defeated at Flodden, but their army w-as reorganising, and beautiful, deep-blue eyed Marie of Lor- raine had preferred the vanquished king to his victor ; in spite of Henry's diplomacy and his entreaties she had gone to reign by the side of James V. The French have lost a battle, but what glory can be derived therefrom .? They jest saucily themselves at their mishap, and call it the " Battle of Spurs "; since then they have been victorious at Marignan : Henry shed tears of rage at the news. Proud of his strength and skill, the King of England enters the tent of P>ancis L at the P'ield of the Cloth of Gold. " He took him," relates Marshal de Fleuranges, " by the collar saying, ' My brother, I would fain try a fall with you,' and gave him a trip or two. And the King of P'rance, who is a veiy good wrestler, gave him a twist, flung him down, and gave him a marvellous sault." The monk of Germany, against whom the learned king measured himself, has not remained dumbfounded ; termed a serpent, he retorts, being nowise behind his opponent in vituperation : the king is " a fool "; he is a Thomist, and the Thomists are hogs: "' Crassi illi porci Thomistae." A sovereign who has de- fended the sacraments and hears several masses daily, might, it would seem, count upon the Pope. Henr)' has need of him for his divorce, and the Pope shows himself intractable. Each of his marriages is a fresh source of mortification ; his wives deceive him, he is deceived in their beauty, he deceives himself as to his own feelings. He becomes so infuriated that he laughs, weeps, sings, calls for a dagger to kill the 1 84 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY queen (Catherine Howard), and people begin to think he has " gone out of his mind." Towards the end of his reign, after various alliances and wars, he finds himself with an empty treasury, confronted by adversaries that their long rivalry has not exhausted. For the sake of Anne Boleyn's bright eyes which have, as he writes, "pierced him with love's dart," he had alienated the Emperor; and as to the French, they periodically attack his coasts. In his perplexity, excommunicated though he be, he is driven to ordering " processions throughout the realm in such sort as in like cases hath heretofore laudably been accustomed," From year to year the exasperation has increased and the temper has soured ; Henr}- has become more sensitive to what affects him and more callous to the sufferings of others. The young king smiled upon life, the old king smiles upon scaf- folds. He refines on the agonies of his victims ; he loads them with honours on the eve of their execution, that they may suspect nothing and that greater may be their fall. Al- ready sentenced, doomed as they are to die on the morrow, still he makes use of them, their last breath must be of service to him. Confessions wrung in those hours of anguish from the fallen minister and the trembling woman so wild with fear her words can scarce be heard, pave the way to new bridals and fresh reprisals. The block is still standing, the last queen's corpse barely cold, and Henry has taken another wife. The scent of blood that lingers about his bower is not unpleasant to him. His subjects must reverence and obey him, be it contrary^ to their conscience and creed, do as he says, believe what he believes, shift their faith when he shifts his, all under the penalty of death. The mask has dropped, and the visage is laid bare, a broad and sensual face, a brow narrower than the neck, a sullen eye, thin closed lips denoting stubbornness and cruelty : such Holbein's faithful brush depicts him. THE CHARACTER OF WOLSEY 185 Number Jo THE CHARACTER OE WOLSEY Sebastian Giustinian. Four Years at the Court 0/ Henry VIII, Vol. II, Appendix II, pp. 314-315. Translated by Rawdon Brown. Sebastian Giustinian was Venetian ambassador to Henry VIII from 1 51 5 to 1 519. This account of Cardinal Wolsey is from a report which "the Most Noble Messer Sebastian Giustinian, Procurator and Knight," delivered in the Venetian Senate October 10, 1519. He [Cardinal Wolsey] is of low origin : he has two brothers, one of whom holds an untitled benefice, and the other is pushing his fortune. The Cardinal is the person who rules both the King and the entire kingdom. On the ambassador's first arrival in England, he used to say to him, — '"His Majesty will do so and so" : subsequently by degrees, he went forgetting him- self, and commenced saying, " IVe shall do so and so'' : at this present he has reached such a pitch that he says, "I shall do so and so." He is about forty-six years old, ver)' handsome, learned, extremely eloquent, of vast ability and indefatigable. He, alone, transacts the same business as that which occupies all the magistrates, offices, and councils of Venice, both civic and criminal ; and all state affairs, likewise, are managed by him, let their nature be what it may. He is pensive, and has the reputation of being extremely just : he favours the people exceedingly, and especially the poor ; hearing their suits, and seeking to dispatch them in- stantly ; he also makes the lawyers plead gratis for all paupers. He is in very great repute — seven times more so than if he were Pope, He has a very fine palace, where one traverses eight rooms before reaching his audience chamber, and they are all hung with tapestry, which is changed once a week. 1 86 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY He always has a sideboard of plate worth 25,000 ducats, wherever he may be ; and his silver is estimated at 150,000 ducats. In his own chamber there is always a cupboard with vessels to the amount of 30,000 ducats, this being customary with the English nobility. He is supposed to be very rich indeed, in money, plate, and household stuff. The Archbishopric of York yields him about 1 4,000 ducats ; the bishopric of Bath 8,000. One third of the fees derived from the great seal are his ; the other two are divided between the King and the Chancellor. The Cardinal's share amounts to about 5,000 ducats. By the new year's gifts, which he re- ceives in like manner as the King, he makes some 15,000 ducats. . . . Cardinal Wolsey is very anxious for the Signer}^ to send him one hundred Damascene carpets, for which he has asked several times, and expected to receive them by the last galleys. The ambassador urged the Senate to make this present, as even should the Signory itself not choose to incur the expense, the slightest hint to the London factory would induce that body to take it on themselves ; and this gift might easily set- tle the affair of the wines of Candia ; that is to say, induce the repeal of the duties on sack imported by Venetian subjects. The ambassador, on his departure, left the business in a fair way, and consigned all the documents concerning it to his suc- cessor ; but to discuss the matter farther, until the Cardinal receives his hundred carpets, would be idle. This present might make him pass a decree in our favour, and, at any rate, it would render the Cardinal friendly to our nation in other matters ; for no one obtains audience from him unless at the third or fourth attempt. As he adopts this fashion with all the lords and barons of England, the ambassador made light of it, and at length had recourse to the expedient of making THK DOWNFALL OF WOLSEY 187 an appointment through his secretary, who sometimes went six or seven times to York House before he could speak to the Cardinal. It is the custom for the ambassadors, when they go to the court, to dine there, and on his first arrival in England, they ate at the Cardinal's table, but now no one is served with the viands of the sort presented to the Cardinal, until after their removal from before him. Number ji THE DOWNFALL OF WOLSEY William Shakespeare. King Henry the Eighth. ACT III Scene IL Ante-chamber to the King's apartment. Cardinal Wolsey S^alone'l Wolscy. . . . Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! This is the state of man : to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes ; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him ; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening — nips his root, And then he falls as I do. I have ventur'd. Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth ; my high-blown pride, 1 88 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY At length broke under me, and now has left me, Wear}' and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream that must for ever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye ! I feel my heart new open'd. O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours ! There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have ; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again. — Efiter Cromwell atnazedly Why, how now, Cromwell ! Cronnvell. I have no power to speak, sir. Wolsey. What ! amaz'd At my misfortunes 1 can thy spirit wonder A great man should decline .? Nay, an you weep, I am fallen indeed. Cromwell. How does your grace ? Wolsey. Why, well : Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. I know myself now ; and I feel within me A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience. The king has cur'd me, I humbly thank his grace, and from these shoulders. These ruin'd pillars, out of pity, taken A load would sink a navy — too much honour. O, 't is a burthen, Cromwell, 't is a burthen Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven ! Cromwell. I am glad your grace has made that right use of it. THE DOWNFALL O!" WOLSEY 189 Wolscf. I hope I have : I am able now, methinks — Out of a fortitude of soul I feel — To endure more miseries, and greater far Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer. What news abroad ? Cromzvell. The heaviest and the worst Is your displeasure with the king. Wolsey. God bless him ! Croinivcll. The next is, that Sir Thomas More is chosen Lord chancellor in your place. Wolsey. That 's somewhat sudden ; But he 's a learned man. May he continue Long in his highness' favour, and do justice For truth's sake and his conscience ; that his bones, When he has run his course, and sleeps in blessings, May have a tomb of orphans' tears wept on 'em ! What more .? Cromzvell. That Cranmer is return 'd with welcome, Install'd lord archbishop of Canterbury'. Wolsey. That 's news indeed ! Cromwell. Last, that the Lady Anne, W' hom the king hath in secrecy long married. This day was view'd in open as his queen, Going to chapel ; and the voice is now Only about her coronation. Wolsey. There was the weight that pull'd me down. O Cromwell ! The king has gone beyond me ; all my glories In that one woman I have lost for ever. No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours, Or gild again the noble troops that waited Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell ; I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now 190 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY To be thv lord and master. Seek the king ; That sun, I pray, may never set ! I have told him What and how true thou art ; he will advance thee. Some little memory of me will stir him — I know his noble nature — not to let Thy hopeful service perish too. Good Cromwell, Neglect him not ; make use now, and provide For thine own future safety. Cromzvell. O my lord ! Must I then leave you ? must I needs forego So good, so noble, and so true a master } Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron. With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord ! — The king shall have my service, but my prayers For ever and for ever shall be yours. Wolsey. Cromwell, I did nr)t think to shed a tear In all my miseries ; but thou hast forc'd me. Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let 's drv our eves ; and thus far hear me, Cromwell ; And — when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull, cold marble, where no mention Of me more must be heard of — say, I taught thee ; Say, Wolsey, that once trod the wa}'s of glory. And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour- Found thee a way, out of his wrack, to rise in ; A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it. Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me. Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition : By that sin fell the angels ; how can man, then. The image of his Maker, hope to win by 't } Love thyself last ; cherish those hearts that hate thee Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, 'I'UK DOWNFALL OF WOLSEY 191 To silence envious tongues ; be just, and fear not. Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's and truth's ; then, if thou fall'st, O Cromwell ! Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king ; And, — prithee, lead me in : There take an inventory of all I have. To the last penny ; 't is the king's : my robe. And my integrity to heaven, is all I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell ! Mad I but serv'd my God with half the zeal I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies. CroinwcU. Good sir, have patience. Wolscy. So I have. Farewell The hopes of court ! my hopes in heaven do dwell. [Exeunt ACT IV Scene IL Kimbolton Enter Katherine, sick ; led betzveen Griffith atid Patience GriffitJi. How does your grace .-' Katlicriiic. O, Griffith, sick to death ; My legs, like loaden branches, bow to the earth, Willing to leave their burthen. Reach a chair : — So, — now, methinks, I feel a little ease. Did'st thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st me. That the great child of honour, Cardinal W'olsey, Was dead 1 Cr-iffitJi. Ves, madam ; but I think your grace. Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to 't. Katherine. Prithee, good Griffith, tell me how he died ; If well, he stepp'd before me, happily, For my example. 192 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Griffith. Well, the voice goes, madam ; For after the stout Earl Northumberland Arrested him at York, and brought him forward, As a man sorely tainted, to his answer, He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill He could not sit his mule. Katheriiie. Alas, poor man ! Gnffith. At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester, Lodg'd in the abbey, where the reverend abbot With all his convent, honourably receiv'd him ; To whom he gave these words : ' O father abbot. An old man, broken with the storms of state. Is come to lay his weary bones among ye ; Give him a little earth for charity ! ' So went to bed, where eagerly his sickness Pursued him still ; and three nights after this, About the hour of eight, which he himself Foretold should be his last, full of repentance, Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows, He gave his honours to the world again. His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace. Katherinc. So may he rest ! his faults lie gently on him Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him, And yet with charity. He was a man Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking Himself with princes ; one that by suggestion Tith'd all the kingdom : simony was fair play ; His own opinion was his law : i' the presence He would say untruths, and be ever double. Both in his words and meaning. He was never. But where he meant to ruin, pitiful ; His promises were, as he then was, mighty, But his performance, as he is now, nothing. THE DOWNFALL OF WOLSEY 193 Of his own body he was ill, and gave The clergy ill example. Griffith. Noble madam, Men's evil manners live in brass ; their virtues We write in water. May it please your highness To hear me speak his good now .'' Katlicriiic. Yes, good Griffith ; I were malicious else. Griffith. This cardinal, Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly Was fashion 'd to much honour from his cradle. He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one ; Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading ; Lofty and sour to them that lov'd him not. But to those men that sought him sweet as summer. And though he were unsatisfied in getting — Which was a sin — yet in bestowing, madam. He was most princely ; ever witness for him Those twins of learning that he rais'd in you, Ipswich and Oxford ! one of which fell with him, Unwilling to outlive the good that did it ; The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous, So excellent in art, and still so rising, That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him. For then, and not till then, he felt himself. And found the blessedness of being little ; And, to add greater honours to his age Than man could give him, he died fearing God. 194 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Number j^ SIR THOMAS MORE William Roper. The Mhrourof Vetiue in Worldly Greatnes or The Life of Sir Thomas More, Knight, passim. The author of the biography from which this selection is taken, explains in his Preface his reasons for writing it, as follows : " Forasmuch as Sir Thomas More, Knight, sometime Lord Chancellor of England, a man of singular virtue and of a clear unspotted conscience . . . was in his days accounted a man worthy perpetual famous memory — I, William Roper . . . , his son-in-law by marriage of his eldest daughter, knowing no one man that of him and of his doings understood so much as myself — for that I was continually resident in his house by the space of sixteen years and more — thought it therefore my part to set forth such matters touching his life as I could at this present call to remembrance," etc. This Sir Thomas More after he had been brought up in the Latin tongue at St. Anthony's in London, was by his father's procurement received into the house of the right reverend, wise and learned prelate Cardinal Morton, where though he was young of years, yet would he at Christmastide suddenly sometimes step in among the players, and never studying for the matter make a part of his own there presently among them, which made the lookers on more sport than all the players beside. In whose wit and towardness the Cardinal much delighting, would often say of him unto the nobles that divers times dined with him, " This child here waiting at the table, whosoever shall live to see it, will prove a mar- vellous man." Whereupon for his better furtherance in learning he placed him at Oxford, where when he was both in the Greek and Latin tongues sufificiently instructed, he was then, for the study of the law of the Realm, put to an Inn of Chancer}^ called New Inn: where for his time he very well prospered, and from thence was admitted to Lincoln's Inn, with very small allowance, continuing there his study until he was made and accounted a worthy utter Barrister. . . . SIR THOMAS MORE 1 95 After this he was made one of the under-sheriffs of Lon- don, by which office and his learning together (as I have heard him say) he gained without grief not so Httle as four hundred pounds by the }car : sith there was at that time in none of the prince's courts of the laws of this realm any matter of importance in controversy wherein he was not with the one party of counsel. Of whom, for his learning, wisdom, knowledge and experience, men had such estimation, that before he came into the service of King Henry the Eighth, at the suit and insUmce of the English merchants, he was, by the King's consent, made twice ambassador in certain great causes between them and the merchants of the Stilliard, Whose wise and discreet dealing therein, to his high com- mendation, coming to the king's understanding, provoked his highness to cause Cardinal Wolsey, then Lord Chancellor, to procure him to his service. . . . And so from time to time was he by the king advanced, continuing in his singular favour and trusty service twenty years and above. A good part thereof used the king upon holy days when he had done his own devotions, to send for him into his traverse, and there — sometimes in matters of astronomy, geometr}', divin- ity, and such other faculties, and sometimes of his worldly affairs — to sit and confer with him. And otherwhiles, in the night would he have him up into the leads, there to consider with him the diversities, courses, motions, and operations of the stars and planets. And because he was of a pleasant disposition, it pleased the king and queen, after the council had supped, at the time of their supper, for their pleasure commonly to call for him to be merry with them. When he perceived them so much in his talk to delight, that he could not once in a month get leave to go home to his wife and children (whose company he most desired), and to be absent from the court two days together but that he should be thither 196 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY sent for again : he much misHking this restraint of his hberty, began thereupon somewhat to dissemble his nature, and so, by Httle and little, from his former mirth to disuse himself, that he was of them from henceforth at such seasons no more so ordinarily sent for. . . . . . . And for the pleasure he took in his company would his grace suddenly sometimes come home to his house at Chelsea to be merry with him, whither, on a time, unlooked for, he came to dinner, and after dinner, in a fair garden of his, walked with him by the space of an hour, holding his arm about his neck. As soon as his grace was gone, I re- joicing thereat, said to Sir Thomas More, how happy he was whom the king had so familiarly entertained, as I never had seen him do to any before, except Cardinal Wolsey, whom I saw his grace walk once with arm in arm. " I thank our Lord, son," quoth he, " I find his grace my very good lord indeed, and I believe he doth as singularly favour me, as any subject within this realm : howbeit, son Roper, I may tell thee, I have no cause to be proud thereof, for if my head would win him a castle in France (for then there was war between us), it should not fail to go." ... So on a time walking with me along the Thames' side at Chelsea, in talking of other things he said unto me, " Now would to our Lord, son Roper, upon condition that three things were well established in Christendom, I were put in a sack and here presently cast into the Thames." " What great things be those, Sir," quoth I, " that should move you so to wish y " Wouldst thou know, son Roper, what they be," quoth he .? " Yea marry with a good will, Sir, if it please you," quoth L "In faith, son, they be these," said he, " the first is, that. whereas the most part of Christian princes be at mortal war, they were all at universal peace. The second, that where the church of Christ is at this present sore afflicted SIR THOMAS MORE 197 with many errors and heresies, it were well settled in perfect uniformity of religion. The third, that where the matter of the king's marriage is now come in question, it were to the glory of God and quietness of all parties brought to a good conclusion." Whereby, as I could gather, he judged that otherwise it would be a disturbance to a great part of Christendom. . . . While he was Lord Chancellor, being at leisure (as seldom he was), one of his sons-in-law on a time said merrily unto him: "When Cardinal Wolsey was Lord Chancellor, not only divers of his privy chamber, but such also as were his door- keepers, gat great gain ; " . . . where he indeed, because he was ready himself to hear every man, poor and rich, and keep no doors shut from them, could find none ; which was to him a great discouragement. . . . When he had told him this tale, "you say well, son," quoth he, "I do not mislike that you are of conscience so scrupulous ; but many other wa)s be there, son, that I may both do you good and pleasure your friend also. . . . Howbeit this one thing, son, I assure thee on my faith, that if the parties will at my hands call for jus- tice, then all-were-it my father stood on the one side, and the devil on the other, . . . the devil should have right." . . . . . . Now upon this resignment of his office, came Sir Thomas Cromwell, then in the king's high favour, to Chelsea to him with a message from the king. Wherein when they had thoroughly communed together, " Master Cromwell," quoth he, " you are now entered into the service of a most noble, wise, and liberal prince ; if you will follow my poor advice, you shall, in your counsel-giving to his grace, ever tell him what he ought to do, but never what he is able to do. So shall you show yourself a tme faithful servant, and a right wise and worthy counsellor. For if a lion knew his own strength, hard 'were it for any man to rule him." . . . 198 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY At the parliament following was there put into the Lords' house a bill to attaint . . . Sir Thomas More and certain others of misprision of treason ; the king presupposing of likelihood that this bill would be to Sir Thomas More so troublous and terrible that it would force him to relent and condescend to his request ; wherein his grace was much deceived. . . . After this, as the Duke of Norfolk and Sir Thomas More chanced to fall in familiar talk together, the Duke said unto him : "By the mass, Master More, it is peril- ous striving with princes, therefore I would wish you some- what to incline to the king's pleasure. For by God's body, Master More, hidignatio ptincipis viors est."' ^ "Is that all, my lord.?" quoth he. "Then in good faith the difference between your grace and me is but this, that / shall die to-day and yoii to-morrozv.'" . . . And albeit in the beginning they were resolved that with an oath, not to be acknown, whether he had to the supremacy been sworn, or what he thought thereof, he should be discharged ; yet did Queen Anne by her importunate clamour so sore exasperate the king against him, that, contraiy to his former resolution, he caused the said Oath of the Supremacy to be ministered unto him. Who albeit he made a discreet qualified answer, nevertheless was committed to the Tower. . . . When Sir Thomas More had continued a good while in the Tower, my lady, his wife, obtained license to see him. Who, at her first coming, like a simple ignorant woman, and somewhat worldly too, with this manner of salutation bluntly saluted him : " What the good-yere. Master More," quoth she, " I marvel that you that have been always hitherto taken for so wise a man will now so play the fool to lie here in this close filthy prison, and be content thus to be shut up among mice and rats, when you might be abroad at your liberty, and 1 The anger of a prince is death. SIR THOMAS MORE 1 99 with the favour and good will both of the king and his council if you would but do as all the bishops and best learned of this realm have done. And seeing you have at Chelsea a right fair house, your library, your gallery, your garden, your orchard, and all other necessaries so handsome about you, where you might in the company of me your wife, your chil- dren, and household, be merry, I muse what a God's name you mean here still thus fondly to tarry." After he had a while quietly heard her, with a cheerful countenance he said unto her: " I pray thee, good Mistress Alice, tell me one thing ! " " What is that .-• " quoth she. " Is not this house," quoth he, " as nigh heaven as mine own ! " To whom she after her accustomed homely fashion, not hking such talk, answered : '" Tylle valle, Tylle valle ! " " How say you. Mis- tress Alice, is it not so .'' " "Bone Dciis, bone Dens, man, will this gear never be left .-' " quoth she. " Well then. Mis- tress Alice, if it be so," quoth he, "it is very well. For I see no great cause why I should much joy in my gay house, or in anything thereunto belonging, when if I should but seven years lie buried under the ground and then arise and come thither again, I should not fail to find some therein that would bid me get out of doors, and tell me it were none of mine. What cause have I then to like such a house as would so soon forget his master.? " So her persuasions moved him but a little. Not long after came to him the Lord Chan- cellor, the Dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk, with Master Secre- tary, and certain other of the privy council, at two several times by all policies possible procuring him either precisely to confess the Supremacy, or precisely to deny it. whereunto, as appeareth by his examinations in the said great book, they could never bring him. Shortly thereupon Master Rich, after- ward Lord Rich, then newly made the King's Solicitor, Sir Richard Southwell, and one blaster Palmer, servant to the 200 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Secretar)^, were sent to Sir Thomas More into the Tower to fetch away his books from him. And while Sir Richard Southwell and Mr. Palmer were busy in the trussing up of his books, Mr. Rich, pretending friendly talk with him, among other things of a set course, as it seemed, said thus unto him : " Forasmuch as it is well known, Master More, that you are a man both wise and well learned as well in the laws of the realm as otherwise, I pray you therefore. Sir, let me be so bold, as of good will, to put unto you this case. Admit there were. Sir," quoth he, "an act of parliament that the realm should take me for king, would not you, Mr. More, take me for king.? " "Yes, Sir," quoth Sir Thomas More, " that would I." "I put the case further," quoth Mr, Rich, "' that there were an act of parliament that all the realm should take me for pope, would you not then. Master More, take me for pope .? " " For answer, Sir," quoth Sir Thomas More, " to your first case, the parliament may well. Master Rich, meddle with the state of temporal princes, but to make answer to your other case, I will put you this case : suppose the Parlia- ment would make a law that God should not be God, would you then, Master Rich, say that God were not God ? " '" No, Sir," quoth he, "that would I not, sith no parliament may make any such law." " No more," said Sir Thomas More (as Master Rich reported him), " could the Parliament make the king supreme head of the church," Upon whose only report was Sir Thomas More indicted of high treason on the Statute to deny the king to be Supreme Head of the Church, into which indictment were put these heinous words, juali- ciously, traitorously and diabolically. . . . Now, after his arraignment, departed he from the bar to the Tower again, led by Sir William Kingston, a tall, strong, and comely knight, Constable of the Tower, and his very dear friend. Who, when he had brought him from SIR THOMAS MORE 20I Westminster to the Old Swan towards the Tower, there with a heavy heart, the tears running down his cheeks, bade him farewell. Sir Thomas More, seeing him so sorrowful, com- forted him with as good words as he could, saying : "' Good Master Kingston, trouble not yourself, but be of good cheer : for I will pn\y for you and my good lady your wife, that we may meet in heaven together, where we shall be merry for ever and ever." Soon after Sir William Kingston, talking with me of Sir Thomas More, said : "In good faith, Mr. Roper, I was ashamed of myself that at my departing from your father I found my heart so feeble and his so strong, that he was fain to comfort me that should rather have comforted him." When Sir Thomas More came from Westminster to the Tower-ward again, his daughter, my wife, desirous to see her father, whom she thought she would never see in this world after, and also to have his final blessing, gave attend- ance about the Tower Wharf, where she knew he should pass by, before he could enter into the Tower. There tarr)dng his coming, as soon as she saw him, after his blessing upon her knees reverently received, she hasting towards him, without consideration or care of herself, pressing in amongst the midst of the throng and company of the guard, that with hal- berds and bills went round about him, hastily ran to him, and there openly in sight of them all, embraced him, and took him about the neck and kissed him. Who well liking her most natural and dear daughterly affection towards him, gave her his fatherly blessing, and many godly words of comfort besides. From whom after she was departed, she not satisfied with the former sight of her dear father, and like one that had for- gotten herself, being all ravished with the entire love of her dear father, having respect neither to herself, nor to the press of people and multitude that were there about him, sud- denly turned back again, ran to him as before, took him about 202 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY the neck, and divers times kissed him most lovingly ; and at last, with a full and heavy heart, was fain to depart from him : the beholding whereof was to many of them that were pres- ent thereat so lamentable, that it made them for very sorrow thereof to weep and mourn. So remained Sir Thomas More in the Tower, more than a seven-night after his judgment. From whence, the day be- fore he suffered, he sent his shirt of hair, not willing to have it seen, to my wife, his dearly beloved daughter, and a letter written with a coal . . . plainly expressing the fervent desire he had to suffer on the morrow, in these words following : " I cumber you, good Margret, much, but would be sorry if it should be any longer than to-morrow. For to-morrow is St. Thomas even, and the Utas of St. Peter, and therefore to-morrow I long to go to God : it were a day very meet and convenient for me. Dear Megg, I never liked your manner better towards me than when you kissed me last. For I like when daughterly love and dear charity hath no leisure to look to worldly courtesy." . . . And so was he by Master Lieutenant brought out of the Tower, and from thence led towards the place of execution. Where, going up the scaffold, which was so weak that it was ready to fall, he said merrily to the Lieutenant : " I pray you. Master Lieutenant, see me safe up, and for my coming down let me shift for myself." Then desired he all the people thereabout to pray for him, and to bear witness with him, that he should now there suffer death in and for the faith of the holy Catholic Church. Which done, he kneeled down, and, after his prayers said, turned to the executioner with a cheerful countenance, and said unto him : " Pluck up thy spirits, man, and be not afraid to do thine office : my neck is very short, take heed, therefore, thou strike not awr)', for saving of thine honesty." So passed Sir Thomas More out THK EDUCATION OF T.ADV J \XF. OREY 203 of this world to God, upon the very same day which he most desired. Soon after his death came intclHgence thereof to the Emperor Charles. Whereupon he sent for Sir Thomas Eliott, our English ambassador, and said to him : " My Lord ambassador, we understand that the king your master hath put his faithful servant, and grave wise councillor, Sir Thomas More, to death." Whereupon Sir Thomas Eliott answered that '" he understood nothing thereof." " Well," said the Emperor, "it is too true : and this will we say, that had we been master of such a servant, of whose doings ourselves have had these many years no small experience, we would rather have lost the best city of our dominions, than have lost such a worthy councillor." . . . Number ^^ THE EDUCATION OF LADY JANE GREY AND OF QUEEN ELIZABETH Roger AfcuA.M. The Sckolemafier, pp. 46-48, 67-68. Edition of Edward Arber. Roger Ascham, a famous writer and teacher of the time of EUzabeth, was the tutor of the Princess Elizabeth and of Lady Jane Grey. LADY JANE GREY And one example, whether loue or fearc doth worke more in a child, for vertue and learning, I will gladlie report : which male be h[e]ard with fome pleafure, and folowed with more profit. Before I went into Gennanie, I came to Brode- gatc in Le[i]cefterf hire, to take my leaue of that noble Ladie Ia7te Grey, to whom I was exceding moch beholdinge. Hir parentes, the Duke and Duches, with all the houfhold, 204 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Gentlemen and Gentlewomen, were huntinge in the Parke : I founde her, in her Chamber, readinge Phccdon Platonis in Greeke, and that with as moch delite, as fom ientlemen wold read a merie tale in Bocafe. After falutation, and dewtie done, with fom other taulke, I afked hir, whie fhe wold leefe foch paftime in the Parke ? fmiling fhe anfwered me : I wiffe, all their fporte in the Parke is but a f hadoe to that pleafure, that I find in Plato : Alas good folke, they neuer felt, what trewe pleafure ment. And howe came you Madame, quoth I, to this deepe knowledge of pleafure, and what did chieflie allure you vnto it : feinge, not many women, but verie fewe men haue atteined thereunto. I will tell you, quoth fhe, and tell you a troth, which perchance ye will meruell at. One of the greateft benefites, that euer God gaue me, is, that he fent me fo fharpe and feuere Parentes, and fo ientle a fchole- mafter. P'or when I am in prefence either of father or mother, whether I fpeake, kepe filence, fit, ftand, or go, eate, drinke, be merie, or fad, be fowyng, plaiyng, dauncing, or doing anie thing els, I muft do it, as it were, in foch weight, mefure, and number, euen fo perfitelie, as God made the world, or elfe I am fo f harplie taunted, fo cruellie threat- ened, yea prefentlie fome tymes, with pinches, nippes, and bobbes, and other waies, which I will not name, for the honor I beare them, fo without meafure mifordered, that I thinke myfelfe in hell, till tyme cum, that I muft go to M. Elmer, who teacheth me fo ientlie, fo pleafantlie, with foch faire allurementes to learning, that I thinke all the tyme nothing, whiles I am with him. And when I am called from him, I fall on weeping, becaufe, what foeuer I do els, but learning, is ful of grief, trouble, feare, and whole mifliking vnto me : And thus my booke, hath bene fo moch my pleafure, and bringeth dayly to me more pleafure and more, that in refpect of it, all other pleafures, in very deede, be but trifles and THE EDUCATION OF (lUEEN ]<:LlZAi3ETII 205 troubles vnto nic. I remember this talke gladly, both bicaufe it is fo worthy of memorie, and bicaufe alfo, it was the laft talkc that euer I had, and the laft tyme, that euer I faw that noble and worthie Ladie. II QUEEN ELIZABETH It is your fhame, (I fpeake to you all, you yong lentle- men of England) that one mayd[e] f hould go beyond you all, in excellencie of learnyng, and knowledge of diuers tonges. Pointe forth fix of the beft giuen lentlemen of this Court, and all they together, fhew not fo much good will, fpend not fo much tyme, beftow not fo many houres, dayly, orderly, and conftantly, for the increafe of learning and knowledge, as doth the Oueenes Maieftie her felfe. Yea I beleue, that befidc her perfit readines, in Latin, Italian, FirncJi, and Spanish, fhe readeth here now at Windfore more Greeke euery day, than fome Prebendarie of this Chirch doth read Latin in a whole weeke. And that which is moft praife worthie of all, witliin the walles of her priuic chamber, fhe hath obtevned that excellencie of learnvng, to vndcrftand, fpeake, and write, both wittely with head, and faire with hand, as fcarce one or two rare wittes in both the Vniuerfities haue in many yeares reached vnto. Amongeft all the benefites yat God hath bleffed me with all, next the knowledge of Chriftes true Religion, I counte this the greateft, that it pleafed God to call me, to be one poore minifter in fettyng forward thefe excellent giftes of learnyng in this moft excellent Prince. Whofe onely example, if the reft of our nobilitie would folow, then might England be, for learnyng and wifedome in nobili- tie, a fpectacle to all the world befide. But fee the mifhap of men : the beft examples haue neuer fuch forfe to moue to any goodnes, as the bad, vaine, light and fond, haue to all ilnes. 2o6 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Number J4 THE CHARACTER OF ELIZABETH J. R. Green. A Sho7-t Histoiy of the E7iglish People, illustrated edition, Vol. II, PP- 733-745' /''•f-f''"- England's one hope lay in the character of her Queen. Elizabeth was now in her twent)'-fifth year. Personally she had more than her mother's beauty ; her figure was com- manding, her face long but queenly and intelligent, her eyes quick and fine. She had grown up amidst the liberal culture of Henry's Court, a bold horsewoman, a good shot, a graceful dancer, a skilled musician, and an accomplished scholar. She studied ever}' morning the Greek Testament, and followed this by the tragedies of Sophocles or orations of Demosthenes, and could " rub up her rusty Greek " at need to bandy ped- antry with a Vice-Chancellor. But she was far from being a mere pedant. The new literature which was springing up around her found constant welcome in her Court. She spoke Italian and French as fluently as her mother-tongue. She was familiar with Ariosto and Tasso, Even amidst the affectation and love of anagrams and puerilities which sullied her latter years, she listened with delight to the " Faery Queen," and found a smile for "Master Spenser" when he appeared in her presence. Her moral temper recalled in its strange con- trasts the mixed blood within her veins. She was at once the ^daughter of Henry and of Anne Boleyn. From her father she inherited her frank and hearty address, her love of popularity and of free intercourse with the people, her dauntless courage and her amazing self-confidence. Her harsh, man-like voice, her impetuous will, her pride, her furious outbursts of anger came to her with her Tudor blood. She rated great nobles as if they were schoolboys ; she met the insolence of Essex with THE CITARACTF.R OF ELI/.\r.F.'Iir 207 a box on the ear; s.hc would break now and then into the gravest dehberations to swear at her ministers Hke a fishwife. But strangely in contrast with the violent outlines of her Tudor temper stood the sensuous, self-indulgent nature she derived from Anne Boleyn. Splendour and pleasure were with Elizabeth the very air she breathed. Her delight was to move in perpetual progresses from castle to castle through a series of gorgeous pageants, fanciful and extravagant as a caliph's dream. She loved gaiety and laughter and wit. A happy retort or a finished compliment never failed to win her favour. She hoarded jewels. Her dresses were innumerable. Her vanity remained, even to old age, the vanity of a coquette in her teens. No adulation was too fulsome for her, no flat- tery of her beauty too gross. "To see her was heaven," Hatton told her, " the lack of her was hell." She would play with her rings that her courtiers might note the delicacy of her hands ; or dance a coranto that the French ambassador, hidden dexterously behind a curtain, might report her spright- liness to his master. Her levity, her frivolous laughter, her unwomanly jests gave colour to a thousand scandals. Her character, in fact like her portraits, was utterly without shade. Of womanly reserve or self-restraint she knew nothing. No instinct of delicacy veiled the voluptuous temper which had broken out in the romps of her girlhood and showed itself almost ostentatiously throughout her later life. Personal beauty in a man w^as a sure passport to her liking. She patted handsome young squires on the neck when they knelt to kiss her hand, and fondled her " sweet Robin," Lord Leicester, in the face of the Court. It was no wonder that the statesmen whom she outwitted held Elizabeth almost to the last to be little more than a frivo- lous woman, or that Philip of Spain wondered how a "wanton " could hold in check the policy of the Escurial. But the 2o8 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Elizabeth whom they saw was far from being all of Elizabeth. The wilfulness of Henry, the triviality of Anne Boleyn played over the surface of a nature hard as steel, a temper purely intellectual, the very type of reason untouched by imagination or passion. Luxurious and pleasure-loving as she seemed, Elizabeth lived simply and frugally, and she worked hard. Her vanity and caprice had no weight whatever with her in State affairs. The coquette of the presence-chamber became the coolest and hardest of politicians at the council-board. Fresh from the flattery of her courtiers, she would tolerate no flattery in the closet ; she was herself plain and downright of speech with her counsellors, and she looked for a corre- sponding plainness of speech in return. If any trace of her sex lingered in her actual statesmanship, it was seen in the simplicity and tenacity of purpose that often underlies a woman's fluctuations of feeling. It was this in part which gave her her marked superiority over the statesmen of her time. No nobler group of ministers ever gathered around a council- l^oard than those who gathered around the council-board of 'Elizabeth. But she was the instrument of none. She lis- tened, she weighed, she used or put by the counsels of each in turn, but her policy as a whole was her own. It was a policy, not of genius, but of good sense. Her aims were simple and obvious : to preserve her throne, to keep England out of war, to restore civil and religious order. Something of womanly caution and timidity perhaps backed the passion- less indifference with which she set aside the larger schemes of ambition which were ever opening before her eyes. She was resolute in her refusal of the Low Countries. She rejected with a laugh the offers of the Protestants to make her " head of the religion " and "mistress of the seas." But her amazing success in the end sprang mainly from this wise limitation of her aims. She had a finer sense than any of her counsellors THE CHARACTER OF ELIZABETH 209 of her real resources ; she knew instinctively how far she could go, and what she could do. Her cold, critical intellect was never swayed by enthusiasm or by panic either to ex- aggerate or to under-estimate her risks or her power. Of political wisdom indeed in its larger and more generous sense Elizabeth had little or none ; but her political tact was unerring. She seldom saw her course at a glance, but she played with a hundred courses, fitfully and discursively, as a musician runs his fingers over the key-board, till she hit suddenly upon the right one. . . . "No War, my Lords," the Queen used to cry imperiously at the council-board, " No War ! " but her hatred of war sprang less from her aversion to blood or to expense, real as was her aversion to both, than from the fact that peace left the field open to her diplomatic manoeuvres and intrigues in which she excelled. . . . She revelled in "bye-ways " and " crooked ways." She played with grave cabinets as a cat plays with a mouse, and with much of the same feline delight in the mere embarrassment of her victims. When she was weary of mystifying foreign statesmen she turned to find fresh sport in mystifying her own ministers. Had Elizabeth written the story of her reign she would have prided herself, not on the triumph of England or the ruin of Spain, but on the skill with which she had hoodwinked and out-witted every statesman in Europe, during fifty years. Nor was her trickery without political value. Ignoble, inexpressibly wearisome as the Queen's diplomacy seems to us now, tracing it as we do through a thousand despatches, it succeeded in its main end. It gained time, and every year that was gained doubled Elizabeth's strength. Nothing is more revolting in the Queen, but nothing is more characteristic, than her shame- less mendacity. It was an age of political lying, but in the profusion and recklessness of her lies Elizabeth stood without a peer in Christendom. A falsehood was to her simpl\- an 2IO READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY intellectual means of meeting a difficulty ; and the ease with which she asserted or denied whatever suited her purpose was only equalled by the cynical indifference with which she met the exposure of her lies as soon as their purpose was answered. ... Her levity carried her gaily over moments of detection and embarrassment where better women would have died of shame. . . . She turned her very luxury and sports to good account. There were moments of grave danger in her reign when the country remained indifferent to its perils, as it saw the Queen give her days to hawking and hunting, and her nights to dancing and plays. Her vanity and affecta- tion, her womanly fickleness and caprice, air had their part in the diplomatic comedies she played with the successive candi- dates for her hand. If political necessities made her life a lonely one, she had at any rate the satisfaction of averting war and conspiracies by love sonnets and romantic interviews, or of gaining a year of tranquillity by the dexterous spinning out of a flirtation. As we track Elizabeth through her tortuous mazes of lying and intrigue, the sense of her greatness is almost lost in a sense of contempt. . . . "This woman," Philip's envoy wrote after a wasted remonstrance, "this woman is possessed by a hundred thousand devils." To her own subjects, indeed, who knew nothing of her manoeuvres and retreats, of her "bye-ways" and " crooked ways," she seemed the embodiment of daunt- less resolution. Brave as they were, the men who swept the Spanish Main or glided between the icebergs of Baffin's Bay never doubted that the palm of bravery lay with their Queen. Her steadiness and courage in the pursuit of her aims was equalled by the wisdom with which she chose the men to accomplish them. vShe had a quick eye for merit of any sort, and a wonderful power of enlisting its whole energy in her service. The sagacity which chose Cecil and Walsingham was EDUCATION OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS 2 i I just as unerring in its choice of the meanest of her agents. Her success indeed in securing from the beginning of her reign to its end, with the single exception of Leicester, pre- cisely the right men for the work she set them to do sprang in great measure from the noblest characteristic of her intellect. . , . But the greatness of the Queen rests above all on her power over her people. We have had grander and nobler rulers, but none so popular as Elizabeth. . . . Her worst acts broke fruitlessly against the general devotion. A Puritan, whose hand she cut off in a freak of t)Tannous resentment, waved his hat with the hand that was left, and shouted, ' ' God save Queen Elizabeth!" Of her faults, indeed, England beyond the circle of her Court knew litde or nothing. . . , If Elizabeth could be said to love anything, she loved England. " Nothing," she said to her first Parliament in words of unwonted fire, " nothing, no worldly thing under the sun, is so dear to me as the love and good-will of my subjects." And the love and good-will which were so dear to hSr she fully won. Number ^^ EDUCATION AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS George Conn. Quoted by Robert S. Rait, Man> Queen of Scots, pp. 3-4. George Conn (Conaeus), the writer of this selection, belonged to a Scot- tish family of Roman Catholic sympathies. He was partly educated in Paris, and although he was not there during Mary Stuart's residence in France, he probably got his information from people who had known her. Her main course of study was directed tow^ards the at- tainment of the best European languages. So graceful was her French that the judgment of the most learned men recog- nised her command of the language ; nor did she neglect 2 12 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Spanish or Italian, although she aimed rather at an useful knowledge than at a pretentious fluency. She followed Latin more readily than she spoke it. The charm of her poetry owed nothing to art. Her penmanship was clear, and (what is rare in a woman) swift. Her excellence in singing arose from a natural, not an acquired, ability to modulate her voice : the instruments she played were the cittern, the harp, and the harpsichord. Being very agile, she danced admirably to a musical accompaniment, yet with beauty and comeliness, for the silent and gentle movement of her limbs kept time to the harmony of the chords. She devoted herself to learning to ride so far as it is necessary for travelling or for her favourite exercise of hunting, thinking anything further more fitted for a man than for a woman. . . . Several tapestries worked by her with wonderful skill are yet to be seen in France, dedicated to the altars of God, especially in the monastery in which she was nurtured on her first arrival in the kingdom. Number j6 AN INTERVIEW BETWEEN MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS AND JOHN KNOX John Knox. History of the Reformation /« Scotland, Bk. IV, pp. 386-389. Robert S. Rait, Mary Queen 0/ Scots, pp. 39-42. The History of the Reformation in Scotland, from which this selection was taken, was written by John Knox, the leader of the Presbyterian party. He had several interesting interviews with Mary Stuart. The subject of the one reported here was Mary's proposed marriage to a Roman Cath- olic, a marriage which would be very distasteful to Knox and his party. The Provost of Glencludan, Douglas by surname, of Drum- lanark, was the man that gave the charge, that the said John ^ should present himself before the Queen, which he did soon IJohn Knox. MARV QUEEN OE SCOTS AND JOHN KNOX 213 after dinner. The Lord Ochiltree, and divers of the faithful, bare him company to the Abbey ; i)uL none passed in to the Queen with him in the cabinet, but John Erskine of Dun, then superintendent of Angus and Mearns. The Queen in a vehement fume began to cry out, that never Prince was used as she was. " I have (said she) borne with you in all your rigorous manner of speaking, both against my- self and against my uncles ; yea, I have sought your favour by all possible means ; I offered unto you presence and audience, whensoever it pleased you to admonish me, and yet I cannot be quit of you ; I vow to God I shall be once revenged." And with these words scarce could Marnoch, her secret chamber boy, get napkins to hold her eyes dry, for the tears and the howling, besides womanly weeping, stayed her speech. The said John did patiently abide all the first fume, and at oppor- tunity answered, " True it is, Madam, your Grace and I have been at divers controversies, into the which I never perceived your Grace to be offended at me ; but when it shall please God to deliver you from that bondage of darkness and error, where- in ye have been nourished, for the lack of true Doctrine, your Majesty will find the liberty of my tongue nothing offen- sive. Without the Preaching-place (Madam) I think few have occasion to be offended at me, and there (Madam) I am not master of myself, but must obey him who commands me to speak plain, and to flatter no flesh upon the face of the earth. . . ." "' But what have you to do (said she) with my marriage ? Or, what are you within the Commonwealth?" "A subject born within the same (said he) Madam ; and albeit I be neither Earl, Lord, nor Baron within it, )-et hath God made me (how abject that ever I be in your eyes) a profit- able and useful member within the same ; yea. Madam, to me it appertaincth no less, to forewarn of such things as may hurt 214 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY it, if I foresee them, than it doth to any one of the nobility ; for both my vocation and conscience craveth plainness of me ; and therefore (Madam) to yourself I say, that which I spake in public, whensoever the nobility of this realm shall be con- tent, and consent, that you be subject to an unlawful husband, they do as much as in them lieth to renounce Christ, to banish the Truth, to betray the freedom of this realm, and perchance shall in the end do small comfort to yourself," At these words, howling was heard, and tears might have been seen in greater abundance than the matter required. John Erskine of Dun, a man of meek and gentle spirit, stood be- side, and entreated what he could to mitigate her anger, and gave unto her many pleasant words, of her beauty, of her ex- cellency ; and how that all the princes in Europe would be glad to seek her favours. But all that was to cast oil into the flaming fire. The said John stood still, without any alteration of countenance, for a long time, while that the Queen gave place to her inordinate passion ; and in the end he said, " Madam, in God's presence I speak, I never delighted in the weeping of any of God's creatures ; yea, I can scarcely well abide the tears of mine own boys, whom my own hands correct, much less can I rejoice in your Majesty's weeping ; But see- ing I have offered unto you no just occasion to be offended, but have spoken the truth, as my vocation craves of me, I must sustain your Majesty's tears, rather than I dare hurt my conscience, or betray the Commonwealth by silence." Here- with was the Queen more offended, and commanded the said John to pass forth of the cabinet, and to abide further of her pleasure in the chamber. The Laird of Dun tarried, and Lord John of Coldingham came into the cabinet, and so they remained with her near the space of one hour. The said John stood in the chamber, as one whom men had never seen (so were all afraid), except that MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS AT CARLISLE 215 the Lord Ochiltree bare him company ; and therefore he began to make discourse with the ladies, who were there sitting in all their gorgeous apparel ; which when he espied, he merrily said : " Fair Ladies, how pleasant were this life of yours, if it should ever abide ; and then in the end, that we might pass to Heaven with this gay gear [clothing] ! But fy upon that knave Death, that will come whether we will or not ; and when he hath laid on his arrest, then foul worms will be busy with this flesh, be it never so fair and so tender ; and the silly [weak] soul I fear shall be so feeble, that it can neither carry with it gold, garnishing, targating [tassels], pearls, nor precious stones." And by such means procured he the company of women, and so passed the time till that the Laird of Dun willed him to depart to his house till new advertisement. The Queen would have had the sentiment of the Lords of the Articles if that such manner of speaking deserved not punishment. But she was counselled to desist ; and so that storm quieted in appearance, but never in the heart. Number jy MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS AT CARLISLE Sir Francis Knollys. Quoted by Thomas Wright, Queen Elizabeth and hi-r Ti»ici,\o\. I, pp. 280-281. When Mary Queen of Scots fled to England in 1568, she tooi< refuge in Carlisle Castle. Sir Francis Knollys was one of the men appointed by Elizabeth to take charge of her. The extract here given is a part of one of his reports to Cecil, dated June 1 1. 1568. And yet this ladie and pr)mcess is a notable woman. She semeth to regard no ceremonious honor besyde the ac- knowledging of her estate regalle. She sheweth a disposition to speake much, to be bold, to be pleasant, and to be very famylyar. She sheweth a great desyre to be avenged of her 2l6 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY enemyes ; she sheweth a readines to expose herselfe to all perylls in hope of victorie ; she delyteth much to hear of har- dines and valiancye, commending by name all approved hardy men of her cuntrye, altho they be her enemyes ; and she com- mendeth no cowardnes even in her frendes. The thyng that most she thirsteth after is victory, and it semeth to be indiffer- ent to her to have her enemies dimynish, either by the sword of her frendes, or by the liberal! promises and rewardes of her purse, or by divysion and quarrells raised amongst themselffes ; so that for victorie's sake, payne and perr)-lls semeth pleasant unto her, and in respect of victorie, welthe and all thyngs semeth to her contemptuous and vile. Nowe what is to be done with such a ladie and pryncess, or whether such a pryncess and ladye be to be nouryshed in one's bosome, or whether it be good to halte and dissemble with such a ladye, I referr to your judgment. Niunber j8 ELIZABETHAN SEA KINGS AND THE SPANISH ARMADA John Fiske. Old Virgitiia and Her Neighbors, Vol. I, pp. 38-47. . . . War between Spain and England had been declared in July, 1585, when Sidney and Drake were about ready to execute a scheme that contemplated the founding of an American colony by Sidney. But the queen interfered and sent Sidney to the Netherlands, where he was so soon to die a noble death. The terrible Drake, whom Spaniards, pun- ning upon his name, had begun to call "Dragon," gave them fresh cause to dread and revile him. He had captured 20 ships with 250 cannon, he had taken and sacked Cartagena, St. Domingo, and St. Augustine, and on his way home looked THE SPANISH ARMADA 217 in at Roanoke Island, in time to take Lane ^ and his starving party on board and carry them back to England. They had not long been gone when Grenville arrived with supplies, and was astonished at finding the island deserted. Knowing noth- ing of Lane's change of purpose, and believing that his party must still be somewhere in the adjacent country, Grenville left a guard of fifteen men on the island, with ample supplies, and sailed away. The stirring days of the Armada were approaching. When Lane arrived in England, his services were needed there, and after a while we find him a member of the Council of War. One of this first American colonizing party was the wonderful Suffolk boy, Thomas Cavendish, aged two and twenty, who had no sooner landed in England than he set sail in command of three ships, made his way into the Pacific Ocean, and re- peated the exploits of Drake from Chili to California, captured one of Spain's finest galleons, and then in two years more completed the circumnavigation of the globe. While the pupil was thus nobly acquitting himself, the master in the spring of 1587 outdid all former achievements. Sailing into the harbour of Cadiz, Drake defeated the warships on guard there, calmly loaded his own vessels with as much Spanish spoil as could safely be carried, then set fire to the store ships and cut their cables. More than a hundred transports, some of them I 500 tons in burthen, all laden with stores for the Armada, became a tangled and drifting mass of blazing ruin, while amid the thunder of exploding magazines the victor went forth on his way unscathed and rejoicing. Day after day he crouched under the beetling crags of Cintra, catching and sinking every craft that passed that lair, then swept like a tempest into the bay of Coruna and wrought similar havoc to 1 Ralph Lane with a hundred or more men had been sent by Raleigh in the spring of 1585 to make the beginnings of a settlement on Roanoke Island. 2l8 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY that of Cadiz, then stood off for the Azores and captured the great carrack on its way from the Indies with treasure reckoned by milKons. Europe stood dumb with amazement. What manner of man was it that could thus " singe the King of Spain's beard " ? "" PhiHp one day invited a lady of the court to join him in his barge on the Lake of Segovia. The lady said she dared not trust herself on the water, even with his Majesty," for fear of Sir Francis Drake. Philip's Armada had to wait for another year, while by night and day the music of adze and hammer was heard in English shipyards. Just as '" the Dragon " returned to England another party of Raleigh's colonists was approaching the American coast. There were about 150, including 17 women. John White, a man deft with water-colours, who had been the artist of Lane's expedition, was their governor. Their settlement was to be made on the shore of Chesapeake Bay, but first they must stop at Roanoke Island and pick up the fifteen men left on watch by Grenville. Through some carelessness or misunder- standing or bad faith on the part of the convoy, the people once landed were left in the lurch with only one small vessel, and thus were obliged to stay on that fatal Roanoke Island. They soon found that Grenville's little guard had been massacred by red men. It was under these gloomy circum- stances that the first child of English parents was born on the soil of the United States. The governor's daughter Eleanor was wife of Ananias Dare, and their little girl, born August 18, 1587, was named Virginia. Before she was ten days old her grandfather found it necessary to take the ship and return to England for help. But the day of judgment for Spain and England was at hand, and lesser things must wait. Amid the turmoil of mili- tar}' preparation, Sir Walter was not unmindful of his little colony. Twice he fitted out relief expeditions, but the- first \ TIIK SPAXISIT ARMADA 219 was stopped because all thr ships were seized for government service, and the second was driven back into port by Spanish cruisers. While the anxious governor waited through the lengthening days into the summer of 1588, there came, with its imperious haste, its deadly agony and fury, its world- astounding triumph, the event most tremendous, perhaps, that mankind have witnessed since the star of the Wise Men stood over the stable at Bethlehem. Then you might have seen the sea kings working in good fellowship together, — Drake and Hawkins, Winter and Frobisher, with Howard of Effingham in the Channel fleet ; Raleigh and Grenville active alike in council and afield ; the two great ministers, Burghley and W' alsingham, ever crafty and vigilant ; and in the back- ground on her white palfrey the eccentric figure of the strangely wayward and wilful but always brave and patriotic queen. Even after three centuries it is with bated breath ^ that we watch those 1 30 black hulks coming up the Channel, with 3000 cannon and 30,000 men on board, among them ninety executioners withal, equipped with racks and thumb- screws, to inaugurate on English soil the accursed work of the Inquisition. In camp at Dunkirk the greatest general of the age, Alexander Farnese, with 3 5, 000 veterans is crouch- ing for a spring, like a still greater general at Boulogne in later davs ; and one wonders if the 80,000 raw militia slowlv mustering in the busy little towns and green hamlets of England can withstand these well-trained warriors. In the English fleet there were about as many ships as the enemy had, much smaller in size and inferior in weight of metal, but at the same time far more nimble in movement. Of cannon and men the English had scarcely half as many as the Spaniards, but this disparity was more than offset by one great advantage. Our forefathers had already begun to display the inventive ingenuity for which their descendants in 2 20 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY /both hemispheres have since become preeminent. Many of their ships were armed with new guns, of longer range than any hitherto known, and this advantage, combined with their greater nimbleness, made it possible in many cases to pound a Spanish ship to pieces without receiving any serious hurt in return. In such respects, as well as in the seamanship by which the two fleets were handled, it was modern intelligence pitted against mediaeval chivalry. Such captains as served Elizabeth were not reared under the blighting shadow of the Escurial. With the discomfiture of the Invincible Armada be- fore Dunkirk, the army of Farnese at once became useless for invading England. Then came the awful discovery that the mighty fleet was penned up in the German Ocean, for Drake held the Strait of Dover in his iron grip. The horrors of the long retreat through northern seas have never been equalled save when Napoleon's hosts were shattered in Russia. In the disparity of losses, as in the immensity of the issues at stake, we are reminded of the Greeks and Persians at Salamis ; of Spaniards more than 20,000 perished, but scarcely 100 Eng- lishmen. The frightful loss of ships and guns announced the overthrow of Spanish supremacy, but the bitter end was yet to come. During the next three years the activity of the sea kings reached such a pitch that more than 800 Spanish ships were destroyed. The final blow came soon after the deaths of Drake and Hawkins in i 596, when Raleigh, with the Earl of Essex and Lord Thomas Howard, destroyed the Spanish fleet in that great battle before Cadiz whereof Raleigh wrote that " if any man had a desire to see Hell itself, it was there most lively figured." v^ It was not until March, 1591, that Governor White suc- ceeded in getting to sea again for the rescue of his family and friends. He had to go as passenger in a West Indiaman. When he landed, upon the return voyage, at Roanoke Island, TTTE SPANISH ARMADA 22 1 it was just in time to have celebrated his Httle grandchild's fourth birthday. It had been agreed that should the colonists leave that spot they should carve upon a tree the name of the place to which they were going, and if they should add to the name a cross it would be understood as a signal of distress. \\' hen White arrived he found grass growing in the deserted blockhouse. Under the cedars hard by five chests had been buried, and somebody had afterwards dug them up and rifled them. Fragments of his own books and pictures lay scattered about. On a great tree was cut in big letters, but without any cross, the word Croatan, which was the name of a neighbour- ing island. The captain of the ship was at first willing to take Whit^ to Croatan, but a fierce storm overtook him, and after beating about for some days he insisted upon making for England in spite of the poor man's entreaties. No more did White ever hear of his loved ones. Sixteen years afterwards the settlers at Jamestown were told by Indians that the white people abandoned at Roanoke had mingled with the natives and lived with them for some years on amicable terms, until at the instigation of certain medicine-men (who probably accused them of witchcraft) they had all been murdered, except four men, two boys, and a young woman, who were spared by request or order of a chief. Whether this young woman was Virginia Dare, the first American girl, we have no means of knowing. Nothing could better illustrate than the pathetic fate of this little colony how necessary it was to destroy the naval power of Spain before England could occupy the soil of North America. The defeat of the Invincible Armada was the open- ing event in the history of the United States. It was the event that made all the rest possible. Without it the attempts at Jamestown and Plymouth could hardly have had more success than the attempt at Roanoke Island. An infant colony is like O O '"> READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY an army at the end of a long line of communications ; it per- ishes if the line is cut. Before England could plant thriving states in America she must control the ocean routes. The far- sighted Raleigh understood the conditions of the problem. When he smote the Spaniards at Cadiz he knew it was a blow struck for America. He felt the full significance of the defeat of the Armada, and in spite of all his disappointments with Virginia he never lost heart. In 1602 he wrote to Sir Robert Cecil, " I shall yet live to see it an English nation." Number jg ENGLISH LIFE IN ELIZABETH'S REIGN Mandell Creighton. The Age of ElizahcUi, pp. 199-20S. The repulse of the Spanish Armada, marks the period in Elizabeth's reign when the national spirit rose to its highest point. England, which had long been weighed down by doubts and fears, awoke to a consciousness of its true posi- tion. Internal conflicts and differences of opinion ceased to be of importance in face of the great danger which threat- ened all alike. Englishmen felt, as they had never done be- fore, their community of interests, their real national unity. Hatred of Spain became a deep feeling in the English mind, and when combined with religious zeal and the desire for adventure produced that spirit of restless and reckless daring which so strongly marks the English character at this time. Nowhere is the outcome of awakened national feeling more finely expressed than in the lines which Shakespeare puts into the mouth of the dying Gaunt : This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars. This other Eden, demi-paradise : ENGLISH LIFE IN ELIZABETH'S REIGN 223 This fastness built by Nature for herself Against infection, and the hand of war; This happy breed of men, this Httle world : This precious stone, set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall Or as a moat defensive to a house. Against the envy of less happier lands. Moreover England under Elizabeth's careful rule had rapidly increased in wealth and prosperity. It was free from war when all the rest of luirope was engaged in deadly struggle. The queen was thrifty and provident, so that in- dustry was not crippled b)- heavy taxes. The troubles in the Netherlands threw great commercial advantages into the hands of the English which they were not slow in using. Increasing national prosperity went together with increasing national spirit, and England made rapid strides during the eventful forty-five years of Elizabeth's reign. One way in which this showed itself was in the great advance of litera- ture. Men's tongues seemed to be loosened ; they felt and expressed interests of every kind. No longer were some things only of importance, but all things that concerned man and his life and feelings were felt to be worthy of record. Hence it is that we know so much more of Elizabeth's times than we do of those that went before, and that we have ma- terials for a sketch of the social life and manners of the people. The increase of wealth produced a greater desire for com- fort, and Elizabeth's reign was marked by a great progress in all the refinements and appliances of daily life. Amongst the nobles the sense of peace and security, joined with the desire for greater grandeur, led to a change in the character of their residences. The fortified castle was re-modelled into a palace, though still retaining its old appearance. This was the case with Kenilworth Castle, inside whose frowning battlements was a magnificent palace with every requirement of luxur\-. 2 24 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY New mansions were also erected all over England by the gentry who wished to live in a manner suitable to their dig- nitv. No age has left a more decided mark on oiir domestic architecture than the age of the Tudors. The Gothic Archi- tecture of the middle ages had given way before the revival of the classical style which spread from Italy. The mixture of Gothic and classical architecture produced the stately yet simple Elizabethan mansions of which such admirable ex- amples remain in Hatfield, Longleat, Audley End, Holland House, and Knowle. Country houses generally were built of brick or stone instead of wood ; glass took the place of lat- tices. "Of old time," says Harrison in his Description of England, " our countrie houses instead of glass did use much lattise, and that made either of wicker or fine rifts of oke in checkerwise. But now our lattises are also growne into lesse use, because glass is come to be so plentifulle, and within a verie little so good cheape if not better than the other. The wals of our houses on the inner side be either hanged with tapistrie, arras worke, or painted cloths, wherein either diverse histories, or herbes, beasts, and such like are stained, or else they are seeled with oke of our own or wainscot brought hither out of the east countries. As for stooves we had not hitherto used them greatlie, yet do they now begin to be made in diverse houses of the gentrie." When the Spaniards in Queen Mary's days saw the English houses, they said, '" These English have houses made of sticks and dirt, but they fare commonly as well as the king." This reproach was no longer true in Elizabeth's time. The luxury of comfort also made rapid progress. " There are old men," says Harrison, "yet dwelling in the village where I remaine, which have noticed three things to be marvellouslie altered in England in this their remembrance. One is the multitude of chimnies latelie erected, whereas in ENGTJSir TJFE IN KLTZABKTII'S REIGN 225 their young daies there were not above two or three if so manic, in uplandish towns of the realme. Another is the great amendment of lodging, for our fathers have Hen full oft upon straw pallets, and a good round log under their heads instead of a bolster or pillow. The third thing they tell of, is the exchange of vessels as of treene (wooden) platters into pewter, and wooden spooncs into silver or tin. Such also was their povertie, that if some one od farmer or husbandman had been at the alehouse among six or seven of his neigh- bours, and there in braverie to show what store he had, did cast down his purse, and therein six shillings of silver, it was very likelie that all the rest could not laie down so much against it ; whereas in my time the farmer will thinkie his gaines verie small towards the end of his terme, if he have not six or seven years rent lieing by him, beside a fair garnish of pewter on his cupboard, with so much more in od vessels going about the house, three or foure feather beds, so manie coverlids and carpets of tapestrie, a silver salt, a bowle for wine, and a dozzen spoons to furnish up the sute," The rich furniture and decorations of the rooms in noble- men's houses is described by Shakespeare in Cyinbeline : Her bedchamber was hanged With tapestry of silk and silver ! the story Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman, And Cydnus swelled above the banks, or for The press of boats, or pride ; a piece of work So bravely done, so rich that it did strive In workmanship and value. The chimney Is south the chamber ; and the chimney-piece Chaste Dian bathing. The roof of the chamber With golden cherubims is fretted ; her andirons (I had forgot them) were two winking Cupids Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely Depending on their brands. 2 26 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Carpets were not yet much known or used, and the floors were strewed with rushes ; thus Romeo says : Let wantons light of heart Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels. In food, and in the exercise of hospitahty, the English were profuse. The usual fare of a gentleman, says Harrison, '" was four, five, or six dishes when they have but small re- sort." There were many kinds of meat, and "for a man to taste of every dish that standeth before him is rather to yield unto a conspiracy with a great deal of meat for the speedy suppression of natural health, than the natural use of a necessary means to satisfy himself with a competent repast to sustain his body withal." The great men dined in state at a high table in their hall, while their dependants sat at lower tables ; the remnants of their dinner were given to the poor. Venetian glass, which was a rarity, was the favorite substance of their drinking vessels. Fifty-six sorts of French wines were imported into England, and thirty kinds of Italian, Greek, Spanish, and Canary wines. Drunkenness was then, as always, a characteristic feature of the English people. China dishes and plates were beginning to be known. Knives for eating purposes only began commonly to take the place of fingers in 1563, and forks were not used before 161 1. The times for meals were strangely different from our present custom ; the gentry dined at eleven and supped at five, the farmers dined at one and supped at seven. Dress was remarkable in this age for its splendor and mag- nificence ; the vanity of the queen set an example of profusion which was almost universally followed, and which excited the anger of many Puritan satirists. Even then the English had no distinctive dress of their own, but followed foreign fashions without much taste. Every kind of dress was in vogue, and ENGLISH IJFE IN ETJZARETH'S REIGN 227 on great occasions there was a strange mixture of costumes. French, German, and Spanish dresses varied with " Moor- ish gowns and barbarian sleeves." Different patterns were adopted for dressing the hair and trimming the beard. Some men wore earrings, "whereby they imagine the workman- ship of God to be not a Httle amended." Ruffs made of lawn or cambric were worn by both sexes ; they were stiffened with starch and wire, and were edged with gems. Queen Elizabeth left at her death a wardrobe of three thousand gowns, made of the richest materials ; they were of enormous bulk, and were stuffed and padded so as to stand off from the body. Gentlemen's breeches and doublets were similarly padded to an uncomfortable size ; over these they wore cloaks " of silk, velvet, damask, or other precious stuff," embroidered with gold or silver and buttoned at the shoulder. It was not uncommon for a courtier to " put on a thousand oaks and an hundred oxen into a suit of apparel, to wear a whole manor on his back." The title of " merrie England " was not a meaningless one in Elizabeth's time. Nothing can give a stronger testi- mony to the strength of the wave of Puritan feeling which swept over England in the next century than to see how entirely it destroyed the many games and festivities which be- fore were common throughout the land, and so stamped upon English life the somewhat hard and joyless aspect which it still wears. In the country the festivities of Christmas, New Year's Day, Twelfth Night, Plough Monday, Candlemas, Shrove Tuesday, Easter, May Day, and many others, were all celebrated with curious pageants and old traditional cus- toms of merry-making. Each district had some historic festival which it commemorated by some rude pageant. The Morris dancers. Maid Marian and Little John, the show of the Hobbyhorse and the Dragon, and other performances 2 28 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY of that kind, awoke the anger of the Puritans, who saw in them remnants of paganism and superstition, Sundays were the holidays of the week, when every village had its games and social recreations. Wakes, fairs, and weddings were all occasions of sports and jollity. Dancing, archery, and bear-baiting were favorite amuse- ments in the capital. There the fashionable promenade was the middle aisle of St. Paul's cathedral, where the young man of fashion would order his tailor to meet him with patterns ; for the dark little shops were ill-suited for the display of goods. There by his remarks in public the dandy could get credit for his taste from passers by before he appeared in his new suit at all. Before dinner he walked in one dress, after dinner he returned in another. If he wished to attract espe- cial attention he mounted the steps of the quire while service was going on. That was forbidden, and one of the quire boys at once left his place to exact a fine ; then could the dandy amaze the congregation by the splendor of his " perfumed embroidered purse," from which in a lordly way he would " quoit into the boy's hands that it was heard above the first lesson, although it were read in a voice as big as one of the great organs." After this edifying display he would look in- to the bookseller's if he were of a literary turn of mind ; if not, he would visit the tobacconist's ; for tobacco, which was first brought to England by Sir Walter Raleigh in 1586, had already become popular. As an amusement for the evening was the theatre, which first sprang into popularity during Elizabeth's reign. The stirring, bustling time awoke an interest in the display of the activity and power of human life. The spirit of adventure felt a desire for satisfaction in the contemplation of the struggles of men against destiny, of the soul against its sur- roundings. The bands of players kept by the queen and ENGLISH LIFE IN ELIZAI5ETH'S RFLIGN 229 noblemen for the performance of masques and pageants at their own festivities began to give pubHc performances. The people needed something to supply the old Miracle Plays which the Reformation had stopped. Public theatres quickly increased in number. At first they were rude enough, and were in shape reproductions of the court-yard of an inn, which first had been the place for dramatic representations. The " groundlings " of the pit stood unprotected from the weather ; the boxes and the stage only were covered. The stage was divided into two parts by a balcony, and thus a simple kind of scenery was secured. At first plays were only allowed on Sunday evening, but soon the players "' made four or five Sundays eveiy week." A penny or two-pence ad- mitted to the pit and gallery ; a shilling to the more privi- leged part of the house. There were no women actors, and female parts were always performed by boys ; but the spec- tators needed few external helps to give the words a mean- ing, and rouse their interest in the problem of human life and passion which the drama brought before them. As regards the ordinary occupations of the English, com- merce and naval enterprise greatly increased the number of those who could find industrial employment. As a conse- quence of this the distress amongst the poor population in the country slowly diminished. The " sturdy beggars," who, during the last three reigns had infested the country- almost like banditti, were more easily put down in quieter times. The first step towards dealing with them fairly was to make provision for those who were really sick and destitute. A weekly collection was made in all parish churches for the benefit of the poor of the parish. When this was insufficient the justices were empowered to make an assessment for the purpose. Work-houses and hospitals began gradually to be built. Finally the system of parish relief for the poor was 2:;o READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY 3 established on the present basis by a statute passed in 1601, which enacted that houses of correction be erected in every county, and provided for the maintenance of the poor by means of a rate, which was to be collected and distributed by overseers of the poor. In this way poverty was provided for, and the number of vagrants began slowly to decrease. But severity was still used against them, and not less than 300 of these disturbers of the peace were hanged yearly. It is computed that there were no fewer than 10,000 of these vagabonds in England, engaged sometimes in begging, with many devices to excite compassion, sometimes thieving, some- times infesting the roads in bands, and using violence to the passers by. The number diminished but slowly, as it was not easy for them to get employment. There was no great in- crease in the demand for agricultural laborers, and in the towns trade was rigidly regarded by the guilds. No man could practice a craft who was not a member of a guild, and had not served a regular apprenticeship. The apprentices were a powerful body in London ; they were always ready to interfere in a disturbance, and the cry of " Clubs ! " would bring forth a small army of them, ready to take part in any riot that arose. The occupations for aspiring gentlemen are noted by Shakespeare : — Men of slender reputation Put forth their sons to seek preferment out : Some to the wars to try their fortunes there : Some to discover islands far away ; Some to the studious universities. To these we must add the difficult and perilous road to for- tune by seeking court favor. Those whose position did not give them this opportunity, or who chafed under its restric- tions, could find employment in the Netherlands, in France, 'I'HF. CHAKACTKR Ol' JAMi:S I 23 1 or in naval expeditions against Spain. Others could go on voyages of discovery either in the Arctic regions or in the Indian seas. Those who preferred more studious pursuits studied in Paris, in Germany, or in Italy. Ital\- especially still exercised a powerful influence, over which the English moralists bewail. " There be the enchantments of Circe," says Roger Ascham, " brought out of Italy to mar men's manners in England, much by example of ill life, but more by precepts of fond books." Number ^o THE CHARACTER OF JAMES I J. R. Green. ./ Short Hision> of the Ejiglish People, illustrated edition, Vol. Ill, pp. 974-976- No sovereign could have jarred against the conception of an English ruler which had grown up under Plantagenet or Tudor more utterly than James the First. His big head, his slobbering tongue, his quilted clothes, his rickety legs, stood out in as grotesque a contrast with all that men recalled of Henry or Elizabeth as his gabble and rhodomontade, his want of personal dignity, his buffoonery, his coarseness of speech, his pedantry, his contemptible cowardice. Under this ridicu- lous exterior however lay a man of much natural ability, a ripe scholar with a considerable fund of shrewdness, of mother- wit, and ready repartee. His canny humour lights up the political and theological controversies of the time with quaint incisive phrases, with puns and epigrams and touches of irony, which still retain their savour. His reading, especially in theo- logical matters, was extensive ; and he was a voluminous author on subjects which ranged from predestination to tobacco. 2 12 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY But his shrewdness and learning only left him, in the phrase of Henry the Fourth, " the wisest fool in Christendom." He had the temper of a pedant, a pedant's conceit, a pedant's love of theories, and a pedant's inability to bring his theories into any relation with actual facts. All might have gone well had he confined himself to speculations about witchcraft, about predestination, about the noxiousness of smoking. Unhappily for England and for his successor, he clung yet more pas- sionately to theories of government which contained within them the seeds of a death-struggle between his people and the Crown. Even before his accession to the English throne, he had formulated his theory of rule in a work on " The True Law of Free Monarchy ; " and announced that, " al- though a good King will frame his actions to be according to law, yet he is not bound thereto, but of his own will and for example-giving to his subjects." With the Tudor states- men who used the phrase, "an absolute King," or "an absolute monarchy," meant a sovereign or rule complete in themselves, and independent of all foreign or Papal interfer- ence. James chose to regard the words as implying the monarch's freedom from all control by law, or from respon- sibility to anything but his own royal will. The King's theory however was made a system of government ; it was soon, as the Divine Right of Kings, to become a doctrine which bishops preached from the pulpit, and for which brave men laid their heads on the block. THE DIVINE RKHIT OF KINGS 233 Ntunber 41 THE DIVINE RIGHT OF KINGS Jamks I, KiNC OF England. IVorkes of the Most High and Mightie Prince, James, pp. 529-531. This is part of a speech made by James I to the Lords and Commons of the ParHament at Whitehall in 1609. The State of M on archie is the supremest thing upon earth : for Kings are not only God's Lieutenants upon earth, and sit upon God's throne, but even by God himselfc they are called Gods. There bee three principall similitudes that illustrate the State of Monarchie : One taken out of the word of God ; and the two other out of the grounds of Policie and Philosophie. In the Scriptures Kings are called Gods, and so their power after a certaine relation compared to the Divine power. Kings are also compared to Fathers of fami- lies : for a King is trewly Parens patrice, the politique father of his people. And lastly, Kings are compared to the head of this Microcosme of the body of man. Kings are justly called Gods, for that they exercise a man- ner or resemblance of Divine power upon earth : For if you wil consider the Attributes to God, you shall see how they agree in the person of a King. God hath power to create, or destroy, make, or unmake at his pleasure, to give life or send death, to judge all, and to bee judged nor accomptable to none : To raise low things, and to make high things low at his pleasure, and to God are both soule and body due. And the like power have Kings : they make and unmake their subjects ; they have power of raising, and casting downe : of life, and of death : Judges over all their subjects, and in all causes, and yet accomptable to none but God onely. They have power to exalt low things, and abase high things, and 234 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY make of their subjects like men at the Chesse ; A pawne to take a Bishop or a Knight, and to cry up, or downe, any of their subjects, as they do their money. And to the King is due both the affection of the soule, and the service of the body of his subjects : . . . I conclude then this point touching the power of Kings, with this Axiome of Divinitie, That as to dispute what God may doe, is Blasphemie ; ... So is it sedition in Subjects, to dispute what a King may do in the height of his power ; But just Kings wil ever be willing to declare what they wil do, if they wil not incurre the curse of God. I wil not be content that my power be disputed upon : but I shall ever be willing to make the reason appeare of all my doings, and rule my actions according to my Lawes. Nimtber ^2 OF PLIMOTH PLANTATION William Bradford, of Plitnoth Plantation, pp. x--^^, passim. The annals of the Plymouth Colony were written by William Bradford, the second governor of the colony. This extract is taken from the edition printed from the original manuscript under the direction of the Secretary of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, by order of the General Court. And first of y^ occasion and indusments ther unto ; the which that I may truly unfould, I must begine at y® very roote & rise of y^ same. The which I shall endevor to manefest in a plaine stile, with singuler regard unto y^ simple trueth in all things, at least as near as my slender judgmente can attaine the same. 1. Chapter. It is well knowne unto y^ godly and judicious, how ever since y«^ first breaking out of y^ lighte of y^ gospell in our Honour- able Nation of England, . . . what warrs & opposissions OFPLIMollI PLANTATION 235 ever since, Satan hath raised, mantained, and continued against the Saincts, from time to time, in one sorte or other. Some times by bloody death and cruell torments ; other whiles imprisonments, banishments, & other hard usages ; as being loath his kingdom should goe downe, the trueth pre- vaile, and y^ churches of God reverte to their anciente puritie, and recover their primative order, libertie, & bewtie. . , . The one side laboured to have y« right worship of God & discipline of Christ established in y^ church, according to y^ simplicitie of y^ gospell, without the mixture of mens inven- tions, and to have & to be ruled by y^ laws of Gods word, dis- pensed in those offices, & by those officers of Pastors, Teachers, & Elders, &c. according to y^ Scripturs. The other partie, though under many colours & pretences, endevored to have y^ episcopall dignitie (affter y^ popish maner) with their large power & jurisdiction still retiiined; with all those courts, can- nons, & ceremonies, togeather with all such livings, revenues, & subordinate officers, with other such means as formerly up- held their antichristian greatnes, and enabled them with lordly & tyranous power to persecute y® poore servants of God. . . . ... Of which a famous author thus writeth in his Dutch coiiitaries. At y*^ coming of king James into England ; TJie iiciv king (saith he) found their established y^ 7'efonned re- ligion, according to y^ reformed religion of king Edxvard y*^ 6. Retaining, or keeping still y'^ spirituall state of y^ Bishops, &c. after y'^ onld maner, mnch varying & differing from y^ reformed ehnrehes in Scotland, Fi'ance, & y-' NeatJiei'lands, Embden, Geneva, &e. zvJiose. reformation is cut, or shapen mucJi nerer y^ first Christian chiifxhes, as it was used in y^ Apostles times. [6] So many therfore of these proffessors as saw ye evill of these things, in thes parts, and whose harts y*^ Lord had touched w*'^ heavenly zeale for his trueth, they shooke of 236 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY this yoake of antichristian bondage, and as y^ Lords free people, joyned them selves (by a covenant of the Lord) into a church estate, in y'^ felowship of y^ gospell, to walke in all his vvayes, made known, or to be made known unto them, according to their best endeavours, whatsoever it should cost them, the Lord assisting them. And that it cost them some- thing this ensewing historic will declare. . . . But after these things they could not long continue in any peaceable condition, but were hunted & persecuted on every side, so as their former afflictions were but as flea- bitings in comparison of these which now came upon them. For some were taken & clapt up in prison, others had their houses besett & watcht night and day, & hardly escaped their hands ; and y*^ most were faine to flie & leave their howses & habitations, and the means of their livelehood. Yet these & many other sharper things which affterward be- fell them, were no other then they looked for, and therfore were y*^ better prepared to bear them by y^ assistance of Gods grace & spirite. Yet seeing them selves thus molested, [7] and that ther was no hope of their continuance ther, by a joynte consente they resolved to goe into y^ Low-Countries, wher they heard was freedome of Religion for all men ; as also how sundrie from London, & other parts of y^ land, had been exiled and persecuted for y^ same cause, & were gone thither, and lived at Amsterdam, & in other places of y^ land. So affter they had continued togeither aboute a year, and kept their meetings every Saboth in one place or other, exercising the worship of God amongst them selves, notwith- standing all y*^ dilligence & malice of their adverssaries, they seeing they could no longer continue in y*^ condition, they re- solved to get over into Hollad as they could ; which was in y^ year 1607. & 1608, ; of which more at large in y*^ next chap. OF ]•LI^r()^^ i't.antation 237 2. Chap. Of their departure into Holland and their troiibls ther aboiife, with some of y' many difficulties they found and mete -wit hall. Kxe. 1608. Being thus constrained to leave their native soyle and coun- trie, their lands & livings, and all their freinds & famillier acquaintance, it was much, and thought mar\-elous by many, But to goe into a countrie they knew not (but by hearsay), wher they must learne a new language, and get their livings they knew not how, it being a dear place, & subjecte to y« misseries of warr, it was by man\' thought an adventure almost desperate, a case intolerable, & a misserie worse than death. Espetially seeing they were not aquainted with trads nor traffique, (by which y' countrie doth subsiste,) but had only been used to a plaine countrie life, & y^ inocente trade of husbandrey. But these things did not dismay them (though they did some times trouble them) for their desires were sett on ye ways of God, & to injoye his ordinances ; but they rested on his providence, & knew whom they had beleeved. Yet [8] this v/as not all, for though they could not stay, yet were y^ not suffered to goe, but y^ ports & havens were shut against them, so as they were faine to seeke secrete means of conveance, & to bribe & fee y^ mariners, & give exter- ordinarie rates for their passages. And yet were they often times betrayed (many of them), and both they & their goods intercepted & surprised, and therby put to great trouble & charge, of which I will give an instance or tow, & omitte the rest. Ther was a large companie of them purposed to get pas- sage at Boston in Lincoln-shire, and for that end had hired a shipe wholy to them selves, & made agreement with the maister to be ready at a certaine day, and take them and their 238 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY goods in, at a conveniente place, wher they accordingly would all attende in readines. So after long waiting, & large ex- pences, though he kepte not day with them, yet he came at length & tooke them in, in y^ night. But when he had them & their goods abord, he betrayed them, haveing before hand complotted with y^ serchers & other officers so to doe ; who tooke them, and put them into open boats, & ther rifled & ransaked them, searching them to their shirts for money, . . . and then caried them back into y^ towne, & made them a spectackle & wonder to y^ multitude, which came flocking on all sids to behould them. Being thus first, by the chatch- poule officers, rifled, & stripte of their money, books, and much other goods, they were presented to y*^ magestrates, and messengers sente to informe y*^ lords of y^ Counsell of them ; and so they were coinited to ward. Indeed y^ mages- trats used them courteously, and shewed them what favour they could ; but could not deliver them, till order came from ye Counsell-table. But y^ issue was that after a months im- prisonmente, y^ greatest parte were dismiste, & sent to y^ places from whence they came ; but 7. of y^ principall were still kept in prison, and bound over to y*^ Assises. . . . . . . Yet I may not omitte y^ fruite that came hearby, for by these so publick troubls, in so many eminente places, their cause became famouss, & occasioned many to looke into y« same ; and their godly cariage & Christian behaviour was such as left a deep impression in the minds of many. And though some few shrunk at these first conflicts & sharp beginings, (as it was no marvell,) yet many more came on with fresh courage, & greatly animated others. And in y'^ end, notwith- standing all these stormes of oppossition, they all gatt over at length, some at one time & some at an other, and some in one place & some in an other, and mette togeather againe according to their desires, with no small rejoycing. OF PTJMOTII PLANTA'I'IOX 239 The 3. Chap. Of their set ling in Holand, and their maner of living, dr' enter- taintnente ther Being thus setled (after many difficulties) they continued many years in a comfortable condition, injoying much sweete & delightefull societie & spirituall comforte togeather in y^ wayes of God, under y^ able ministrie, and prudente govern- mente of M"". John Robinson, & M^ William Brewster, who was an assistante unto him in y*^ place of an Inkier, unto which he was now called & chosen by the church. So as they grew in knowledge & other gifts & graces of y^ spirite of God, & lived togeather in peace, & love, and holines ; and many came unto them from diverse parts of England, so as they grew a great congregation. . . , The 4. Chap. Showing y' reasons dr' causes of their renioovall After they had lived in this citic [LEYDEN] about some 1 1, or 1 2. years, (which is y^ more observable being y^ whole time of yt famose truce between that state & y^ Spaniards,) and sundrie of them were taken away by death, & many others begane to be well striken in years, the grave mistris Experience haveing taught them many things, [16] those prudent governours with sundrie of y^ sagest members be- gane both deeply to apprehend their present dangers, & wisely to foresee y<^ future, & thinke of timly remedw In ye agitation of their thoughts, and much discours of things hear aboute, at length they began to incline to this conclu- sion, of remoovall to some other place. Not out of any new- fanglednes, or other such like giddic humor, by which men are 240 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY oftentimes transported to their great hurt & danger, but for sundrie weightie & sohd reasons ; some of y^ cheefe of which I will hear breefly touch. And first, they saw & found by experience the hardnes of y«^ place & countrie to be such, as few in comparison would come to them, and fewer that would bide it out, and continew with them. For many y* came to them, and many more y* desired to be with them, could not endure y^ great labor and hard fare, with other inconveniences which they underwent & were contented with . . . yea, some preferred & chose y^ prisons in England, rather then this libertie in Holland, with these afflictions. But it was thought that if a better and easier place of living could be had, it would draw many, & take away these discouragments. . . . 2iy. They saw that though y^ people generally bore all these difficulties very cherfully, & with a resolute courage, being in y^ best & strength of their years, yet old age began to steale on many of them, (and their great & continuall labours, with other crosses and sorrows, hastened it before y^ time,) so as it was not only probably thought, but apparently seen, that within a few years more they would be in danger to scatter, by necessities pressing them, or sinke under their burdens, or both. . . . (i6) Thirdly; as necessitie was a task- master over them, so they were forced to be such, not only to their servants, but in a sorte, to their dearest children ; the which as it did not a little wound y^ tender harts of many a loving father & mother, so it produced likwise sundrie sad & sorowful effects. For many of their children, that were of best dispositions and gracious inclinations, haveing lernde to bear y^ yoake in their youth, and willing to bear parte of their parents burden, were, often times, so oppressed with their hevie labours, that though their minds were free and willing, yet their bodies bowed under y^ weight of y^ same, and be- came decreped in their early youth ; the vigor of nature being OF PLIMOTII I'LAX'l'A riOX 241 consumed in y<= very budd as it were, lUit that which was more lamentable, and of all sorowes most heavie to be borne, was that many of their children, by these occasions, and ye great licentiousncs of youth in y* countrie, and y^ manifold temptations of the place, were drawne away by evill examples into extravagante & dangerous courses, getting y^ raines off their neks, & departing from their parents. Some became souldiers, others tooke upcjn them farr viages by sea, and other some worse courses, tending to dissolutnes & the dan- ger of their soules, to y^ great greefe of their parents and dishonour of God. So that they saw their posteritie would be in danger to degenerate & be corrupted. Lastly, (and which was not least,) a great hope & inward zeall they had of laying some good foundation, or at least to make some way therunto, for y^ propagating & advancing ye gospell of ye kingdom of Christ in those remote parts of ye world ; yea, though they should be but even as stepping- stones unto others for ye performing of so great a work. . . . The place they had thoughts on was some of those vast & unpeopled countries of America, which are frutfull & fitt for habitation, being devoyd of all civill inhabitants, wher ther are only salvage 81 brutish men, which range up and downe, little otherwise then ye wild beasts of the same. This proposi- tion being made publike and coming to ye scaning of all, it raised many variable opinions amongst men, and caused many fears & doubts amongst them selves. . . . ... Ye Spaniard might prove as cruell as [18] the salvages of America, and ye famine and pestelence as sore hear as ther, & their libertie less to looke out for remedie. After many other perticuler things answered & aledged on both sids, it was fully concluded by ye major parte, to put this designe in execution, and to prosecute it by the best means they could. 242 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Number ^j SIR JOHN ELIOT G. M. Trevelyan. England under the Siuarts, pp. 136, 137, 155, 157, 159. Sir John Eliot, the squire of St. Germans and Vice- Admiral of Devon, had watched the Cadiz armament leave and return to Plymouth ; he had seen the bad food, the rot- ten ships, the tackle, some of which had been used in the chase after the Armada, the English sailors starving in port, and the English soldiers robbing from farm to farm in their own country. Bound though he was to Buckingham by old service and friendship, Eliot determined that it would be his duty, if he were sent up to Parliament, to remove that man from his place. By undertaking this task, which he conceived specially incumbent on him as a private member, he stepped at once into the informal leadership left vacant by Coke and Phelips. He instituted the impeachment of the Duke before the Lords, this being then the only means of obtaining a change of minister. The Commons showed, by frequent ad- vances, that they would be satisfied if the Duke retired from office ; but when Charles refused to consider their resolutions, they could only enforce their complaint of incompetence by converting it into a charge of crime. Yet Buckingham could not be proved guilty, unless folly becomes criminal through excess. The confusion of the royal accounts baffled inquiry into the charges of peculation ; but it is probable that he was innocent, for the favourite had no need to acquire money by stealth. Charles, who loved Buckingham as he never loved Strafford, took up his cause with passion. To save the Duke he dissolved the Parliament. . . . SIR JDTIV F.TJOT 243 The business of the session of January to March, 1629, can be read in the famous Three Resolutions : — Whosoever shall bring in innovation in religion, or by favour seek to extend or introduce Popery or Arminianism, or other opinions dis- agreeing from the true and orthodox Church, shall be reputed a capital enemy to this kingdom and the commonwealth. Whosoever shall counsel or advise the taking and levying of the sub- sidies of tonnage and poundage not being granted by Parliament, or shall be an actor or instrument therein, shall be likewise reputed an innovator in the government, and a capital enemy to this kingdom and commonwealth. If any merchant or other person whatsoever shall voluntarily yield or pay the said subsidies of tonnage and poundage, not being granted by Parliament, he shall likewise be reputed a betrayer of the liberty of England, and an enemy to the same. Such were the Three Resolutions of the last and greatest day of Eliot's Parliamentary career, passed by the shouts of the angry members, thronging and swaying round the chair into which they had forced back the frightened Speaker, whilst the blows of the King's officers without resounded on the fastened door. When they had so voted, they flung all open and poured out flushed into the cold air of heaven, freemen still and already almost rebels. . . . Charles, determined as ever to retain the right of punish- ing his political opponents at will, wished to enjoy that despot's luxury within the apparent forms of English law. His recent consent to the Petition of Right made it difficult to continue the system of prolonged imprisonment without trial. . . , Nine members of the late Parliament were called to account before the Privy Council for their conduct in the House of Commons. Most of them, after a considerable period of imprisonment, dissembled their real convictions, apologised and were sent home. The remainder, among 244 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY whom was Eliot, were after infinite delays and hardships brought up before the Judges of the King's Bench. But that Court could not rightfully take cognisance of words spoken within the walls of the House of Commons. The prisoners, standing firm for the privileges of Parliament, refused to plead before an unlawful jurisdiction. They were condemned to pay fines, and to lie in prison till they chose to apologise to the King for their conduct in the House. Eliot, Strode and Valentine, refusing to make any submission, were con- signed to prison without any hope of release. These proceed- ings showed that even should the letter of the Petition of Right be always observ^ed, it could not vindicate personal libert}^, which nothing but a revolution in the State could secure. . . . When he [Eliot] heard in prison that the land seemed sinking to its rest, he was neither shaken in his own purpose nor chagrined by the different course followed by his friends. His letters, speeches and actions in the Tower reveal a spirit of cheerfulness and even of humour, admirable in one who knows that he has chosen to die in prison in the hands of victorious enemies. In 1632 he contracted consumption from his cold and unhealthy quarters. He in vain petitioned the King for a change of air. Charles had determined that if he would not retract he might die. A month later he was dead. His son asked to be allowed to convey his body to Port Eliot. " Let Sir John Eliot be buried in the church of that parish where he died," answered the pitiless man, who was one day himself to appeal for pity to all peoples and ages. But though the church by the Cornish estuary does not hold Sir John Eliot, the manor house that stands beside it contains a worthy and curious memento of his last hours. A few days before he died, he sent for an artist to the Tower 'riii'; i'i:'Jiri().\ ()!• kight 245 to paint his picture. He stands in a white frilled dressing- gown, with a comb in his hand and hair falling over his eyes, a cheerful invalid not asking for our pity. He left to his descendants that one patient, humorous appeal against the tyranny that took away his life. Ahwiber ^^ THE PETITION OF RIGHT Sir John Eliot. Excerpts with notes from speech dehvered in the House of Commons, June 3, 1628. Chauncey A. Goodrich, Select British Elo- tjuence, pp. 3-6. For the author see Number 43, above. Mr. Speaker, — We sit here as the great Council of the King, and in that capacity, it is our duty to take into con- sideration the state and affairs of the kingdom, and when there is occasion, to give a true representation of them by way of counsel and advice, with what we conceive necessary or expedient to be done. . . . I. For the first, then, our insincerity and doubting in religion, is the greatest and most dangerous disorder of all others. . . . II. For the second, our want of councils, that great dis- order in a state under which there can not be stability. . . . III. For the next, the insufficiency and unfaithfulness of our generals (that great disorder abroad), what shall I say .'' I wish there were not cause to mention it ; and, but for the apprehension of the danger that is to come, if the like choice hereafter be not prevented, I could willingly be silent. But my duty to my sovereign, my service to this House, and the safety and honor of my country, are above all respects ; and what so nearly trenches to the prejudice of these, must not, shall not be forborne. 246 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY At Cadiz,! ^hgn, in tliat first expedition we made, when we arrived and found a conquest ready — the Spanish ships, I mean, fit for the satisfaction of a voyage, and of which some of the chiefest then there, themselves have since assured me, that the satisfaction would have been sufficient, either in point of honor or in point of profit ^ — zvhy ivas it neglected? Why was it not achieved, it being granted on all hands how feasible it was ? . . . For the next undertaking, at Rhe,^ I will not trouble you much ; only this, in short. Was not that whole action carried 1 Buckingham, at the close of 1625, had fitted out a fleet of eighty sail, to inter- cept the Spanish treasure-ships from America, to scour the coasts of Spain, and destroy the shipping in her ports. Owing to the utter incompetency of the com- mander, there was no concert or subordination in the fleet. The treasure-ships were not intercepted ; but seven other large and rich Spanish ships, which would have repaid all the expenses of the expedition, were suffered to escape, when they might easily have been taken. At length a landing was effected in the neighborhood of Cadiz, and the paltry fort of Puntal was taken. The English soldiers broke open the wine-cellars of the country around, and became drunk and unmanageable ; so that the Spanish troops, if they had known their condition, might easily have cut the whole army to pieces. Their commander, as the only course left him, retreated to the ships, leaving some hundreds of his men to perish under the knives of the enraged peasantry. 2 Buckingham, from motives of personal resentment against the French king, undertook, in June, 1627, to aid the Huguenots at Rochelle, who were in a state of open rebellion. He therefore sailed with a fleet of one hundred ships and seven thousand land forces, taking the command of the expedition himself, and expecting to be received with open arms. But the Rochellers, having no previous arrangement with him on the subject, and probably distrusting his intentions, refused to admit him into the town, and advised him to take possession of the Isle of Rhe, in the neighborhood. This he did, and immediately issued a manifesto, inciting the Protes- tants throughout France to rebel against their government. Great indignation was awakened in Europe by this attempt to rekindle the flames of civil war in that country. His appeal was, unfortunately, successful. The Protestants in the south of France rose almost to a man. A bloody conflict ensued, in which they were com- pletely crushed, and their condition rendered far more wretched than before. Buck- ingham, in the meantime, conducted everything wildly and at random. In October, a re-enforcement of fifteen hundred men was sent out mentioned in the speech as "the last voyage to Rochelle ;" but the Duke was still repulsed, with loss at every point, till he was compelled to return in disgrace, with the loss of one third of his troops, in the month of November, 1627. This speech was delivered in June of the next year, while the nation was still smarting under the sense of the disasters and disgraces of this mad expedition. THE PETITION OF RIGHT 247 against the judgment and opinion of those ofificers that were of the council ? ... If there should be made a particular inquisition thereof, these things will be manifest and more. I will not instance the manifesto that was made, giving the reason of these arms ; nor by whom, nor in what manner, nor on what grounds it was published, nor what effects it hath wrought, drawing, as it were, almost the whole world into league against us. Nor will I mention the leaving of the wines, the leaving of the salt, which were in our possession, and of a value, as it is said, to answer much of our expense. Nor will I dwell on that great wonder (which no Alexander or Caesar ^ ever did), the enriching of the enemy by courtesies when our soldiers wanted help ; nor the private intercourse and parleys with the fort, which were continually held. What they intended may be read in the success ; and upon due examination thereof, they would not want their proofs. For the last voyage to Rochelle, there need no observa- tions, it is so fresh in memory ; nor will I make an inference or corrollary on all. Your own knowledge shall judge what truth or what sufficiency they express. IV. For the next, the ignorance and corruption of our ministers, where can )(;u miss of instances ? If you survey the court, if you survey the country ; if the church, if the city be examined ; if you observe the bar, if the bench, if the ports, if tlic shipping, if the land, if the seas — all these will render you variety of proofs ; and that in such measure and proportion as shows the greatness of our disease to be such that, if there be not some speedy application for remedy, our case is almost desperate. 1 This sneer at the generalship of Buckingham was keenly felt, and derived its peculiar force from the lofty pretensions and high-soundmg titles he assumed. He had also made himself ridiculous, and even suspected of treachery, by his affectation of courtesy in the interchange of civilities with the French commanders. To this Eliot alludes with stinging effect in the remaining part of the sentence. 248 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY V. Mr, Speaker, I fear I have been too long in these par- ticulars that are past, and am unwilling to offend you : there- fore in the rest I shall be shorter ; and as to that which concerns the impoverishing of the King, no other arguments will I use than such as all men grant. The exchequer, you know, is empty, and the reputation thereof gone ; the ancient lands are sold ; the jewels pawned ; the plate engaged ; ^ the debts still great ; almost all charges, both ordinary and extraordinar}', borne up by projects ! What poverty can be greater ? What necessity so great } What per- fect English heart is not almost dissolved into sorrow for this truth f VI, For the oppression of the subject, which as I remem- ber, is the next particular I proposed, it needs no demonstra- tion. The whole kingdom is a proof ; and for the exhausting of our treasures, that very oppression speaks it. What waste of our provisions, what consumption of our ships, what de- struction of our men there hath been ; witness that expedition to Algiers ^ — witness that with Mansf eldt — witness that to Cadiz — witness the next — witness that to Rhe — witness the last (I pray God we may never have more such witnesses) — witness, likewise, the Palatinate — witness Denmark — witness the Turks — witness the Dunkirkers — witness all! What losses we have sustained ! How we are impaired in munitions, in ships, in men ! It is beyond contradiction that we were never so much weakened, nor ever had less hope how to be restored. 1 Buckingham had taken the crown jewels and plate to Holland, and pawned them for ^^300,000. 2 Buckingham, some years before, had sent out an expedition for the capture of Algiers. It resulted in a total failure, and so incensed the Algerines, that the com- merce of England suffered ten-fold loss in consequence ; thirty-five ships, engaged in the Mediterranean trade, having been captured within a few months, and their crews sold for slaves. THE PETITION OF RIGHT 249 These, Mr. Speaker, are our dangers, these are they who do threaten us ; and these are, Hke the Trojan horse, brought in cunningly to surprise us. In these do lurk the strongest of our enemies, ready to issue on us ; and if we do not speedily expel them, these are the signs, these the invitations to others ! These will so prepare their entrance, that we shall have no means left of refuge or defense ; for if we have these enemies at home, how can we strive with those that are abroad ? If we be free from these, no other can impeach us. Our ancient English virtue (like the old Spartan valor), cleared from these disorders — our being in sincerity of re- ligion and once made friends with heaven ; having maturity of councils, sufficiency of generals, incorruption of officers, opulency in the King, liberty in the people, repletion in treasure, plenty of provisions, reparation of ships, preser\^a- tion of men — our ancient English virtue, I say, thus rectified, will secure us ; and unless there be a speedy reformation in these, I know not what hopes or expectations we can have. These are the things, sir, I shall desire to have taken into consideration ; that as we are the great council of the kingdom, and have the apprehension of these dangers, we may truly represent them unto the King ; which I conceive we are bound to do by a triple obligation — of duty to God, of duty to his Majesty, and of duty to our country. And therefore I wish it may so stand with the wisdom and judgment of the House, that these things may be drawn into the body of a Remonstrance, and in all humility ex- pressed, with a pra}-er to his Majesty that, for the safety of himself, for the safety of the kingdom, and for the safetv of religion, he will be pleased to give us time to make perfect inquisition thereof, or to take them into his own wisdom, and there give them such timely reformation as the necessity and justice of the case doth import. 250 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY And thus, sir, with a large affection and loyalty to his Majesty, and with a firm duty and service to my countr}^ I have suddenly (and it may be with some disorder) expressed the weak apprehensions I have; wherein if I have erred, I humbly crave your pardon, and so submit myself to the censure of the House. Number 4^ ATTEMPTED ARREST OF FIVE MEMBERS OF THE HOUSE OF COMMONS BY CHARLES I Samuel Rawson Gardiner. History of England, 1603-1642, Vol. X, pp. 132, 134-142. Before anything could be done, the Serjeant-at-Arms ap- peared with orders from Charles to arrest the five members. ^ A committee was named to acquaint the King that the de- mand concerned their privileges, and that they would send a reply as soon as they had given it full consideration. In the meantime, the gentlemen named would be ready to answer any legal accusation. That this might be made plain, the five members were ordered to appear in their places from day to day. . . . If the members were to be arrested at all, common pru- dence would have dictated an attempt to seize them in their beds, as the French Parliamentary leaders were seized in 1 8 5 1 . Such a course it was impossible for Charles to adopt. He wanted — if it were but for the satisfaction of his own mind — to preserve the appearance of legality, and he proba- bly imagined that he could persuade even the House of Com- mons of the rectitude of his intentions. No doubt he must 1 Pym, Hampden, Holies, Hazlerigg, and Strode, suspected of a plan to impeach the Queen as a conspirator against the public liberties. ATTEMPTED ARREST OF FIVE MEMBERS 251 have sufficient force about him to secure his object, and to compel obedience if it were denied. It was not in his char- acter to expect a persistent refusal, or to represent clearly to himself the bloodshed which might ensue in case of resistance. Charles little imagined that before he went to bed that night his secret was already known. Very possibly Clarendon may have been right in thinking that Will Murray was the betrayer. The next morning, when the House met, the five members protested their innocency. The Commons sent up the articles of accusation to the Lords as a scandalous paper, accompanying them with a request that inquiry might be made into its authorship. Messages were sent to the Inns of Court, to express the assurance of the House that their mem- bers would not act against Parliament. Soon afterwards news was brought ' that there was a great cor^uence of armed men about Whitehall,' and it was known that measures had been taken to secure the Tower for the King. A fresh message was thereupon sent off to warn the City. Nothing more had been done when the House adjourned for the dinner hour at noon. If the blow had not already fallen, it was because Charles had been involved in his usual vacillation. According to a not improbable account, he had that morning sought out the Queen, and had given strong reasons against the execution of the plan. Henrietta Maria was in no mood to accept ex- cuses. "Go, you coward!" she cried, "and pull these rogues out by the ears, or never see my face more." Charles bowed to fate and his high-spirited wife, and left her, resolved to hang back no longer. Again there was delay, perhaps on account of the adjournment at midday ; and before Charles actually left Whitehall the Queen had trusted the secret to her ill-chosen confidante Lady Carlisle, and Lady Carlisle at once conveyed the news to Essex. 252 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Before dinner was over the five accused members received a message from Essex, telling them that the King was coming in person to seize them, and recommending them to with- draw. They could not make up their minds as yet to fly. In truth, Charles was still hesitating in his usual fashion, and it might be that he would never accomplish his design. When the House met again at one, satisfactory replies were received from the Inns of Court. The lawyers said that they had gone to Whitehall, because they were bound to defend the King's person, but that they were also ready to defend the Parliament. The Lords, too, had shown themselves resolute, and had agreed to join the Commons in styling the Attorney- General's Articles a scandalous paper. Then came a statement from Fiennes. He had been to Whitehall during the ^idjournment, and had been told by the officers that they had been commanded to obey Sir William Fleming, one of the two who had been sent round to enlist the lawyers on the King's side. The full meaning of this news was soon to appear. It may be that the contemptuous term applied to the accusation which he had authorised had at last goaded Charles to action. Late — but, as she fondly hoped, not too late — the Queen had her way. About three o'clock, Charles, taking with him the Elector Palatine, hurried down-stairs, calling out, '" Let my faithful subjects and soldiers follow me." Throwing himself into a coach which happened to be near the door he drove off, followed by some three or four hundred armed men. Such a number could not march at any great speed. A Frenchman, named Langres, who had probably been set to watch by the Ambassador La Ferte, pushed through the crowd, and ran swiftly to the House of Commons. He at once called upon Fiennes and told him what he had seen. ATTKMI'lia) ARRF.ST OF I'FVK MEMBERS 253 The five members were at once requested to withdraw. Pym, Hampden, I lazlerigg, and Holies took the course which prudence dictated. Strode, always impetuous, insisted on re- maining to face the worst, till Erie seized him by the cloak and dragged him off to the river-side, where boats were always to be found. The five were all conveyed in safety to the City, It was high time for them to be gone. Charles's fierce retinue struck terror as it passed. The shopkeepers in the mean buildings which had been run up against the north end of Westminster Hall hastily closed their windows. Charles alighted and strode rapidly through the Hall between the ranks of the armed throng. As he mounted the steps which led to the House of Commons, he gave the signal to his fol- lowers to await his return there. About eighty of them, how- ever, probably in consequence of previous orders, pressed after him into tlie lobby, and it was afterwards noticed that " divers of the late army in the North, and other desperate ruffians ' had been selected for this post. Charles did his best to maintain a show of decency. He sent a message to the House, informing them of his arrival. As he entered, with the young Elector Palatine at his side, he bade his followers on their lives to remain outside. But he clearly wished it to be known that he was prepared to use force if it were necessary. The ICarl of Roxburgh leaned against the door, keeping it open so that the members might see what they had to expect in case of resistance. By Rox- burgh's side stood Captain David Hyde, one of the greatest scoundrels in England. The rest were armed with swords and pistols, and many of them had left their cloaks in the Hall with the evident intention of leaving the sword-arm free. As Charles stepped through the door which none of his predecessors had ever passed, he was. little as he thought it, formally acknowledging that power had passed into new 2 54 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY hands. The revolution which his shrewd father had descried when he bade his attendants to set stools for the deputies of the Commons as for the ambassadors of a king, was now a reality before him. He had come to the Commons because they would no longer come to him. To Charles the new con- stitutional fact was merely a temporary interruption of estab- lished order. In his eyes there was visible no more than a mortal duel between King Charles and King Pym. As he moved forwards, the members standing bareheaded on either side, his glance, perhaps involuntarily, sought the place oii the right hand near the bar which was usually occupied by Pym. That seat was empty. It was the one thing for which he was unprepared. " By your leave, Mr. Speaker," he said, as he reached the upper end of the House, " I must borrow your chair a little." Standing in front of it, he cast his eyes around, seeking for those who were by this time far away. " Gentlemen," he said at last, " I am sorry for this occasion of coming unto you. Yesterday I sent a Serjeant-at-Arms upon a very important occasion to apprehend some that by my command were accused of high treason, whereunto I did expect obedience, and not a message ; and I must declare unto )-ou here that, albeit no king that ever was in England shall be more careful of your privileges to maintain them to the utmost of his power than I shall be, yet you must know that in cases of treason no person hath a privilege ; and therefore I am come to know if any of those persons that were accused are here." Once more he cast his eyes around. " I do not see any of them," he muttered. " I think I should know them." " For I must tell you, gentlemen," he went on to say, in continua- tion of his interrupted address, " that so long as those persons that I have accused — for no slight crime, but for treason — are here, I cannot expect that this House can be in the right ATTEMPTED ARREST OF FIVE MEMBERS 255 way that I do heartily wish it. Therefore I am come to tell you that I must have them wheresoever I find them." Then, hoping against hope that he had not come in vain, he put the question, " Is Mr. Pym here .-* " There was no reply, and a demand for Holies was no less fruitless. Charles turned to Lenthall. "Are any of these persons in the House.-*" he asked. "Do you see any of them .^ Where are they ? " Lenthall was not a great or heroic man, but he knew what his duty was. He now gave voice, in words of singular force and dexterity, to the common feeling that no individual expression of the intentions or opinions of the House was permissible. " May it please your Majesty," he said, falling on his knee before the King, " I have neither eyes to see, nor tongue to speak, in this place but as this House is pleased to direct me, whose servant I am here ; and I humbly beg your Majesty's pardon that I cannot give any other answer than this to what your Majesty is pleased to demand of me." "Well," replied Charles, assuming a cheerfulness which he can hardly have felt, "I think my eyes are as good as another's." Once more he looked carefully along the benches. " Well," he said, " I see all the birds are flown. I do expect from you that you shall send them unto me as soon as they return hither. If not, I will seek them myself, for their treason is foul, and such a one as you will thank me to dis- cover. But I assure you, on the word of a king, I never did intend any force, but shall proceed against them in a legal and fair way, for I never meant any other. I see I cannot do what I came for. I think this is no unfit occasion to re- peat what I have said formerly, that whatsoever I have done in favour, and to the good of my subjects, I do mean to maintain it." 256 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Number 46 JOHN HAMPDEN C. H. Firth. Adapted from article in Dictionary of National Biography. John Hampden, statesman, was the eldest son of William Hampden of Great Hampden, Buckinghamshire, and of Elizabeth, daughter of Sir Henry Cromwell of Hincninbrook, Huntingdonshire. If Wood's inferences from the matricula- tion register of Oxford are to be trusted, he was born in London in i 594. Hampden was educated at Thame gram- mar school under Richard Bourchier. He matriculated from Magdalen College, Oxford, on 30 March 1610, and is de- scribed in the matriculation register as of London and aged fifteen. . . . On 24 June 1619 Hampden married Elizabeth, daughter of Edward Symeon of Pyrton, Oxfordshire, and probably left London and took up his residence at Great Hampden. Of an ample fortune and an old family, he might have obtained a post at court or a peerage without great difficulty. . . . From the commencement of the reign of Charles I, however, Hampden associated himself with the opposition to the court both in and out of parliament. He seems to have offered some resistance to the pri\^-seal loan levied in 1625, though he eventually paid 10/. out of i 3/. 6^-. 8c/., at which he was assessed. A second forced loan he refused altogether, was summoned to appear before the council on 29 Jan. 1626- 1627, and was for nearly a year confined in Hampshire. . . . Though less prominent inside parliament, Hampden was also active there on the side of the opposition. In the parlia- ment of 162 1 he represented the borough of Grampound ; in the first three parliaments of Charles I he sat as member JOHN MAMl'DKN 257 for Wendover, which owed the restoration of its right to send members largely to Hampden's efforts. . . . Opposition to the court outside parliament and assiduous attention to his duties in it explain Hampden's increased prominence in the third parliament of Charles I. He was not a frequent speaker, but he was a member of nearly all committees of importance. " From this time forward scarcely was a bill prepared or an inquiry begun upon any subject, however remotely affecting any one of the three great matters at issue — privilege, religion, or supplies — but he was thought fit to be associated with St. John, Selden, Coke, and Pym on the committee.' In the second session of the same parliament he was specially busy on the different committees appointed to deal with questions of church reform or ecclesiastical abuses. In the disorderly scene which closed the parliament of 1629 Hampden took no part himself, but the imprisonment of Eliot for his share in it gave rise to an interesting and characteristic correspondence between the two. From his prison in the Tower P21iot con- sulted Hampden oh all questions of importance, and Hampden was always ready to sympathise with or to assist his imprisoned leader. He watched over the education of his friend's chil- dren with affectionate solicitude, and wrote long letters on the advisability of sending Bess to a boarding-school, John to travel, or Richard to serve in the wars. He spoke hopefully of their future, and, perhaps with some premonition of the coming civil wars, urged Eliot that his son should be husbanded for great affairs and designed betimes for God's own service. Eliot communicated to Hampden the draft of the treatise which he entitled ' The Monarchy of Man.' Hampden in his reply terms it ' a nosegay of exquisite flowers bound with as fine a thread,' but suggests, with the greatest delicacy, that a little more conciseness would improve it. It was to Hampden also that Eliot addressed the last of his letters which has been 258 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY preserved, telling him of the steady progress of his disease, and the consolation he derived from his spiritual hopes. So few of Hampden's letters exist that the correspondence with Eliot has a special value. His other letters deal mainly with military movements and public business. In these the man himself is revealed. ' We may, perhaps, be fanciful,' remarks Macaulay, ' but it seems to us that ever/ one of them is an admirable illustration of some part of the character of Hamp- den which Clarendon has drawn.' They exhibit Hampden, moreover, as a man not only ' of good sense and natural good taste, but of literary habits.' . . . The opposition to ship-money, to which Hampden owes his fame in English histor}', began in 1635. Before that event, says Clarendon, ' he was rather of reputation in his own country than of public discourse or fame in the kingdom, but then he grew the argument of all tongues, every man inquiring who and what he was that durst at his own charge support the liberty and property of the kingdom, and rescue his country from being made a prey to the court.' In that year the second ship-money writ was issued, by which the im- post was extended from the maritime to the inland counties, and an opportunity was thus afforded to test the king's right to demand it. A writ addressed to the sheriff of Buckingham- shire, Sir Peter Temple, dated 4 Aug. 1635, directed that officer to raise 4,500/. from that county, being the estimated cost of a ship of 450 tons. For his estates in the parish of Great Kimble, Buckinghamshire, Hampden was assessed at 3IJ-. 6d., for those in the parish of Stoke Mandeville at 20s., and without doubt similar sums for his lands in other parishes. As he possessed property in some dozen parishes, the total amount of the sum demanded from Hampden must have been nearer 20/. than 20s. Hobbes snears at the smallness of the sum. It was not, however, the amount, but the principle of the JOTTN HAMPDEN 259 tax which Hampden contested. Burke, in his speech on Amer- ican taxation, admirably expresses this distinction. ' Would twenty shillings have ruined Mr. Hampden's fortune ? No, but the payment of half twenty shillings, on the principle it was demanded, would have made him a slave.' The trial of Hampden's cause began towards the close of 1637 before the court of exchequer. The legality of the tax was tested on the 20s. at which Hampden was assessed for his Stoke Mande- ville estate. The arguments of the opposing lawyers lasted from 6 Nov. to 18 Dec, Hampden being represented by Holborn and St. John. The barons of the exchequer, the matter being of great consequence and weight, ' adjourned the arguing of it into the exchequer chamber, and desired the assistance and judgment of all the judges in England touching the same.' One after another during the first two terms of 1638 the twelve judges delivered their opinions. Seven decided in favour of the crown, three gave judgment in Hampden's favour on the main question, and two others for technical reasons also ranged themselves on his side. Judg- ment was finally given by the exchequer court in favour of the crown on 12 June 1638. The decision, as Clarendon points out, ' proved of more advantage and credit to the gentleman condemned than to the king's service.' Ship- money had been adjudged lawful " upon such grounds and reasons as every stander-by was able to swear was not law ; ' the reasoning of the judges ' left no man anything that he could call his own,' and every man ' felt his own interest by the unnecessary logic of that argument no less concluded than Mr. Hampden's.' Henceforth the tax was paid with increas- ing reluctance. Hampden, on the other hand, had gained not merely the admiration of his party, but the respect of his opponents. ' His carriage throughout was with that rare tem- per and modesty that they who watched him most narrowly 26o READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY to find some advantage against his person, to make him less resolute in his cause, were compelled to give him a just testimony.' . . . Hampden sat in the Short parliament as member for Buckinghamshire, and played a leading part in its delibera- tions, Hyde, who was himself a member, styles him ' the most popular man in the house.' . . . One of the first subjects considered by the House of Com- mons was ship-money, and on the 1 8 April it was moved that the records of the judgment in Hampden's case and of all proceedings relating to ship-money should be brought into the house. Hampden was naturally appointed one of the com- mittee to peruse these records, and also a member of that committee which was deputed to consult with the lords ' to prevent innovation in matters of religion, and concerning the property of our goods, and liberties, and privileges of parlia- ment.' In the great debate of 4 May on the question of supply Hampden led the opposition. The king demanded twelve subsidies as the price of the abandonment of ship- money, Hampden, whom Macaulay terms ' a greater master of parliamentary tactics than any man of his time,' proposed ' that the question might be put " whether the house would consent to the proposition made by the king as it was con- tained in the message," which would have been sure to have found a negative from all who thought the sum too great, or were not pleased that it should be given in recompense of ship-money.' On the morning of the next day parliament was dissolved, and the dissolution was immediately followed by the temporary arrest of Hampden and other popular leaders. With the view of finding some evidence against them, not only their chambers, but even their pockets were searched. A list exists of the papers in Hampden's posses- sion which were thus seized ; but, with the exception of the JOHN HAMPDEN 261 letter of the Bishop of Lincoln, nothing more compromising was found than ' certain confused notes of the parliament business written in several paper books with black lead.' . . . In the Long parliament Hampden again represented Buckinghamshire. No man's voice had a greater weight in the councils of the popular party, and yet it is extremely difficult accurately to trace his influence on their policy. Pym was the recognised leader of the party, so far as they recognised a leader at all, and Pym, according to Clarendon, ' in private designings was much governed by Mr. Hampden.' Hampden often intervened with decisive effect in the debates of the House of Commons. Yet while we have elaborate reports of the speeches of other parliamentary leaders, his only survive in a few disjointed sentences jotted down by Verney and U'Ewes. Hampden's speeches were not pub- lished, because he never made set speeches. As Clarendon points out, he was not an orator, but a great debater. ' He was not a man of many words, and rarely began the discourse, or made the first entrance upon any business that was assumed ; but a very weighty speaker, and, after he had heard a full debate and observed how the house was like to be inclined, took up the argument and shortly and clearly and craftily so stated it that he commonly conducted it to the conclusion he desired ; -and if he found he could not do that, he never was without the dexterity to divert the debate to another time, and to prevent the determining anything in the negative which might prove inconvenient in the future.' D'Ewes describes him as ' like a subtle fox ' striving to divert the house from an inconvenient vote, and speaks of the ' serpentine subtlety ' with which he ' put others to move those businesses that he contrived.' Equally remarkable was his personal influence. He was distinguished for " a flowing courtesy to all men.' He had also a way of insinuating his own opinions in conversation 262 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY while he seemed to be adopting the views of those he was addressing, and ' a wonderful art of governing and leading others into his own principles and inclinations.' But above all Hampden's reputation for integrity and uprightness at- tracted Falkland and many more to his party. ' When this parliament began,' writes Clarendon, ' the eyes of all men were fixed on him as their Patriae pater, and the pilot that must steer their vessel through the tempests and rocks that threatened it. And I am persuaded his power and in- terest at that time was greater to do good or hurt than any man of his rank hath had in any time : for his reputation for honesty was universal, and his affections seemed so publicly guided that no corrupt or private ends could bias them.' ... In Strafford's trial Hampden played an active though not a prominent part. He was a member of the preliminary committee of seven appointed on ii Nov. 1640 to draw up the indictment, and one of the eight managers of the im- peachment on behalf of the commons. He supported Pym in endeavoring to carry the impeachment to its legitimate conclusion, and opposing the resolution to proceed by bill of attainder. . . . Yet while thus eager for the punishment of the king's evil ministers, Hampden, like his party, had no aversion to monarchy, and was anxious to lay the foundation of a permanent agreement between the king and his parliament. The feeling is well expressed in the words attributed to him later : ' Perish may that man and his posterity that will not deny himself in the greatest part of his fortune to make him both potent and beloved at home, and terrible to his enemies abroad, if he will be pleased to leave those evil counsells about him, and take the wholesome advice of his great counsell the parliament.' . . . JOHN HAMPDEN 263 On 20 Aug. the parliament appointed a committee to attend the king to Scotland, and Hampden was one of the four commissioners of the commons ; . . . By .the middle of November Hampden was back at Westminster, zealously supporting the (irand Remonstrance, which he described as wholly true in substance, and as a very necessary vindication of the parliament. In the tumult which arose when the minority attempted to enter a protest against printing it, Hampden's presence of mind and authority were conspicu- ously displayed. ' I thought,' says Warwick, ' \ye had all sat in the valley of the shadow of death ; for we, like Joab's and Abner's young men, had catch 't at each others locks, and sheathed our swords in each others bowels, had not the sagacity and great calmness of Mr. Hampden by a short speech prevented it.' On 3 Jan. 1642 the king, instigated by the news that the parliamentary leaders were about to impeach the queen, sent the attorney-general to the House of Lords to impeach Hampden and others, and a sergeant-at-arms to the House of Commons to arrest them. . . . The commons replied by voting the seizure of the papers of their members a breach of privilege, authorised them to resist arrest, and refused to give them up ; but ordered them to attend in their places daily to answer any legal charge brought against them. ... On the afternoon of 4 Jan. the king came personally to arrest the members, but they, having been warned in time, escaped by water into the city, and a week later they were brought back in triumph to Westminster. When the news of Hampden's impeachment reached his constituents, some four thousand gentlemen and freeholders of Buckinghamshire rode up to London to sup- port and vindicate their member. They presented one peti- tion to parliament, promising to defend its rights with their lives, and another to the king, declaring that they had ever 264 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY had good cause to confide in Hampden's loyalty, and attribut- ing the charges against him to the malice which his zeal for the service of the king and the state had excited in the king's enemies. On 6 Feb. the king announced his intention of dropping the impeachment, but that was no longer sufficient to satisfy either the accused members or the kingdom. Clarendon observes that after the impeachment Hampden ' was much altered, his nature and carriage seeming much fiercer than it did before.' One sign of this was his resolution to obtain securities for the parliament's future safety. On 20 Jan., when the answer to a conciliatory message from the king was read in the commons, Hampden moved an addition to desire the king to put the Tower of London, and other forts of the kingdom with the militia thereof, into such hands as parliament could confide in. The king's refusal to grant these demands made war inevitable, and on 4 July the two houses appointed a committee of safety, of which Hamp- den was from the first a leading member. He undertook to raise a regiment of foot for the parliament, and his ' green coats ' were soon one of the best regiments in their serv- ice. Tradition represents him as first mustering his men on Chalgrove Field, where he afterwards received his death- wound. . . . . . . Hampden continued with the main body of Essex's army struggling hard to preserve discipline amongst his unruly soldiers. ' We are perplexed,' he wrote to Essex, ' with the insolence of the soldiers already committed, and with the apprehension of greater. . . If this go on, the army will grow as odious to the country as the cavaliers. . . . Without martial law to extend to the soldiers only it may prove a ruin as likely as a remedy to this distracted king- dom.' The celebrated conversation between Cromwell and Hampden on the possibility of raising ' such men as had JOPIN HAMPDEN 265 the fear of (iod before them,' probably took place about this time. . . . Durinf,^ the winter of 1642-3 Hampden's activity was rather political than militar)'. All his energy and influence were employed to keep his party together and to prevent the sacrifice of their cause by the conclusion of a peace on unsat- isfactory terms. 'Without question,' says Clarendon, 'when he first drew his sword he threw away the scabbard ; for he passionately opposed the overture made by the king for a treaty from Nottingham, and as eminently any expedients that might have produced an accommodation in that at Oxford ; and was principally relied upon to prevent any infusions which might be made into the Earl of Essex towards peace, or to render them ineffectual if they were made.' . . . . . . Early in June Essex at last advanced on Oxford, and quartered his troops in the district round Thame. They were widely scattered, and Prince Rupert, seizing the opportunity, sallied from Oxford with a body of about one thousand horse, and fell on the parliamentarian quarters at Postcombe and Chinnor. A few troops, hastily collected, pursued him, and endeavoured to hinder his retreat to Oxford, but Rupert turned and routed them at Chalgrove Field on 18 June. In this skirmish Hampden was mortally wounded. . . . Hampden's death, according to Clarendon, caused as great a consternation in the puritan party ' as if their whole army had been defeated.' ' Every honest man,' wrote Colonel Arthur Goodwin, ' hath a share in the loss, and will likewise in the sorrow. He was a gallant man, an honest man, an able man, and take all, I know not to any living man second.' ' Never kingdom received a greater loss in one subject,' wrote Anthony Nichol. 'The loss of Colonel Hampden,' said a newspaper article published the week after his death, ' goeth 266 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY near the heart of eveiy man that loves the good of his king and countr)% and makes some conceive Uttle content to be at the army now he is gone. . . . The memory of this deceased colonel is such that in no age to come but it will more and more be had in honour and esteem,' . . . Number 4'/ DEFENSE OF THE EARL OF STRAFFORD Excerpts from speech delivered in the House of Lords, April 13, 1641. Chauncey A. Goodrich, Select British Eloquence, pp. 11-14. For eighteen days Thomas Wentworth, Ear! of Strafford, had stood be- fore his accusers in Westminster Hall defending himself against the charges contained in the Articles of Impeachment. On the last day of the trial he summed up his defense in the speech a portion of which is here given. My Lords, — This day I stand before you charged with high treason. The burden of the charge is heavy, yet far the more so because it hath borrowed the authority of the House of Com- mons. If tJicy were not interested, I might expect a no less easy, than I do a safe, issue. But let neither my weakness plead my innocence, nor their power my guilt. If your Lord- ships will conceive of my defenses, as they are in themselves, without reference to either party — and I shall endeavor so to present them — I hope to go hence as clearly justified by you, as I now am in the testimony of a good conscience by myself. . . . As to this charge of treason, I must and do acknowledge, that if I had the least suspicion of my own guilt, I would save your Lordships the pains. I would cast the first stone. I would pass the first sentence of condemnation against myself. And whether it be so or not, I now refer to your Lordships' judgment and deliberation. You, and you only, under the DEFENSE OF THE EARL OF STRAFFORD 267 care and protection of my gracious master, are my judges. Under favor, none of the Commons are my peers, nor can they be my judges. I shall ever celebrate the providence and wisdom of your noble ancestors, who have put the keys of life and death, so far as concerns you and your posterity, into your own hands. None but your ozvn selves, my Lords, know the rate of your noble blood : no7ie bnt yourselves must hold the balance in disposing of the same. . . . The articles against me refer to expressions and aetions — my expressions either in Ireland or in England, my actions either before or after these late stirs. (i.) Some of the expressions referred to were uttered in private, and I do protest against their being drawn to my injury in this place. If, my Lords, words spoken to friends in familiar discourse, spoken at one's table, spoken in one's chamber, spoken in one's sick-bed, spoken, perhaps, to gain better reason, to gain one's self more clear light and judg- ment by reasoning — if these things shall be brought against a man as treason, this (under favor) takes away the comfort of all human society. By this means we shall be debarred from speaking — the principal joy and comfort of hfe — with wise and good men, to become wiser and better ourselves. If these things be strained to take away life, and honor, and all that is desirable, tJiis zvill be a silent ivorld ! A city will become a hermitage, and sheep will be found among a crowd and press of people ! No man will dare to impart his solitary thoughts or opinions to his friend and neighbor ! Other expressions have been urged against me, which were used in giving counsel to the King. My Lords, these words were not wantonly or unnecessarily spoken, or whispered in a corner ; they were spoken in full council, when, by the duty of my oath, I was obliged to speak according to my heart and conscience in all things concerning the King's service. If I 268 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY had forborne to speak what I conceived to be for the benefit of the King and the people, I had been perjured toward Almighty God. And for delivering my mind openly and freely, shall I be in danger of my life as a traitor ? If that necessity be put upon me, I thank God, by his blessing, I have learned not to stand in fear of him who can only kill the body. If the question be whether I must be traitor to man or perjured to God, I will be faithful to my Creator. And whatsoever shall befall me from popular rage or my own weakness, I must leave it to that almighty Being, and to the justice and honor of my judges. My Lords, I conjure you not to make yourselves so unhappy as to disable your Lordships and your children, from under- taking the great charge and trust of this Commonwealth. You inherit that trust from your fathers. You are born to great thoughts. You are nursed for the weighty employments of the kingdom. But if it be once admitted that a counselor, for delivering his opinion with others at the council board, candicU et caste, with candor and purity of motive, under an oath of secrecy and faithfulness, shall be brought into ques- tion, upon some misapprehension or ignorance of law — if every word that he shall speak from sincere and noble inten- tions shall be drawn against him for the attainting of him, his children and posterity — I know not (under favor I speak it) any wise or noble person of fortune who will, upon such perilous and unsafe terms, adventure to be counselor to the King, Therefore I beseech your Lordships so to look on me, that my misfortune may not bring an inconvenience to yourselves. And though my words were not so advised and discreet, or so well weighed as they ought to have been, yet I trust your Lordships are too honorable and just to lay them to my charge as High Treason, Opinions may make a heretic, hit tJiat they make a traitor I ha-oe never heai'd till now. . . . DEFENSE OF THE EARL OF STRAFFORD 269 It is hard, my Lords, to be questioned upon a law which cannot be shown ! Where hath this fire lain hid for so many hundred years, without smoke to discover it, till it thus bursts forth to consume me and my children ? My Lords, do we not live under laws ? and must we be punished by laws before they are made ? Far better were it to li\-e by no laws at all ; but to be governed by those characters of virtue and discre- tion, which Nature hath stamped upon us, than to put this necessity of divination upon a man, and to accuse him of a breach of law before it is a laio at all ! If a waterman upon the Thames split his boat by grating upon an anchor, and the same have no buoy appended to it, the owner of the anchor is to pay the loss ; but if a buoy be set there, ever)^ man passeth upon his own peril. Now where is the mark, where is the token set upon the crime, to declare it to be high treason ? . . . It is now full two hundred and forty years since any man was touched for this alleged crime to this height before my- self. Let us not awaken those sleeping lions to our destruc- tion, by taking up a few musty records that have lain by the walls for so many ages, forgotten or neglected. My Lords, what is my present misfortune may be forever yours ! It is not the smallest part of my grief that not the crime of treason, but my other sins, which are exceeding many, have brought me to this bar ; and, except your Lord- ships' wisdom provide against it, the shedding of my blood may make way for the tracing out of yours. You, your ESTATES, YOUR POSTERITY, LIE AT THE STAKE ! For my poor self, if it were not for your Lordships' inter- est, and the interest of a saint in heaven, who hath left me here two pledges on earth ... I should never take the pains to keep up this ruinous cottage of mine. It is loaded with such infirmities, that in truth 1 ha\e no great pleasure to carry it 270 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY about with me any longer. Nor could I ever leave it at a fitter time than this, when I hope that the better part of the world would perhaps think that by my misfortunes I had given a testimony of my integrity to my God, my King, and my country, I thank God, I count not the afflictions of the present life to be compared to that glory which is to be re- vealed in the time to come ! My Lords ! my Lords ! my Lords ! something more I had intended to say, but my voice and my spirit fail me. Only I do in all humility and submission cast myself down at your Lordships' feet, and desire that I may be a beacon to keep you from shipwreck. Do not put such rocks in your own way, which no prudence, no circumspection can eschew or satisfy, but by your utter ruin ! And so, my Lords, even so, with all tranquillity of mind, I submit myself to your decision. And whether your judgment in my case — I wish it were not the case of you all — be for life or for death, it shall be righteous in my eyes, and shall be received with a Te Deiim latcdannis, we give God the praise. Nuinder 4.8 LETTERS OF CHARLES I Edward P. Cheyney. Readings in Englis/i History, pp. 470-471, 472. I LETTER TO THE EARL OF STRAFFORD (APRIL 23, 1641) Strafford : The misfortune that is fallen upon you by the strange mistaking and conjuncture of these times, being such that I must lay by the thought of employing you hereafter in my LETTERS OF CHARLES I 271 affairs ; yet I cannot satisfy n'i)sclf in honor or conscience without assuring you (now in the midst of your troubles) that upon the word of a king you shall not suffer in life, honor, or fortune. This is but justice, and therefore a very mean reward from a master to so faithful and able a servant as you have showed yourself to be ; yet it is as much as I con- ceive the present times will permit, though none shall hinder me from being. Your constant, faithful friend, Charles R. II LETTER TO THE HOUSE OF LORDS (WHITEHALL, MAY 11, 1641) My Lords : I did yesterday satisfy the justice of the kingdom, by pass- ing of the bill of attainder against the earl of Strafford ; but mercy being as inherent and inseparable to a king as justice, I desire at this time, in some measure, to show that likewise, by suffering that unfortunate man to fulfill the natural course of his life in a close imprisonment, yet so that, if ever he make the least offer to escape, or offer, directly or indirecth', to meddle with any sort of public business, especially with me, either by message or letter, it shall cost him his life, without further press. This, if it may be done without the discontent of my people, will be an unspeakable comfort to me ; to which end, as in the first place, I b\- this letter do earnestly desire your approbation ; and to endear it the more, have chosen him to carry, that of all your house is inost dear to me ; so I do desire, that by a conference you will endeavor to give the House of Commons contentment ; likewise assuring you, that 2 72 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY the exercise is no more pleasing to me than to see both Houses of parhament consent, for my sake, that I should moderate the severity of the law in so important a case. I will not say that your complying with me in this my pre- tended mercy shall make me more willing, but certainly it will make me more cheerful in granting your just griev- ances ; but if no less than his life can satisfy my people, I must say, fiat jnstitia. Thus again earnestly recommending the consideration of my intentions to you, I rest. Your unalterable and affectionate friend, Charles R. If he nmst die, it were charity to reprieve him till Saturday. Number 4g THE DEATH OF CHARLES I Andrew Marvel. From the Horatian Ode upon Cromwell's Return from Ireland. He nothing common did, or mean, Upon that memorable scene. But with his keener eye The axe's edge did try ; Nor called the gods, with vulgar spite, To vindicate his helpless right ; But bowed his comely head Down, as upon a bed. OLIVER CROMWELL 273 Number 50 OLIVER CROMWELL (A Royalist View) Edward Hyde, Earl of Clarendon. History of the Rebellion and Civil Wars in England, Book XV, Sections 147-149, 152, 156. Edward Ilyde, later Earl of Clarendon, was one of the chief advisers of Charles I during the Civil War. Ills " History of the Rebellion and Civil Wars in England " is one of the best sources of information for that period. Especially interesting are his character sketches of the eminent men who took part in the struggle, although his sympathy with the royalist cause made it impossible for him to do full justice to the leaders of the opposing party. 147. He was one of those men, qjios vituperare ne iniinici qiiidcm possniit nisi nt siniul laiidciit ; ^ for he could never have done half that mischieve without great parts of courage and industry and judgment. And he must have had a wonder- ful understanding in the natures and humours of men, and as great a dexterity in applying them, who from a private and obscure birth, (though of a good family,) without interest of estate, alliance or friendships, could raise himself to such a height, and compound and knead such opposite and contra- dictory tempers, humours, and interests, into a consistence that contributed to his designs and to their own destruction ; whilst himself grew insensibly powerful enough to cut off those by whom he had climbed, in the instant that they pro- jected to demolish their own building. What Velleius Pater- culus said of Cinna may very justly be said of him, Aitsitin enni, qucB nemo anderet bonus ; pctfecissc, qucB a nnllo nisi fortissimo perfici possejit? Without doubt, no man with more 1 Whom not even his enemies could censure without at the same time praising him. - He had the courage to do such things as no good man would dare to do; he did such things as could be done by none but a very brave man. 2 74 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY wickedness ever attempted any thing, or brought to pass what he desired more wickedly, more in the face and contempt of religion and moral honesty ; yet wickedness as great as his could never have accomplished those trophies, without the assistance of a great spirit, an admirable circumspection and sagacity, and a most magnanimous resolution. 148. When he appeared first in the Parliament, he seemed to have a person in no degree gracious, no ornament of dis- course, none of those talents which use to reconcile the affec- tions of the standers by : yet as he grew into place and authority, his parts seemed to be renew[ed], as if he had concealed faculties till he had occasion to use them ; and when he was to act the part of a great' man, he did it without any indecency through the want of custom. 149, After he was confirmed and invested Protector by The Hinnblc Petition and Advice he consulted with very few upon any action of importance, nor communicated any enterprise he resolved upon with more than those who were to have principal parts in the execution of it ; nor to them sooner than was absolutely necessary. What he once resolved, in which he was not rash, he would not be dissuaded from, nor endure any contradiction of his power and authority, but ex- torted obedience from them who were not willing to yield it. 152. To reduce three nations, which perfectly hated him, to an entire obedience to all his dictates ; to awe and govern those nations by an army that was indevoted to him and wished his ruin ; was an instance of a very prodigious address. But his greatness at home was but a shadow of the glory he had abroad. It was hard to discover which feared him most, France, Spain, or the Low Countries, where his friendship was current at the value he put upon it. And as they did all sacrifice their honour and their interest to his pleasure, so TO THE T.ORD GENERAL CROMWELT, 275 there is nothing he could have demanded that either of them would have denied him. . . . • • 156. He was not a man of blood, and totally declined Machiavell's method, which prescribes, upon any alteration of a government, as a thing absolutely necessary, to cut off all the heads of those, and extirpate their families, who are friends to the old [one]. And it was confidently reported, that in the council of officers it was more than once proposed that there might be a general massacre of all the royal party, as the only expedient to secure the government, but Cromwell would never consent to it ; it may be, out of too much contempt of his enemies. In a word, as he had all the wickedness against which damnation is denounced, ... so he had some virtues which have caused the memory of some men in all ages to be celebrated ; and he will be looked upon by posterity as a brave bad man. Number 5/ TO THE LORD GENERAL CROMWELL (A Puritan View) John Milton. Cromwell, our chief of men, who through a cloud Not of war only, but detractions rude, Guided by faith and matchless fortitude, To peace and truth thy glorious way hast ploughed. And on the neck of crowned Fortune proud Hast reared God's trophies, and his work pursued. While Darwen stream, with blood of Scots imbrued, And Dunbar field, resounds thy praises loud, 276 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY And Worcester's laureate wreath : yet much remains To conquer still ; Peace hath her victories No less renowned than War : new foes arise, Threatening to bind our souls with secular chains. Help us to save free conscience from the paw Of hireling wolves, whose Gospel is their maw. Number ^2 OLIVER CROMWELL (A Modern View) Samuel Rawson Gardiner. Oliver Cromwell, pp. 210-21 1. , . . Oliver's claim to greatness can be tested by the un- doubted fact that his character receives higher and wider ap- preciation as the centuries pass by. The limitations on his nature — the one-sidedness of his religious zeal, the mistakes of his policy — are thrust out of sight, the nobility of his motives, the strength of character, the breadth of his intellect, force themselves on the minds of generations for which the ob- jects for which he strove have been for the most part attained, though often in a different fashion from that in which he placed them before himself. Even those who refuse to waste a thought on his spiritual aims remember with gratitude his constancy of effort to make England great by land and sea ; and it would be well for them also to be reminded of his no less constant efforts to make England worthy of greatness. Of the man himself, it is enough to repeat the words of one who knew him well : " His body was well compact and strong; his stature under six feet — I believe about two inches — his head so shaped as you might see it a store-house and shop both — of a vast treasury of natural parts. His temper THE CHARACTER OF CHARLES H 277 exceeding fiery, as I have known ; but the flame of it kept down for the most part, or soon allayed with those moral en- dowments he had. He was naturally compassionate towards objects in distress, even to an effeminate measure ; though God had made him a heart wherein was left little room for any fear but was due to Himself, of which there was a large pro- portion ^- yet did he exceed in tenderness towards sufferers. A larger soul, I think, hath seldom dwelt in a house of clay." Ntuiibcr 5J THE CHARACTER OF CHARLES II J. R. Green. A Short History of the English People, illustrated edition, Vol. Ill, pp. 1351-1358- The thunder of the Dutch guns in the Medway and the Thames woke England to a bitter sense of its degradation. The dream of loyalty was over. " Everybody now-a-days," Pepys tells us, " reflect upon Oliver and commend him, what brave things he did, and made all the neighbour princes fear him." But Oliver's successor was coolly watching this shame and discontent of his people with the one aim of turning it to his own advantage. To Charles the Second the degrada- tion of England was only a move in the political game which he was playing, a game played with so consummate a secrecy and skill that it deceived not only the closest observers of his own day but still misleads historians of ours. What his sub- jects saw in their King was a pleasant, brown-faced gentle- man playing with his spaniels, or drawing caricatures of his ministers, or flinging cakes to the water-fowl in the park. To all outer seeming Charles was the most consummate of idlers. " He delighted," says one of his courtiers, " in a bewitching 278 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY kind of pleasure called sauntering." The business-like Pepys soon discovered that "the King do mind nothing but pleas- ures, and hates the very sight or thoughts of business." He only laughed when Tom Killigrew frankly told him that badly as things were going there was one man whose industry could soon set them right, "and this is one Charles Stuart, who now spends his time in using his lips about the Court, and hath no other employment. " That Charles had great natural parts no one doubted. In his earlier days of defeat and danger he showed a cool courage and presence of mind which never failed him in the many perilous moments of his reign. His temper was pleasant and social, his manners perfect, and there was a careless freedom and courtesy in his address which won over everybody who came into his presence. His educa- tion indeed had been so grossly neglected that he could hardly read a plain Latin book ; but his natural quickness and in- telligence showed itself in his pursuit of chymistry and anat- omy, and in the interest he showed in the scientific inquiries of the Royal Society. Like Peter the Great his favourite study was that of naval architecture, and he piqued himself on be- ing a clever ship-builder. He had some little love too for art and poetry, and a taste for music. But his shrewdness and vivacity showed itself most in his endless talk. He was fond of telling stories, and he told them with a good deal of grace and humour. His humour indeed never forsook him : even on his death-bed he turned to the weeping courtiers around and whispered an apology for having been so unconscionable a time in dying. He held his own fairly with the wits of his Court, and bandied repartees on equal terms with Sedley or Buckingham. Even Rochester in his merciless epigram was forced to own that Charles " never said a foolish thing." He had inherited in fact his grandfather's gift of pithy sayings, and his habitual irony often gave an amusing turn to them. When THE CHARACTER OF CHARLES H 279 his brother, the most unpopular man in I'lngland, solemnly warned him of plots against his life, Charles laughingly bade him set all fear aside. "They will never kill me, James," he said, "to make you king." But courage and wit and ability seemed to have been bestowed on him in vain. Charles hated business. He gave to outer observers no sign of ambition. . . . Gambling and drinking helped to fill up the vacant moments when he could no longer toy with his favourites or bet at Newmarket. . . . It was difficult for h^nglishmen to believe that any real danger to liberty could come from an idler and a voluptuary such as Charles the Second. But in the very difficulty of be- lieving this lay half the King's strength. He had in fact no taste whatever for the despotism of the Stuarts who had gone before him. His shrewdness laughed his grandfather's theory of Divine Right down the wind. ... He was too humorous a man to care for the pomp and show of power, and too good- natured a man to play the tyrant. But he believed as firmly as his father or his grandfather had believed in the older pre- rogatives of the Crown ; and, like them, he looked on Parlia- ments with suspicion and jealousy. "He told Lord Essex," Burnet says, " that he did not wish to be like a Grand Signior, with some mutes about him, and bags of bowstrings to strangle men ; but he did not think he was a king so long as a company of fellows were looking into his actions, and examining his ministers as well as his accounts." " A king," he thought, " who might be checked, and have his ministers called to an account, was but a king in name." In other words, he had no settled plan of tyranny, but he meant to mle as independently as he could, and from the beginning to the end of his reign there never was a moment when he was not doing something to carry out his aim. But he carried it out in a tentative, irregular fashion which it was as hard to detect 28o READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY as to meet. Whenever there was any strong opposition he gave way. If popular feeling demanded the dismissal of his ministers, he dismissed them. If it protested against his dec- laration of indulgence, he recalled it. If it cried for victims in the frenzy of the Popish Plot, he gave it victims till the frenzy was at an end. It was easy for Charles to yield and to wait, and just as easy for him to take up the thread of his purpose again the moment the pressure was over. The one fixed resolve which overrode every other thought in the King's mind was a resolve "not to set out on his travels again." His father had fallen through a quarrel with the two Houses, and Charles was determined to remain on good terms with the Parliament till he was strong enough to pick a quarrel to his profit. He treated the Lords with an easy familiarity which robbed opposition of its seriousness. "Their debates amused him," he said in his indolent way; and he stood chatting be- fore the fire while peer after peer poured invectives on his ministers. . . . Where bribes, flattery, and management failed, Charles was content to yield and to wait till his time came again. Meanwhile he went on patiently gathering up what fragments of the old royal power still survived, and availing himself of whatever new resources offered themselves. Number §4 THE FIRE IN LONDON Samuel Pepys. Diary, Vol. VI, pp. 174-1S1. Edition of Rev. Mynors Bright. Samuel Pepys, the author of the famous Diary from which this is taken, was an eyewitness of the scenes he describes. 2nd (Lord's-day). Some of our mayds sitting up late last night to get things ready against our feast to-day, Jane called us up about three in the morning, to tell us of a great fire THE FIRE IX LONDON 28 1 they saw in the City. So I rose and slipped on my night- govvne, and went to her window, and thought it to be on the back-side of Marke-lane at the farthest ; but, being unused to such fires as followed, I thought it far enough off ; and so went to bed again and to sleep. About seven rose again to dress myself, and there looked out at the window, and saw the fire not so much as it was and further off. So to my closett to set things to rights after yesterday's cleaning. By and by Jane comes and tells me that she hears that above 300 houses have been burned down to-night by the fire we saw, and that it is now burning down all Fish-street, by London Bridge. So I made myself ready presently, and walked to the Tower, and there got up upon one of the high places, Sir J. Robinson's little son going up with me ; and there I did see the houses at that end of the bridge all on fire, and an infinite great fire on this and the other side the end of the bridge ; which, among other people, did trouble me for poor little Michell and our Sarah on the bridge. So down, with my heart full of trouble, to the Lieutenant of the Tower, who tells me that it begun this morning in the King's baker's house in Pudding- lane, and that it hath burned St. Magnus's Church and most part of F'ish-street already. So I down to the water-side, and there got a boat and through bridge, and there saw a lamen- table fire. Poor Michell 's house, as far as the Old Swan, already burned that way, and the fire running further, that in a very little time it got as far as the Steele-yard, while I was there. Everybody endeavouring to remove their goods, and flinging into the river or bringing them into lighters that lay off ; poor people staying in their houses as long as till the very fire touched them, and then running into boats, or clam- bering from one pair of stairs by the water-side to another. And among other things, the poor pigeons, I perceive, were loth to leave their houses, but hovered about the windows 282 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY and balconys till they, some of them, burned their wings, and fell down. Having staid, and in an hour's time seen the fire rage every way, and nobody, to my sight, endeavouring to quench it, but to remove their goods, and leave all to the fire, and having seen it get as far as the Steele-yard, and the wind mighty high and driving it into the City ; and every thing, after so long a drought, proving combustible, even the ver}' stones of churches, and among other things the poor steeple by which pretty Mrs. lives, and whereof my old school-fellow Elborough is parson, taken fire in the very top, and there burned till it fell down : I to White Hall . . . ; and there up to the King's closett in the Chappell, where people came about me, and I did give them an account dis- mayed them all, and word was carried in to the King. So I was called for, and did tell the King and Duke of York what I saw, and that unless his Majesty did command houses to be pulled down nothing could stop the fire. They seemed much troubled, and the King commanded me to go to my Lord Mayor from him, and command him to spare no houses, but to pull down before the fire every way. The Duke of York bid me tell him that if he would have any more soldiers he shall ; and so did my Lord Arlington afterwards, as a great secret. Here meeting with Captain Cocke, I in his coach, which he lent me, and Creed with me to Paul's, and there walked along Watling-street, as well as I could, every creature coming away loaden with goods to save, and here and there sicke people carried away in beds. Extraordinary good goods car- ried in carts and on backs. At last met my Lord Mayor in Canning-street, like a man spent, with a handkercher about his neck. To the King's message he cried, like a fainting woman, "Lord! what can I do? I am spent: people will not obey me. I have been pulling down houses ; but the fire overtakes us faster than we can do it." That he needed no THE FIRE IN LONDON 283 more soldiers ; and that, for himself, he must go and refresh himself, having been up all night. So he left me, and I him, and walked home, seeing people all almost distracted, and no manner of means used to quench the fire. The houses, too, so very thick thereabouts, and full of matter for burning, as pitch and tarr, in Thames-street ; and warehouses of oyle, and wines, and brandy, and other things. Here I saw Mr. Isaac Houblon, the handsome man, prettily dressed and dirty, at his door at Dowgate, receiving some of his brother's things, whose houses were on fire ; and, as he says, have been re- moved twice already ; and he doubts (as it soon proved) that they must be in a little time removed from his house also, which was a sad consideration. And to see the churches all filling with goods by people who themselves should have been quietly there, at this time. . . . Having seen as much as I could now, I away to White Hall by appointment, and there walked to St. James's Parke, and there met my wife and Creed and Wood and his wife, and walked to my boat ; and there upon the water again, and to the fire up and down, it still encreasing, and the wind great. So near the fire as we could for smoke ; and all over the Thames, with one's face in the wind, you were almost burned with a shower of fire-drops. This is very true ; so as houses were burned by these drops and flakes of fire, three or four, nay, five or six houses, one from another. When we could endure no more upon the water, we to a little ale-house on the Bankside, over against the Three Cranes, and there staid till it was dark almost, and saw the fire grow ; and, as it grew darker, appeared more and more, and in corners and upon steeples, and between churches and houses, as far as we could see up the hill of the City, in a most horrid malicious bloody flame, not like the fine flame of an ordinary fire. Barbary and her husband away before us. We staid till, it being darkish, we saw the fire as only one 284 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY entire arch of fire from this to the other side the bridge, and in a bow up the hill for an arch of above a mile long : it made me weep to see it. The churches, houses, and all on fire and flaming at once ; and a horrid noise the flames made, and the cracking of houses at their ruine. So home with a sad heart, and there find every body discoursing and lamenting the fire ; and poor Tom Hater came with some few of his goods saved out of his house, which is burned upon Fish-streete Hill. I invited him to lie at my house, and did receive his goods, but was deceived in his lying there, the newes coming every moment of the growth of the fire ; so as we were forced to begin to pack up our owne goods, and prepare for their removal ; and did by moonshine (it being brave dry, and moonshine, and warm weather) carry much of my goods into the garden, and Mr. Hater and I did remove my money and iron chests into my cellar, as thinking that the safest place. And got my bags of gold into my office, ready to carry away, and my chief papers of accounts also there, and my tallys into a box by themselves. So great was our fear, as Sir W. Batten hath carts come out of the country to fetch away his goods this night. Number ^^ THE SONG OF THE WESTERN MEN Robert Stephen Hawker. Cornish Ballads and Other Poems, p. i. A good sword and a trusty hand ! A merry heart and true ! King James's men shall understand What Cornish lads can do j THE SONG OF THE WESTERN MEN 285 And have they fixed the where and when ? And shall Trelawny die ? Here 's twenty thousand Cornish men Will know the reason why ! Out spake their Captain brave and bold : A merry wight was he : — " If London Tower were Michael's hold, W' e '11 set Trelawny free ! " We '11 cross the Tamar, land to land, The Severn is no stay, With ' one and all,' and hand in hand, And who shall bid us nay ? " And when wc come to London Wall, A pleasant sight to view, Come forth ! come forth ! ye cowards all : Here 's men as good as you. " Trelawny he 's in keep and hold : Trelawny he may die : But here 's twenty thousand Cornish bold. Will know the reason why ! " 286 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Number ^6 THE STATE OF ENGLAND IN 1685 Thomas Babington Macaulay. The History of England frovi the Accession of James I/, Vol. I, chap, m, passim. . . . Could the England of 1685 be, by some magical process, set before our eyes, we should not know one land- scape in a hundred or one building in ten thousand. The country gentleman would not recognize his own fields. The inhabitant of the town would not recognize his own street. Every thing has been changed but the great features of nature, and a few massive and durable works of human art. We might find out Snowdon and Windermere, the Cheddar Cliffs and Beachy Head. We might find out here and there a Norman minster, or a castle which witnessed the wars of the Roses ; but, with such rare exceptions, every thing would be strange to us. Many thousands of square miles, which are now rich corn land and meadow, intersected by green hedge-rows, and dotted with villages and pleasant country seats, would appear as moors overgrown with furze, or fens abandoned to wild ducks. We should see straggling huts built of wood and covered with thatch where we now see manufacturing towns and sea-ports renowned to the farthest ends of the world. The capital itself would shrink to dimen- sions not much exceeding those of its present suburb on the south of the Thames. Not less strange to us would be the garb and manners of the people, the furniture and the equip- ages, the interior of the shops and dwellings. Such a change in the state of a nation seems to be at least as well entitled to the notice of a historian as any change of the dynasty or of the ministry. . . . THE STATE OF ENGLAND IN 1685 287 . . . We may . . . with confidence pronounce that, when James the Second reigned, England contained between five million and five million five hundred thousand inhabitants. On the very highest supposition, she then had less than one third of her present population, and less than three times the pop- ulation which is now [1845] collected in her gigantic capital. The increase of the people had been great in every part of the kingdom, but generally much greater in the northern than in the southern shires. In truth, a large part of the country beyond Trent was, down to the eighteenth century, in a state of barbarism. Physical and moral causes had con- curred to prevent civilization from spreading to that region. The air was inclement ; the soil was generally such as re- quired skillful and industrious cultivation ; and there could be little skill, or industry in a tract which was often the theater of war, and which, even when there was nominal peace, was constantly desolated by bands of Scottish marauders. Before the union of the two British crowns, and long after that union, there was as great a difference between Middlesex and North- umberland as there now is between Massachusetts and the settlements of those squatters who, far to the west of the Mis-' sissippi, administer a rude justice with the rifle and the dagger. In the reign of Charles the Second, the traces left by ages of slaughter and pillage were still distinctly perceptible, manv miles south of the Tweed, in the face of the country and in the lawless manners of the people. There was still a large class of moss-troopers, whose calling was to plunder dwellings and to drive away whole herds of cattle. . . . The parishes were required to keep blood-hounds for the purpose of hunt- ing the freebooters. Many old men who were living in the middle of the eighteenth centur)^ could well remember the time when those ferocious dogs were common ; yet, even with such auxiliaries, it was found impossible to track the robbers 288 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY to their retreats among the hills and morasses, for the geog- raphy of that wild country was very imperfectly known. . . . The seats of the gentry and the larger farm-houses were forti- fied. Oxen were penned at night beneath the overhanging battlements of the residence, which was known by the name of the Peel. The inmates slept with arms at their sides. Huge stones and boiling water were in readiness to crush and scald the plunderer who might venture to assail the little garrison. No traveler ventured into 'that country without making his will. The judges on circuit, with the whole body of barristers, attorneys, clerks, and serving men, rode on horseback from Newcastle to Carlisle, armed and escorted by a strong guard under the command of the sheriffs. . . . Slowly and with difficulty peace was established on the border. In the train of peace came industry and all the arts of life. Meanwhile it was discovered that the regions north of the Trent possessed in their coal-beds a source of wealtli far more precious than the gold-mines of Peru. It was found that, in the neighborhood of these beds, almost every manu- facture might be most profitably carried on. A constant stream of emigrants began to roll northward. . . . . The majority of Englishmen who were under twenty- five years of age had probably never seen a company of regular soldiers. Of the cities which, in the civil war, had valiantly repelled hostile armies, scarce one was now capable of sustaining a siege. The gates stood open night and day. The ditches were dry. The ramparts had been suffered to fall into decay, or were repaired only that the townsfolk might have a pleasant walk on summer evenings. Of the old baronial keeps many had been shattered by the cannon of Fairfax and Cromwell, and lay in heaps of ruin, overgrown with ivy. Those which remained had lost their martial char- acter, and were now rural palaces of the aristocracy. The THE STATE OF ENGLAND IN 1685 289 moats were turned into preserves of carp and pike. The mounds were planted with fragrant shrubs, through which spiral walks ran up to summer-houses adorned with mirrors and paintings. There were still to be seen, on the capes of the sea-coast, and on many inland hills, tall posts surmounted by barrels. Once these barrels had been filled with pitcii. Watchmen had been set round them in seasons of danger ; and, within a few hours after a Spanish sail had been dis- covered in the Channel, or after a thousand Scottish moss- troopers had crossed the Tweed, the signal fires were blazing fifty miles off, and whole counties were rising in arms. But many years had now elapsed since the beacons had been lighted, and they were regarded rather as curious relics of ancient manners than as parts of a machinery necessary to the safety of the state. . . . There were those who looked on the militia with no friendly eye. Men who had traveled much on the Continent, who had marveled at the stern precision with which every sentinel moved and spoke in the citadels built by Vauban, who had seen the mighty armies which poured along all the roads of Germany to chase the Ottoman from the gates of Vienna, and who had been dazzled by the well-ordered pomp of the household troops of Louis, sneered much at the wav in which the peasants of Devonshire and Yorkshire marched and wheeled, shouldered muskets and ported pikes. ^ . . . 1 Drydcn, in his Cymon and Iphigenia, expressed, with his usual keenness and energy, the sentiments which had been fashionable among the sycophants of James "The country rings around with loud alarms, And raw in fields the rude militia swarms ; Mouths without hands, maintained at vast expense, In peace a charge, in war a weak defense. Stout once a month they march, a blustering band, And ever, but in time of need, at hand. This was the mom when, issuing on the guard, Drawn up in rank and file, they stood prepared Of seeming arms to make a short essay. Then hasten to be drunk, the business of the day." 290 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Since the beginning of the seventeenth century a great change had taken place in the arms of the infantry. The pike had been gradually giving place to the musket, and, at the close of the reign of Charles the Second, most of his foot were musketeers. Still, however, there was a large inter- mixture of pikemen. Each class of troops was occasionally instructed in the use of the weapon which peculiarly belonged to the other class. Every foot soldier had at his side a sword for close fight. The dragoon was armed like a musketeer, and was also provided with a weapon which had, during many years, been gradually coming into use, and which the English then called a dagger, but which, from the time of our Revolu- tion, has been known among us by the French name of bay- onet. The bayonet seems not to have been so formidable an instrument of destruction as it has since become, for it was inserted in the muzzle of the gun, and in action much time was lost while the soldier unfixed his bayonet in order to fire, and fixed it again in order to charge. . . . . . . When the reign of Charles terminated, his navy had sunk into degradation and decay, such as would be almost incredible if it were not certified to us by the independent and concurring evidence of witnesses whose authority is beyond exception. Pepys, the ablest man in the English Admiralty, drew up, in the year 1684, a memorial on the state of his department for the information of Charles. A few months later, Bonrepaux, the ablest man in the French Admiralty, having visited England for the especial purpose of ascertaining her maritime strength, laid the result of his inquiries before Louis. The two reports are to the same effect. Bonrepaux declared that he found every thing in dis- order and in miserable condition ; that the superiority of the French marine was acknowledged with shame and envy at Whitehall ; and that the state of our shipping and dock-yards THE STATE OF ENGLAND IN 1685 29 1 was of itself a sufficient guarantee that we should not meddle in the disputes of Europe. Pepys informed his master that the naval administration was a prodigy of wastefulness, cor- ruption, ignorance, and indolence ; that no estimate could be trusted ; that no contract was performed ; that no check was enforced. . . . We should be much mistaken if we pictured to ourselves the squires of the seventeenth century as men bearing a close resemblance to their descendants, the county members and chairmen of quarter sessions with whom we are familiar. The modem [about 1850] countr)' gentleman generally re- ceives a liberal education, passes from a distinguished school to a distinguished college, and has every opportunity to be- come an excellent scholar. He has generally seen something of foreign countries. A considerable part of his life has gen- erally been passed in the capital ; and the refinements of the capital follow him into the countr)-. There is, perhaps, no class of dwellings so pleasing as the rural seats of the Eng- lish gentry. In the parks and pleasure grounds, Nature, dressed, yet not disguised by art, wears her most alluring form. In the buildings, good sense and good taste combine to produce a happy union of the comfortable and the graceful. The pictures, the musical instruments, the librar)^ would in any other country' be considered as proving the owner to be an eminently polished and accomplished man. A countr)' gentleman who witnessed the Revolution was probably in receipt of about a fourth part of the rent which his acres now yield to his posterity. He was, therefore, as compared with his posterity, a poor man, and was generally under the neces- sity of residing, with litde interruption, on his estate. To travel on the Continent, to maintain an establishment in London, or even to visit London frequently, were pleasures in which only the great proprietors could indulge. It may be 292 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY confidently affirmed, that of the squires whose names were in King Charles's commissions of peace and lieutenancy, not one in twenty went to town once in five years, or had ever in his life wandered so far as Paris. Many lords of manors had received an education differing little from that of their menial ser\'ants. The heir of an estate often passed his boy- hood and youth at the seat of his family, with no better tutors than grooms and game-keepers, and scarce attained learning enough to sign his name to a mittimus. If he went to school and to college, he generally returned before he was twenty to the seclusion of the old hall, and there, unless his mind was very happily constituted by nature, soon forgot his academical pursuits in rural business and pleasures. His chief serious employment was the care of his property. He examined samples of grain, handled pigs, and on market days made bargains over a tankard with drovers and hop- merchants. His chief pleasures were commonly derived from field-sports and from an unrefined sensuality. His language and pronunciation were such as we should now expect to hear only from the most ignorant clowns. His oaths, coarse jests, and scurrilous terms of abuse were uttered with the broadest accent of his province. It was easy to discern, from the first words which he spoke, whether he came from Somersetshire or Yorkshire. He troubled himself little about decorating his abode, and, if he attempted decoration, seldom produced anything but deformit}'. The litter of a farm-yard gathered under the windows of his bed-chamber, and the cabbages and gooseberry bushes grew close to his hall door. His table was loaded with coarse plenty, and guests were cordially welcomed to it ; but, as the habit of drinking to ex- cess was general in the class to which he belonged, and as his fortune did not enable him to intoxicate large assemblies daily with claret or canary, strong beer was the ordinary THE STATE OF ENGLAND IN 1685 293 beverage. The quantity of beer consumed in those days was indeed enormous ; for beer then was to the middle and lower classes not only all that beer now is, but all that wine, tea, and ardent spirits now are. It was only at great houses or on great occasions that foreign drink was placed on the board. The ladies of the house, whose business it had com- monly been to cook the repast, retired as soon as the dishes had been devoured, and left the gentlemen to their ale and tobacco. The coarse jollity of the afternoon was often pro- longed till the revelers were laid under the table. It was very seldom that the country gentleman caught glimpses of the great world, and what he saw of it tended rather to confuse than to enlighten his understanding. His opinions respecting religion, government, foreign countries, and former times, having been derived, not from study, from observation, or from conversation with enlightened compan- ions, but from such traditions as were current in his own small circle, were the opinions of a child. He adhered to them, however, with the obstinacy which is generally found in ignorant men accustomed to be fed with flattery. His animosities were numerous and bitter. He hated Frenchmen and Italians, Scotchmen and Irishmen, papists and Presby- terians, Independents and Baptists, Quakers and Jews. To- ward London and Londoners he felt an aversion which more than once produced important political effects. His wife and daughter were in tastes and acquirements below a housekeeper or a still-room maid of the present day. They stitched and spun, brewed gooseberr\' wine, cured marigolds, and made the crust for the venison pasty. . , , Thus the character of the English esquire of the seventeenth century was compounded of two elements which we are not accustomed to find united. His ignorance and uncouthness, his low tastes and gross phrases, would, in our 294 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY time, be considered as indicating a nature and a breeding thoroughly plebeian; yet he was essentially a patrician, and had, in large measure, both the virtues and the vices which flourish among men set from their birth in high place, and accustomed to authority, to observance, and to self-respect. It is not easy for a generation which is accustomed to find chivalrous sentiments only in company with liberal studies and polished manners to image to itself a man with the deportment, the vocabulary, and the accent of a carter, yet punctilious on matters of genealogy and precedence, and ready to risk his life rather than see a stain cast on the honor of his house. It is only, however, by thus joining together things seldom or never found together in our own experience, that we can form a just idea of that rustic aris- tocracy which constituted the main strength of the armies of Charles the First, and which long supported, with strange fidelity, the interests of his descendants. . . . Thus, after murmuring twenty years at the mis- government of Charles the Second, they came to his rescue in his extremity, when his own secretaries of state and lords of the Treasury had deserted him, and enabled him to gain a complete victory over the Opposition ; nor can there be any doubt that they would have shown equal loyalty to his brother James, if James would, even at the moment, have refrained from outraging their strongest feeling ; for there was one in- stitution, and one only, which they prized even more than hereditary monarchy, and that institution was the Church of England. Their love of the Church was not, indeed, the effect of study or meditation. Few among them could have given any reason, drawn from Scripture or ecclesiastical his- tory, for adhering to her doctrines, her ritual, and her polity ; nor were they, as a class, by any means strict observers of that code of morality which is common to all Christian sects. THE STATE OF ENGLAND IN 1685 295 But the experience of many iv^es proves that men may be ready to fight to the death, and to persecute without pity, for a religion whose creed they do not understand, and whose precepts they habitually disobey. The rural clergy were even more vehement in Toryism than the rural gentry, and were a class scarcely less important. It is to be observed, however, that the individual clergyman, as compared with the individual gentleman, then ranked much lower than in these days. . . . The place of the clergyman in society had been completely changed by the Reformation. Before that event, ecclesiastics had formed the majority of the House of Lords ; had, in wealth and splendor, equaled, and sometimes outshone, the greatest of the temporal barons, and had generally held the highest civil offices. The lord treasurer was often a bishop. The lord chancellor was almost always so. . . . Down to the middle of the reign of Henry the Eighth, therefore, no line of life bore so inviting an aspect to ambitious and covetous natures as the priesthood. Then came a violent revolution. The abolition of the monasteries deprived the Church at once of the greater part of her wealth, and of her predominance in the Upper House of Parliament. . . . During the century which followed the accession of Elizabeth, scarce a single person of noble descent took orders. At the close of the reign of Charles the Second, two sons of peers were bishops ; four or five sons of peers were priests, and held valuable preferment ; but these rare exceptions did not take away the reproach which lay on the body. The clergy were regarded as, on the whole, a plebeian class ; and, indeed, for one who made the figure of a gentleman, ten were mere menial ser\^ants. . . . The coarse and ignorant squire, who thought that it belonged to his dignity to have grace said every day at his table by an ecclesiastic in full canonicals, found means to reconcile dignity 296 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY with economy. A young Levite — such was the phrase then in use — might be had for his board, a small garret, and ten pounds a year, and might not only perform his own profes- sional functions, might not only be the most patient of butts and of listeners, might not only be always ready in fine weather for bowls, and in rainy weather for shovel-board, but might also save the expense of a gardener or of a groom. Some- times the reverend man nailed up the apricots, and sometimes he curried the coach-horses. He cast up the farrier's bills. He walked ten miles with a message or a parcel. If he was permitted to dine with the family, he was expected to con- tent himself with the plainest fare. He might fill himself with the corned beef and the carrots ; but, as soon as the tarts and cheese-cakes made their appearance, he quitted his seat, and stood aloof till he was summoned to return thanks for the repast, from a great part of which he had been excluded. ... A waiting-woman was generally considered as the most suitable helpmate for a parson. Queen Elizabeth, as head of the Church, had given what seemed to be a formal sanction to this prejudice, by issuing special orders that no clergyman should presume to marry a servant-girl without the consent of her master or mistress. During several generations, accordingly, the relation between priests and hand-maidens was a theme for endless jest ; nor would it be easy to find, in the comedy of the seventeenth century, a single instance of a clergyman who wins a spouse above the rank of a cook. . . , In general, the divine who quitted his chaplainship for a benefice and a wife found that he had only exchanged one class of vexations for another. Not one living in fifty enabled the incumbent to bring up a family comfortably. As children mul- tiplied and grew, the household of the priest became more and more beggarly. Holes appeared more and more plainly in the THE STATE OE ENGLAND IN 1685 297 thatch of his parsonage and in his single cassock. Often it was only by toiling on his glebe, by feeding swine, and by loading dung-carts, that he could obtain daily bread ; nor did his utmost exertions always prevent the bailiffs from taking his concordance and his ink-stand in execution. It was a white day on which he was admitted into the kitchen of a great house, and regaled by the servants with cold meat and ale. His children were brought up like the children of the neighboring peasantry. His boys followed the plow, and his girls went out to service. Study he found impossible, for the advowson of his living would hardly have sold for a sum sufficient to purchase a good theological library ; and he might be considered as unusually lucky if he had ten or twelve dog-eared volumes among the pots and pans on his shelves. Even a keen and strong intellect might be expected to rust in so unfavorable a situation. Assuredly there was at that time no lack in the English Church of ministers distinguished by abilities and learning. But it is to be observed that these ministers were not scattered among the rural population. They were brought together at a few places where the means of acquiring knowledge were abundant, and where the opportunities of vigorous intellectual exercise were frequent. At such places were to be found divines qualified by parts, by eloquence, by wide knowledge of literature, of science, and of life, to defend their Church victoriously against heretics and skeptics, to command the attention of frivolous and worldly congregations, to guide the deliberations of senates, and to make religion respectable, even in the most dissolute of courts. . . . . . . Among these divines who were the boast of the uni- versities and the delight of the capital, and who had attained, or might reasonably expect to attain, opulence and lordly rank, a part)-, respectable in numbers, and more respectable 298 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY in character, leaned toward constitutional principles of govern- ment, lived on friendly terms with Presbyterians, Independ- ents, and Baptists, would gladly have seen a full toleration granted to all Protestant sects, and would even have consented to make alterations in the Liturgy for the purpose of concil- iating honest and candid Nonconformists. But such latitudi- narianism was held in horror by the country parson. . . . Having lived in seclusion, and having had little opportunity of correcting his opinions by reading or conversation, he held and taught the doctrines of indefeasible hereditary right, of passive obedience, and of non-resistance in all their crude absurdity. . . . Whatever influence his office gave him was ex- erted with passionate zeal on the Tory side ; and that influence was immense. It would be a great error to imagine, because the countr)^ rector was in general not regarded as a gentleman, because he could not dare to aspire to the hand of one of the young ladies at the manor house, because he was not asked into the parlors of the great, but was left to drink and smoke with grooms and butlers, that the power of the clerical body was smaller than at present. ... In the seventeenth century the pulpit was to a large portion of the population what the periodical press now is. Scarce any of the clowns who came to the parish church ever saw a gazette or a political pamphlet. Ill informed as their spiritual pastor might be, he was yet better informed than themselves : he had every week an opportunity of haranguing them ; and his harangues were never answered. At every important conjuncture, invectives against the Whigs and exhortations to obey the Lord's Anointed resounded at once from many thousands of pulpits ; and the effect was formidable indeed. Of all the causes which, after the disso- lution of the Oxford Parliament, produced the violent reaction against the Exclusionists, the most potent seems to have been the oratory of the country clergy. THE STATE OE ENGLAND IN 1685 299 The power which the country gentlemen and the country clergymen exercised in the rural districts was in some measure counterbalanced by the power of the yeomanry, an eminently manly and true-hearted race. The petty proprietors who cul- tivated their own fields and enjoyed a modest competence, without affecting to have scutcheons and crests, or aspiring to sit on the bench of justice, then formed a much more im- portant part of the nation than at jDresent, If we may trust the best statistical writers of that age, not less than a hundred and sixty thousand proprietors, who, with their families, must have made up more than a seventh of the whole population, derived their subsistence from little freehold estates. The average income of these small land-owners was estimated at between sixty and seventy pounds a year. It was computed that the number of persons who occupied their own land was greater than the number of those who farmed the land of others. A large portion of the yeomanry had, from the time of the Reformation, leaned toward Puritanism ; had, in the civil war, taken the side of the Parliament ; had, after the Restoration, persisted in hearing Presbyterian and Independ- ent preachers ; had, at elections, strenuously supported the Exclusionists ; and had continued, even after the discovery of the Rye House Plot and the proscription of the Whig leaders, to regard popery and arbitrary power with unmitigated hostility. . . . We should greatly err if we were to suppose that any of the streets and squares [of London] then bore the same aspect as at present. The great majority of the houses, indeed, have since that time been wholly, or in great part, rebuilt. If the most fashionable parts of the capital could be placed before us, such as they then were, we should be disgusted with their squalid appearance, and poisoned by their noisome atmosphere. In Covent Garden, a hlthy and noisy market was held close 300 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY to the dwellings of the great. Fruit women screamed, carters fought, cabbage stalks and rotten apples accumulated in heaps at the thresholds of the Countess of Berkshire and of the Bishop of Durham. The center of Lincoln's Inn Fields was an open space where the rabble congregated every evening, ... to hear mounte- banks harangue, to see bears dance, and to set dogs at oxen. Rubbish was shot in ever)- part of the area. Horses were exercised there. The beggars were as noisy and importunate as in the worst governed cities of the Continent. . . . Saint James's Square was a receptacle for all the offal and cinders, for all the dead cats and dead dogs of Westminster. ... It was not till these nuisances had lasted through a whole generation, and till much had been written about them, that the inhabitants applied to Parliament for permission to put up rails and to plant trees. When such was the state of the quarter inhabited by the most luxurious portion of society, we may easily believe that the great body of the population suffered what would now be considered as insupportable grievances. The pavement was detestable ; all foreigners cried shame upon it. The drainage was so bad, that in rainy weather the gutters soon became torrents. Several facetious poets have commemorated the fury with which these black rivulets roared down Snow Hill and Ludgate Hill, bearing to Fleet Ditch a vast tribute of animal and vegetable filth from the stalls of butchers and green- grocers. This flood was profusely thrown to right and left by coaches and carts. To keep as far from the carriage-road as possible was therefore the wish of every pedestrian. The mild and timid gave the wall ; the bold and athletic took it. If two roisterers met, they cocked their hats in each other's faces, and pushed each other about till the weaker was shoved toward the kennel. . . . THE STATE OF ENGLAND IN 1685 30 1 The houses were not numbered. There would, indeed, have been little advantage in numbering them ; for of the coach- men, chairmen, porters, and errand-boys of London, a very small proportion could read. It was necessary to use marks which the most ignorant could understand. The shops were therefore distinguished by painted signs, which gave a gay and grotesque aspect to the streets. The walk from Charing Cross to Whitechapel lay through an endless succession of Saracen's Heads, Royal Oaks, Blue Bears, and Golden Lambs, which disappeared when they were no longer required for the direction of the common people. When the evening closed in, the difficulty and danger of walking about London became serious indeed. The garret windows were opened, and pails were emptied, with little regard to those who were passing below. Falls, bruises, and broken bones were of constant occurrence ; for, till the last year of the reign of Charles the Second, most of the streets were left in profound darkness. Thieves and robbers plied their trade with impunity ; yet they were hardly so terrible to peaceable citizens as another class of ruffians. It was a favorite amusement of dissolute young gentlemen to swag- ger by night about the town, breaking windows, upsetting sedans, beating quiet men, and offering rude caresses to pretty women. . . . It ought to be noticed that in the last year of the reign of Charles the Second began a great change in the police of London ; a change which has perhaps added as much to the happiness of the great body of the people as revolutions of much greater fame. An ingenious projector, named Ed- ward Heming, obtained letters patent, conveying to him, for a term of years, the exclusive right of lighting up London. He undertook, for a moderate consideration, to place a light before every tenth door, on moonless nights, from Michaelmas 302 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY to Lady Day, and from six to twelve of the clock. Those who now see the capital all the year round, from dusk to dawn, blazing with a splendor compared with which the illuminations for La Hogue and Blenheim would have looked pale, may perhaps smile to think of Heming's lanterns, which glimmered feebly before one house in ten during a small part of one night in three. But such was not the feeling of his cotemporaries. His scheme was enthusiastically applauded and furiously attacked. The friends of improvement extolled him as the greatest of all the benefactors of his city. What, they asked, were the boasted inventions of Archimedes when compared with the achievement of the man who had turned the nocturnal shades into noon-day ? In spite of these elo- quent eulogies, the cause of darkness was not left undefended. There were fools in that age who opposed the introduction of what was called the new light as strenuously as fools in our age have opposed the introduction of vaccination and rail-roads, as strenuously as the fools of an age anterior to the dawn of history doubtless opposed the introduction of the plow and of alphabetical writing. Many years after the date of Heming's patent there were extensive districts in which no lamp was seen. . . . The chief cause which made the fusion of the different elements of society so imperfect was the extreme difficulty which our ancestors found in passing from place to place. Of all inventions, the alphabet and the printing press alone excepted, those inventions which abridge distance have done most for the civilization of our species. Every improvement of the means of locomotion benefits mankind morally and intellectually as well as materially, and not only facilitates the interchange of the various productions of nature and art, but tends to remove national and provincial antipathies, and to bind together all the branches of the great human family. THE STATE OF ENGLAND iX 1685 303 In the seventeenth century, the inhabitants of London were, for almost every practical purpose, further from Reading than they now are from Edinburgh, and further from ICdinburgh than they now are from Vienna. . . . It was by the highways that both travelers and goods generally passed from place to place ; and those highways appear to have been far worse than might have been expected from the degree of wealth and civilization which the nation had even then attained. On the best lines of communication the ruts were deep, the descents precipitous, and the way often such as it was hardly possible to distinguish, in the dusk, from the uninclosed heath and fen which lay on both sides. . . . Pepys and his wife, traveling in their own coach, lost their way between Newbury and Reading. In the course of the same tour they lost their way near Salisbury, and were in danger of having to pass the night on the plain. It was only in fine weather that the whole breadth of the road was avail- able for wheeled vehicles. Often the mud lay deep on the right and the left, and only a narrow track of firm ground rose above the quagmire. At such times obstructions and quarrels were frequent, and the path was sometimes blocked up during a long time by carriers, neither of whom would break the way. It happened, almost every day, that coaches stuck fast, until a team of cattle could be procured from some neighboring farm to tug them out of the slough. But in bad seasons the traveler had to encounter inconveniences still more serious. ... In some parts of Kent and Sussex none but the strongest horses could, in winter, get through the bog, in which, at ever}^ step, they sank deep. The markets were often inaccessible during several months. It is said that the fruits of the earth were sometimes suffered to rot in one place, while in another place, distant only a few miles, the supply fell far short of the demand. The wheeled carriages P4 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY were, in this district, generally pulled by oxen. When Prince George of Denmark visited the stately mansion of Petworth in wet weather, he was six hours in going nine miles ; and it was necessary that a body of sturdy hinds should be on each side of his coach, in order to prop it. Of the carriages which conveyed his retinue, several were upset and injured. A letter from one of his gentlemen in waiting has been preserved, in which the unfortunate courtier complains that, during four- teen hours, he never once alighted, except when his coach was overturned or stuck fast in the mud. . . . ... At length, in the spring of 1669, a great and daring innovation was attempted. It was announced that a vehicle, described as the Flying Coach, would perform the whole journey [between London and Oxford] between sunrise and sunset. This spirited undertaking was solemnly considered and sanctioned by the heads of the University, and appears to ha\e excited the same sort of interest which is excited in our own time by the opening of a new rail-way. The vice- chancellor, by a notice which was affixed in all public places, prescribed the hour and place of departure. The success of the experiment was complete. At six in the morning the carriage began to move from before the ancient front of All Souls' College, and at seven in the evening the adventurous gentlemen who had run the first risk were safely deposited at their inn in London, ... This mode of traveling, which by Englishmen of the present day would be regarded as insufferably slow, seemed to our ancestors wonderfully, and, indeed, alarmingly rapid. . . . In spite of the attractions of the flying coaches, it was still usual for men who enjoyed health and vigor, and who were not encumbered by much baggage, to perform long journeys on horseback. If the traveler wished to move expeditiously, he rode post. Fresh saddle-horses and guides were to be THE STATE OF ENGLAND IN 1685 305 procured at convenient distances along all the great lines of road. The charge was threepence a mile for each horse, and fourpence a stage for the guide. In this manner, when the ways were good, it was possible to travel, for a considerable time, as rapidly as b)- any conveyance known in England, till vehicles were propelled by steam. . . . Whatever might be the way in which a journey was per- formed, the travelers, unless they were numerous and well armed, ran considerable risk of being stopped and plundered. The mounted highwayman, a marauder known to our gen- eration only from books, was to be found on every main road. The waste tracts which lay on the great routes near London were especially haunted by 'plunderers of this class. Hounslow Heath, on the great Western road, and Finchley Common, on the great Northern road, were perhaps the most celebrated of these spots. The Cambridge scholars trembled when they approached Epping Forest, even in broad daylight. Seamen who had just been paid off at Chatham were often compelled to deliver their purses on Gadshill, celebrated near a hundred years earlier by the greatest of poets as the scene of the depredations of Poins and Falstaff. . . . It was necessary to the success and even to the safety of the highwayman that he should be a bold and skillful rider, and that his manaers and appearance should be such as suited the master of a fine horse. He therefore held an aristocratical position in the community of thieves, appeared at fashionable coffee-houses and gaming-houses, and betted with men of quality on the race-ground. Sometimes, indeed, he was a man of good family and education. A romantic interest therefore attached, and perhaps still attaches, to the names of freebooters of this class. The vulgar eagerl\- drank in tales of their ferocity and audacity, of their occasional acts of generosity and good nature, of their amours, of their -^06 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY miraculous escapes, of their desperate struggles, and of their manly bearing at the bar and in the cart. Thus it was related of William Nevison, the great robber of Yorkshire, that he levied a quarterly tribute on all the northern drovers, and, in return, not only spared them himself, but protected them against all other thieves ; that he demanded purses in the most courteous manner ; that he gave largely to the poor what he had taken from the rich ; that his life was once spared by the royal clemency, but that he again tempted his fate, and at length died, in 1685, on the gallows of York. . . . The spirit of the anti-Puritan reaction pervades almost the whole polite literature of the reign of Charles the Second. But the very quintessence of that spirit will be found in the comic drama. The play-houses, shut by the meddling fanatic in the day of his power, were again crowded. To their old attractions new and more powerful attractions had been added. Scenery, dresses, and decorations, such as would now be thought mean and absurd, but such as would have been esteemed incredibly magnificent by those who, early in the seventeenth century, sat on the filthy benches of the Hope, or under the thatched roof of the Rose, dazzled the eyes of the multitude. The fascination of sex was called in to aid the fascination of art ; and the young spectator saw, with emotions unknown to the cotemporaries of Shakspeare and Jonson, tender and sprightly heroines personified by lovely women. From the day on which the theaters were reopened, they became seminaries of vice ; . . . . . . Nothing has as yet been said of the great body of the people ; of those who held the plows, who tended the oxen, who toiled at the looms of Norwich, and squared the Portland stone for St. Paul's : nor can very much be said. The most numerous class is precisely the class respecting which we have the most meager information. In those times THE STATK OF ENGLAND IN 1685 307 philanthropists did not yet regard it as a sacred duty, nor had demagogues yet found it a lucrative trade, to expatiate on the distress of the laborer. History was too much occupied with courts and camps to spare a line for the hut of the peasant or for the garret of the mechanic. The press now often sends forth in a day a greater quantity of discussion and declamation about the condition of the working-man than was published during the twenty-eight years which elapsed between the Restoration and the Revolution ; but it would be a great error to infer from the increase of complaint that there has been any increase of misery. The great criterion of the state of the common people is the amount of their wages ; and, as four fifths of the common peo- ple were, in the seventeenth centur}', employed in agriculture, it is especially important to ascertain what were then the wages of agricultural industry. On this subject we have the means of arriving at conclusions sufficiently exact for our purpose. Sir William Petty, whose mere assertion carries great weight, informs us that a laborer was by no means in the lowest state who received for a day's work fourpence with food, or eight- pence without food. Four shillings a week, therefore, were, according to Petty 's calculation, fair agricultural wages. . . . The remuneration of workmen employed in manufactures has always been higher than that of the tillers of the soil. In the year 1680, a member of the House of Commons remarked that the high wages paid in this countr}' made it impossible for our textures to maintain a competition with the produce of the Indian looms. An English mechanic, he said, instead of slaving like a native of Bengal for a piece of copper, ex- acted a shilling a day. Other evidence is extant, which proves that a shilling a day was the pay to which the English manu- facturer then thought himself entitled, but that he was often forced to work for less. The common people of that age -;o8 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY were not in the habit of meeting for pubhc discussion, of haranguing, or of petitioning ParHament. . . . ... It is pleasing to reflect that the pubHc mind of England has softened while it has ripened, and that we have, in the course of ages, become, not only a wiser, but also a kinder people. There is scarcely a page of the history or lighter literature of the seventeenth century which does not contain some proof that our ancestors were less humane than their posterity. The discipline of workshops, of schools, of private families, though not more efficient than at present, was in- finitely harsher. Masters, well born and bred, were in the habit of beating their servants. Pedagogues knew no way of imparting knowledge but by beating their pupils. Husbands, of decent station, were not ashamed to beat their wives. The implacability of hostile factions was such as we can scarcely conceive. Whigs were disposed to murmur because Stafford was suffered to die without seeing his bowels burned before his face. Tories reviled and insulted Russell as his coach passed from the Tower to the scaffold in Lincoln's Inn Plelds. As little mercy was shown by the populace to sufferers of a humbler rank. If an offender was put into the pillory, it was well if he escaped with life from the shower of brick-bats and paving-stones. If he was tied to the cart's tail, the crowd pressed round him, imploring the hangman to give it the fellow well, and make him howl. Gentlemen arranged parties of pleasure to Bridewell on court days, for the purpose of seeing the wretched women who beat hemp there whipped. A man pressed to death for refusing to plead, a woman burned for coining, excited less sympathy than is now felt for a galled horse or an over-driven ox. . . . The general effect of the evidence which has been sub- mitted to the reader seems hardly to admit of doubt ; yet, in spite of evidence, many will still image to themselves the THE S^IATK OF ENGLAND IN 1685 309 England of the Stuarts as a more pleasant country than the England in which we live. It may at first sight seem strange that society, while constantly moving forward with eager speed, should be constantly looking backward with tender regret. But these two propensities, inconsistent as they may appear, can easily be resolved into the same principle. Both spring from our impatience of the state in which we actually are. , . . . . . It is now the fashion to place the Golden Age of Eng- land in times when noblemen were destitute of comforts the want of which would be intolerable to a modern footman, when farmers and shop-keepers breakfasted on loaves the very sight of which would raise a riot in a modern work-house, when men died faster in the purest country air than they now die in the most pestilential lanes of our towns, and when men died faster in the lanes of our towns than they now die on the coast of Guiana. We too shall, in our turn, be outstripped, and in our turn be envied. It may well be, in the twentieth century, that the peasant of Dorsetshire may think himself miserably paid with fifteen shillings a week ; that the car- penter of Greenwich may receive ten shillings a day ; that laboring men may be as little used to dine without meat as they now are to eat rye bread ; that sanitary police and medical discoveries may have added several more years to the average length of human life ; that numerous comforts and luxuries which are now unknown, or confined to a few, may be within the reach of every diligent and thrifty working-man. And yet it may then be the mode to assert that the increase of wealth and the progress of science have benefited the few at the expense of the many, and to talk of the reign of Queen Victoria as the time when England was truly merry England, when all classes were bound together by brotherly sympathy, when the rich did not grind the faces of the poor, and when the poor did not envy the splendor of the rich. 3IO READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Number ^y THE BILL OF RIGHTS (1689) Mabel Hill, Liberty Documents,^ chap. ix. DOCUMENT THE BILL OF RIGHTS, OCT. 25 (1689) The Statutes An AcT FOR DECLARING THE RIGHTS AND LIBERTIES of the Realm, Qp ,^^^ SUBJECT, AND SETTLING THE SUCCESSION OF VI., 142-145. ^ THE Crown. Based upon the Declara- tion of Right which accom- panied the offer of the Crown to William and Mary. Feb. 13, 1689. In early times the dispens- ing power had been consid- ered legal. Whereas the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and Commons, assembled at Westminster, law- fully, fully, and freely representing all the estates of the people of this realm, did upon the Thirteenth day of February, in the year of our Lord One Thousand Six Hundred Eighty-eight, present unto their Majesties, then called and known by the names and style of William and Mary, Prince and Princess of Orange, being present in their proper persons, a certain Declaration in writing, made by the said Lords and Commons, in the words following, viz. : — " Whereas the late King James II., by the assistance of divers evil counsellors, judges, and ministers employed by him, did endeavour to sub- vert and extirpate the Protestant religion, and the laws and liberties of this kingdom : — (I.) By assuming and exercising a power of dispensing with and suspending of laws, and the execution of laws, without consent of Parliament. 1 Copyright, 1901, Longmans, Green, & Co. ence. THE BILL OF RIGHTS Y1689) 311 (2.) By committing and prosecuting divers worthy prelates, for humbly petitioning to be excused from concurring to the said assumed power. (3.) By issuing and causing to be executed a commission under the Great Seal for erecting a court, called the Court of Commissioners for Ecclesiastical Causes. (4.) By levying money for and to the use of Compare the the Crown by pretence of prerogative, for other g°ie°van"^s time and in other manner than the same was declaration granted by Parliament. of independ- (5.) By raising and keeping a standing army within this kingdom in time of peace, without consent of Parliament, and quartering soldiers •contrar}' to law. (6.) By causing several good subjects, being Protestants, to be disarmed, at the same time when Papists were both armed and employed contrary to law. (7.) By violating the freedom of election of members to serve in Parliament. (8.) By prosecutions in the Court of King's Bench for matters and causes cognizable only in Parliament ; and by divers other arbitrary and illegal causes. (9.) And whereas of late years, partial, corrupt, and unqualified persons have been returned, and served on juries in trials, and particularly diverse jurors in trials for high treason, which were not freeholders. (10.) And excessive bail hath been required of persons committed in criminal cases, to elude 312 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Summons to the Conven- tion Parlia- ment. the benefit of the laws made for the hberty of the subjects. (II.) And excessive fines have been imposed; and illegal and cruel punishments inflicted. (12.) And several grants and promises made of fines and forfeitures, before any conviction or judgment against the persons upon whom the same were to be levied. All which are utterly and directly contrary to the known laws and statutes, and freedom of this realm. And whereas the said late King James II. hav- ing abdicated the government, and the throne being thereby vacant, his Highness the Prince of Orange (whom it hath pleased Almighty God to make the glorious instrument of delivering this kingdom from Popery and arbitrary power) did (by the ad- vice of the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and diverse principal persons of the Commons) cause letters to be written to the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, being Protestants, and other letters to the several counties, cities, universities, boroughs, and cinque ports, for the choosing of such persons to represent them, as were of right to be sent to Parliament, to meet and sit at Westminster upon the two-and-twentieth day of January, in the year one thousand six hundred eighty and eight, in order to such an establishment, as that their reli- gion, laws, and liberties might not again be in danger of being subverted ; upon which letters elections have been accordingly made. And thereupon the said Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and Commons, pursuant to their re- spective letters and elections, being now assembled THE BILL OF RIGHTS (1689) 313 in a full and free representation of this nation, takin<2j into their most serious consideration the best means for attainin<:( the ends aforesaid, do in the first place (as their ancestors in like case have usually done), for the vindicating and asserting their ancient rights and liberties, declare : — (i.) That the pretended power of suspending of laws, or the execution of laws, by regal author- ity, without consent of Parliament, is illegal. (2.) That the pretended power of dispensing with laws, or the execution of laws by regal authority, as it hath been assumed and exercised of late, is illegal. (3.) That the commission for erecting the late Court of Commissioners for Ecclesiastical causes, and all other commissions and courts of like nature, are illegal and pernicious. (4.) That levying money for or to the use of the Crown by pretence of prerogative, w'ithout grant of Parliament, for longer time or in other manner than the same is or shall be granted, is illegal. (5.) That it is the right of the subjects to peti- tion the King, and all commitments and prosecu- tions for such petitioning are illegal. (6.) That the raising or keeping a standing army within the kingdom in time of peace, unless it be with consent of Parliament, is against law. (7.) That the subjects which are Protestants From 160510 may have arms for their defence suitable to their to enforce conditions, and as allowed by law. q^^I^ Yn-'^ ^^ (8.) That election of members of Parliament "ease of V ' bribery, time ought to be free. r.eo. in '^ r 1 1 1 1 This act first (9.) That the freedom of speech, and debates enforced in or proceedings in Parliament, ought not to be '■*°^" 314 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY impeached or questioned in any court or place out of Parliament, (lo.) That excessive bail ought not to be re- quired, nor excessive fines imposed ; nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted. (II.) That jurors ought to be duly impanelled and returned, and jurors which pass upon men in trials for high treason ought to be freeholders. See Magna (i2.) That all grants and promises of fines and XXXV l"' forfeitures of particular persons before conviction are illegal and void. (13.) And that for redress of all grievances, and for the amending, strengthening, and preser\dng of the laws. Parliament ought to be held frequently. And they do claim, demand, and insist upon ■ all and singular the premises, as their undoubted rights and liberties ; and that no declarations, judgments, doings or proceedings, to the preju- dice of the people in any of the said premises, ought in any wise to be drawn hereafter into con- sequence or example. To which demand of their rights they are particularly encouraged by the declaration of his Highness the Prince of Orange, as being the only means for obtaining a full redress and remedy therein. Having therefore an entire confidence that his said Highness the Prince of Orange will perfect the deliverance so far advanced by him, and will still preserve them from the violation of their rights, which they have here asserted, and from all other attempts upon their religion, rights, and liberties : THE BILL OF RIGHTS (1689) 315 II. The said Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and Commons, assembled at Westminster, do re- solve, that William and Mary, Prince and Princess of Oranre, be, and be declared. King and Queen This is the 1 T 1 1 1 1 J ■ fi""^*^ official of Enirland, PVance, and Ireland, and the domm- statement ions thereunto belonging, to hold the crown and ^.^'^wn of royal dignity of the said kingdoms and dominions biTcin'ferred to them the said Prince and Princess during their by Parliament, lives, and the life of the survivor of them ; and that the sole and full exercise of the regal power be only in, and executed by, the said Prince of Orange, in the names of the said Prince and Princess, during their joint lives ; and after their deceases, the said Crown and royal dignity of the said kingdoms and dominions to be to the heirs of the body of the said Princess ; and for default of such issue to the Princess Anne of Denmark, and the heirs of her body ; and for default of such issue to the heirs of the body of the said Prince of Orange. And the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and Commons, do pray the said Prince and Princess to accept the same accordingly. III. And that the oaths hereafter mentioned be taken b\- all persons of whom the oaths of New oath of . , • J u allegiance, allegiance and supremacy might be required by with suprem- law, instead of them ; and that the said oaths of ^"^y*^^^^- allegiance and supremacy be abrogated. "' I, A. P., do sincerely promise and swear. That I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to their Majesties King William and Queen Mary: " So help me God." 3i6 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Supremacy . Agreement between Crown and Parliament. See Declara- tion of Inde- pendence. "I, A, B., do swear, That I do from my heart abhor, detest, and abjure as impious and heretical that damnable doctrine and position, that Princes excommunicated or deprived by the Pope, or any authority of the See of Rome, may be deposed or murdered by their subjects, or any other whatso- ever. And I do declare, That no foreign prince, person, prelate, state, or potentate hath, or ought to have, any jurisdiction, power, superiority, pre- eminence, or authority, ecclesiastical or spiritual, within this realm : '" So help me God ! " IV. Upon which their said Majesties did ac- cept the Crown and royal dignity of the kingdoms of England, France, and Ireland, and the domin- ions thereunto belonging, according to the resolu- tion and desire of the said Lords and Commons contained in the said declaration. V. And thereupon their Majesties were pleased, that the said Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and Commons, being the two Houses of Parliament, should continue to sit, and with their Majesties' royal concurrence make effectual provision for the settlement of the religion, laws and liberties of this kingdom, so that the same for the future might not be in danger again of being subverted ; to which the said Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and Com- mons, did agree and proceed to act accordingly. VI. Now in pursuance of the premises, the said Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and Com- mons, in Parliament assembled, for the ratifying, confirming, and establishing the said declaration, THE RITJ. OF RIGHTS 0689) 317 and the articles, clauses, matters, and things therein contained, by the force of a law made in due form by authority of Parliament, do pray that it may be declared and enacted. That all and singular the rights and liberties asserted and claimed in the same declaration are the true, ancient, and indu- bitable rights and liberties of the people of this kingdom, and so shall be esteemed, allowed, ad- judged, deemed, and taken to be, and that all and every the particulars aforesaid shall be firmly and strictly holden and observed, as they are expressed in the same declaration ; and all officers and min- isters whatsoever shall serve their Majesties and their successors according to the same in all times to come. . . . IX. And whereas it hath been found by experi- ence, that it is inconsistent with the safety and Exclusion welfare of this Protestant kingdom, to be governed by a Popish prince, or by any king or queen marry- ing a Papist, the said Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and Commons, do further pray that it may be en- acted. That all and ever}^ person and persons that is, are, or shall be reconciled to, or shall hold communion with, the See or Church of Rome, or shall profess the Popish religion, or shall marry a Papist, shall be excluded, and be for ever incapa- ble to inherit, possess, or enjoy the Crown and Government of this realm, and Ireland, and the dominions thereunto belonging, or any part of the same, or to have, use, or exercise any regal power, authority, or jurisdiction within the same ; and in all and every such case or cases the people of these realms shall be and are hereby absolved of 3l8 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY their allegiance ; and the said Crown and Gov- ernment shall from time to time descend to, and be enjoyed by, such person or persons, being Prot- estants, as should have inherited and enjoyed the same, in case the said person or persons so recon- ciled, holding communion, or professing, or marry- ing, as aforesaid, were naturally dead. X. And that every King and Queen of this Future realm, who at any time hereafter shall come to and succeed in the Imperial Crown of this king- dom, shall, on the first day of the meeting of the first Parliament, next after his or her coming to the Crown, sitting in his or her throne in the House of Peers, in the presence of the Lords and Commons therein assembled, or at his or her coronation, before such person or persons who shall administer the coronation oath to him or her, at the time of his or her taking the said oath (which shall first happen), make, subscribe, and audibly repeat the declaration mentioned in the statute made in the thirteenth year of the reign of King Charles II., intituled "An act for the more effectual preserving the King's person and Gov- ernment, by disabling Papists from sitting in either House of Parliament." But if it shall happen, that such King or Queen, upon his or her succession to the Crown of this realm, shall be under the age of twelve years, then every such King or Queen shall make, subscribe, and audibly repeat the said declaration at his or her coronation, or the first day of meeting of the first Parliament as aforesaid, which shall first happen after such King or Queen shall have attained the said age of twelve years. TMK IJILL ()!■ RIOIITS (1689) 319 XI. All which their Majesties are contented and pleased shall be declared, enacted, and estab- Enacting lished by authority of this present Parliament, and shall stand, remain, and be the law of this realm for ever ; and the same are by their said Majesties, by and with the advice and consent of the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, and Commons, in Parlia- ment assembled, and by the authority of the same, declared, enacted, or established accordingly. XII. And be it further declared and enacted by the authority aforesaid, That from and after Dispensing this present session of Parliament, no dispensation removed, by lion obstante of or to any statute, or any part thereof, shall be allowed, but that the same shall be held void and of no effect, except a dispensa- tion be allowed of in such statute, and except in such cases as shall be specially provided for by one or more bill or bills to be passed during this present session of Parliament. XIII. Provided that no charter, or grant, or pardon granted before the three-and-twentieth day of October, in the year of our Lord One thousand six hundred eighty-nine, shall .be an\- ways im- peached or invalidated by this Act, but that the same shall be and remain of the same force and effect in law, and no other, than as if this Act had never been made. 320 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY CRITICAL COMMENT LUFFMAN (1792) The Constitution of England, as established under the sacred authority of Magna Charta, had, at the crisis which produced the Bill of Rights, become very much impaired by the many encroachments which some of the succeeding kings from the time of John made upon its equitable form. . . . The moment that the Declaration of Right was made on the behalf of the English People and acknowledged by the Prince of Orange and his consort as the supreme law, in future to be observed, at that instant the constitution was renovated, the power of the crown was acknowledged to flow from its only natural source, the people, and a reciprocal interest, pro- ceeding from allegiance on one part and protection on the other, formed the guarantee of the monarch's prerogative and the people's freedom. J. LuFFMAN, Citizen and Goldstnith, a pamphlet. Macaulav (1849) This revolution, of all revolutions the least violent, has been of all revolutions the most beneficent. It finally decided the great question whether the popular element which had, ever since the age of Fitzwalter and De Montfort, been found in the English polity, should be destroyed by the monarchical element, or should be suffered to develop itself freely, and to become dominant. The strife between the two principles had been long, fierce, and doubtful. It had lasted through four reigns. It had produced seditions, impeachments, re- bellions, battles, sieges, proscriptions, judicial massacres. THE BILL OK RIGHTS (1689) 321 Sometimes liberty, sometimes royalty, had seemed to be on the point of perishing. During many years one half of the energy of England had been employed in counteracting the other half. The executive power and the legislative power had so effectually impeded each other that the state had been of no account in Europe. The king-at-arms, who proclaimed William and Mary before Whitehall Gate, did in truth an- nounce that this great struggle was over ; that there was entire union between the throne and the Parliament ; that England, long dependent and degraded, was again a power of the first rank ; that the ancient laws by which the prerog- ative was bounded would thenceforth be held as sacred as the prerogative itself, and would be followed out to all their consequences ; that the executive administration would be conducted in conformity with the sense of the representa- tives of the nation ; and that no reform which the two houses should, after mature deliberation, propose, would be obstinately withstood by the sovereign. The Declaration of Rights, though it made nothing law which had not been law before, contained the germ of the law which gave religious freedom to tiie Dissenter, of the law which secured the in- dependence of the judges, of the law which limited the dura- tion of Parliaments, of the law which placed the liberty of the press under the protection of juries, of the law which prohibited the slave-trade, of the law which abolished the sacramental test, of the law which relieved the Roman Catho- lics from civil disabilities, of the law which reformed the rep- resentative system, of every good law which has been passed during a hundred and sixty years, of every good law which may hereafter, in the course of ages, be found necessary to promote the public weal, and to satisfy the demands of public opinion. T. B. Macaulav, Histoiy of England. 111. 518. 32 2 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY J. R. Green (1874) The Declaration of Rights was turned into the Bill of Rights by the Convention which had now become a Parliament, and the passing of this measure in 1689 restored to the monarchy the character which it had lost under the Tudors and Stuarts. . . . Since their day [William and Mar)'] no English sover- eign has been able to advance any claims to the crown save a claim which has rested on a particular clause in a particular Act of Parliament. ..." An English monarch is now as much the creature of an Act of Parliament as the petty tax- gatherer in his realm. J. R. Green, Short History of the English People. 688-689. Tasweix-Laxgmead (1879) The Revolution of 1688 marks at once a resting-place and a fresh point of departure in the history of the English Con- stitution. The Bill of Rights was a summing up, as it were, and final establishment of the Legal bases of the Constitu- tion. With Magna Charta and the Petition of Right it forms the Legal Constitutional Code to which no additions of equal importance (except the Constitutional provisions of the Act of Settlement to be presently noticed) have since been made by Legislative enactment. Political progress has indeed, from time to time, left its mark on the statute-book, in laws the importance of which can hardly be exaggerated. But even the greatest of these enactments . . . have been of the nature of amendments to the machinery of the Constitution, supply- ing defects and correcting abuses, rather than alterations in the great Constitutional principles finally established by the Revolution. T. P. Taswell-Lancmead, English Constitutional History. 550. THE DILL Ol' KKliriS (1689) 323 J. K. IIOSMKR (189O) The monarchy as limited in the thirteenth century had conic down to the seventeenth century. Padiament had be- hind it a past of four hundred years. The constitution was not formulated, but its principles, scattered throughout time- honoured statutes, were engraven on the hearts of English- men. . . . Not a single new right was given to the people ; the whole body of ICnglish law was unchanged ; all was conducted in obedience to the ancient formalities. J. K. HosMER, Anglo-Saxon Freedom. 169. Stf.vexs ( 1 894) The Bill of Rights of the time of William and Mary finally declares, " that levying money for or to the use of the crown by pretense of prerogative without grant of Parliament for longer time, or in other manner than the same is or shall be granted, is illegal." It is not too much to say, that the prin- ciple lies at the foundation of all others in the P2nglish con- stitution, and is a chief source of modern liberties. C. E. Stevf,>'s, Sources of the Constitution. 1 14. Ransome (1895) The Declaration of Right, which afterwards was turned into an act of parliament under the title of the Bill of Rights, is one of the most important documents in English histor)-. It brought to a close the great struggle between the king and the parliament, which had lasted nearly one hundred years, by defining the law^ on a number of disputed points, all of which had, during this period, been matters of protest on the side of the parliament. . . . 324 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY The effect of the Revolution was threefold. In the first place, it destroyed the Stuart theory of the divine right of kings, . . . by setting up a king and queen who owed their position to the choice of parliament. In the second, it gave an opportunity for reasserting the principles of the English constitution which it had been the aim of the Stuarts to set aside. In the third, it began what may be called the reign of Parliament. Up to the Revolution there is no doubt that the guiding force in directing the policy of the nation had been the will of the king. Since the Revolution the guiding force has been the will of the parliament. CvRiL Raxsome, Advanced History of England. 664, 665. Number ^8 THE CHARACTER OF WILLIAM III Thomas Babington Macaulay. Histoiy 0/ England frot?i the Accession of James //, Vol. II, pp. i^g-ij2, />ass/>n. The place which William Henry, prince of Orange Nassau, occupies in the history of England and of mankind is so great that it may be desirable to portray with some minuteness the strong lineaments of his character. He was now in his thirty-seventh year. But both in body and in mind he was older than other men of the same age. Indeed, it might be said that he had never been young. His external appearance is almost as well known to us as to his own captains and counselors. Sculptors, painters, and medal- lists exerted their utmost skill in the work of transmitting his features to posterity ; and his features were such as no artist could fail to seize, and such as, once seen, could never be forgotten. His name at once calls up before us a slender THE CHARACTER OV WILLIAM HI 325 and feeble frame, a lofty and ample forehead, a nose curved like the beak of an eagle, an eye rivaling that of an eagle in brightness and keenness, a thoughtful and somewhat sullen brow, a firm and somewhat peevish mouth, a cheek pale, thin, and deeply furrowed by sickness and by care. That pensive, severe, and solemn aspect could scarcely have belonged to a happy or a good-humored man. But it indicates in a manner not to be mistaken capacity equal to the most arduous enter- prises, and fortitude not to be shaken by reverses or dangers. Nature had largely endowed William with the qualities of a great ruler, and education had developed those qualities in no common degree. Witii strong natural sense and rare force of will, he found himself, when first his mind began to open, a fatherless and motherless child, the chief of a great but de- pressed and disheartened party, and the heir to vast and in- definite pretensions, which excited the dread and aversion of the oligarchy, then supreme in the United Provinces. The common people, fondly attached during a century to his house, indicated whenever they saw him, in a manner not to be mistaken, that they regarded him as their rightful head. The able and experienced ministers of the Republic, mortal enemies of his name, came every day to pay their feigned civilities to him, and to observe the progress of his mind. The first movements of his ambition were carefully watched ; ever)' unguarded word uttered by him was noted down ; nor had he near him any adviser on whose judgment reliance could be placed. He was scarcely fifteen years old when all the domestics who were attached to his interest, or who en- joyed any share of his confidence, were removed from under his roof by the jealous government. He remonstrated with energy beyond his years, but in vain. Vigilant observers saw the tears more than once rise in the eyes of the young state prisoner. His health, naturally delicate, sank for a time 326 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY under the emotions which his desolate situation had produced. Such situations bewilder and unnerve the weak, but call forth all the strength of the strong. Surrounded by snares in which an ordinary youth would have perished, William learned to tread at once warily and firmly. Long before he reached manhood he knew how to keep secrets, how to baffle curi- osity by dry and guarded answers, how to conceal all passions under the same show^ of grave tranquillity. . . . . . . Since Octavius the world had seen no such instance of precocious statesmanship. Skillful diplomatists were sur- prised to hear the weighty observations which at seventeen the prince made on public affairs, and still more surprised to see the lad, in situations in which he might have been expected to betray strong passion, preserve a composure as imperturb- able as their own. At eighteen he sat among the fathers of the Commonwealth, grave, discreet, and judicious as the oldest among them. At twenty-one, in a day of gloom and terror, he was placed at the head of the administration. At twenty- three he was renowned throughout Europe as a soldier and a politician. He had put domestic factions under his feet ; he was the soul of a mighty coalition ; and he had contended with honor in the field against some of the greatest generals of the age. His personal tastes were those rather of a warrior than of a statesman ; but he, like his great-grandfather, the silent prince who founded the Batavian commonwealth, occupies a far higher place among statesmen than among warriors. . . . He had been placed, while still a boy, at the head of an army. Among his officers there had been none competent to instruct him. His own blunders and their consequences had been his only lessons. " I would give," he once exclaimed, "a good part of my estates to have served a few campaigns under the Prince of Conde before I had to command against him." THE CHARACTER OF WH.LIAM HI 327 It is not improbable that the circumstanee which prevented WiUiam from attaining any eminent dexterity in strategy may have been favorable to the general vigor of his intellect. If his battles were not those of a great tactician, they entitled him to be called a great man. No disaster could for one moment deprive him of his firmness or of the entire posses- sion of all his faculties. His defeats were repaired with such marvelous celerity that, before his enemies had sung the Te Deum, he was again ready for conflict ; nor did his ad- verse fortune ever deprive him of the respect and confidence of his soldiers. That respect and confidence he owed in no small measure to his personal courage. Courage in the de- gree which is necessary to carry a soldier without disgrace through a campaign is possessed, or might, under proper training, be acquired, by the great majority of men ; but cour- age like that of William is rare indeed. He was proved by every test ; by war, by wounds, by painful and depressing maladies, by raging seas, by the imminent and constant risk of assassination, a risk which has shaken very strong nerves, a risk which severely tried even the adamantine fortitude of Cromwell ; yet none could ever discover w^hat that thing was which the Prince of Orange feared. . . . And, in truth, more than one day which had seemed hopelessly lost was retrieved by the hardihood with which he rallied his broken battalions, and cut down with his own hand the cowards who set the example of flight. Sometimes, however, it seemed that he had a strange pleasure in venturing his person. It w^as re- marked that his spirits were never so high and his manners never so gracious and easy as amid the tumult and carnage of a battle. Even in his pastimes he liked the excitement of danger. Cards, chess, and billiards gave him no pleasure. The chase was his favorite recreation ; and he loved it most when it was most hazardous. His leaps were sometimes such 328 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY that his boldest companions did not like to follow him. He seems even to have thought the most hardy field-sports of England effeminate, and to have pined in the great park of Windsor for the game which he had been used to drive to bay in the forests of Guelders, wolves, and wild boars, and huge stags with sixteen antlers. The audacity of his spirit was the more remarkable because his physical organization was unusually delicate. From a child he had been weak and sickly. In the prime of manhood his complaints had been aggravated by a severe attack of small- pox. He was asthmatic and consumptive. His slender frame was shaken by a constant hoarse cough. He could not sleep unless his head was propped by several pillows, and could scarcely draw his breath in any but the purest air. Cruel headaches frequently tortured him. Exertion soon fatigued him. The physicians constantly kept up the hopes of his enemies by fixing some date beyond which, if there were any thing certain in medical science, it was impossible that his broken constitution could hold out. Yet, through a life which was one long disease, the force of his mind never failed, on any great occasion, to bear up his suffering and languid body. He was born with violent passions and quick sensibilities ; but the strength of his emotions was not suspected by the world. From the multitude, his joy and his grief, his affec- tion and his resentment, were hidden by a phlegmatic seren- ity, which made him pass for the most cold-blooded of mankind. Those who brought him good news could seldom detect any sign of pleasure. Those who saw him after a de- feat looked in vain for any trace of vexation. He praised and reprimanded, rewarded and punished, with the stern tran- quillity of a Mohawk chief ; but those who knew him well and saw him near were aware that under all this ice a fierce THE CHARACTER OE WHJTAM HI 329 fire was constantly burning. It was seldom that anger de- prived him of power over himself ; but when he was really enraged, the first outbreak of his passion was terrible. It was, indeed, scarcely safe to approach him. On these rare occa- sions, however, as soon as he regained his self-command, he made such ample reparation to those whom he had wronged as tempted them to wish that he would go into a fury again. His affection was as impetuous as his wrath. Where he loved, he loved with the whole energy of his strong mind. When death separated him from what he loved, the few who wit- nessed his agonies trembled for his reason and his life. To a very small circle of intimate friends, on whose fidelity and secrecy he could absolutely depend, he was a different man from the reserved and stoical William whom the multi- tude supposed to be destitute of human feelings. He was kind, cordial, open, even convivial and jocose, would sit at table many hours, and would bear his full share in festive conversation. . . . He . . . long observed the contest between the English factions attentively, but without feeling a strong predilection for either side ; nor, in truth, did he ever, to the end of his life, become either a Whig or a Tory. He wanted that which is the common groundwork of both characters, for he never became an Englishman. He saved England, it is true, but he never loved her, and he never obtained her love. To him she was always a land of exile, visited with reluctance, and quitted with delight. Even when he rendered to her those services of which, at this day, we feel the happy effects, her welfare was not his chief object. Whatever patriotic feeling he had was for Holland. There was the stately tomb where slept the great politician whose blood, whose name, whose temperament, and whose genius he had inherited. There the very sound of his title was a spell which had, through three T^T^O READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY generations, called forth the affectionate enthusiasm of boors and artisans. . . . Yet even his affection for the land of his birth was subordinate to another feeling which early became supreme in his soul, which mixed itself with all his passions, which impelled him to marvelous enterprises, which supported him when sinking under mortification, pain, sickness, and sorrow, which, toward the close of his career, seemed during a short time to languish, but which soon broke forth again fiercer than ever, and continued to animate him even while the prayer for the departing was read at his bedside. That feeling was enmity to France, and to the magnificent king who, in more than one sense, represented France, and who, to virtues and accomplishments eminently French, joined in large measure that unquiet, unscrupulous, and vainglorious ambition which has repeatedly drawn on France the resent- ment of Europe. It is not difficult to trace the progress of the sentiment which gradually possessed itself of William's whole soul. When he was little more than a boy, his countr\^ had been attacked by Louis in ostentatious defiance of justice and public law, had been overrun, had been desolated, had been given up to every' excess of rapacity, licentiousness, and cruelty. The Dutch had, in dismay, humbled themselves be- fore the conqueror, and had implored mercy. They had been told, in reply, that if they desired peace, they must resign their independence, and do annual homage to the house of Bourbon. The injured nation, driven to despair, had opened its dikes, and had called in the sea as an ally against the French tyranny. It was in the agony of that conflict, when peasants were flying in terror before the invaders, when hundreds of fair gardens and pleasure-houses were buried be- neath the waves, when the deliberations of the States were interrupted by the fainting and the loud weeping of ancient THE CHARACTER OF WILLIAM III 33 1 senators who could not bear the thought of surviving the freedom and glory of their native land, that William had been called to the head of affairs. For a time it seemed to him that resistance was hopeless. He looked round for succor, and looked in vain. Spain was unnerved, Germany distracted, England corrupted. Nothing seemed left to the young stadt- holder but to perish sword in hand, or to be the ^neas of a great emigration, and to create another Holland in coun- tries beyond the reach of the tyranny of France. No obstacle would then remain to check the progress of the house of Bourbon. . . . The feeling with which William regarded France explains the whole of his policy toward England. His public spirit was a European public spirit. The chief object of his care was not our island, not even his native Holland, but the great community of nations threatened with subjugation by one too powerful member. Those who commit the error of consider- ing him as an English statesman must necessarily see his whole life in a false light, and will be unable to discover any principle, good or bad, Whig or Tor/, to which his most important acts can be referred ; but when we consider him as a man whose especial task was to join a crowd of feeble, divided, and dispirited states in firm and energetic union against a common enemy, when we consider him as a man in whose eyes England was important chiefly because, with- out her, the great coalition which he projected must be in- complete, we shall be forced to admit that no long career recorded in history has been more uniform from the begin- ning to the close than that of this great prince. 02 READINGS IX ENGLISH HISTORY Nutnber ^g THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH E. E. Morris. The Age of Atme, pp. 27-30. The real hero of this [Anne's] reign, the successor of King Wilham in his poHcy of consistent opposition to France, was John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough. In this man were united the noblest and the meanest qualities, and it is there- fore difficult to form a just estimate of him. For our pur- pose it will be sufficient to pass very quickly over his earlier life, and to give a short sketch of his character. Fortunately for us, at this point in his career, " that great man is already shaking off the slough of his baser life." Marlborough, as a young man, was attached to the household of James, Duke of York, ... At the age of twenty-three he served in a campaign against the Dutch under the great Turenne, whose favourable notice he attracted. He rose quickly through the different military grades, and shortly after James's accession to the throne he commanded the English troops sent against the Pretender, Monmouth, whom he defeated at the battle of Sedgemoor. James wished him to become a Roman Catholic ; but from this step he shrank, and when afterwards the Revolu- tion took place, this proposal was the reason that he gave for his desertion. James, placing implicit trust in him, sent Churchill forward with troops against William's invading army. Instead of fighting William, he joined him. During William's reign he is, at the beginning, in positions of trust, but he himself does not seem certain as to his future, or genuine in his sympathy with the Revolution ; for, though he held high office under William, he yet intrigued with, the exiled James, probably wishing to be safe whichever side THE DUKE OF M ARTJ'.OROX'GIT 333 triumphed. William discovered his secret correspondence with the Jacobites, and dismissed him from all his employments. Marlborough boasted of having betrayed to James, and so to the French, the secret of an enterprise that the English were about to make against Brest ; which betrayal led to the failure of the attempt, and the loss of the commander with 800 men. Yet before William's death Marlborough was rec- onciled to him, and as we have seen was entrusted by him with the important office of governor to the young Duke of Glou- cester. It is also said that William, when contemplating the War of the Spanish Succession, designed that Marlborough should command the armies of the Grand Alliance. It will be evident, from the above sketch, that if we begin with Marlborough's bad qualities, that which taints all his character and all his actions is self-seeking, which did not hesitate to use even treachery as its instrument. Nor was his treachery only a willingness to shift allegiance. The genera- tion amongst which he had been brought up, which had seen the days of the Commonwealth, and of the restored Stuarts, and. finally, had consigned the Stuarts again to exile, must have held but lightly by the duty of allegiance. But Marl- borough's was no common treachery, no ordinar}' laxity of principles in high places. If others left James easily, grati- tude should have kept him, at least, by his side. The impart- ing of information of a military expedition to the rulers of a countr)' with which his own was at war can be excused by no blaze of glory ; nor can we palliate the sending of money to assist a rival to his sovereign's throne. The self-interest, which seems to have been the leading motive of conduct both in Marlboroufrh and in his wife, sometimes assumed the baser shape of an inordinate love of money. A nobleman, who was once mobbed by mistake for Marlborough in the time of his unpopularity, indulged in this sarcasm at his expense — " I will 334 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY easily convince you that I am not my Lord Marlborough. In the first place, .1 have only two guineas about me, and, in the second place, they are very much at your service." Marlborough even grudged a pension to a servant who had saved his life. Yet let no one imagine that Marlborough was altogether a bad man. His great vices tainted his public and his private life ; but he had qualities which went far to redeem these, and which enabled him to render almost priceless services to his country and to Europe. He was possessed of consum- mate military genius, and courage dauntless yet not rash. He was never defeated in any battle. He was always ready to expose himself to danger provided that it was necessary. He had, also, a virtue more useful than courage to soldier or to statesman — calm patience ; he showed no excitement in the heat of battle ; he was calm and serene in danger as in a drawing-room. Closely allied with this calmness was a suavity of mind and of manners, which fascinated the most critical judge. Marlborough was a singularly handsome man, gifted with a beautiful face and a most perfect figure. It has been said that his calmness proceeded, to a great extent, from a want of heart ; but his affection for his wife was so remark- able that he has often been taunted with being too much under her influence. If she wrote angrily to him, no success in war could make him happy until she had relented. More- over, as a general, Marlborough was remarkable for his hu- manity ; before the battle he would point out to the surgeons their stations, and would take measures to ensure the proper treatment of the wounded. No general was so courteous and considerate to his prisoners. Many a character has been written of Marlborough, varying from the strongest praise to the severest blame. It would seem the true course not to temper the praise with the blame, and produce a verdict that should be neither hot nor cold, THE ENGLAND OF QUEEN ANNE 335 but to adopt and combine the strong features from each account, and to leave it to the moral philosopher to decide how it came to pass, as it assuredly did, that one man could combine the blackest treachery and the greediest avarice with the courage, the calmness, and the sweetness of Marlborough. N timber 60 THE ENGLAND OF QUEEN ANNE E. E. Morris. TJie Age of Anne, chap, xxi, passim. . . . During the period from Queen Anne's time to our own the growth of manufactures has been continually drawing the people from the country into towns. If a line be drawn from the mouth of the Severn to the junction of Ouse and Trent, where the river H umber commences, one might say that, roughly speaking, it would now divide the manufacturing from the agricultural parts of the country, that with the ex- ception of London the great towns lie to the north and west of the line, and that the preponderance of political power rests with them. With equal confidence one might assert that in Queen Anne's time this line separated the important from the unimportant parts of England, all that lay to the north and west being comparatively unimportant. . . . The following may be regarded as a list of the chief English towns, after London, in the order of their impor- tance, during Queen Anne's reign : — Bristol, the chief sea- port ; Norwich, the largest manufacturing city ; York, the capital of the northern counties ; Exeter, the capital of the western district ; Shrewsbury, of the counties along the Welsh border, and well situated for intercourse with Wales; Worcester, in which the porcelain manufacture was beginning 336 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY to rise. To these would have to be added Derby, Notting- ham, Canterbury. The population of London was then about 700,000, that is, one-tenth of that of England and Wales. Modern London, ^ with all its suburbs, in the widest circuit that is called London, that is to say, the postal districts, covers a much larger area, and contains about 4,000,000 inhabitants. This makes it considerably more than one-tenth of the United Kingdom, and one-sixth of England and Wales, so that if the growth has been remarkable elsewhere, it has been portentous in London. The earlier growth had been noticed, and had caused concern to the Government. In the reign of Elizabeth, and under the Stuart kings, building had been prohibited. But it was found impossible to stop the growth of London ; it would have been as practicable to stop a tree from putting out its branches and its leaves. A great calamity befell London in the reign of Charles II. It was burnt down ; but far from checking the growth, this only made room for a fresh start. Here was an opportunity to build the city anew on a sys- tematic plan, and the Government of the day commissioned the greatest living architect, Sir Christopher W'ren, to draw up such a plan for the city. This can still be seen, with his own Cathedral of St. Paul's standing in a free space in the centre, broad wide streets leading from it, spacious squares at due intervals, wide and convenient quays along the banks of the Thames ; but, building in accordance with the plans not being strictly enforced, the opportunity was lost. London was built hastily after the fire, and many conven- iences which are now thought necessary, and which might have been supplied had a little more time been taken, were neglected. Not only were the streets narrow and irregular, but there was no arrangement for sewers, and there were no 1 1876. THE ENGLAND OF QUEEN ANNE 337 gutters to the streets. The pohce service also was very bad ; " the watch " was wholly insufficient in numbers, and was composed chiefly of old men. The streets were badly lighted of a night, and it was quiic easy for anyone bent on mischief to overpower the watch. Of course thieves and robbers availed themselves of the power ; but others also, who should have known better, took occasion not to rol) but to riot. Young men of birth and fashion used to form themselves into clubs, banded together for the sole purpose of creating disturbances. The most fashionable of these, the Mohawks, were a terror to all peace-loving citizens, their name being taken from the wild tribe of North American Indians. An ancient writer mentions it as a sign of progress in civilisation when men cease to wear swords. This stiige had not been reached in Queen Anne's reign, when the young bucks and dandies of society were always ready to draw their rapiers, and the honest citizens had to arm themselves with bludgeons. . . . The only art that really flourished in Oueen Anne's time was Architecture, and that because England happened to possess an architect of consummate genius. Sir Christopher Wren was a man of great attainments, being especially learned in astronomy and in mechanics, and one of the first members of the Royal Society founded in the reign of Charles II. He was as modest as he was learned, and perhaps would have been treated with more respect in that age if he had more firmly asserted his own rights. He was not especially educated for the profession of an architect, but when he was appointed king's surveyor he at once showed himself a master of the art. With all the architects of his day, he evidently preferred the classical st}lc. Before the Fire, he was asked to restore old St. Paul's, which was in the Gothic style, and he did add some towers to Westminster Abbey, which are amongst his least successful productions. Hut whilst the question of the 338 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY restoration of St. Paul's was being debated, and the battle of the styles being fought, the Great Fire put an end to the con- troversy. St. Paul's is Wren's greatest work. ... It was a dean of St. Paul's that wrote of the Cathedral : "' What eye, trained to all that is perfect in architecture, does not recog- nise the inimitable beauty of its lines, the majestic yet airy swelling of its dome, its rich, harmonious ornamentation ? " . . . The first stone was laid in Wren's presence, June 21, 1675, the nine years since the fire having been spent in making designs, and the highest stone of the lantern in the cupola was also set by his son in his presence in 17 10. It is rare in the history of great buildings, especially of cathedrals, that they should be finished in the lifetime of the original architect. Indeed, it was a marvel both on account of its cheapness, and because of the short time in which it was built. . . . The immense improvement in one city should be men- tioned, because it began within this period. Bath was known as a watering-place as long ago as the Roman occupation of Britain. It seems always to have preserved its reputation, but it was so uncomfortable that no one cared to stay there, unless for the purposes of health. In the first year of Queen Anne's reign a man of fashion — one Richard Nash, nick- named Beau Nash — paid it a visit, as some say, in order to replenish a purse emptied by gambling, as well as to mend health broken by dissipation. He at once set to work to in- crease the cheerfulness of the place, and to provide amuse- ment for those who resorted to it. His genius for organization was quickly recognised, and he was appointed Master of the Ceremonies in 1704. From that time, for a period of nearly fifty years, he may be described as king of Bath, whilst squares and terraces, pump-rooms and public buildings, rose almost like magic ; till under his auspices Bath became the THE ENGLAND OF QUEEN ANNE 339 well-ordered city that it now is, deserving, with its magnificent situation, the title of the queen of watering-places. . . . ... In Queen Anne's reign there were 1,330,000 paupers, or nearly one in five of the whole population. Men often complain, now-a-days, of the burden of pauperism ; but the proportion of paupers has very much diminished. In the year 1873 there were, in round numbers, 890,000. It is thought that this number is too large, and with discreet measures can, and will be reduced. Yet, this is only one in twenty-seven of the population. Side by side with this calcu- lation one must, however, place the cost. The paupers of Queen Anne's reign cost 900,000/. in the year, or about 14s. apiece, whilst the poor rate in 1873 amounted to 13,000,000/., or 14/. apiece. Now, the decrease in the value of money since that time is not nearly in the ratio of one to twenty. . . . There is no doubt that the value of money has consider- ably decreased since the reign of Anne, but it is not easy to find the exact figure by which our money should be mul- tiplied. It is said that the price of a sheep was ys., and of an ox 2 /. This would make meat rather less than a penny a pound. The same observer says that 2/. 55-. would keep a labouring man in food for a year. . . , Wages averaged about 10^. a day. The pay of a soldier was 8 d., whereas the F'rench soldier only had 2)d. A private in the present day receives I S.2 d., besides barrack-room, pension, and facilities for buying food cheaper. The labourer probably had better wages, but he had no facilities for saving beyond an old stocking. There were no investments open to him, and no savings banks. . . . The staple produce of England was corn. The population being so much smaller, and, at the same time, a larger part of it being employed in agriculture, the country was easily able to supply her own needs of wheat. 340 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY The second produce was wool. England had long been a wool-growing country ; her meadows were famous for the breed of sheep ; her chancellor sat upon the woolsack. But it had been the custom to send all the wool over to the Continent to be manufactured. Many English statesmen had regretted this, but the wool still went over. Then came small beginnings of the cloth manufacture in England, Edward III. had imported families of cloth-workers from the Netherlands ; and it is said that, in his reign, the name "worsted" was given to the yarn made from spun wool, after a small town of that name in Norfolk. In order to foster the manufacture in England, various statutes were made to encour- age the natives to exclude the foreign cloth : in 1 696 the latter was absolutely prohibited, and in the reign of Charles II. it had been decreed that everyone was to be buried in woollen cloth. In old church registers one may find the entry, " buried in wool." Further, Irish wool was prohibited, and not only Irish wool but Irish linen. Of course Englishmen could not complain when the same protective policy was re- peated in another country, and British as well as Irish woollen goods absolutely prohibited in France. Of the Eng- lish manufacture Leeds was already the centre, but it was a town of very different size from the Leeds of to-day. Its population is now thirty-seven times as large. But in our days the woollen manufacture is only the third of English manufactures — that of cotton being about two and a half times as large, and iron standing second. . . . Other manufactures were still very young. The coal fields were not largely worked, as coal was only required for domestic purposes. That from Newcastle-upon-Tyne was considered the best. Sheffield, famous for its "whittles " even in Chaucer's time, kept up its reputation for cutlery, though the manufacture was on a small scale. The French refugees who settled in THE ENGLAND OK QUEEN ANNE 341 England, and who vexed the Tories because their Protes- tantism was not that of the ICnghsh Church, introduced several valuable branches of manufacture ; silk weaving was the chief, but to these also must be added, glass, paper, and hats. All the gold and silver came into Europe from America, through Spain, entering by Cadiz, "' the golden gate of the Indies." There can be no doubt, as regards the standard of com- fort, that the English people were far beyond other European nations. Ambassadors wrote to express astonishment that the food was so good, that the consumption of beer, spirits, and foreign wine was so large, and that articles of luxury imported from distant lands were in such general use. An English writer of the time estimates, indeed, that only half the labouring class ate animal food more than twice a week, but in proportion to wages meat was much cheaper then than it is now. The consumption of beer seems enormous. It was calculated that in the year after the Revolution a quart a day was brewed for every man, woman, and child in England ; whereas the same calculation makes the amount in the present day sixty quarts per annum, or just one-sixth. It w^ould not be a fair conclusion that the English are now a more sober people because less beer is drunk, for a great deal that was brewed was very small beer. The majority of the English people have three meals a day — breakfast, dinner, and tea, and it is only at one of these that the larger por- tion ever touch beer. The choice then lay between wine or spirits, cider, beer, milk, or water. It is to two beverages that have since passed into common use, tea and coffee, that the diminution in the amount of beer is due. Tea, or as it was then always pronounced, tay, (And gentle Anna, whom three realms obey, Does sometimes counsel take and sometimes tea. — Pope.) 342 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY was first brought into England by the Dutch nearly a century earlier, but during the whole seventeenth century it was re- garded as a rare luxury. Mr. Pepys drank his first cup of tea on September 25, 1661, describing it as — "A China drink, of which I had never drunk before." . . . Coffee was making its way at the same time. Coffee was imported from the Levant, which it easily reached from Arabia, its home. It was first brought into England by a Cretan gentleman, who made it his common beverage at Balliol College, Oxford, in the year when the Long Parliament first met. Coffee became a social power earlier than tea. The Greek servant of an English Turkey merchant from Smyrna is said to have started the first coffee-house in Lon- don in the time of the Commonwealth. About the end of the seventeenth centur)^ coffee-houses were very common, and important as a means of social and political intercourse amongst men. They filled the place that is now filled by the London clubs. Some were chiefly political places of re- sort for only one party ; others, especially the famous Wills', in Covent Garden, were literary. Those who wished to see, to hear, or perhaps to bow to a prominent literary man, such as Dryden or Addison, would find him at the coffee- house. These houses had great influence in the formation of opinions. Men now-a-days often take their opinion from their club or their newspaper ; then they took it from the coffee-house. . . . As it was in the reign of Anne that parties began to assume the shape which they have kept almost to our own times, it seems advisable to consider the classes of society from which the two parties respectively drew their strength. One must premise that the great bulk of the English people belongs to no party, but, being as it were between the two, sways from one to the other, according as their sense of THE ENGLAND OF QUEEN ANNE 343 justice or the prejudices of passion may incline them. When the Long ParHament met, the bulk of the people were op- posed to the Court. Twenty years later at the Restoration they were as certainly for the Stuarts, and as surely at the Revolution against them. We may note also the sudden change in the queen's reign, when the same mob that had cheered Marlborough shouted for Dr. Sacheverell. The same reflection helps to explain sudden changes of our own as well as of other days. The strength of the Tories lay in the country rather than in the towns, in the small boroughs rather than in the large towns, in the agricultural rather than in the moneyed interest. The tenant farmers were mostly Tories. Almost all the clergy, and especially the country clerg}^, were to be found in the Tory ranks. As an extreme wing of the Tory clergy must be ranked the non-jurors, those who resigned place rather than take the oath of allegiance to William and Mary, a sect numerically unimportant, but comprising several men who were distinguished for learning and for piety. The Whigs were strong in the large towns, London being especially staunch to them. The merchants and bankers, as well as most of the small free-holders in the countrv, were Whigs. A good many of the lords and of the bishops be- longed to that party ; but this was because the former had been created, and the latter appointed, by King William. To these must be added the whole body of the Dissenters, who were estimated to amount to 4 per cent, of the population. As the Universities were the recruiting ground of the clerg}% we should expect that the Tory party would be strong in thcni. It was, however, much stronger at Oxford than at Cambridge. Shortly after the accession of George L, at the time of the rising for the old Pretender, it was found neces- sary to send soldiers down to Oxford to keep order. At the 344 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY same time the king happened to be sending a present of books to her sister University. An Oxford epigram was written — The king observing, with judicious eyes, The state of both his universities, To Oxford sent a troop of horse ; and why ? That learned body wanted loyalty ; To Cambridge books he sent, as well discerning How much that loyal body wanted learning. A Cambridge man repHed — The king to Oxford sent a troop of horse, For Tories own no argument but force ; With equal skill to Cambridge books he sent, For Whigs admit no force but argument. There was a great difference between the clergy of the towns and of the country ; the London clergy, especially, were often men of mark. But the great majority of the clergy were both in learning and in social position far below the standard of the present day. It was estimated that not one benefice in forty was worth lOO /. a year, so that the " pass- ing rich on 40/. a year," of Goldsmith's poem would not then have excited the smile that it now does ; and as the Church of England wisely allows its clergy to marry, there was very general misery and distress amongst their families. ... In the times before the Reformation it had been the practice to give to the Pope first-fruits and tithes, that is, the whole of the first year's revenue, and a tithe of all later years. When Henry VIII. pillaged the Church this revenue was seized by the Crown, and Burnet's suggestion was to apply this fund to the improvement of the livings of the poorer clergy. It is still called Queen Anne's bounty. CAUSES OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION 345 Number 61 THE CAUSES OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION James K. Hosmer. Samuel Adams, pp. 25-32. American Statesmen Series. The prevailing tone of American writers, who, as histo- rians or biographers, have treated the Revolutionary strug- gle, has been that the case against the British government was a perfectly plain one, that its conduct was aggression in no way to be justified or palliated, and as blundering as it was wicked. An illustrious Englishman, E. A. Free- man, however, has just written : " In the War of Independ- ence there is really nothing of which either side need be ashamed. Each side acted as it was natural for each side to act. We can now see that both King George and the British nation were quite wrong ; but for them to have acted otherwise than they did would have needed a super- human measure of wisdom, which few kings and few nations ever had." Our Fourth of July orators may well assume a tone some- what less confident, when thoughtful men in England, not at all ill-disposed toward America, and not at all blind to the blunders and crimes which strew the course of English his- tory, pass even now^, after a hundred years, such a judgment as this which has been quoted. A candid American student, admire as he may the wisdom and virtue of our Revolution- ary fathers, is compelled to admit, in this calmer time, that it was by no means plain sailing for King George and his ministers, and that they deserve something better from us than the unsparing obloquy which for the most part they have received. 346 READINGS IN ENCxLISH HISTORY The love of the colonists toward England had become estranged in other ways than by " taxation without represen- tation." In Massachusetts, the destruction of the theocracy through the new charter was a severe shock to puritan feel- ing. The enforced toleration of all sects but papists was a constant source of wrath ; and when, as the eighteenth cen- tury advanced, the possibility of the introduction of bishops and a church establishment appeared, a matter which was most persistently and unwisely urged, there was deep-seated resentment. But another stone of offense, which, unlike the fear of prelacy, affected all America as well as New England, and was therefore very important, existed in the trade regulations. By the revolution of 1688, the royal power in England was restrained, but that of Parliament and the mercantile and manufacturing classes greatly increased. The " Board of Trade " was then constituted, to whom were committed the interests of commerce and a general oversight of the colonies. Adam Smith ^ was still in the far future, and the policy con- stantly pursued was neither humane nor wise. We may judge of the temper of the Board from the fact that even John Locke, its wisest and one of its most influential members, solemnly advised William to appoint a captain-general over the colonies with dictatorial power, and the whole Board recommended, in 1701, a resumption of the colonial charters and the introduction of such " an administration of govern- ment as shall make them duly subservient to England." The welfare of the colonies was systematically sacrificed to the aggrandizement of the gains of English manufacturers and merchants. Sometimes the provisions turned out to the 1 Adam Smith was a famous political economist of the eighteenth century, who taught that freedom of production and exchange of goods worked greater benefit to all concerned than a policy of restriction. CAUSES OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION 347 advantage of the colonists, but more frequently there was oppression without any compensating good. Restrictions, designed for securing to the mother-country a monopoly of the colonial trade, crushed out every industry that could compete with those of England. For such products as they were permitted to raise, the colonies had no lawful market but England, nor could they buy anywhere, except in England, the most important articles which they needed. With the French West India islands a most profitable inter- course had sprung up, the colonists shipping thither lumber and provisions, and receiving in return sugar and molasses, the consumption of which latter article, in the wide-spread manufacture of rum, was ver)' large. In 1733 was passed the famous " Sugar Act," the design of which was to help the British West Indies at the expense of the northern colonies, and by which all the trade with the French islands became unlawful, so that no legitimate source of supply remained open but the far less convenient English islands. The restrictions, indeed, were not and could not be enforced. Every sailor was a smuggler ; every colonist knew more or less of illicit traffic or industry. The demoralization came to pass which always results when a community, even with good reason, is full of law-breakers, and the disposition became constantly more and more unfriendly toward the mother country. Said Arthur Young : " Nothing can be more idle than to say that this set of men, or the other administration, or that great minister, occasioned the American war. It was not the Stamp Act, nor the repeal of the Stamp Act ; it was neither Lord Rockingham nor Lord North, — but it was that baleful spirit of commerce that wished to govern great nations on the maxims of the counter." The Board of Trade, however, the main source of the long series of acts by which the English dependencies were 348 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY systematically repressed, should receive execration not too severe. They simply were not in advance of their age. When, after 1688, the commercial spirit gained an ascendency quite new in England, the colonists, far off, litde known, and de- spised, were pitched upon as fair game, if they could be made to yield advantage. In so using them, the men in power were only showing what has so often passed as patriotism, that mere expansion of selfishness, inconsistent with any broad Christian sentiment, which seeks wealth and might for the state at the expense of the world outside. It was inhumanity from which the world is rising, it may be hoped, — for which it would be wrong to blame those men of the past too harshly. The injustice, however, as always, brought its penalty ; and in this case the penalty was the utter estrangement of the hearts of a million of Englishmen from the land they had once loved, and the ultimate loss of a continent. Before the Massachusetts settlement, it had been stipulated in the charter that all the colonists were to have the rights and privileges of Englishmen, and this provision they often cited. Magna Charta was but a confirmation of what had stood in and before the time of Edward the Confessor, — the primi- tive freedom, indeed, which had prevailed in the German woods. This had been again and again re-confirmed. Docu- ments of Edward I. and Edward III., the Petition of Right of 1628, the Bill of Rights of 1689, had given such re-confir- mations ; and the descendants of the twenty thousand Puritans, who, coming over between 1620 and 1640, had been the seed from which sprung the race of New Englanders, knew these things in a general way. They were to the full as in- telligent in perceiving what were the rights of Englishmen, and as tenacious in upholding them, as any class that had remained in the old home. Left to themselves for sixty years, there was little need of an assertion of rights ; but CAUSES OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTIOX 349 when at last interference began from across the water, it was met at the outset by protest. ParHamcnt is a thousand leagues oi stormy sea away from us, said they. That body cannot judge us well ; most of all, our representatives have no place in it. We owe allegiance to the king indeed, but in- stead of Parliament, our General Court shall tax and make- laws for us. Such claims, often asserted, though overruled, were not laid aside, and at length in 1766 we find Franklin asserting them as the opinion of America at the bar of the House of Commons. It cannot, however, be said that New England was con- sistent here. In 1757, for instance, the authority of Parlia- ment was distinctly admitted by the General Court of Massachusetts ; so too in 1 76 1 ; and even so late as 1 768, it is admitted "that his Majesty's high court of Parliament is the supreme legislative power over the whole empire." The sum and substance is that as to the constitutional rights of the colonists, the limits were, in particulars, quite undetermined, both in the minds of English statesmen, and also among the colonists themselves. What " the privileges and rights of Englishmen " were was not always clearly out- lined, and the student finds sometimes more, sometimes less, insisted on, according as the temper toward the old world is embittered, or good-natured. As events progress, through fear of prelatical contrivings and through bad trade regula- tions, as has been seen, the tone becomes more and more exasperated. On the one side the spirit becomes constantly more independent ; on the other side, the claims take on a new shade of arrogance. When the first decided steps toward the Revolution occur in 1764, in the agitations connected with the Stamp Act, the positions in general of the parties in the dispute may be set down as follows : " Parliament asserted the right to make laws to bind the colonies in all 350 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY cases whatsoever ; the colonies claimed that there should be no taxation without representation, and that, since they had no representatives in Parliament, they were beyond its jurisdiction." JVujnber 62 WILLIAM PITT THE ELDER William Edward Hartpole Lecky. Histoiy of Eitgland in the Eight- eenth Ceittnry, Vol. II, pp. 508-563, /«jj/w. We may here, then, conveniently pause to examine in some detail the character and policy of this most remarkable man, [William Pitt] who, in spite of many and glaring defects, was undoubtedly one of the noblest, as he was one of the greatest, who have ever appeared in English politics. There have, per- haps, been English statesmen who have produced on the whole greater and more enduring benefits to their countr}^ than the elder Pitt, and there have certainly been some whose careers have exhibited fewer errors and fewer defects ; but there has been no other statesman whose fame has been so dazzling and so universal, or concerning whose genius and character there has been so little dispute. As an orator, if the best test of eloquence be the influence it exercises on weighty matters upon a highly cultivated assembly, he must rank wdth the ver)' greatest who have ever lived. His speeches appear, indeed, to have exhibited no pathos, and not much wit ; he was not like his son, skilful in elaborate statements ; nor like Fox, an exhaustive debater ; nor like Burke, a profound phi- losopher ; nor like Canning, a great master of sparkling fancy and of playful sarcasm ; but he far surpassed them all in the blasting inry of his invective, in the force, fire, and majesty of a declamation which thrilled and awed the most fastidious WITJJ\^r vvvT ttik f.t,1)kr 351 audience, in the burning and piercing power with which he could imprint his views upon the minds of his hearers. . . . He possessed every personal advantage that an orator could desire — a singularly graceful and imposing form, a voice .of wonderful compass and melody, which he modulated with consummate skill ; an eye of such piercing brightness and such commanding power that it gave an air of inspiration to his speaking, and added a peculiar terror to his invective. The weight and dignity of a great character and a great intel- lect appeared in all he said, and a certain sustained loftiness of diction and of manner kept him continually on a higher level than his audience, and imposed respect upon the most petulant opposition. . . . . . . The anecdotes preserved of the ascendency he acquired, and of the terror he inspired in the great councils of the realm, are so wonderful, and indeed so unparalleled, that they would be incredible were they not most abundantly attested. ' The terrible,' said Charles Butler, ' was his peculiar power ; then the whole House sank before him.' ' His words,' said Lord Lyttelton, ' have sometimes frozen my young blood into stagnation, and sometimes made it pace in such a hurry through my veins that I could scarce support it.' ' No male- factor under the stripes of an executioner,' said Glover, ' was ever more forlorn and helpless than Fox appeared under the lash of Pitt's eloquence, shrew^d and able in Parliament as Fox confessedly is.' Fox himself, in one of his letters, describes a debate on a contested election, in which the member, who was accused of bribery, carried with him all the sympathies of the House, and kept it in a continual roar of laughter by a speech full of wit, humour, and buffoonery. 'Mr. Pitt came down from the gallery and took it up in his highest tone of dignity. " He was astonished when he heard what had been the occasion of their mirth. Was the dignity 352 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY of the House of Commons on such sure foundations that they might venture themselves to shake it ? Had it not on the contrary been diminishing for years, till now we are brought to the very brink of a precipice, when, if ever, a stand must be made." Then followed high compliments to the Speaker, eloquent exhortations to Whigs of all conditions to defend their attacked and expiring liberty, "unless you will degen- erate into a little assembly, serving no other purpose than to register the arbitrary edicts of one too powerful a subject." . . . Displeased as well as pleased allow it to be the finest speech that was ever made ; and it was observed that by his first two periods he brought the House to a silence and attention that you might have heard a pin drop.' On two occasions a mem- ber who attempted to answer him was so disconcerted by his glance, or by a few fierce words which he uttered, that he sat down confused and paralysed with fear. Charles Butler asked a member who was present on one of these occasions 'if the House did not laugh at the ridiculous figure of the poor member .'' ' ' No sir,' he replied, ' we were all too much awed to laugh.' No speaker ever took greater liberties with his audience. Thus, when George Grenville in one of his speeches was urging in defence of a tax the difficulty of dis- covering a substitute : ' Tell me where it should be placed ; I say, tell me where ? ' he was interrupted by Pitt humming aloud the refrain of a popular song, ' Tell me, gentle shep- herd, where .? ' ' If, gentlemen, . . .' began Grenville, when Pitt rose, bowed, and walked contemptuously out of the House. ' Sugar, Mr. Speaker,' he once began, when a laugh arose. ' Sugar,' he repeated three times, turning fiercely round, " who will now dare to laugh at sugar .? ' and the members, like timid school-boys, sank into silence. . . . If we pass from the oratory of Pitt to his character, we must speak with much more qualification. His faults were, WILLIAM PITT THE ELDER 35 JDo indeed, many and very grave, but they were redeemed by some splendid qualities which dazzled his contemporaries, and have perhaps exercised a somewhat disproportionate influ- ence upon the judgments of posterity. He was entirely free from all taint or suspicion of corruption. Entering public life at a time when the standard of political honour was extremely low, having, it is said, at first a private fortune of not more than 100/. a year, and being at the same time almost desti- tute of parliamentary connection, conscious of the possession of great administrative powers, and intensely desirous of office, he exhibited in all matters connected with money the most transparent and fastidious purity. . . . . . . Pitt was not a very young man when he came into Parliament ; he was forty-six at the time of the death of Pelham ; and his conduct exhibited far graver defects than mere violence, impatience, or inconsistency. . . . He was at the same time singularly theatrical and affected. His speeches owed much of their charm to the most con- summate acting, and he carried his histrionic turn into every .sphere in which he moved. As Goldsmith said of Garrick, he never seemed natural except when acting. In his inter- course with his most intimate friends, in the most confiden- tial transaction of business, he was always strained and formal, assuming postures, studying effects and expressions. His dress, his sling, his crutch, were all carefully arranged for the most private interview. His under secretaries were never suffered to sit in his presence. His letters — whether he was addressing a minister on affairs of state, or exhorting his young nephew to guard against the ungracefulness of laughter — were tumid, formal, and affected. He told Lord Shelburne that, even independently of considerations of health, he would always, for reasons of policy, live a few miles out of town. He performed many noble and disinterested acts, but 354 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY he seldom lost sight of the effect they might produce. He performed them with an elaborate ostentation ; and simplicity, modesty, and unobtrusive excellence were wholly alien to his character. It is said of him that in his family circle he de- lighted in reading out the tragedies of Shakespeare, which he did with great pathos and power ; but whenever he came to any light or comic parts, he immediately stopped and gave the book to some member of his family to read. This anec- dote is characteristic of his whole life. He never unbent. He was always acting a part, always self-conscious, always aiming at a false and unreal dignity. . . . But yet with all his faults he was a very great man — far surpassing both in mental and moral altitude the other poli- ticians of his generation. As a war minister his greatness was beyond question, and almost beyond comparison. At very few periods of English history was the aspect of affairs more gloomy than at the beginning of the second ministry of Pitt. The country seemed hopelessly overmatched ; the public services had fallen into anarchy or decrepitude, and a general languor and timidity had overspread all departments. The wild panic that had lately passed through England upon the rumour of an invasion showed how little confidence she felt in her security, while the loss of Minorca had discredited her in the eyes of the world, and annihilated both her com- merce with the Levant and her supremacy in the Mediter- ranean. In America, General Loudon, with a large force, made an expedition in July 1757 against Louisburg ; but it was conducted with great timidity and hesitation, and on the arrival of a French fleet was somewhat ignominiously abandoned, while the French carried on the war with energy and success upon the borders of Lake George. In spite of English cruisers they succeeded in the beginning of 1757 in pouring reinforcements into Canada, while French squadrons WILLIAM I'ITT THE ELDER 355 swept the sea around the West Indies and the coasts of Africa. Nearer home an expedition against Rochefort, which was one of the first enterprises of Pitt, failed through tlie irresolution of Sir John Mordaunt. On the Continent the league against Frederick and against Hanover seemed overwhelming, and it appeared as if the struggle could not be greatly prolonged. . . . Pitt had, however, just confidence in himself. ' I am sure,' he said on one occasion to the Duke of Devonshire, ' that I can save the country, and that no one else can.' If he did not possess to a high degree the skill of a great strategist in detecting the vulnerable parts of his opponents and in map- ping out brilliant campaigns, he had at least an eagle eye for discovering talent and resolution among his subordinates, a rare power of restoring the vigour of every branch of admin- istration, and above all a capacity unrivalled among states- men of reviving the confidence and the patriotism of the nation, and of infusing an heroic daring into all who served him. 'No man,' said Colonel Barre, "ever entered his closet who did not come out of it a braver man.' He came into power at the end of June 1757, and disasters, largely due to the incapacity of his predecessors, and especially to the long period of administrative anarchy that had just taken place, threw a deep shade over the first months of his power. . . . In America events were taking place of far greater im- portance to England. In spite of the immense preponder- ance of numbers on the side of the English, the balance of success in the first years of the war had been clearly with the French. . . . But Pitt, on attaining to power, at once made it one of his main objects to drive them from America. He urgently appealed to the colonists to raise 20,000 men for the cause. The Crown was to provide 356 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY arms, ammunition, tents, and provisions. The colonies were to raise, clothe, and pay the levies, but for this expense he promised a parliamentary reimbursement, and this promise induced the colonists to make all the efforts that were required. General Loudon, the English commander-in-chief, was recalled, and replaced by General Abercrombie. Disre- garding all claims of mere seniority, and looking only for skill, courage, and enterprise, the minister placed Wolfe and Howe, who were still quite young men, and Amherst, who was but just forty, in important commands. A power- ful fleet was sent out under the command of Boscawen for an attack upon Louisburg ; the English had soon nearly 50,000 men under arms, and of these about 22,000 were regular troops, while the regular troops on the side of France were less than 5,000. Supplies were cut off by the fleet, and the French Government at home made scarcely a serious effort to support their colonists. Under such circumstances the war could have but one end. In 1758 Louisburg, with the whole of Cape Breton, was taken ; and in another quarter Fort Duquesne, which had borne so great a part in the first events of the war, was compelled to surrender, but the French repulsed with great loss an English attack upon Ticonderoga, and Lord Howe lost his life in the battle. In 1759 Ticonderoga, Crown Point, and Niagara were captured in swift succession, and soon after, a desperate struggle in which both sides displayed splendid courage, and in which both Wolfe and Montcalm found a glorious end, planted the flag of England on the heights of Quebec. In 1760 the French gained one last victory at Sillery and even laid siege to Quebec, but they were soon obliged to retire ; the con- quest was completed by the surrender of Montreal, with the last French army ; and the whole of Canada passed under the English rule. . . . WILLIAM PITT THK ELDER 357 The administration of Pitt had httle or nothing to say to the victories of Chvc, but it contributed much by its prompt reinforcements, and by the expeditions which detained the French troops in their own country, to the triumph of Coote in Madras. On the other hand the rumours of great victories in a distant and almost unknown land inflamed the imagina- tions and strengthened the enthusiasm of the nation. At the close of 1758 there were no less than 24,000 French prisoners captive in England, an army of nearly 95,000 British and 7,000 foreign troops had been voted, and above twelve millions had been raised for the ensuing year. Yet there were no signs of flagging or discontent. The intoxica- tion of glory had made the nation indifferent to sacrifice, and the spell which the great minister had thrown over his fellow- countrymen was unbroken. It was noticed that, unlike all previous statesmen, he seemed to take a strange pleasure in rather exaggerating than attenuating the pecuniary sacrifices he demanded, and his eloquence and his personal ascendency almost silenced opposition. . . . Very judiciously, however, he left to others the burden and the odium of financial measures and of parliamentary management, and identified himself only with those military enterprises which he under- stood so well. ' Ignorant of the whole circle of finance,' wrote an acute observer, ' he kept aloof from all details, drew magnificent plans, and left others to find the magnificent means. Disdaining to descend into the operations of an oflftce which he did not fill, he affected to throw on the Treasury the execution of measures which he dictated. . . . Secluded from all eyes, his orders were received as oracles. Their suc- cess was imputed to his inspiration — misfortunes and mis- carriages fell to the account of the more human agents.' . . . Although he cannot be said to have carried a single definite measure increasing the power of the people, or 358 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY diminishing the corrupt influence of the Crown or of the aristocracy, it may be said, without a paradox, that he did more for the popular cause than any statesman since the gen- eration that effected the Revolution. With very little parlia- mentary connection, and with no favour from royalty, he became, by the force of his abilities, and by the unbounded popularity which he enjoyed, the foremost man of the nation. In him the people for the first time felt their power. He was essentially their representative, and he gloried in avow- ing it. He declared, even before the Privy Council, that he had been called to office by the voice of the people, and that he considered himself accountable to them alone. The great towns, and especially London, constantly and warmly sup- ported him ; and though his popularity was sometimes for a short time eclipsed, it was incomparably greater than that of any previous statesman. In our day, such popularity, united with such abilities, would have enabled a statesman to defy all opposition. In the days of Pitt it was not so, and he soon found himself incapable of conducting government without the assistance of the borough patronage of the aris- tocracy, or of resisting the hostility of the Crown. But although he was not omnipotent in politics, the voice of the people at least made him so powerful that no Govern- ment was stable when he opposed it, and that all parties sought to win him to their side. This was a new fact in par- liamentary history, and it marks a great step in the progress of democracy. His influence was also very great in raising the moral tone of public life. His transparent and somewhat ostentatious purity formed a striking contrast to the prevailing spirit of English politics, and the power and persistence with which he appealed on every occasion to the higher and unselfish motives infused a new moral energ}' into the nation. . , . THE WAR Willi AMERICA 359 ... By Wesley in the sphere of reHgion, by Pitt in the sphere of politics, the tone of thought and feeling was changed, and this is perhaps the aspect of the career of Pitt which possesses the most abiding interest and impor- tance. The standard of political honour was perceptibly raised. It was felt that enthusiasm, disinterestedness, and self-sacrifice had their place in politics ; and although there was afterwards, for short periods, extreme corruption, public opinion never acquiesced in it again. Number 6j THE WAR WITH AMERICA William Pitt, Earl of Chatham. Excerpts from speech delivered in the House of Lords, November 18, 1777. Chauncey A. Goodrich, Select British Eloqitoice, pp. 134-138. For the author, see Number 62, above. I rise, my Lords, to declare my sentiments on this most solemn and serious subject. It has imposed a load upon my mind, which, I fear, nothing can remove, but which impels me to endeavor its alleviation, by a free and unreserved communication of my sentiments. . . . . . . The desperate stiite of our arms abroad is in ])art known. No man thinks more highly of them than 1 do. I love and honor the English troops. I know tluir virtues and their valor. I know they can achieve anything e.xcept impossi- bilities ; and I know that the conquest of English America is an impossibility. You can not, I venture to sa)- it, you can not conquer America. Your armies last war effected every- thing tliat could be effected ; and what was it .' It cost a nu- merous army, under the command of a most able general [Lord Amherst], now a noble Lord in this House, a long 36o READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY and laborious campaign, to expel five thousand Frenchmen from French America, My Lords, yoii can not conquer America. What is your present situation there ? We do not know the worst ; but we know that in three campaigns we have done nothing and suffered much. Besides the suffer- ings, perhaps total loss of the Northern force, the best ap- pointed army that ever took the field, commanded by Sir William Howe, has retired from the American lines. He zvas obliged to relinquish his attempt, and with great delay and danger to adopt a new and distant plan of operations. We shall soon know, and in any event have reason to lament, what may have happened since. As to conquest, therefore, my Lords, I repeat, it is impossible. You may swell every expense and ever)' effort still more extravagantly ; pile and accumulate every assistance you can buy or borrow ; traffic and barter with every little pitiful German prince that sells and sends his subjects to the shambles of a foreign prince ; your efforts are forever vain and impotent — doubly so from this mercenary aid on which you rely ; for it irritates, to an incurable resentment, the minds of your enemies, to overrun them with the mercenar)' sons of rapine and plunder, devot- ing them and their possessions to the rapacity of hireling cruelty ! If I were an American, as I am an Englishman, while a foreign troop was landed in my country, I never would lay down my arms — never — never — never. Your own army is infected with the contagion of these illiberal allies. The spirit of plunder and of rapine is gone forth among them. I know it ; and, notwithstanding what the noble Earl [Lord Percy] who moved the address has given as his opinion of the American army, I know from authentic information, and the most experienced officers, that our discipline is deeply wounded. While this is notori- ously our sinking situation, America grows and flourishes ; THE WAR Win I AMKRICA 361 while our .strcn<:^h and discipline are lowered, hers are rising and improving. But, my Lords, who is the man that, in addition to these disgraces and mischiefs of our army, has dared to authorize and associate to our arms the tomahawk and scalping-knife of the savage ? to call into civilized alliance the wild and inhuman savage of the woods ; to delegate to the merciless Indian the defense of disputed rights, and to wage the hor- rors of his barbarous war against our brethren ? My Lords, these enormities cry aloud for redress and punishment. Unless thoroughly done away, it will be a stain on the national char- acter. It is a violation of the Constitution. I believe it is against law. It is not the least of our national misfortunes that the strength and character of our army are thus impaired. Infected with the mercenary spirit of robbery and rapine ; familiarized with the horrid scenes of savage cruelty, it can no longer boast of the noble and generous principles which dignify a soldier ; no longer sympathize with the dignity of the royal banner, nor feel the pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war, " that make ambition virtue ! " What makes ambition virtue ? — the sense of honor. But is the sense of honor consistent with a spirit of plunder, or the practice of murder ? Can it flow from mercenary motives, or can it prompt to cruel deeds .? Besides these murderers and plun- derers, let me ask our ministers, What other allies have they acquired? What othci' powers have they associated to their cause ."* Have they entered into alliance with the king of the gipsies ? Nothing, my Lords, is too low or too ludicrous to be consistent with their counsels. The independent views of America have been stated and asserted as the foundation of this address. My Lords, no man wishes for the due dependence of America on this country more than I do. To preserve it, and not confirm that state 362 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY of independence into which j^z/rm^rtj-^/^rj hitherto have driven them, is the object which we ought to unite in attaining. The Americans, contending for their rights against arbi- trary exactions, I love and admire. It is the struggle of free and virtuous patriots. But, contending for independency and total disconnection from England, as an Englishman, I can- not wish them success ; for in a due constitutional dependency, including the ancient supremacy of this countr}' in regulating their commerce and navigation, consists the mutual happiness and prosperity both of England and America. ... I would participate to them every enjoyment and freedom which the colonizing subjects of a free state can possess, or wish to possess ; and I do not see why they should not enjoy every fundamental right in their property, and every original sub- stantial liberty, which Devonshire, or Surrey, or the county I live in, or any other county in England, can claim ; reserv- ing always, as the sacred right of the mother country, the due constitutional dependency of the colonies. The inherent supremacy of the state in regulating and protecting the navi- gation and commerce of all her subjects, is necessary for the mutual benefit and preservation of every part, to constitute and preserve the prosperous arrangement of the whole empire. . . . You can not conciliate America by your present measures. You can not subdue her by your present or by any measures. What, then, can you do > You can not conquer ; you can not gain ; but you can address; you can lull the fears and anxie- ties of the moment into an ignorance of the danger that should produce them. But, my Lords, the time demands the language of truth. We must not now apply the flattering unction of servile compliance or blind complaisance. In a just and necessary war, to maintain the rights or honor of my country, I would strip the shirt from my back to support it. But in such a w-ar as this, unjust in its principle, impracticable THE WAR WITH AMERICA 363 in its means, and ruinous in its consequences, I would not contribute a single effort nor a single shilling. I do not call for vengeance on the heads of those who have been guilty ; I only recommend to them to make their retreat. Let them walk off ; and let them make haste, or they may be assured that speedy and condign punishment will overtake them. . . . My Lords, to encourage and confirm that innate inclination to this country, founded on every principle of affection, as well as consideration of interest ; to restore that favorable disposition into a permanent and powerful reunion with this country ; to revive the mutual strength of the empire ; again to awe the house of l^ourbon, instead of meanly truckling, as our present calamities compel us, to every insult of French caprice and Spanish punctilio ; to re-establish our commerce ; to reassert our rights and our honor ; to confirm our interests, and renew our glories forever — a consummation most de- voutly to be endeavored ! and which, I trust, may yet arise from reconciliation with America — I have the honor of sub- mitting to you the following amendment, which I move to be inserted after the two first paragraphs of the address : "And that this House does most humbly advise and supplicate his Majesty to be pleased to cause the most speedy and effectual measures to be taken for restoring peace in America; and that no time may be lost in proposing an immediate cessation of hostilities there, in order to the opening of a treaty for the final settlement of the tranquillity of these invaluable provinces, by a removal of the unhappy causes of this ruinous civil war, and by a just and adequate security against the return of the like calamities in times to come. And this House desire to offer the most dutiful assurances to his Majesty, that they will, in due time, cheerfully co-operate with the magnanimity and tender goodness of his Majesty for the preservation of his people, by such explicit and most solemn declarations, and provisions of fundamental and irrevocable laws, as may be judged necessary for the ascertaining and fixing forever the respective rights of Great Britain and her colonies." 364 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Nimiber 64. SALE OF SEATS IN PARLIAMENT (EIGHTEENTH CENTURY) Sir Samuel Rom illy. Me?noirs,\o\. II, pp. 200-202. Edward P. Cheyney, Headings in English History, pp. 643-645. Sir Samuel Romilly was one of the most high-minded, patriotic, and use- ful public men of his time. What he tells in his journal of his difficulty in obtaining and keeping a seat in the House of Commons . . . throws a strong light on the bad methods of election of members of parliament, on its fail- ure to represent the people of the country, and on the opportunities for corruption it offered. These extracts refer to a period somewhat later than 1784, when Pitt strove to introduce the reform of parliament, but the con- ditions were just the same at that time, and in fact had long been so, and remained unchanged well into the nineteenth century. I shall procure myself a seat in the new parliament, unless I find that it will cost so large a sum, as, in the state of my family, it would be very imprudent for me to devote to such an object, which I find is very likely to be the case. Tierney, who manages this business for the friends of the late ad- ministration, assures me that he can hear of no seats to be disposed of. After a parliament which has lived little more than four months, one would naturally suppose that those seats which are regularly sold by the proprietors of them would be very cheap ; they are, however, in fact, sold now at a higher price than was ever given for them before. Tierney tells me that he has offered ;^ 10,000 for the two seats of Westbury, the property of the late Lord Abingdon, and which are to be made the most of by trustees for creditors, and has met with a refusal. ^^6000 and ;^5 500 have been given for seats with no stipulation as to time, or against the event of a speedy dissolution by the king's death or by any change of administration. SALE OF SEATS IN PARLIAMENT 365 The truth is, that the new ministers have bought up all the seats that were to be disposed of, and at any prices. Amongst others, Sir C. H. , the great dealer in boroughs, has sold all he had to ministers. With what money all this is done I know not, but it is supposed that the king, who has greatly at heart to preserve this new administration, the favorite objects of his choice, has advanced a ver}^ large sum out of his privy purse. This buying of seats is detestable ; and yet it is almost the only way in which one in my situation, who is resolved to be an independent man, can get into parliament. To come in by a popular election, in the present state of the represen- tation, is quite impossible ; to be placed there by some great lord, and to vote as he shall direct, is to be in a state of complete dependence ; and nothing hardly remains but to owe a seat to the sacrifice of a part of one's fortune. It is true tliat many men who buy scats do it as a matter of pecuniar)^ speculation, as a profitable way of employing their money : they carry on a political trade ; they buy their seats and sell their votes. For m)self, I can truly say that, by giving money for a seat, I shall make a sacrifice of my private property, merely that I may be enabled to serve the public. I know what danger there is of men's disguising from themselves the real motives of their action ; but it really does appear to me that it is from this motive alone that I act. After almost despairing of being able to get any seat in parliament, my friend Piggott has at last procured me one ; and the duke of Norfolk has consented to bring me in for Horsham. It is, however, but a precarious seat. I shall be returned, as I shall have a majority of \-otes, which the late committee of the House of Commons decided to be good ones ; but there will be a petition against the return, by the candidates who will stand on Lady Irwin's interest, and it is extremely doubtful what will be the event of the petition. . . . -66 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY The terms upon which I have my seat at Horsham will be best explained by a letter I wrote to Piggott to-day after the election was over, and which I am glad to keep a copy of. It is (at least so much of it as relates to this subject) in these words : "' Though there is no danger that I should have mis- understood you, yet it may be as well to say, while it is fresh in both our recollections, what I understand to be the extent of my engagement. If I keep the seat, either by the decision of a committee upon a petition, or by a compromise (the duke and Lady Irwin returning one member each, in which case it is understood that I am to be the member who con- tinues), I am to pay ;^2000 ; if, upon a petition, I lose the seat, I am not to be at any expense." Nitmbcr 6§ THE BATTLE OF TRAFALGAR Robert Southey. Life of N'ehon, pp. 360-383,/^.?.?/;;/. Robert Southey was a contemporary of Nelson. This account of the battle of Trafalgar was written while the incidents of the struggle were still fresh in men's minds. ... At daybreak the combined fleets were distincdy seen from the Victory s deck, formed in a close line of battle ahead, on the starboard tack, about twelve miles to leeward, and stand- ing to the south. Our fleet consisted of twenty-seven sail of the line and four frigates ; theirs of thirty-three and seven large frigates. Their superiority was greater in size and weight of metal than in numbers. They had four thousand troops on board ; and the best riflemen who could be procured, many of them Tyrolese, were dispersed through the ships. Little did the Tyrolese, and little did the Spaniards, at that day, THE BATTLE C)V TRAFALGAR 367 imagine what horrors the wicked tyrant whom they served was preparing for their country. Soon after dayhght Nelson came upon deck. The 2 1 st of October was a festival in his family, because on that day his uncle, Captain Suckling, in the Dreadtwught, with two other line-of-battle ships, had beaten off a French squadron of four sail of the line and three frigates. Nelson, with that sort of superstition from which few persons are entirely exempt, had more than once expressed his persuasion that this was to be the day of his battle also ; and he was well pleased at seeing his prediction about to be verified. The wind was now from the west, light breezes, with a long heavy swell. Signal was made to bear down upon the enemy in two lines ; and the fleet set all sail. CoUingwood, in the Royal Sovereign, led the lee line of thirteen ships ; the Victory led the weather line of fourteen. Having seen that all was as it should be. Nelson retired to his cabin, and wrote the following prayer : — " May the (^rcat (iod, whom I worship, grant to my country, and for the benefit of Europe in general, a great and glorious victory ; and may no misconduct in any one tarnish it ! and may humanity after victory be the predominant feature in the British fleet ! For myself individually, I commit my life to Him that made me; and may His blessing alight on my endeavours for serving my country faithfully ! To Him I resign myself, and the just cause which is intrusted to me to defend. Amen, Amen, Amen."' ... Blackwood went on board the Mctory about six. He found him in good spirits, but very calm ; not in that exhilaration which he had felt upon entering into battle at Aboukir and Copenhagen : he knew that his own life would be particularly aimed at, and seems to have looked for death with almost as sure an expectation as for victory. His whole attention was fixed upon the enemy. They tacked to the northward, and formed their line on the larboard tack ; thus bringing the ^68 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY shoals of Trafalgar and St. Pedro under the lee of the British, and keeping the port of Cadiz open for themselves. This was judiciously done ; and Nelson, aware of all the advan- tages which it gave them, made signal to prepare to anchor. Villeneuve was a skilful seaman ; worthy of serving a better master, and a better cause. His plan of defence was as well conceived, and as original, as the plan of attack. He formed the fleet in a double line ; every alternate ship being about a cable's length to windward of her second ahead and astern. Nelson, certain of a triumphant issue to the day, asked Black- wood what he should consider as a victory. That officer answered, that, considering the handsome way in which battle was offered by the enemy, their apparent determination for a fair trial of strength, and the situation of the land, he thought it would be a glorious result if fourteen were captured. He replied : " I shall not be satisfied with less than twenty." Soon afterwards he asked him, if he did not think there was a signal wanting. Captain Blackwood made answer, that he, thought the whole fleet seemed very clearly to understand what they were about. These words were scarcely spoken before that signal was made, which will be remembered as long as the language, or even the memory, of England shall endure — Nelson's last signal : — '" England expects every MAN TO DO HIS DUTY ! " It was received throughout the fleet with a shout of answering acclamation, made sublime by the spirit which it breathed, and the feeling which it expressed. '" Now," said Lord Nelson, "I can do no more. We must trust to the Great Disposer of all events, and the justice of our cause. I thank God for this great opportunity of doing my duty." He wore that day, as usual, his admiral's frock coat, bear- ing on the left breast four stars, of the different orders with which he was invested. Ornaments which rendered him so THE BATTLE OF TRAFALGAR 369 conspicuous a mark for the enemy were beheld with ominous apprehensions by his officers. It was known that there were riflemen on board the French ships; and it could not be doubted but that his hfe would be particularly aimed at. They communicated their fears to each other ; and the surgeon, Mr. Beatty, spoke to the chaplain, Dr. Scott, and to Mr. Scott, the public secretary, desiring that some person would entreat him to change his dress, or cover the stars ; but they knew that such a request would highly displease him. ""In honour I gained them," he had said, when such a thing had been hinted to him formerly, "'and in honour I will die with them." Mr. Beatty, however, would not have been deterred by any fear of exciting displeasure, from speaking to him him- self upon a subject in which the weal of England, as well as the life of Nelson, was concerned — but he was ordered from the deck before he could find an opportunity. This was a point upon which Nelson's officers knew that it was hopeless to remonstrate or reason with him ; but both Blackwood and his own captain. Hardy, represented to him how advantageous to the fleet it would be for him to keep out of action as long as possible ; and he consented at last to let the Leviathan and the Temeraire, which were sailing abreast of the Victory, be ordered to pass ahead. Yet even here the last infirmity of this noble mind was indulged ; for these ships could not pass ahead if the Victory continued to carry all her sail ; and so far was Nelson from shortening sail, that it was evident he took pleasure in pressing on, and rendering it impossible for them to obey his own orders. A long swell was setting into the Bay of Cadiz : our ships, crowding all sail, moved majes- tically before it, with light winds from the south-west. The sun shone on the sails of the enemy ; and their well-formed line, with their numerous three-deckers, made an appearance which an\- other assailants would have thought formidable ; 370 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY but the British sailors only admired the beauty and the splen- dour of the spectacle ; and, in full confidence of winning what they saw, remarked to each other, what a fine sight yonder ships would make at Spithead ! The French admiral, from the Bjicentatire, beheld the new manner in which his enemy was advancing — Nelson and Collingwood each leading his line ; and pointing them out to his officers, he is said to have exclaimed, that such con- duct could not fail to be successful. Yet Villeneuve had made his own dispositions with the utmost skill, and the fleets under his command waited for the attack with perfect coolness. Ten minutes before twelve they opened their fire. Eight or nine of the ships immediately ahead of the Victory, and across her bows, fired single guns at her, to ascertain whether she was yet within their range. As soon as Nelson perceived that their shot passed over him, he desired Blackwood, and Captain Prowse, of the Siriits, to repair to their respective frigates ; and, on their way, to tell all the captains of the line-of-battle ships that he depended on their exertions ; and that, if by the prescribed mode of attack they found it im- practicable to get into action immediately, they might adopt whatever they thought best, provided it led them quickly and closely alongside an enemy. As they were standing on the front poop, Blackwood took him by the hand, saying, he hoped soon to return and find him in possession of twenty prizes. He replied, " God bless you, Blackwood ; I shall never see you again!" Nelson's column was steered about two points more to the north than Collingwood's, in order to cut off the enemy's escape into Cadiz : the lee line, therefore, was first engaged. "' See," cried Nelson, pointing to the Royal Sovereign, as she steered right for the centre of the enemy's line, cut through it astern of the Santa Anna, three-decker, and engaged her TTIE r,.\'l"l'M': OF 'I'KAI \L(;ar 371 at the muzzle of her guns on the starboard side ; " see how that noble fellow, Collingwood, carries his ship into action ! " Collingwood, delighted at being first in the heat of the fire, and knowing the feelings of his commander and old friend, turned to his captain, and exclaimed : " Rotherham, what would Nelson give to be here? " Both these brave officers, perhaps, at this moment, thought of Nelson with gratitude, for a circumstance which had occurred on the preceding day. Admiral Collingwood, with some of the captains, having gone on board the J Ictory to receive instructions. Nelson inquired of him where his captain was; and was told, in reply, that they were not upon good terms with each other. "Terms ! " said Nelson, "' good terms with each other ! " Immediately he sent a boat for Captain Rotherham ; led him, as soon as he arrived, to Collingwood, and paying: "Look; yonder are the enemy ! " bade them shake hands like Englishmen. The enemy continued to fire a gun at a time at the Victory, till they saw that a shot had passed through her main-top- gallant sail ; then they opened their broadsides, aiming chiefly at her rigging, in the hope of disabling her before she could close with them. Nelson, as usual, had hoisted several flags, lest one should be shot away. The enemy showed no colours till late in the action, when they began to feel the necessity of having them to strike. For this reason, the Santissima Trinidad, Nelson's old acquaintance, as he used to call her, was distinguishable only by her four decks ; and to the bow of this opponent he ordered the Victory to be steered. Mean- time an incessant raking fire was kept up upon the Victory. The admiral's secretary was one of the first who fell ; he was killed by a cannon-shot, while conversing with Hardy. Captain Adair of the marines, with the help of a sailor, endeavoured to remove the body from Nelson's sight, who had a great regard for Mr. Scott ; but he anxiously asked, " Is that poor 372 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Scott that's gone? " and being informed that it was indeed so, exclaimed, "Poor fellow!" Presently, a double-headed shot struck a party of marines, who were drawn up on the poop, and killed eight of them : upon which Nelson imme- diately desired Captain Adair to disperse his men round the ship, that they might not suffer so much from being together. A few minutes afterwards a shot struck the fore-brace bits on the quarter-deck, and passed between Nelson and Hardy, a splinter from the bit tearing off Hardy's buckle, and bruising his foot. Both stopped, and looked anxiously at each other : each supposed the other to be' wounded. Nelson then smiled, and said : " This is too warm work. Hardy, to last long." The Victory had not yet returned a single gun ; fifty of her men had been by this time killed or wounded, and her main-top-mast with all her stydding-sails and their booms shot away. Nelson declared, that, in all his battles, he had seen nothing which surpassed the cool courage of his crew on this occasion. At four minutes after twelvcj she opened her fire from both sides of her deck. It was not possible to break the enemy's line without running on board one of their ships ; Hardy informed him of this, and asked him which he would prefer. Nelson replied: "Take your choice, Hardy, it does not signify much." The master was ordered to put the helm to port, and the Victory ran on board the Redoubtable, just as her tiller-ropes were shot away. The French ship received her with a broadside ; then instantly let down her lower-deck ports, for fear of being boarded through them, and never afterwards fired a great gun during the action. Her tops, like those of all the enemy's ships, were full of riflemen. Nelson never placed musketry in his tops ; he had a strong dislike to the practice : not merely because it endangers setting fire to the sails, but also because it is a murderous sort of warfare, by which individuals may THE BATTLE OF TRAl ALGAR 373 suffer, and a commander now and then be picked off, but which never can decide the fate of a general engagement. Captain Harvey, in the Ternerairc, fell on board the Re- doubtable on the other side. Another enemy was in like manner on board the Tcmeraire, so that these four ships formed as compact a tier as if they had been moored together, their heads lying all the same way. The lieutenants of the Victory, seeing this, depressed their guns of the middle and lower decks, and fired with a diminished charge, lest the shot should pass through and injure the Temcrairc. And because there was danger that the Redoubtable might take fire from the lower-deck guns, the muzzles of which touched her side when they were run out, the fireman of each gun stood ready with a bucket of water ; which, as soon as the gim was discharged, he dashed into the hole made by the shot. An incessant fire was kept up from the ] Ictory from both sides ; her larboard guns playing upon the Ihicentaure, and the huge Santissima Trinidad. It had been part of Nelson's prayer, that the British fleet might be distinguished by humanity in the victory he ex- pected. Setting an example himself, he twice gave orders to cease firing upon the Redoubtable, supposing that she had struck, because her great gims were silent ; for, as she car- ried no flag, there was no means of instantly ascertaining the fact. From this ship, which he had thus twice spared, he re- ceived his death. A ball fired from her mizzen-top, which, in the then situation of the two vessels, was not more than fifteen \ards from that part of the deck where he was standing, struck the epaulette on his left shoulder, about a quarter after one, just in the heat of action. He fell upon his face, on the spot which was covered with his poor secre- tary's blood. Hardy, who was a few steps from him, turning round, saw three men raising him up. "They have done for 374 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY me at last, Hardy! " said he. "' I hope not ! " cried Hardy. "Yes," he repHed ; "' my back-bone is shot through ! " Yet even now, not for a moment losing his presence of mind, he observed, as they were carrying him down the ladder, that the tiller-ropes, which had been shot away, were not yet re- placed, and ordered that new ones should be rove immedi- ately. Then, that he might not be seen by the crew, he took out his handkerchief, and covered his face and his stars. Had he but concealed these badges of honour from the enemy, England, perhaps, would not have had cause to receive with sorrow the news of the battle of Trafalgar. The cockpit was crowded with wounded and dying men ; over whose bodies he was with some difficulty conveyed, and laid upon a pallet in the midshipmen's berth. It was soon perceived, upon examination, that the wound was mortal. This, however, was concealed from all except Captain Hardy, the chaplain, and the medical attendants. He himself being cer- tain, from the sensation in his back, and the gush of blood he felt momently within his breast, that no human care could avail him, insisted that the surgeon should leave him, and attend to those to whom he might be useful. " For," said he, " you can do nothing for me." All that could be done was to fan him with paper, and frequently to give him lemon- ade to alleviate his intense thirst. He was in great pain, and expressed much anxiety for the event of the action, which now began to declare itself. As often as a ship struck, the crew of the Victory hurrahed ; and at every hurrah, a visible expression of joy gleamed in the eyes, and marked the coun- tenance, of the dying hero. But he became impatient to see Captain Hardy ; and as that officer, though often sent for, could not leave the deck. Nelson feared that some fatal cause prevented him, and repeatedly cried : " Will no one bring Hardy to me t He must be killed ! He is surely dead ! " THE BATTLE OF TRAFALGAR 375 An hour and ten minutes elapsed from the time when Nel- son received his wound, before Hardy could come to liim. They shook hands in silence ; Hardy in vain struggling to suppress the feelings of that most painful and yet sublimest moment. "' Well, Hardy," said Nelson ; " how goes the day with us?" "Very well," replied Hardy; "ten ships have struck, but five of the van have tacked, and show an inten- tion to bear down upon the Victory. I have called two or three of our fresh ships round, and have no doubt of giving them a drubbing." " I hope," said Nelson, " none of our ships have struck .? " Hardy answered, " There is no fear of that." Then, and not till then. Nelson spoke of himself. " I am a dead man, Hardy," said he: "I am going fast; it will be all over with me soon. ..." . . . Captain Hardy, some fifty minutes after he had left the cockpit, returned, and again taking the hand of his dying friend and commander, congratulated him on having gained a complete victory. How many of the enemy were taken he did not know, as it was impossible to perceive them distinctly, but fourteen or fifteen at least. " That 's well ! " cried Nel- son ; " but I bargained for twenty." And then, in a stronger voice, he said : "Anchor, Hardy; anchor." . . . The Redoubtable struck within twenty minutes after the fatal shot had been fired from her. During that time she had been twice on fire ; in her forechains, and in her forecastle. The French, as they had done in other battles, made use in this of fire-balls, and other combustibles ; implements of de- struction which other nations, from a sense of honour and humanity, have laid aside ; which add to the sufferings of the wounded, without determining the issue of the combat ; which none but the cruel would employ ; and which never can be successful against the brave. Once they succeeded in setting fire, from the Redoubtable, to some ropes and canvas on the '> 76 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY l^ictorys booms. The cry ran through the ship, and reached the cockpit ; but even this dreadful cry produced no confu- sion ; the men displayed that perfect self-possession in danger by which English seamen are characterised ; they extinguished the flames on board their own ship, and then hastened to extinguish them in the enemy, by throwing buckets of water from the gangway. When the Redoubtable had struck, it was not practicable to board her from the Victory, for, though the two ships touched, the upper works of both fell in so much that there was a great space between their gangways ; and she could not be boarded from the lower or middle decks, because her ports were down. Some of our men went to Lieutenant Ouilliam, and offered to swim under her bows, and get up there ; but it was thought unfit to hazard brave lives in this manner. . . . Once, amidst his sufferings. Nelson had expressed a wish that he were dead ; but immediately the spirit subdued the pains of death, and he wished to live a little longer ; doubt- less that he might hear the completion of the victory which he had seen so gloriously begun. That consolation, that joy, that triumph, was afforded him. He lived to know that the victory was decisive ; and the last guns which were fired at the flying enemy were heard a minute or two before he expired. . . . The death of Nelson was felt in England as something more than a public calamity : men started at the intelligence, and turned pale ; as if they had heard of the loss of a dear friend. An object of our admiration and affection, of our pride and of our hopes, was suddenly taken from us ; and it seemed as if we had never, till then, known how deeply we loved and reverenced him. What the country had lost in its great naval hero — the greatest of our own and of all former times — was scarcely taken into the account of grief. So per- fectly, indeed, had he performed his part, that the maritime YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND t^'j-j war, after the battle of Trafalgar, was considered at an end : the fleets of the enemy were not merely defeated, but de- stroyed : new navies must be built, and a new race of seamen reared for them, before the possibility of their invading our shores could again be contemplated. It was not, therefore, from any selfish reflection upon the magnitude of our loss that we mourned lor him : the general sorrow was of a higher character. The people of England grieved that funeral cere- monies, and public monuments, and posthumous rewards, were all which tlicy could now bestow upon him whom the king, the legislature, and the nation, would have alike de- lighted to honour; whom every tongue would have blessed ; whose presence in every village through which he might have passed would have wakened the church bells, have given school-boys a holiday, have drawn children from their sports to gaze upon him, and "" old men from the chimney- corner," to look upon Nelson ere they died. . . . Number 66 YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND A Navai. Ode Thomas Campbell. Poetical Works, pp. 98-99. I. Ye mariners of I'2ngland ! That guard our native seas ; Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, The battle and the breeze ! Your glorious standard launch again 378 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY To match another foe ! And sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow ; While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow. II. The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave ! — For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave : Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell, Your manly hearts shall glow, As ye sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow, While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow. III. Britannia needs no bulwarks, No towers along the steep ; Her march is o'er the mountain-waves. Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak, She quells the floods below, — As they roar on the shore. When the stormy winds do blow : When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow. THE GREAT REFORM BILL 379 IV. The meteor flag of England Shall yet terrific burn ; Till danger's tnuibled night depart, And the star of peace return. Then, then, ye ocean-warriors, Our song and feast shall flow To the fame of your name, When the storm has ceased to blow ; When the fiery fight is heard no more, And the storm has ceased to blow. Number 6j THE GREAT REFORM BILL Justin McCarthy. The Stoiy of the People of /'jighnni hi the A'ineteetitk Century, Vol. I, pp. 182-232, /rt'.fj/w. Lord Grey at once entrusted to Lord John Russell the principal conduct of the Reform Bill through the House of Commons ; . . . On the 1st of March, 183 1, Lord John Russell made his opening statement of the Government's proposals on the sub- ject of parliamentary reform. Nothing could be more clear, more comprehensive, and in its way more eloquent than Russell's speech on that great occasion. The speech is even now a most interesting and a most important historical doc- ument. There is not, perhaps, anywhere to be found in our parliamentary records an exposition so complete and yet so concise of the reforms which it j^roposed to introduce and of the anomalies and the evils which it proposed to abolish. 380 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY ..." The ancient Constitution of our countty," said Lord John Russell in his opening sentences, " declares that no man should be taxed for the support of the state who has not con- sented by himself or by his representative to the imposition of those taxes." This, of course, is the keynote of the whole principle of representative government. . . . . . . Lord John Russell showed that at one time this prin- ciple of representation did exist in England ; and that it was provided by English law that each county should send to the House of Commons two knights — a county member is still called in formal phrase a knight of the shire ; each city, two burgesses ; and each borough, two members. '" Thus, no doubt," said Russell, "at that early period the House of Commons did represent the people of England." . . . The whole condition of the country had meanwhile been chang- ing ; some of the boroughs had dwindled away until they were left with no inhabitants at all, but the owner of the soil still continued to return himself as representative of the little desert to the House of Commons. Great towns and cities were springing up everywhere over the country, but these had come into existence too late to have the benefit of the old Constitution ; and the people of England had not yet exerted themselves to create a new Constitution suited to the new times. There is one passage in Lord John Russell's speech which has indeed been often quoted already, but which cannot be quoted too often, cannot be read too often by students of Eng- lish history, and should certainly not be omitted from this page. '" A stranger who was told that this country is unparal- leled in wealth and industry, and more civilised and more en- lightened than any country was before it, that it is a country that prides itself on its freedom, and that once in every seven years it elects representatives from its population to act as the guardians and preservers of that freedom, would be anxious THE GRKAT RKKORM lULL r>8l 3"^ and curious to see how that representation is formed and how the pcojilc choose their representatives, to whose fate and guardianship they entrust their free and Hberal Constitution. Such a person would be very much astonished if he were taken to a ruined mound, and told that that mound sent two representatives to Parliament ; if he were taken to a stone wall and told that three niches in it sent two representatives to Parliament ; if he were taken to a park where no houses were to be seen and told that that park sent two representa- tives to Parliament. But if he were told all this and were astonished at hearing it, he would be still more astonished if he were to see large and opulent towns, full of enterprise and industry and intelligence, containing vast magazines of every species of manufacture, and were then told that these towns sent no representatives to Parliament." Then Lord John went a step farther, but in a different direction, for the purpose of giving his intelligent stranger a new chance of surprise. ""Such a person," he said, "would be still more astonished if he were taken to Liverpool, where there is a large constituency, and told, here is a fine specimen of a pop- ular election. He would see bribery employed to the greatest extent and in the most unblushing manner ; he would see every voter receiving a number of guineas in a box as the price of his corruption ; and after such a spectacle he would, no doubt, be much astonished that a nation whose represent- atives arc thus chosen could perform the functions of legis- lation at all, and enjoy respect in any degree. The confidence of the country," Lord John went on to declare, " in the con- struction and constitution of the House of Commons is gone. It would be easier to transfer the flourishing manufactures of Leeds and Manchester to Gatton and Old Sarum than to re-establish confidence and sympathy between this I louse and those whom it calls its constituents." . . . 382 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Lord John Russell went on to explain that there were three principal grievances which the Government proposed to abolish. The first was the nomination of members by indi^ vidual patrons ; the second was the election of members by close corporations ; and the third was the expense of elec- tions, including the vast sums squandered on bribery and cor- ruption. Now, to begin with, Lord John proposed to deprive all the really extinguished boroughs of any right of nomina- tion whatever. The Gattons and Old Sarums, the green mounds and the park walls, were no longer to be able at the command of the lord of the soil to send up a so-called repre- sentative to the House of Commons. Further, the Govern- ment proposed that no borough which had less than one thousand inhabitants should any longer be allowed to send a member to Parliament ; and that no borough which had not more than four thousand inhabitants should be allowed to return more than one representative. By this process of re- duction the number of members w'ould become less than it was by one hundred and sixty-eight ; and Lord John Russell ex- plained that the Government did not mean to fill up the whole of these vacancies, believing, as they did, that the House of Commons had too many members already. . . . Lord John Russell went on to say that the necessity for some reduction in the number of members in the House was all the more necessary, seeing that he hoped the attendance in future would be that of really working members ; and that the parlia- mentary roll would not contain the names of a great number of gentlemen who, when once they had obliged themselves or their patron by accepting an election to Parliament, took care to live their lives pleasantly abroad, and never troubled themselves to attend the debates and divisions in the House of Commons. Lord John Russell announced that it was intended to give two members each to seven large towns which had not had THE GREAT REFORM BILL 383 previously any manner of representation. It is something positively amusing now to read the names of the seven towns on which it was proposed to confer the right of represen- tation for the first time. These towns were Manchester, Birmingham, Leeds, Greenwich, Wolverhampton, Sheffield, and Sunderland. Six at least of these towns may be said to represent — might even then be said to represent — the growing commercial prosperity and energy of England, as no other towns could possibly do. Twenty other towns of smaller size were to be represented each by one member. The metropolis itself was to have eight new members, two members each being given to the Tower Hamlets, Holborn, Finsbur)', and Lambeth. Each of these metropolitan con- stituencies is now, and was even then, a big town in itself. The Government proposed to sweep away nearly all the complex franchises — the " fancy franchises," as they would have been called at a later day ; franchises conferred in many instances by close corporations, often from selfish and corrupt motives, and some of which did not even carry with them as a qualification for the right to vote the condition that the voter must reside in the borough whose representative he was privi- leged to join in electing. Lord John Russell proposed as far as possible to simplify the voting system, and to make it at least similar in principle for boroughs and for counties. In the boroughs a resident householder paying rates for a house of the yearly value of ;!£^io and upwards was to be entitled to vote; in counties a copyholder to the value of ;^io a year, who was also qualified to serve on juries, and a leaseholder for not less than twenty-one years, whose annual rent was not less than ^^50, were to become voters at once. Lord John Russell attempted to deal with the expenses of elections by an arrangement that the poll should be taken in separate districts, so that no voter should have to tra\-el more 384 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY than fifteen miles to record his vote ; and also by limiting the duration of the poll to a period of not more than two days. . . . Lord John Russell as has been said, merely moved for leave to bring in the bill. That is one of the parliamentary forms of the House of Commons which is dispensed with in the House of Lords, Every bill in both Houses must have three readings ; but in the House of Lords the first reading is accorded as a matter of right to the member who introduces any measure. In the House of Commons the first reading is represented by a motion that leave be given to bring in the bill ; and although that motion is not much opposed or much debated, still it can be discussed and can be opposed. The moment Lord John Russell had closed his speech, the Opposition flamed out at once. Sir Robert Harry Inglis was the first man to rise on the part of the Tory Opposition. . . . Reform Sir Robert Inglis declared to be only revolution under a feigned name. A measure like that introduced by Lord John Russell would root out all the benignant influences of education, property, and rank. Pass such a measure and there would be no more gentlemen and no more scholars in England, and everything in future would be governed there by the caprice of an ignorant and howling mob. He aban- doned himself to the spirit of his argument so far as to deny in the most solemn manner that any English law or English custom had ever connected taxation and representation. He went even further than this ; for he insisted that the whole principle of representation was something utterly foreign and unknown to the British Constitution. He scoffed at the idea that a place merely because it happened to be a large and prosperous town, with a great population, was any the better entitled to be represented in Parliament than the smallest country village ; and he maintained that the principle of rep- resentation was that the Sovereign should invite whomsoever THE GREAT REFORM BILL 3S5 he pleased to represent any place, peopled or unpeopled, which the Sovereign graciously chose to designate ; and that the man designated should thereupon have the right of going to Parlia- ment, to confer with the Sovereign on the affairs of the country'. He went even further than this ; he exceeded even the limits of anything like artistic caricature ; for he openly defended and glorified the purchase of small boroughs, and triumphantly pointed out, that if such boroughs were not to be bought and sold then the noblemen of the country-, the persons naturally fitted to govern the country, would have no representation whatever in the House of Commons. This was, perhaps, the extreme high-water mark of the most antique Tor}'ism. . . . The debate on the first reading was carried on for seven nights. . . . On the 2ist of March, 183 1, Lord John Russell moved the second reading of the English Reform Bill. The second reading was strongly resisted, and the Tory speakers who had argued against the first reading, declaimed their argu- ments all over again. Three hundred and two members voted for the second reading, and three hundred and one against it. The second reading, therefore, embodying the whole purpose of the bill, was carried only by a majority of one. The w'ildest exultation broke out along the ranks of Opposition. Every Tory in the House felt satisfied that a bill which passed its second reading in the House of Commons by only a majority of one would not have the slightest chance of dragging itself through committee without some mutilation of its principal clauses which would leave it an object of pit}' to its friends and of ridicule to its enemies. . . . Lord Grey and his colleagues were not in the least dis- mayed. They determined at once to dissolve Parliament and appeal to the country by a general election, for a reversal of the decision given by the majority of the House of Commons. 386 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY The first trouble the Ministr)^ had was with the Patriot King. Wilham IV. seemed to think it a monstrous thing that he should be asked to dissolve a Parliament which had just been gathered together, after the cost and turmoil of a gen- eral election, only to put the country to the cost and turmoil of another general election ; and all for the sake of carrying a Reform Bill, about which the Sovereign himself felt no manner of personal enthusiasm. . . , However, . . . the King showed his good sense by allow- ing himself to be prevailed upon, and he consented to go down to the House of Lords and declare the dissolution of the Parliament. . . . When the election began, the contest was kept up on both sides with an utter prodigality of expense. There was not much to be said in favour of one side against the other, so far as bribery and corruption were concerned. Bribery and corruption ran their unblushing way among Liberals and Tories, throughout nearly all the constituencies. As the re- sults began to be known, it was found that nearly all the cities and great towns were on the side of Lord Grey and Lord John Russell. One of the most conspicuous opponents of the Reform Bill was turned out of the important town of Liverpool by an immense majority of votes. Many of the counties had hkewise "gone solid" for reform, to use a phrase familiar in modern politics. There was no mistaking the meaning of all this ; the feeling of the country was dis- tinctly in favour of reform. The new Parliament was opened on June 21st by William IV. in person ; and as the King went in state to the House of Lords he was received with immense enthusiasm by the crowds who thronged the streets. . . . On the 24th of June, Lord John Russell introduced a second Reform Bill which might be called just the same in principle and in substance as that which he had brought in TTIE GREAT REFORM P.ITJ. 387 on the former occasion. The second reading was moved for on the 4th of July ; and after a debate of three nights a divi- sion was taken, and the second reading was carried by three hundred and sixty-seven votes for, and two hundred and thirty-one against — a majority of one hundred and thirty-six in favour of the ])rinciple of the measure. . . . . . . Amendments were still proposed, and debates still went on, and divisions were taken ; but the Tories began to see at last that the Government were thoroughly in earnest, and that the country was behind Lord Grey and Lord John Russell. The bill was carried through its various stages, and the last division on the motion, that the bill do now pass, showed three hundred and forty-five votes for the reform measure, and only two hundred and thirty-nine against it — a majority of one hundred and six in favour of the bill. Then the hopes and hearts of all the anti-reformers turned to the House of Lords. The House of Lords had then, as now, a large conservative majority, and had, therefore, the power of upsetting the work of the Commons, and rejecting the Reform l^ill altogether. There are two checks on the unlimited exercise of such a power by the House of Lords ; the one constitutional, and the other political and moral. The constitutional check is found in the fact that the Sovereign has always the right, on the advice of his Ministers, to create as many new peers as he thinks fit. If, therefore, there should be in the House of Lords a known majority of peers, say one hundred in number, against reform, the King would only have to create one hundred and fifty new peers from the Liberal ranks in time to carry the reform measure through all its stages. Of course, this is what might be called a desperate remedy, and could only be tried as a last resource. ^ . . . 1 By the veto bill of 191 1 a further constitutional check has been placed on the power of the House of Lords. Sec page 464, note 2. o 88 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY The other check on the power of the House of Lords was that created b}- the strength of popular feeUng out-of-doors. If the majority of the constituencies should prove themselves so determined on reform that the prolonged resistance of the peers might risk a revolution, then it was almost certain that the House of Lords would give way and yield to the popular will. . . . ... On October 3rd, Lord Grey moved the second reading of the Reform Bill ; . . . The division was taken on the morn- ing of October 8th ; and it was announced that the second reading was defeated by a majority of forty-one. The House of Commons had spent a whole session in vain over the passing of the Reform Bill ; the House of Lords undid the work in a few days. . . . The news of the adverse division in the House of Lords created a passionate sensation all over the country. Great meetings were held in every city and town ; in many places the shops were closed and mourning bells were pealed from some of the churches. ... In the streets from Charing Cross to the Houses of Parliament vast crowds assembled every evening, cheering the leaders of the reform movement, and hissing and cursing the peers or commoners who had opposed the bill. Clamorous proposals for the abolition of the House of Lords became popular on every Radical platform all over the country ; serious riots took place at Derby, at Notting- ham, and at Bristol ; the castles and country houses of Tory noblemen and squires were attacked, seriously damaged, and in some instances set on fire. . . . On the 1 2th of December, Lord John Russell moved in the House of Commons for leave to bring in his third Reform Bill. The bill was in all important details, and of course in all its principles, much the same as the first and second bills. Till'; CRKAT REFORM J51LL 389 . . . The bill did not get through committee until March 1 4th ; and it passed its third reading by a majority of one hundred and sixteen, on the 23rd of the month. It was sent up to the House of Lords at once. . . . The bill came on for second reading in the House of Lords on the 9th of April, and the Uuke of Wellington spoke out as strongly against the measure as he had spoken against the first Reform l^ill brought in by the (iovernment. . . . Lord Lyndhurst proposed an amendment, which the Government properly declared to be hostile to the conduct of the bill ; . . . and his motion was carried by a majority of thirty-five. Lord Grey at once addressed himself to the King, and as the King still hesitated about granting him the power to make new peers. Lord Grey instantly tendered his resignation. The resignation was accepted ; indeed, there was nothing to be done but to accept it, or to give in to Lord Grey's demands. . . . Lord Grey and his colleagues went out of office ; and the King was left, metaphorically, face to face with the country, face to face with the possibility of revolution. The King sent for Lord Lyndhurst, and pathetically, perplexedly, besought for help and counsel. Lord Lyndhurst had only one piece of advice to give . . . and that was to send for the Duke of Wellington. The Duke was sent for ; and the King implored him to undertake the formation and the leadership of a new Government. The Duke of Wellington had encountered many terrible risks and difficulties in his time; but he had never encoun- tered any risk or any difficulty when there was not the slightest chance of any good purpose whatever being served by the attempt. He told the King bluntly that he did not believe it would be possible for him to get together any Government which could face the crisis; and in order not to be wanting in advice of some kind, he recommended the King to send 390 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY for Sir Robert Peel, and tr)' what Peel could do. Then, and for ever after, while Peel's life lasted, the Duke of Wel- lington looked up to Peel with a genuine and a generous admiration as the man who could do anything, if anything was possible to be done. So the King sent for Peel ; but Peel saw that this was a case in which he could do nothing. Peel was one of the most rising men of the time. He must have known that he had a great career before him ; and he was quite unselfish and patriotic enough to think little of risking that career, if only thereby something could be done to serve the Sovereign and the State. But he was an intensely practical man, and he did not see that either Sovereign or State could be served by his simply dashing his head against a stone wall. So he told the King that it would be utterly impossible for him to keep together a Ministiy against the House of Commons and against the country, and he declined to attempt the impossible task. Then the King in despair sent for the Duke of Wellington again and made it some- thing like a point of duty and of loyalty with him to help the Sovereign out of his dilemma. The Duke, who never was, and never could be, a politician, was willing after such an appeal to dash his head against the stone wall, and so he did actually attempt to get together an Administration composed of men who would stand up with him as opponents of reform, the House of Commons, and the country. The attempt utterly failed. Indeed, to say that it failed is to give an in- adequate idea of its futility. No sooner was it made than it had to be abandoned. There were no men outside Bedlam who would undertake to co-operate in such a task. What was the poor bewildered King to do .? He could think of nothing, and nothing could be suggested to him but to send for Lord Grey again, and request Lord Grey to reconstruct his Ministry and go on with the Reform Bill. . . . THE GREAT REEORM BILL 39 1 Nothing was to be done unless William would give his consent to the creation of new peers. Lord Brougham, who accompanied Lord Grey in one momentous interview with the Sovereign, went so far as to insist that the consent must even be given in writing. The poor King had no other course open to him than to yield to stern necessity. He had argued with the inexorable long enough ; and he was thoroughly tired of the futile argument. He gave his consent, and he gave it even in writing. " The King grants permission to Lord Grey and to his Chancellor, Lord Brougham, to create such a number of peers as will insure the passing of the Reform Bill," were the words of the consent written on the paper which the King, at last submissive, handed to the rigorous and uncourtly Lord Brougham. Of course, the moment the consent was given the crisis was all over. It is needless to say that the new peers were never created. It was enough for the Opposition to know that the new peers would be created if necessary, and there was an end of their resistance at once. Thcv did not want the Reform Bill, and they did not want the new peers ; but, above all things, they did not want the Reform Bill and the new peers together. The Duke of Wellington and some other peers withdrew from the House of Lords altogether while the bill was running its now short and summary course. They would not look upon the consummation of a policy which it was not possible for them any longer to retard. . . . On the 4th of June the bill passed through the House of Lords ; and a few days after, the poor Patriot King had given it his Royal Assent. Let us see now what were the two great precedents, the two great principles, which were established by the passing of the Reform Bill, and by the manner in which it passed into law. We have already told our readers what the bill itself 392 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY did for the country ; we have described the general reforms which it created ; and we have shown in what measure it was seriously defective, and why it became necessary that many further expansions of its scope should be brought about. But the great principles accomplished by the passing of the Reform Bill are not to be found embodied in the contents of the bill itself. The most important constitutional principles established for the first time, and we trust for all time, by the triumph of Lord Grey and Lord John Russell are two in number. The first is, that the House of Lords must never carry resistance to any measure coming from the House of Commons, that is, from the chamber which represents the country, beyond the point at which it becomes evident that the House of Commons is in earnest, and that the country is behind it. It is now settled that the House of Lords shall have no greater power of resistance to a popular measure than that which, in a dif- ferent form, is given to the President of the United States, the power to delay its passing until the House of Commons shall have had full time to reconsider its decision and say, on that reconsideration, whether it is of the same mind as before, or not. . . . The second great principle which the passing of the Reform Bill established is, that the Sovereign of Eng- land must give way to the advice of his Ministers on any question of vital import to the State, and that the personal authority of the Monarch is no longer to decide the course of the Government. Never, since that time, has the personal will of the Sovereign been exercised as a decisive force to contradict and counteract the resolve of the House of Com- mons. The country is happy, indeed, which has seen so beneficent a change accomplished, and to all appearance safely accomplished for ever, without the need of recourse to revolution. GLADSTONE AND DISRAELI 393 Number 6S GLADSTONE AND DISRAELI Justin McCarthy. Life of Gladstone, pp. 156-167. In 1852 began the long Parliamentary duel between Glad- stone and Disraeli, which ended only when, at the close of the session of 1876, Mr. Disraeli left the House of Commons and took his place, as he had always meant to do sooner or later, in the House of Lords. The debate was on Mr. Dis- raeli's budget, and it ended in the defeat of the Tory Govern- ment. Mr. Disraeli never, before or after, spoke with greater power and sarcasm and bitterness and passion than in his final speech in that debate. It was about two o'clock in the morning when Mr. Gladstone sprang up to reply to him. "' Gladstone has got his work cut out for him," was the com- ment of one of the listeners when Mr. Gladstone rose to his feet. He had his work cut out for him, but he was equal to the work, and he soon made it quite clear that he was going to do it. Many members of the House and listeners in the strangers' galleries thought it hardly possible that, at that hour of the morning, and after such a speech as Disraeli's, any further impression could be made even by Mr. Gladstone. But before he had got far into his speech every one felt that Gladstone was making a greater impression than even Disraeli had produced. It has to be borne in mind also that Gladstone's speech was necessarily unprepared, for he replied point by point, and almost sentence by sentence, to the speech of Mr. Disraeli. It seems to me that from that moment Mr. Gladstone's position in the House of Commons was completely established. 394 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Then, as I have said, began the long rivalry of these two great Parliamentary athletes. In every important debate the one man answered the other. Disraeli followed Gladstone, or Gladstone followed Disraeli. It was not unlike the rivalry between Fox and Pitt, for it was a rivalry of temperament and character as well as of public position and of political prin- ciple. Gladstone and Disraeli seemed formed by nature to be antagonists. In character, in temper, in tastes, and in style of speaking the men were utterly unlike each other. One of Gladstone's defects was his tendency to take everything too seriously. One of Disraeli's defects was his tendency to take nothing seriously. Disraeli was strongest in reply when the reply had to consist only of sarcasm. He had a marvellous gift of phrase-making. He could impale a whole policy with an epithet. He could dazzle the House of Commons with a paradox. He could throw ridicule on a political party by two or three happy and reckless adjectives. He described one of Cobden's free-trade meetings in some country place as an assembly made up of " a grotesque and Hudibrastic crew." It is not likely that one of Cobden's meetings was more grotesque or Hudibrastic than any other public meeting anywhere. But that did not concern the House of Commons; the descrip- tion was humorous and effective ; it made people laugh, and the adjective stuck. Disraeli was never happy in statement. When he had to explain a policy, financial or other, he might really be regarded as a very dull speaker. Gladstone was especially brilliant in statement. He could give to an exposition of figures the fascination of a romance or a poem. Gladstone never could be, under any possible conditions, a dull speaker. He was no equal of Disraeli's in the gift of sarcasm and what Disraeli himself called " flouts and jeers." But in a reply he swept his antagonist before him with his marvellous eloquence, compounded of reason and passion. GLADSTONE AND DISRAELI 395 I heard nearly all the great speeches made by both the men in that Parliamentary duel which lasted for so many years. My own observation and judgment gave the superior- ity to Mr. (Gladstone all through, but I quite admit that Dis- raeli stood up well to his great opponent, and that it was not always easy to award the prize of victor)'. The two men's voices were curiously unlike. Disraeli had a deep, low, power- ful voice, heard everywhere throughout the House, but having little variety or music in it. Gladstone's voice was tuned to a higher note, was penetrating, resonant, liquid, and full of an exquisite modulation and music which gave new shades of meaning to every emphasized word. The ways of the men were in almost every respect curiously unlike. Gladstone was always eager for conversation. He loved to talk to anybody about anything. Disraeli, even among his most intimate friends, was given to frequent fits of absolute and apparently gloomy silence. Gladstone, after his earlier Parliamentary days, became almost entirely indifferent to dress. Disraeli always turned out in the newest fashion, and down to his latest years went in the get-up of a young man about town. Not less different were the characters and temperaments of the two men. Gladstone changed his political opinions many times during his long Parliamentary career. But he changed his opinions only in deference to the force of a growing con- viction, and to the recognition of facts and conditions which he could no longer conscientiously dispute. Nobody probably ever knew what Mr. Disraeli's real opinions were upon any political question, or whether he had any real opinions at all. Gladstone began as a Tor\', and gradually became changed into a Radical. Disraeli began as an extreme Radical under the patronage of Daniel O'Connell, and changed into a Tory. But e\-eiybody knew that (iladstone was at first a sincere Tory, and at last a sincere Radical. Nobody knew, 396 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY or, indeed, cared, whether Disraeli ever was either a sincere Radical or a sincere Tory. It is not, perhaps, an unreasonable thing to assume that Disraeli soon began to feel that there was no opening for him on the Liberal benches of the House of Commons. He was determined to get on. He knew that he had the capacity for success. He was not in the least abashed by session after session of absolute failure in Parlia- ment, but he probably began to see that he must choose his ground. On the Liberal side were men like Palmerston, Lord John Russell, Gladstone, Cobden, and Bright. On the Tory side there were respectable country gentlemen. Since the removal of Lord Stanley to the Upper House there was not a single man on the Tory benches who could for a moment be compared, as regards eloquence and intellect, with Disraeli. Given a perfectly open mind, it is not diffi- cult to see how an ambitious man would make his choice. The choice was made accordingly, and Mr. Disraeli soon became the only possible leader of the Tory party in the House of Commons. . . . Gladstone was needed to bring out all that was keenest and brightest in the Parliamentary eloquence of Disraeli. Gladstone, on the other hand, would have been literally thrown away on any Tor)' antagonist beneath the level of Disraeli. Never since Disraeli left the House of Commons has Gladstone found a Tory antagonist worth his crossing swords with. Among other differences between the two men were differences in education. Disraeli never had anything like the classical training of Gladstone. The mind of Glad- stone was steeped in the glorious literature of Greece and of Rome, about which Disraeli knew little or nothing. Disraeli knew but little Latin or Greek ; he could not speak French fluently or correctly. . . . When the Congress of Berlin sat in 1878, and was presided over by Prince Bismarck, the great GLADSTONE AND DISRAELI 397 Prussian statesman opened and conducted the business in English. Uisraeh, accompanied by Lord SaUsbury, repre- sented England at the Congress, and it was at first supposed that Bismarck spoke English simply as a mark of compliment to England. But Bismarck kindly spoke English because it had been made known to him that Disraeli was not at home in French. It must be admitted, however, that all this tells to a certain extent in Disraeli's favor. Among the contrasts between the lives and ways of the two great rivals must be noticed the contrast between the conditions under which they started into public life. Everything that care, culture, and money could do had been done for Gladstone. His father had started him in public life with an ample fortune. Disraeli was the son of a very clever and distinguished literary man, who was success- ful enough as a sort of genre artist with the pen, but who could not give his son much of a launch in life. Disraeli got but a very scrambling education, and was for some time set to work in a lawyer's office. His early extravagances got him into much trouble at the outset of his career. He had luxuri- ous Oriental tastes and fancies, and, besides, he was deter- mined to get into the House of Commons at any cost, and the expenses of election in those days would seem almost incredible to our more modest times. It was no very uncom- mon thing for a man to spend 100,000 pounds in contesting a county. Disraeli at first contested only boroughs, but even a borough contest meant huge expenditure. He had there- fore nothing like the secure and unharassed entrance into politics which was the good fortune of his great rival. An- other difference between the two men was found in their attitudes towards general culture. Gladstone had a positive passion for studying everything, for knowing something about ever)'thing. He was unwilling to let any subject elude his 398 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY grasp. He had tastes the most varied and all but universal. He loved pictures and statues and architecture and old china and medals and bric-a-brac of every kind, and he had made himself acquainted with the history of all these subjects. There was almost nothing about which he could not talk with fluency and with the keenest interest. He had a thirst for information, and it was a pleasure to him to get out of every man all that the man could tell him about his own par- ticular subject. Although a great and indeed a tremendous talker, Gladstone was not one of the men who insist upon having all the talk to themselves. His thirst for information would in any case have prevented him from being a talker only. He knew that every man and woman he met had something to tell him, and he gave every one ample opportunity. Disraeli possessed no such ubiquitous tastes and no such varied knowledge. He had travelled more than Gladstone ever travelled, but he brought back little from his wanderings. His life, indeed, ran in a narrow groove. Political ambition was his idol, and he lived in its worship. A writer of brilliant novels, he could hardly be called in the highest sense a liter- ary man. His novels were undoubtedly brilliant, and brought him in every way a great success. He was probably the only English author who ever compelled his English public to read political novels. But he had no particular affection for literature or for literary men. . . . Disraeli thoroughly en- joyed the life of the House of Commons for its own sake. Gladstone probably enjoyed it most for the opportunities which it gave him of asserting his principles and pushing forward his reforms. Of both men it is only fair to say that during their long political struggle not one breath of scandal touched their public or private life. On one or two occasions when an accusation was made against either man of having shown a spirit of favoritism in some public appointment, the charge THE INDI'STRIAL REVOLUTION 399 was easily disproved, and indeed would not have been seri- ously believed in by many people in any case. Disraeli was once, while in office, charged with having given a certain small appointment to a political supporter. He was able to prove at once, first that the recipient of the place was the man best ([ualified for its work, and, next, that the recipient of the place had been a steady political opponent of Disraeli and the Tory party. It is satisfactory to know that in the higher walks of English political life the atmosphere has for many years been pure and untainted. The days of Boling- broke and Walpole and the Godolphins had long passed away, and even the hard-drinking, reckless, gambling temper of the times of Fox and Pitt was totally unknown to the principal associates of Disraeli and Gladstone. In every way, therefore, these two rivals were worthy of the rivalry. Nunibcj'- 6g THE INDUSTRIAL REVOLUTION Robinson and Beard. Development of Modem Europe, Vol. II, pp. 31-49. ... In the time of Louis XIV, when inventors were already becoming somewhat numerous, especially in England, the people of western Europe for the most part continued to till their fields, weave their cloth, and saw and plane their boards by hand, much as the ancient Egyptians had done. Merchandise was still transported in slow, lumbering carts, and letters were as long in passing from London to Rome as in the reign of Constantine. Could a peasant, a smith, or a weaver of the age of Caesar Augustus have visited France or England eighteen hundred years later, he would have recog- nized the familiar flail, forge, and hand loom of his own day. 400 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Suddenly, however, a series of ingenious devices were in- vented, which in a few generations eclipsed the achievements of ages and revolutionized every branch of industry. These serve to explain the world in which we live, with its busy cities, its gigantic factories filled with complicated machinery, its commerce and vast fortunes, its trades unions and labor parties, its bewildering variety of plans for bettering the lot of the great mass of the people. The story of the substitution for the distaff of the marvellous spinning machine with its swiftly flying fingers, of the development of the locomotive and the ocean steamer which bind together the uttermost parts of the earth, of the perfecting press, producing a hun- dred thousand newspapers an hour, of the marvels of the telegraph and the telephone, — this story of mechanical in- vention is in no way inferior in fascination and importance to the more familiar history of kings, parliaments, wars, treaties, and constitutions. The revolution in manufacture during the past two cen- turies may perhaps be best illustrated by the improvements in the methods of spinning and weaving wool and cotton, which are so important to our welfare and comfort. The main operations had remained essentially the same from the time when men first began to substitute coarse woven garments for the skins of animals, down to the eighteenth century. The wool was first " carded," that is, cleaned and straight- ened out by means of " cards," or wooden combs some five inches long. The next step was to twist it into thread, fine or coarse as the quality of the cloth demanded. This was accomplished by means of the distaff and spindle, — two very simple implements which may be seen in almost any histori- cal museum, or even in actual use in out-of-the-way places of Europe. The spinner held under her arm a bunch of carded wool fixed to the distaff ; then with her fingers she drew out THE INDUSTRIAL RF.VOLUTION 40 1 and twisted a few inches of the fibre, and attached it to a hook, or notch, in the end of a short stick called the spindle, which she permitted to swing down freely, whirling like a top as it went. She fed out the fibre gradually, and when three or four feet were properly twisted she would unhook the end of the thread from the top of the spindle and wind the thread on the lower part of it. She would then begin a new length at the point where the finished thread merged into the loose fibre on her distaff. Compared with this slow method, the spinning wheel of our great-grandmothers was a wonderful contrivance ; but the process was still very much the same. The wool was fixed on a distaff, a litde of it was drawn out to make a beginning and attached to a small spindle driven b\- a wheel worked by a treadle. As the lengths of thread were spun they were wound on a bobbin. This one-thread wheel appears to have been in general use in England in the days of Queen Eliza- beth, though the distaff was still employed by women in the fields or on the way to market where the wheel was not available. As late as 1757 an English poet wrote : And many yet adhere To the ancient distaff at the bosom fixed, Casting the whiriing spindle as they walk. At home, or in the sheepfold, or the mart, Alike the work proceeds. If one examines a bit of cloth, whether it be the finest silk or the coarsest burlap, he will find that it is made up of threads running lengthwise, known as the warp, and shorter threads called the weft, running in and out across the warp and at right angles to it. Weaving had from time im- memorial been carried on by means of a very simple loom constructed as follows : Two rollers were fixed horizontally, some four or five feet apart, in a frame, and the threads 402 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY of the warp, laid close together, were wound on one of the rollers. The loose ends were then attached to the second roller, fixed in the frame near the stool where the weaver sat. The cross thread, or weft, was then wound on a stick called the shuttle, which, in the seventeenth-century loom, was simply a notched piece of wood. This primitive shuttle required two men to work it, one to start it on one side, and another to pull it out and start it back again from the other side. Now in' order to interlace the threads of the weft with those of the warp, the long threads composing the warp were attached alternately to two wooden bars, i.e. every other thread was attached to one of the bars, and the remaining threads to the other bar. This enalDled the weaver to raise the alternate threads by lifting one of the bars ; then the shuttle would be thrown across ; he would then lower this set of threads and raise the other, and the shuttle would be thrown back. In this way the first thread of the weft went over the first thread of the warp, under the second, and so on. The next thread of the weft went under the first thread of the warp, over the second, and so on, thus producing the fabric. There was a simple device for pushing the threads of the weft close together as the work progressed. Early in the eighteenth century a number of English workmen were busy trying to improve the implements for making cloth and finally, in 1738, John Kay, of Bury in Lancashire, invented a contrivance which enabled a weaver, without any assistant, to drive the shuttle back and forth, even through a wide strip, by means of a handle placed con- veniently in front of his stool. By this invention one weaver could now do the work of two, and consequently the demand for woolen and cotton thread to be worked into cloth rapidly increased ; indeed, the weavers could now work much faster THE INDUSTRIAL REVOLUTION 403 than the spinners who suppHed them with yarn and thread, and it became imperative to discover some quicker method of spinning. The Society for the Encouragement of Arts and Manu- factures offered in 1761 two prizes for improvements in the spinning wheel. Their hopes were abundantly fulfilled by the ingenuity of a Blackburn weaver and carpenter, James Har- greaves, who about 1767 contrived a novel spinning machine known as the jenny (probably named after his daughter), which drove eight spindles instead of one and enabled a child to do the work of eight or ten spinners using the old-fashioned wheel. The machine was a very simple one, — a rectangular frame mounted on four legs. At one end were the spindles, standing in a row and revolved by a wheel. In front of them was a frame, moving back and forth, through which the threads gathered from the prepared cotton, or " rovings," were drawn, and attached to the ends of the spindles. The frame was then drawn back, stretching out four or five feet of the rovings, when the spindles rapidly revolved, twisting the fibres into firm threads. By a little device the twisted threads were then loosened from the top of the spindles, dropped down, and wound about the base of the spindles as the frame moved back towards them. Before his death in 1778, Har- greaves had the satisfaction of seeing some twenty thousand of his jennies in operation. Many workmen were busy with projects for improving the machinery used in spinning, but it was reserved for a barber of Preston, Richard Arkwright, to establish the first great factories filled with power-driven machines. He is accused of having stolen the inventions which he patented, and there seems to be much truth in the charges ; at all events a genius for turning other men's ideas to practical account on a large scale. In 1768 he patented a device which consisted 404 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY essentially of two pairs of rollers placed a little distance apart. When the rovings were fed between these, the second pair, by reason of its higher speed, drew out the cotton or wool into thread, which was wound on bobbins as it passed from the rollers. Arkwright took out many other patents for improvements in textile machiner)^ and established a number of factories, run at first by water power and later by steam. He was a shrewd, hard-headed business man and accumulated a fortune of two and a half million dollars, an achievement which would have been impossible so long as the old hand machin- ery was used. He is therefore known as the father of the factory system. Arkwright's device had one serious drawback. While it would spin threads for warp or coarse fabrics, it would not twist the fibre tightly enough to make the finer threads. This defect was remedied in 1779 by Crompton, who made a happy combination of Hargreaves's spinning jenny and Ark- wright's roller machine, which was named the " mule." The system of rollers was used to reduce the rovings, while the movable frames and spindles were used to stretch and twist the thread. This invention quickly supplanted other ma- chines and gave a great impetus to the cotton trade, although Crompton, like so many inventors, enriched others rather than himself by his brilliant achievement. With these machines as a basis improvements were con- stantly made until, before the end of the eighteenth century, two hundred spindles were operated on a single mule. The spinning machine of to-day, the combination of many hun- dred separate patents, has a thousand spindles, each revolv- ing at an almost incredible speed, drawing, twisting, and winding automatically, and requiring the attention of only one or two boys to mend broken threads. I'HE INDUSTRIAL RKVULUTION 405 It was now necessary that improvements in weaving should overtake those in spinning, for the spinners could furnish yarn and thread more rapidly than the weavers could work it up into cloth. In 1 784 a clergyman of Kent, Dr. Cartwright, took the first steps in the construction of a loom, all the operations of which could be performed mechanically by revolving a single wheel. Happening to meet some gentlemen from Manchester who were talking about Arkwright's extraordinary invention, he suggested that some one should try to contrive a loom which could be run by water or steam power, but his listeners unan- imously agreed that the thing was impossible. Nevertheless three years later ( 1 787) he patented a new and workable power loom. While hand weaving still held its own for a quarter of a century, it afforded a more and more precarious existence for the workmen who tried to compete with CartwTight's new machine. In 18 13 there were already twenty-four hundred power looms in England, and a quarter of a centur}^- later the number had increased to more than one hundred thousand. Other machines for cheapening the production of cloth were gradually invented ; for example, a new device for printing calico. This cheap cotton fabric came originally from India, and derives its name from Calicut, whence it was first im- ported into England. Its brilliant color and its cheapness made it very popular. The Huguenots, who appear to have intro- duced the calico industry into England shortly after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, colored the white cloth by means of blocks which were inked and then stamped on the goods by hand. In 1783 this slow method was superseded by the use of rollers upon which the designs were cut, one roller being devoted to each color used. The cloth was run between the rollers at a very high rate of speed, so that one man could turn out as much calico in a day as two hundred persons could do with the old hand blocks. 4o6 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY About the same time it was discovered that it was possible to bleach cloth by using acid instead of relying principally upon the light of the sun. In this way a process which formerly had required several months was reduced to a few days. With all these contrivances for spinning and weaving, nothing had been done to facilitate removing the seed from raw cotton. In the southern states of America, where most of the cotton was produced, it still took an old colored woman nearly a whole day to clean one pound of raw, green seed cotton, while the best of workers could prepare only five or six pounds a day. Eli Whitney, a young Yankee who was studying law in the South, recognized the difficulties with which the planters had to deal and, having a genius for mechanics, he set to work to make a cotton cleaner. In 1792 he announced the success of his efforts, and when his " gin," as it was called, was perfected, one man by its aid could clean upwards of a thousand pounds a day. The effect of these inventions in increasing the amount of cloth which was manufactured was astonishing. In 1764 England imported only about four million pounds of cotton. In 1 84 1 she used nearly five hundred million pounds annually. At the close of the Napoleonic wars, Robert Owen, a dis- tinguished manufacturer and philanthropist, declared that his two thousand workmen at New Lanark could do as much work with the new machinery which had been invented during the previous forty years as all the operatives in Scotland could do without it. The Steam Engine In order that inventions should further develop and be- come widely useful, two things were necessary : In the first place, there must be a sufficiently strong material available THE INDUSTRIAL REVOLUTION 407 out of which to construct the machinery, and for this purpose iron and steel have, with few exceptions, proved the most satisfactory. In the second place, some adequate power had to be found to propel the machinery, which is ordinarily too heavy to be run by hand or foot. Of course windmills were common, and water falls and running streams had long been used to turn water wheels, but these forces were too restricted and uncertain to suffice for the rapid development of machin- ery which resulted from the beginnings we have described. Consequently while Hargreaves, Arkwright, and Crompton were successfully solving the problem of new methods of spinning and weaving, other inventors were endeavoring to supply the material for making the machinery and to discover an adequate power to run it. Iron and steel had, of course, been used for hundreds and even thousands of years for tools, weapons, and armor ; and the expansive power of steam was known before the opening of the Christian era, but had not been put to any useful purpose. So, although the eighteenth-century inventors could base their new devices upon older discoveries, they were forced to find some means for greatly cheapening the production of iron and steel, and for applying steam to ever)'day uses. If one examines a modern steam engine, he will find the principal parts very simple. In the first place, there are the furnace and boiler for generating steam. The boiler is filled about two thirds full of water, which is heated by the fur- nace. In the second place, there is the engine proper, which consists of a hollow cylinder, a piston, a crank, and a fly wheel. The piston rod has a head which fits snugly in the cylinder, and as the steam is automatically turned first into one end of the cylinder and then into the other, it forces the piston back and forth. The end of the piston rod wliich 4o8 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY projects from the cylinder is attached to an arm, which is jointed in such a way as to drive a wheel. No single genius contributed all the parts that go to make up the steam engine, simple as they may seem. Huyghens, a Dutchman, who lived in the latter part of the seventeenth centur)', appears to have been the first to suggest that a piston could be moved up and down in a cylinder by the explosion of gas or gunpowder. A little later an English- man, Newcomen, profiting by the discoveries of earlier in- ventors, devised a workable steam engine which could be used for pumping. . . . Newcomen's engine, crude and imperfect as it was, pre- pared the way for the inventions of James Watt, to whom we largely owe the practical and economical steam engine, which has for more than a century been the main source of power used in our factories, and has proved equally suitable for propelling ships and railroad trains. . . . His great achievements may be summarized briefly. Instead of leaving one end of the cylinder open, as Newcomen had done, in order that the pressure of the air might push down the piston head, Watt closed both ends and introduced a clever system of valves which admitted the steam automatically first into one end of the cylinder and then into the other, thus moving the piston up and down. He invented the revolving balls, or " governor," to control the speed of the engine, thus making it entirely automatic and insuring the regularity of its motion. Taking up the projects of other inventors, he devised a simple arrangement of a rod and crank by which he made it possible to drive a wheel that could be connected by a belt with machinery for spinning. In 1 785 steam was first used to run spinning machines in a factory ... in Nottinghamshire. Arkwright adopted it in 1 790, and by the end of the century steam engines were as common as wind and water mills. . . . THE INDUSTRIAL REVOLUTION 409 The Factory System Having seen how machinery was introduced into England in the latter part of the eighteenth century and how steam came to be utilized as a motive power, we have now to con- sider the important results of these inventions in changing the conditions under which people lived and worked. Up to this time, the term " manufacture " still meant, as it did in the original Latin {inanu faccre), " to make by hand." Arti- sans carried on a trade with their own tools in their own homes or in small shops, as the cobbler does to-day. Instead of working with hundreds of others in great factories and being entirely dependent upon his wages, the artisan, in England at least, was often able to give some attention to a small garden plot, from which he derived a part of his support. This "domestic system," as it is called, is graphi- cally described by the journalist, Defoe, as he observed it in Yorkshire during a journey through England in 1 724-1726. '" The land was divided into small enclosures of from two acres to six or seven acres each, seldom more, every three or four pieces having a house belonging to them ; hardly a house standing out of speaking distance from another. We could see at every house a tenter and on almost ever}^ tenter a piece of cloth, or kersie, or shalloon. At every considerable house there was a manufactory. Every clothier keeps one horse at least to carry his manufactures to market, and ever}-- one generally keeps a cow or two, or more, for his famil)-. By this means the small pieces of enclosed land about each house are occupied, for they scarce sow corn [i.e. grain] enough to feed their poultr)^ The houses are full of lusty fellows, some at their dye vat, some at their looms, others dressing the cloth ; the women and children carding or spin- ning, all being employed from the youngest to the eldest." 4IO READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY As the Industrial Revolution progressed, these hand work- ers found themselves unable to compete with the swift and tireless machines. Manufacturing on a small scale with the simple old tools and appliances became increasingly unprofit- able. The workers had to leave their cottages and spend their days in great factories established by capitalists who had enough money to erect the huge buildings, and install in them the elaborate and costly machinery and the engines to run it. As an English writer has concisely put it, "the typical unit of production is no longer a single family or group of persons working with a few cheap, simple tools upon small quantities of raw material, but a compact and closely organ- ized mass of labor composed of hundreds or thousands of in- dividuals co-operating with large quantities of expensive and intricate machinery through which passes a continuous and mighty volume of raw material on its way to the consuming public." One of the principal results of the factory system is that it makes possible a minute division of labor. Instead of giving his time and thought to the whole process, each worker concentrates his attention upon a single stage of it, and by repeating a simple set of motions over and over again acquires wonderful dexterity. At the same time the period of necessary apprenticeship is shortened, because each separate task is comparatively simple. Moreover the invention of new machinery is increased, because the very subdivision of the process into simple steps often suggests some way of sub- stituting mechanical action for that of the human hand. An example of the greatly increased output rendered pos- sible by the use of machinery and the division of labor is given by the distinguished Scotch economist, Adam Smith, whose great work, The Wealth of Nations, appeared in 1776. Speaking of the manufacture of a pin in his own time. THE INDUSTRIAL REVOLUTION 411 Adam Smith says : "To make the head requires two or three distinct operations ; to put it on is a pecuhar business, to whiten the pin is another. It is even a trade by itself to put them into the paper, and the important business of making a pin is, in this manner, divided into about eighteen distinct operations." By this division, he adds, ten persons can make upwards of forty-eight thousand pins a day. This was when machinery was in its infancy. A recent writer reports that an EngHsh machine now makes one hundred and eighty pins a minute, cutting the wire, flattening the heads, sharpening the points, and dropping the pin into its proper place. In a single factory which he visited seven million pins were made in a day, and three men were all that were required to manage the mechanism. Another example of modern mechanical work is found in printing. For several centuries after Ciutenberg printed his first book, the type was set by hand, inked by hand, each sheet of paper was laid by hand upon the type and then printed by means of a press operated by a hand lever. Now- adays our newspapers, in the great cities at least, are printed almost altogether by machiner)^ from the setting up of the type until they are dropped, complete, and counted out by hundreds, at the bottom of a rotary press. The paper is fed into the press from a great roll and is printed on both sides and folded at the rate of five hundred or more newspapers a minute. Before the coming of machinery industry- was not con- centrated in a few great cities, but was scattered more or less evenly over the country in the hands of small masters, or independent workmen, who combined manufacturing with agriculture on a small scale. For example, the metal workers of West Bromwich and the cutlers of Sheffield (already famous in Chaucer's day) lived in cottages with small plots 412 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY of land around them, and in dull seasons, or to change their occupation, engaged in gardening. The factory system put an end to all this. The workmen now had to live near their work ; long rows of houses, without gardens or even grass plots, were hastily built around the factory buildings, and thus the ugly tenement districts of our cities came into existence. This great revolution in the methods of manufacturing produced also a sharp distinction between two classes of men involved. There were, on the one hand, the capitalists who owned the buildings and all the mechanism, and, on the other, the workmen whom they hired to operate the machines. Previous to the eighteenth centur\', those v/ho owned large estates had been, on the whole, the most important class in political and social life. But, alongside of the landed aris- tocracy, a powerful mercantile class had arisen, whose wealth, gained by commerce and trade, gave them influence in the affairs of the nation. With the improvements in machinery there was added the new class of modern capital- ists, who amassed fortunes by establishing great manufac- turing industries. The workingman necessarily became dependent upon the few who were rich enough to set up factories. He could no longer earn a livelihood in the old way by conducting a small shop to suit himself. The capitalist owned and controlled the necessary machinery, and so long as there were plenty of workmen seeking employment in order to earn their daily bread, the owner could fix a low wage and long hours. While an individual employee of special ability might himself become a capitalist, the ordinary workman would have to remain a workman. The question of the proportion of the product which should go to the workers, and that which may properly be taken by the capitalist, or rilK IXDrSTRIAT. RF.Vr)I,UTION 413 manager, who makes a successful business possible, lies at the basis of the great problem of capital and labor. This matter, especially the solution advocated by the socialists, will be discussed later. The destruction of the domestic system of industr)- had also a revolutionary effect upon the work and the lives of women and children. In all except the heaviest of the mechanical industries, such as iron working or shipbuilding, the introduction of simple machines tended greatly to in- crease the number of women and children employed com- pared with the men. For example, in the textile industry in England during the fifty years from 1841 to 1891, the number of males employed increased fifty-three per cent, and the number of females two hundred and twenty-one per cent. Before the invention of the steam engine, when the simple machines were worked by hand, children could be employed only in some of the minor processes, such as preparing the cotton for spinning. But in the modern factory, labor is largely confined to watching machines, piecing broken threads, and working levers, so that both women and children can be utilized as effectively as men, and much more cheaply. Doubtless the women were by no means idle under the old system of domestic industn,-, but their tasks were varied and performed at home, whereas under the new system they must flock to the factory at the call of the whistle, and labor monotonously at a speed set by the foreman. This led to many grave abuses which, as we shall see, the State has been called upon to remedy by factory legislation, which has served to save the women and children from some of the worst hardships, although a great deal still remains to be done. On the other hand, thousands of women belonging to the more fortunate classes have been relieved of many of the duties which devolved upon the housewife in the eighteenth 414 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY centur}- when many things were made at home which can now be better and more cheaply produced on a large scale. Before the Industrial Revolution there had been no sud- den change in the life and habits of the people, since the same tools had been used in the same way, often by the same family, from generation to generation. When invention be- gan change began, and it seems likely to become more and more rapid, since new and better ways of doing things are discovered daily. Old methods give way to new ones, and the workman of to-day may successively engage in a con- siderable variety of occupations during his life as industries rise, are transformed, and decline under the stress of com- petition and invention. This serves to shake the workingman out of the old routine, encourages him to move from place to place as circumstances dictate, and so widens his experi- ence and broadens his mind. He has also learned to combine with his fellows into national unions, and even international congresses of workingmen are held to consider their common interests. To these changes still another may be added, i.e. the expansion of commerce. In spite of the development of trade before the eighteenth centur)', a great part of the goods produced were destined to be consumed in the neighborhood, whereas, after the invention of machinery, it became custom- ary to manufacture goods which might be sold in any part of the world ; so that one would find the products of Man- chester or Birmingham in Hongkong, Melbourne, or Bula- wayo. According to official estimates, the exports of England, which amounted to less than fourteen million pounds sterling in 1783, exceeded twenty-nine millions thirteen years later. RICHARD CUiJDEN 415 N limber yo RICHARD COBDEN John Rricht. Pnb/ic Addresses by John Bright, M. P., Y>Y>-?>h7~?>(H- Edited by James E. Thorold Rogers. This selection is taken from an address delivered at Bradford, July 25, 1877, on the unveiHng of a statue of Cobden. I come to speak for a little while of my lamented friend. You know, probably, that Mr. Cobden was not what in the world's language is called high-born ; that he did not enter upon life with what are called great connections ; that he was not surrounded by the appliances of wealth ; that it could not be said of him that ' Fortune came smiling to his youth and wooed it,' for he was born, if not in a humble, at least in a very moderate, farm-house, and of a respectable and quiet and honourable family in the county of Sussex. Of his school-days I shall say only this, that I suppose he had no better opportunity of education in the school to which he went than almost all boys of similar age throughout the whole of Great Britain have now. He had no opportunity of attending ancient Universities, and availing himself of their advantages, and — I am afraid I might say — in some degree, perhaps, of suffering from some of the disadvantages from which those Universities are not free. When he entered into life — I mean after he left his parents' home — he had no high patronage to see that his path was cleared before him. Me came to London. He held a situation in an office and ware- house, I think in Watling Street, and he entered immediately into the pursuits of business, we may be sure with alacrity and with intelligence. From Watling Street, by an accident, it became his duty to come down to the North of Lmgland, as the agent of the house of business in which he was ; and 4l6 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY in the North of England his observant and intelHgent eye discovered very soon that in Yorkshire or Lancashire — but especially in Lancashire, with which he became more familiar — there was a field where, by certain qualities which he felt that he possessed, he would be able to make his way, and be enabled to prosper. He settled in Manchester when he was only twenty-six years of age, about the year 1 830. His business was that of a calico- printer. He had an excellent taste in design and in colour. He had all the qualities, then, of a good man of business — industry, intelligence, sagacity, probity of the highest kind — and, therefore, it is not to be wondered at that his success was great and rapid. But then he had a mind that was ex- pansive and sympathetic, and he could not be content with his ledgers and his business and his profits, but his heart went out at once to the great population amongst whom he lived. He looked around him and he saw their condition and their wants, and the first great public question to which he turned his mind, as far as I am able to gather, was the question of public and national education ; and I know the first time that I became acquainted with him was in connec- tion with that question. But he not only had this sympathy in regard to what he deemed necessary for the instruction of the people, but he found that their interests were greatly affected by what he thought an unwise foreign policy on the part of the Government and the country, and so early as 1834 or 1835 he published a pamphlet under the title of ' Eng- land, Ireland, and America ' — a pamphlet, I venture to say, of such sagacity and foresight that it has probably never been excelled by any essay on politics in modern times. In this pamphlet he dealt at considerable length with the question of Russia and the question of Turkey, because at that time great efforts were being made by some persons to create and RICHARD COBDEN 417 to excite jealousy on the part of England against the people of Russia and the Russian government — efforts which have not ceased even to the day in which I am speaking. I said that the first time I became acquainted with him was in connection with the subject of education. I went over to Manchester to call upon him to ask him if he would be kind enough to come to Rochdale and to speak at an education meeting which was about to be held in the Schoolroom of the Baptist Chapel, in West Street of that town. I found him in his office in Mosley Street. 1 introduced myself to him. I told him what I wanted. His countenance lit up with pleasure to find that there were others that were working in this question, and he, without hesitation, agreed to come. He came and he spoke ; and though he was then so young as a speaker, yet the qualities of his speech were such as remained with him so long as he was able to speak at all — clearness, logic, a conversational eloquence, a persuasiveness which, when conjoined with the absolute truth which there was in his eye and in his countenance — a persuasiveness which it was almost impossible to resist. Well, not long after this, there came up the question of the Corn Law, for the skies had lowered and the harvests were bad. In 1838 there was a considerable movement in Manchester, partly made by some private individuals, and partly and most importantly by the Chamber of Commerce, and an Anti-Corn-Law Association was formed, which ultimately and soon became the now famous Anti-Corn-Law League. 1 will not speak of the labours of that League. They are known to some here. Those times by some are forgotten, and the League and its labours have gone into the past. Happily, its results remain, and can never be destroyed. But for seven years the dis- cussion on that one question — whether it was good for a man to have half a loaf or a whole loaf — for seven vears the 4l8 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY discussion was maintained, I will not say with doubtful result, for the result never was doubtful and never could be in such a cause ; but for five years or more we devoted ourselves without stint ; every waking hour almost was given up to the discussion and to the movement in connection with this ques- tion. And there is one incident that to me is most touching in connection with it, which I hesitate to refer to, and yet feel I can scarcely avoid. It was in September in the year 1 84 1 . The sufferings throughout the countr)^ were fearful ; and you who live now, but were not of age to observe what was passing in the country then, can have no idea of the state of your country in that year. If you want to know some- thing of it, and in brief, I would ask you to possess your- selves of a little volume just published by my old and dear friend Mr. Henr)' Ashworth, of Bolton, called ' Recollec- tions of Cobden and the Anti-Corn-Law League.' You will find in a portion of that book a description of a state of things not only in all the towns, the manufacturing and industrial towns of the country, but in the agricultural districts for which it was pretended the protection of the Corn Law was maintained. At that time I was at Leamington, and I was, on the day when Mr. Cobden called upon me — for he happened to be there at the time on a visit to some relatives — I was in the depths of grief, I might almost say of despair, for the light and sunshine of my house had been extinguished. All that was left on earth of my young wife, except the memory of a sainted life and of a too brief happiness, was lying still and cold in the chamber above us. Mr. Cobden called upon me as his friend, and addressed me, as you might suppose, with words of condolence. After a time he looked up and said, ' There are thousands of houses in England at this moment where wives, mothers, and children are dying of hunger. RICHARD COBDKN 419 Now,' he said, "when the first paroxysm of your grief is past, I would advise you to come with me and we will never rest till the Corn Law is repealed.' I accepted his invitation. I knew that the description he had given of the homes of thousands was not an exaggerated description. I felt in my conscience that there was a work which somebody must do, and therefore I accepted his invitation, and from that time we never ceased to labour hard on behalf of the resolution which we had made. Now, do not suppose that I wish you to imagine that he and I, when I say 'we,' were the only persons engaged in this great question. We were not even the first, though afterw^ards, perhaps, we became the fore- most before the public. But there were others before us ; and we were joined, not by scores, but by hundreds, and after- wards by thousands, and afterwards by countless multitudes ; and afterwards famine itself, against which we had warred, joined us ; and a great Minister was converted, and minor- ities became majorities, and finally the barrier was entirely thrown down. And since then, though there has been suffer- ing, and much suffering, in many homes in England, yet no wife and no mother -and no little child has been starved to death as the result of a famine made by law. Now, if you cast your eyes over the globe, what is it }ou see .? Look at Canada ; look at the United States, whether on the Atlantic seaboard or on the Pacific slope ; look at Chili ; look at the Australian colonies ; look at the great and rich province of Bengal ; look on the shores of the Black Sea and the Baltic ; wherever the rain falls, wherever the sun shines, wherever there are markets and granaries and har- vest-fields, there are men and women everywhere gathering that which comes to this country for the sustenance of our people ; and our fleets traverse every sea, and visit every port, and bring us the food which only about thirty years ago the 420 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY laws of this civilized and Christian countty denied to its people. You find it in Holy Writ that ' The earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof.' We have put Holy Writ into an Act of Parliament, and since then of that fulness every man and woman and little child in this country may freely and abundantly partake. After that great work was done, after the session in which Sir Robert Peel paid that beautiful and most just tribute to the services of my lamented friend — for you know that he had suffered at the time from ill-health, which had caused his absence for many weeks from Parliament during that most interesting session — he proceeded to the continent of Europe, and visited most of its principal capitals. In every city he was received by the best men of that city. He was received theie as a statesman who had achieved a great triumph in his own country, and who deserved to be received and accepted as a friend and brother by the friends of man in every other coun- try. He came back impressed with one great feeling of sor- row that the armaments of Europe were so great, and that the chances of war with great armaments were so much increased. He thought our armaments much too large and our taxes from that source much too heavy, and he wished to undertake a movement to convince the people that great reductions might be made. In that matter, I regret to say, he entirely failed. The fact is the people were not sufficiently instructed. They were terrified by the stories set before them, sometimes by ignorant, sometimes by interested persons, and his effort in that direction, as far as any immediate action or result was concerned, was an entire failure. After that, and not long after, came another great political transaction, which greatly disturbed him, as you may suppose. I mean the war with Russia — the Crimean War. Turning back to his pamphlet, one can understand the profound grief with which he must RICHARD COBDEN 421 have seen the poHcy of the country at that time. He had warned it against such a pohcy ; he had hoped that it was impossible ; and yet in a moment of passion and prejudice that war was undertaken. Speaking to me about it more than once, he said, ' When the people are themselves in a state of frenzy, so that their reason seems to be dethroned, it is useless to argue with them. We must wait till there comes a cooler and more reasonable time.' He looked on, sad and dejected, till the termination of the strife. . . . Now we come to one other point which was a great grief to my lamented friend ; that is, the question of the Civil War in America. You know how much he sympathised, I will not say with the institutions, but with the interests of the United States. He visited that country twice during the - course of his life. He had made, as he made wherever he went, many very earnest and very warm friends. He, I think, was more broken down in heart and feeling by the Amer- ican War, perhaps, than any other man that I happened to know at that time in England. He had thought that there was a country spreading over a whole continent, and that in that country would be perpetual peace. There was no great army, there was no great navy ; there were no foreign poli- tics ; America was the home of peace. But he had not cal- culated the effect of a vast calamity like the existence of slaver}' in that country. Slavery was one of those devils that would not go out without tearing the nation that was pos- sessed of it. But still he always believed that the result of the war would be slavery abolished, and the great Republic, still one and indivisible, henceforth, as he had hoped it would be before the war, the advocate of peace and the promoter of civilisation. Now, mv friend did not see the fulfilment of his wishes. It was a circumstance somewhat significant, and verv affecting to mx mind, that on the verv dav that 42 2 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY President Lincoln and the Northern forces entered the city of Richmond, and when in point of fact the Slave Confederacy was vanquished and at an end — on that very day — that very Sunday, the 2nd of April, in the year 1865 — ^the spirit of my friend left its earthly tenement, and took its way to another, and to him doubtless, a brighter world. Number 7/ DEVELOPMENT OF THE ENGLISH CABINET F. C. Montague. The Elements of Ettglish Constitutional History, pp. 163-173- Development of the Cabinet — Party Government. — More important than any legislative innovation made during this period was the development of the Cabinet. Its development was the direct consequence of the Revolution of 1688. But this consequence was not foreseen by any of the statesmen who took part in that revolution. The Cabinet was not the deliberate invention of any one man, nor even of a series of reformers. It took shape gradually, and under the pressure of circumstances. None of the authors who in the last cen- tury wrote on the Constitution of England had anything to say regarding the Cabinet. To the present day the Cabinet has never received legal recognition, yet it is the very pivot of government. Its history, therefore, deserves to be told at some length. The Two Forms of the Cabinet. — An EngHsh Cabinet may be defined as a small council of Ministers, not known to the law, yet controlling the government. At different periods of our history such a council has been formed in different ways. In the seventeenth century it was formed by the monarch DEVELOPMENT OK 11 IE ENGLISH CABINET 423 selecting those persons in whom he had pecuhar confidence. In the eighteenth century it came to be formed of those per- sons who had the confidence of the House of Commons. In its first form the Cabinet was the creature of the king; in its second form the Cabinet is the creature of the Parliament. The transition from the first to the second form of the Cabinet was brought about by the Revolution. The Early Form of the Cabinet. — A Cabinet in this form dates from the beginning of the seventeenth century. The word Cabinet is found in Lord Bacon's Essays. The Privy Council, we have seen, became too large for the work which it was expected to do. Many privy councillors had neither the industry, nor the knowledge, nor the ability required for taking an active part in the government. From the accession of the Stuarts onwards it became more and more the prac- tice of our kings to discuss affairs of state with a few men who either held some great ofifice, or were highly considered for their talent or experience, or happened to be royal favour- ites at the time. \\"hat had been agreed upon in this smaller body would be formally resolved in the larger Privy Council. Unpopularity of the Cabinet in its Original Form. — The law had never recognised the existence of a smaller body within the Privy Council. The general public did not know who were its members ; it was therefore regarded as uncon- stitutional. It was regarded as the instrument for forming and executing designs which could not bear the criticism of upright independent statesmen, and for which no prudent person would be responsible. A king who wanted honest advice would never consult with a mere clique in the Privy Council. All the privy councillors were entitled to have their opinion asked, for the Privy Council was recognised by the law as the king's proper adviser. Everybody knew who were privy councillors. Although members of the Privy Council 424 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY were bound to secrecy, the whole council could be called to account by Parliament if the king persevered in evil courses. But how could Parliament or the courts of justice grasp an elusive body like this secret council of the king ? Growing Frequency of Cabinet Councils. — It is in vain that any number of persons set themselves against the drift of things. The Privy Council remained incapable of governing, so recourse was still had to a body which could govern. After the Restoration an attempt was made to render the Privy Coun- cil less cumbrous and more useful. It was divided into com- mittees for the care of different departments of State, such as the Committee for Trade and Plantations and the Com- mittee for Foreign Affairs. This expedient is not yet obsolete, but questions of general policy requiring unity of power could not be treated thus. On such questions Charles II. still took counsel with a few persons. Clarendon, Ormond, Southamp- ton, and Nicholas formed a sort of Ministry in the first years of his reign. After the fall of Clarendon, he settled every- thing of consequence with the five councillors so often de- nounced as the Cabal. Their unpopularity suggested to Sir William Temple the need for a further reform of the Privy Council. He proposed to form a new council of thirty mem- bers, all men of independent fortune. One half were to be servants of the Crown, the other half were to be disengaged from that service. But the reformed Privy Council was still too large and too discordant to be of any use ; it speedily broke up. Charles reverted to his old practice of secret coun- cils. James II. followed the same method. After the Revo- lution William III. ignored the Privy Council, and settled his policy with the help of a few trusty advisers. The clause in the Act of Settlement requiring that the Privy Council should transact all the business which had formerly belonged to it remained a dead letter. DEVELOPMENT OF THE ENGLISH CABL\ET 425 The Later Form of the Cabinet. — As yet the Cabinet was not regularly composed of members of the party which had the majority in the House of Commons. The tradition that the king chose his own advisers had not lost its force. He was not yet required to take them all from the party which happened to be strongest. It was enough if none of his ad- visers were so much disliked by the majority in the House of Commons as to run the risk of impeachment. It was not necessary that all should positively enjoy the confidence of that majority, for it was still the accepted principle that the king was to govern, and that the Commons had only to pre- vent him from misgoverning, l^ut the Revolution of 1688 made it impossible to adhere to this principle. The Revolu- tion brought about a state of affairs in which no government was possible without the active and incessant co-operation of the Commons. In order to obtain this co-operation the king was obliged to choose for Ministers those statesmen who had the confidence of the Commons, or, in other words, who held the opinions of the majority in that House. William III. struggled for some time against this conclu- sion. He wished to be king of the whole nation, not the chief of a party. He began by taking the fittest men for Ministers, irrespective of their opinions. But he found by experience that a Ministry thus composed was weak in itself, and could not hope for fair play in Parliament. Lord Sunderland, a statesman of great experience and sub- tlety, showed him that he would have less trouble in govern- ing if all his Ministers were of the party prevailing in the Commons. Between 1693 and 1696 he gradually formed a Ministry of Whigs. But when the Whigs lost their ma- jority in the House, he was again at a disadvantage ; for a Tory Ministry could not enter into his plans as the Whigs had done. 426 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY When William III. died, Marlborough carried on his pol- icy. Marlborough, who had always been a Tory, tried at first to govern with the help of his own party. Finding them indifferent or hostile to the war with France, he was led gradually to replace them with Whigs. In 1708 the whole Ministry was Whig. Two years later the Tories won at the general election. The Whig Ministry was displaced and a Tory Ministry succeeded. After Anne's death another change of fortune came. The Ministers of George I. were all Whigs. Thus, by degrees, with no fixed design on the part of any one, and simply as a matter of convenience, grew up the practice of choosing Ministers solely from the party which was strongest in the House of Commons. Once this practice was established, it led to remarkable consequences. Formerly all that was expected of Ministers was that they should be loyal to the king. Now they were expected to be loyal to their party, and consequently to each other. In form they still were, they still are, the servants and counsellors of the Crown. In fact, they became, and have continued ever since, the servants and advisers of the majority in the House of Commons. As the king was prevented by his position from making common cause with either party, party government could not be complete until the king was practically deprived of his share in governing. This process was assisted by an acci- dent : George I. could not speak English. He therefore thought it useless to preside at the meetings of the Cabinet. He was the first king of England who stayed away from these meetings. Thus he gave rise to the custom, now firmly estab- lished, that the Cabinet consults together apart from the sov- ereign. But when once the sovereign had ceased to preside in the Cabinet, it was natural to seek some other president. The person naturally chosen was the Minister most respected DEVELOPMENT OF THE ENGLISH CABINET 427 by the party. The leader of tlie party thus tended to become a Prime Minister; this term was long unpopular in England. A Prime Minister was long regarded as an ambitious subject who stood between the people and their sovereign. The name was anxiously disavowed by Ministers who really exercised the power of Prime Minister. It was not used in any oflficial document until the Congress of Berlin in the year 1878. The Prime Minister. — Under the modern constitution of P^ngland, the Prime Minister is the most powerful man in the State. His functions have never been defined by statute, but they have been accurately defined by custom. They are principally three — to exercise a general control over the whole executive government ; to be the organ of communica- tion between the Cabinet and the sovereign, and to be the organ of communication between the Cabinet and Parliament. L The Prime Minister as CoiitJ-olling tJic Executive. — The Prime Minister may or may not take charge of some special department. One Prime Minister has been Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, another has been Chancellor of the Exchequer. Others have held some office without any serious duties, usually that of Mrst Lord of the Treasury. What office a Prime Minister shall hold is a matter for his personal preference, but every Prime Minister exercises a gen- eral control over all the departments. Such control does not extend to the details of administration, which the head of each department settles for himself ; but, whenever a question of policy has to be decided, the head of the department is bound to inform the Prime Minister and to defer to his opinion. This is particularly necessary when a proposed charge would affect the public expenditure. For the Prime Minister arbitrates, as it were, between the demands of differ- ent departments on the public purse. The Prime Minister is also expected to bestow particular attention upon foreign 428 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY affairs. Ever}- important despatch received or written by the Secretar)' for Foreign Affairs must be submitted to the Prime Minister. II. Tlic Prime Minister as the Organ of Cinnmnnication betzveen the Cabinet and the Sovereign. — The second func- tion of the Prime Minister is to inform the sovereign of the feehngs and opinions of the Cabinet, and the Cabinet of the feehngs and opinions of the sovereign. None of his colleagues is allowed to meddle in this business. The sover- eign, it is true, often communicates directly with the head of a particular department in order to obtain official information ; but it is considered unconstitutional for the sovereign thus to communicate with the head of a department upon any ques- tion of general policy, or upon the action of the government as a whole. Such communications, if continued, would lead to the Prime Minister's insisting upon the resignation of his colleague or else sending in his own resignation. III, The Prime Minister as the Orgaii of Commiinication between the Cabinet and the Parliament. — The position of the Prime Minister with reference to Parliament is similar to his position with reference to the Crown. All communica- tions to Parliament concerning the feelings or opinions of the Cabinet must be made either by the Prime Minister in person or with his knowledge and approval. Mere official information may be given by the head of a particular depart- ment to the House of which he is a member. The Prime Minister usually holds the important though ill-defined posi- tion of leader of that House in which he sits, and thus en- joys by custom certain privileges in making statements to that House. Relation of the Prime Minister to the Individual Members of his Cabinet. — The relation of the Prime Minister to indi- vidual members of his Cabinet is verv difficult to define. The DF.VKI.orMl'.N'r OI' 11 IK KXCil.ISli CAIilNK'l' 429 Prime Minister is intrusted h)- the sovereign with the duty of choosing his colleagues. In the performance of this duty he may use his discretion, limited only by the necessity of choosing the men of the greatest ability and influence in his party. It is true that the limitation thus imposed is very narrow. When the Prime Minister has chosen his colleagues, he is bound to discuss with them every question of general importance. If any one of them disagrees with the Prime Minister and the rest of the Cabinet, he must either resign his office or stifle his dissatisfaction and act loyally with his colleagues in carr)dngout their opinion. The same rule holds where several members of the Cabinet disagree with the Prime Minister and the rest. For, by the usage of the Constitu- tion, the Prime Minister is entitled to go on governing as long as he can command a majority in the House of Com- mons. Colleagues who disapprove of his conduct may resign, and when they have resigned may do their best to defeat him in that House. If they are influential, they will probably suc- ceed in this attempt, and so force him to resign ; but consti- tutional usage requires them so long as they remain in the Cabinet to support him loyally, and to refrain from prejudicing either the sovereign or the Parliament against him. Deliberations of the Cabinet. — The members of the Cabi- net are always members of the Privy Council. As privy coun- cillors they arc sworn not to disclose anything said in the discussion of affairs of State. No minutes are taken of the proceedings in a Cabinet Council, but it is known that these proceedings are quite informal ; they are not like the pro- ceedings of Parliament. It is not usual to make set speeches. It is most unusual to press matters to a division. The object of everybody present is to find out the general drift of opin- ion, and to adapt himself to that. The final resolution is accepted as the resolution of ever)' member of the Cabinet. 430 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY The Prime Minister, if able and energetic, usually dominates in these discussions. The Working of the Cabinet System. — It is the peculiarity of the Cabinet system, as above described, to combine much of the unity, secrecy, and promptitude which belong to a despotic monarchy, with complete dependence upon the good- will of a large representative assembly. Such dependence would make government impossible were that assembly a mere loose, unconnected gathering of individuals or of small knots of men. But the House of Commons has very rarely fallen into that condition ; it has usually been divided into two great parties, each of which is firmly bound together by tradition, by opinion, by interest, and by strict organization. The ordinary member will go far indeed before he deserts his party, and the party will go far before it deserts a leader whose ability, experience, and reputation it has found highly advantageous. These circumstances make tolerable the de- pendence of the Cabinet upon the House of Commons. The Cabinet system is essentially based upon the party system. Cabinet government is thus open to the grave objection of undergoing a change of policy whenever a party which has previously been in a minority acquires a majority. This ob- jection would be fatal if the two great parties did not agree in many of the most fundamental ideas of government. If they differed like Catholics and Protestants in the sixteenth, or like Cavaliers and Roundheads in the seventeenth century, party government would involve everlasting revolution. The Cabinet system, therefore, cannot work well except in a country where political differences are restricted and political passions are under control. Ministerial Responsibility under the Cabinet System. — Under the Cabinet system ministerial responsibility assumed a new form. So long as Ministers were really appointed and ])F,VKL()l'MK\'r OI" THE ENCMSII ( AlilXET 431 dismissed by the king, it was only by means of impeachment that the House of Commons could drive a Minister from office. Thus, in order to get rid of a Minister whose policy they condemned, the Commons had recourse to a criminal accusation, and, in order to carr}^ their point, often wrested the law, especially the law of treason, in the most arbitrary and shameful manner ; but from the time when difference of opinion between the Minister and the majority of the Com- mons resulted, as a matter of course, in the resignation of the Minister, impeachment was confined to its proper use as a means of bringing actual law-breakers to justice. A fallen Minister had no longer any reason to fear the loss of his life or estate, and even young members of the House of Commons ceased to threaten the king's advisers with the axe and block. Final Prevalence of the Cabinet System. — The Cabinet system, as above described, was not completed until the nine- teenth century. But it was established in all important points in the course of the reigns of George I. and George H. Sir Robert Walpole was, perhaps, the first Prime Minister in the modern sense of that term. During his long term of office, from 1 72 1 to 1742, he asserted his right to be the mouth- piece of the Ministry in Parliament and in the royal closet. He enforced strict subordination on the part of ever)' col- league. Any one w'ho tried to exercise the independence formerly enjoyed by Ministers and privy councillors was promptly dismissed from office. Reaction against the Cabinet System. — Walpole anxiously disclaimed the title of Prime Minister, which he knew to be hateful to the English people, but his unquestionable suprem- acy provoked a violent reaction. Both Whig and Tory had reason to dislike the Cabinet system. Proud of their birth, their wealth, their hereditary influence in the State, the Whig chiefs were naturally averse to a system which merged all 432 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY their wills in the will of one ambitious member of the House of Commons. Taught by tradition that the king was the real, not merely the nominal, head of the State, the Tories were instinctively hostile to a system which reduced the royal authority to a shadow. Yet they might have acquiesced in a diminution of the power of a Hanoverian king if it had not been accompanied by their entire and permanent exclusion from ofifice. As it was, the Tories who wished to be Ministers united with the Whigs who had been driven out of the Min- istry. Lord Bolingbroke expounded the constitutional theory of the opposition in his famous treatise, " The Patriot King." The patriot king was to revive the tradition of the English monarchy, to disregard part}', and to select wherever he could find them those Ministers who were willing to work under him for the common good. The Opposition at length succeeded in driving Walpole from office. But they did not seriously endeavour to give effect to the doctrines of Bolingbroke. After some years of weakness and confusion caused by jarring ambitions, events renewed their natural course, and the Cabinet system was restored. CABINET GOVERNMENT IN ENGLAND ROBINSOX AND Beard. Development of Modern Europe, Vol. II. pp. 193-198. These reforms, which at last permit the people at large to select the members of the House of Commons, have left untouched, so far as appearances are concerned, the ancient and honorable institutions of the king and the House of Lords. The sovereign is crowned with traditional pomp ; coins and proclamations still assert that he rules " by the CABINET GOVERNMENT IN ENGLAND 433 grace of God " ; and laws purport to be enacted " by the king's most excellent Majesty, by and with the advice and consent of the Lords Spiritual and Temporal and Commons in Parliament assembled." Justice is executed and the colo- nies governed in the name of the king. The term " royal " is still applied to the army, the navy, and the mail service, reserving, as a wit once remarked, the word " national " only for the public debt. There was a time, of course, when the highest prerogatives were really exercised by the king of lu-igland. Henr)' VIII, for example, appointed his own ministers and dismissed them at will. lie made war and peace at his pleasure and exer- cised such an influence on the elections that Parliament was filled with his supporters. The long struggle, however, be- tween the king and the Parliament in the seventeenth cen- tury, and the circumstances of the revolution of 1688 which placed William and Mary on the throne, made Parliament the predominant element in the English government. The king is still legally empowered to veto any bill passed by Parliament, but he never exercises this power. He has in reality only the right to be consulted, the right to encourage, and the right to warn. He cannot permanently oppose the wishes of the majority in Parliament, for should he venture to do so, he could always be brought to terms by cutting off the appropriations necessary to conduct his government. The king of England must now act through a ministry composed of the important officers of the government, such as the first lord of the treasury, the foreign secretary, the colonial secretary, the secretary of the war department, with the prime minister as their head. The development of this ministry, which is known as the cabinet, has been described in an earlier chapter. It was pretty firmly established under George I and George II, who were glad to let others manage 434 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY the government for them. While the king nominally appoints the members of the cabinet, that body is in reality a com- mittee selected from the party which has a majority in the House of Commons. The reasons for this were also explained earlier in dealing with the English government in the eight- eenth century and need not be repeated here. The party which secures the majority in a parliamentary election is entitled to place its members in all the important government offices. The party leaders hold an informal caucus and agree on a prime minister, who then takes one of the cabinet offices. . . . After the party has chosen its leader he is appointed prime minister by the king, who charges him with the task of naming, with the advice of his political asso- ciates, the other occupants of cabinet positions, who may be selected from among the lords as well as the commons. Thus it comes abo.ut that, unlike the President of the United States and his cabinet, who must communicate with Congress through messages, reports, or other indirect means, the prime minis- ter and the heads of departments in England themselves sit in Parliament and can therefore present and defend their own proposals. The body of officials so constituted draft the more important measures to be laid before Parliament and decide on the for- eign and domestic policy to be pursued by the government. At the opening of each session of Parliament the general program of the cabinet is laid before the House of Lords and the House of Commons in the form of the " king's speech," which is read by the sovereign or his representative. In its secret sessions the head of each department presents to the cabinet the measures which he recommends in his particular branch of the government. If, after discussion, these are approved by a majority of the other members, they are sub- mitted to the House of Commons. In all matters the cabinet CABINET GOVERNMENT IN ENGLAND 435 acts as a unit, and whenever a member cannot agree with the majority on an important point he is bound to resign. The cabinet therefore presents a united front to ParHament and the countr)^ An interesting illustration of this is to be found in the story told of Lord Melbourne when prime minister. His cabinet was divided on the question of the duty on grain, and with his back against the door, he declared to them : " Now, is it to lower the price of corn or isn't it? It does not matter much what we say, but mind, we must all say the same thing." Whenever the House of Commons expresses its disapproval of the policy of the ministry, either by defeating an important measure or by a direct vote of censure, the cabinet is bound to do one of two things. It may resign in a body and thus make room for a new ministr)^ made up from the opposite party. If, however, the ministers feel that their policy has popular support outside of Parliament, they may " go to the country," that is to say, they may ask the king to dissolve the existing Parliament and order a new election in the hope that the people may indicate its approval of their policy by electing their supporters. The further action of the ministr)^ is then determined by the outcome of the election. The re- turn of a majority of members in favor of the ministerial policy is taken as justification for retaining office. On the other hand, a failure to gain a majority is the signal for the resignation of the entire ministr}' and the transference of power to their opponents. As the members of the House of Commons are not elected for a definite term of years (though according to law elections must be held at least every seven years), that body may be dis- solved at any time for the purpose of securing an expression of the popular will on any important issue. It is thus clear that the British government is more sensitive to public opinion 436 READINGS IX ENGLISH HISTORY than are governments where the members of the legislatures are chosen for a definite term of years. For example, in the United States, Congressmen are elected for two years and Senators for six ; consequently when a crisis arises it usually has to be settled by men who were not chosen according to their views on that particular question, while in England a new election can be held with direct reference to the special issue at hand. Nevertheless, the reader will naturally ask, how is it that the British government can be so democratic and yet retain, in its upper house, a body of hereditary peers responsible to no constituents ? The explanation is that the House of Com- mons, by reason of its ancient and exclusive right of initiat- ing all money bills, can control the king and force him, if necessary, to create enough new peers to pass any measure blocked by the House of Lords. In practice the king does not have to do more than threaten such a measure to bring the House of Lords to terms. Although many bills have been defeated in the House of Lords during the nineteenth century, a sort of constitutional understanding has grown up that the upper house must yield to an unmistakable and definite expression of popular opinion in favor of a measure which it has previously opposed. How- ever, the House of Lords is increasingly unpopular with a large class in England. Its members for the most part take little or no interest in their duties and rarely attend the sessions. The opposition of the peers to the educational bill introduced in 1906 has again raised the question of the abolition or complete reorganization of the upper house. The smooth working of the English cabinet system may be partially attributed to the fact that during the nineteenth century there were only two political parties represented in Parliament, — the Conservatives, who dropped the name Tory THE EXTENSION OF THE FRANCHISE 437 after the first parliamentary reform, and the Liberals, who abandoned the name of Whig about the same time. The leaders of the former party came principally from the aris- tocracy and landed proprietors, while the latter found its chiefs among the middle classes. These two parties were alternately in power, and it was not until 1906 that their joint monopoly of politics was threatened by the election of over fifty labor members, some of whom are organized into a solid group acting independently. The Irish party, of course, stands firmly fof home rule, but is willing to cooperate with other parties, especially the Liberals, to obtain its ends. At the present juncture it appears possible that England may de- velop a many-party system comparable to that existing in the countries of the Continent. Number yj THE ILXTENSION OF THE FRA^XHISE William Ewart Gladstone. Excerpt from a speech delivered in the House of Commons, April 27, 1866. Hansard, Parliameniary Debates, Series III, Vol. 183, pp. 146-149. i 51-152. For the author, see Number 69, above. ... I am justified, then, in stating that the working classes are not adequately represented in this House. They are not, it is admitted, represented in any proportion to their numbers ; and without holding that it would be fit for us to do more than lessen the disproportion, we contend it is right to do as much. They are not represented, as I have previously shown, in accordance witli tlieir share of the income of the country. Especially after the events of the last few years, I may boldly proceed to say they are not represented in propor- tion to their intelligence, their virtue, or their loyalty. F^inally, 438 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY they are less represented now than they were thirty-six years ago, when they were less competent to exercise the franchise, A greater amount of representation with a less amount of fitness was not found to be injurious, but wholesome, for the State ; and now, when, as you admit, there is a greater amount of fit- ness, and, as you must grant, a less amount of representation, you are not disposed to accede to a further measure of enfran- chisement. If these are not good reasons for extending the suffrage at the present, I know not what reasons can be good. But if hon. Members think they can hold their ground in a policy of resistance and refusal for the present, 1 have to ask them, how do they regard the future ? My right hon. Friend the Member for Calne ^ has prophesied to us in the most em- phatic terms, the ruin of the British Constitution. His proph- ecies were beautiful so far as his masterly use of the English language is concerned. But many prophecies quite as good may be found in the pages of Mr. Burke and Mr. Canning and other almost equally distinguished men. What has been the fate of those prophecies .'' What use do they now serve ? They form admirable material of declamations for schoolboys, and capital exercises to be translated into Greek. The proph- ecies of my right hon. Friend, like those of even greater men than he, may some thirty years hence serve a similar purpose. They may, for the beauty and force of their language, be selected by teachers at colleges and schools as exercises for their pupils, and my right hon. Friend will have his reward, as others have had theirs. Ut piicris placeas et declamatiofias? My hon. Friend says we know nothing about the labouring classes. Is not one single word a sufficient reply .-' That word is Lancashire ; Lancashire,-^ associated with the sufferings 1 Mr. Lowe. - To please boys and furnish material for declamation. 8 The cotton and woolen mills of Lancashire were shut down because the supply of raw cotton from the United States was cut off by the Civil War. THK KX'lT,NSIO\ OF TKK IR.\\( -IIISK 439 of the last four years, so painful and bitter in themselves to contemi)late, but so nobly and gloriously borne ? The (juali- ties then exhibited were the qualities not of select men here and there among a depraved multitude, but of the mass of a working community. The sufferings were sufferings of the mass. The heroism was heroism of the mass. For my own part, I cannot believe that the men who exhibited those quali- ties were only a sample of the people of England, and that the rest would have wholly failed in exhibiting the same great qualities had occasion arisen. I cannot see what argu- ment could be found for some wise and temperate experi- ment of the extension of civil rights among such people, if the experience of the last few years does not sufficiently afford it. And now. Sir, let us for a moment consider the enormous and silent changes which have been going forward among the labouring population. May I use the words to hon. and right hon. Gentlemen once used by way of exhortation by Sir Robert Peel to his opponents, " elevate your vision ? " Let us try and raise our views above the fears, the suspicions, the jealousies, the reproaches, and the recriminations of this place and this occasion. Let us look onward to the time of our children and of our children's children. Let us know what preparation it behoves us should be made for that coming time. Is there or is there not, I ask, a steady movement of the labouring classes, and is or is not that movement a move- ment onwards and upwards .? I do not say that it falls beneath the eye, for, like all great processes, it is unobservable in de- tail, but as solid and undeniable as it is resistless in its essen- tial character. It is like those movements of the crust of the earth which science tells us are even now going on in certain portions of the globe. The sailor courses over them in his vessel, and the traveller by land treads them without being 440 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY conscious of these changes ; but from day to day, from hour to hour, the heaving forces are at work, and after a season we discern from actual experience that things are not as they were. Has my right hon. Friend, in whom mistrust rises to its utmost height, ever really considered the astonishing phe- nomena connected with some portion of the conduct of the labouring classes, especially in the Lancashire distress ? Has he considered what an amount of self-denial was exhibited by these men in respect to the American war ? They knew that the source of their distress lay in the war ; yet they never uttered or entertained the wish that any effort should be made to put an end to it, as they held it to be a war for justice, and for freedom. Could any man have believed that a conviction so still, so calm, so firm, so energetic, could have planted it- self in the minds of a population without becoming a known patent fact throughout the whole country ? But we knew nothing of it. And yet when the day of trial came we saw that noble sympathy on their part with the people of the North ; that determination that, be their sufferings what they might, no word should proceed from them that would hurt a cause which they so firmly believed to be just. On one side there was a magnificent moral spectacle ; on the other side was there not also a great lesson to us all, to teach us that in those little tutored, but yet reflective minds, by a process of quiet instillation, opinions and sentiments gradually form themselves of which we for a long time remain unaware, but which, when at last they make their appearance, are found to be deep-rooted, mature and ineradicable ? . . . . . . May I speak briefly to the hon. Gentlemen opposite, as some of them have addressed advice to Gentlemen on this side of the House. I would ask them, " Will you not con- sider, before you embark in this new crusade, whether the results of those other crusades in which you have heretofore TTTK EXTENSION OF TTIK FRANCHISE 441 engaged liave been so satisfactory to you as to encourage you to repeat the operation ? " Great battles you have fought, and fought them manfully. The battle of maintaining civil dis- abilities on account of religious belief, the battle of resisting the first Reform Act, the obstinate and long-continued battle of Protection, all these great battles have been fought by the great party that I see opposite ; and as to some portion of those conflicts I admit my own share of the responsibility. But I ask, again, have their results — have their results to- ward yourselves — been such as that you should be disposed to renew struggles such as these ? Certainly those who com- pose the Liberal party here, at least in that capacity have no reason or title to find fault. The effect of your course has been to give them for five out of every six, or for six out of every seven years since the epoch of the Reform Act the conduct and management of public affairs. The effect has been to lower, to reduce, and contract your just influence in the country, and to abridge your legitimate share in the ad- ministration of the Government. It is good for the public interest that you should be strong ; but if you are to be strong, you can only be so by showing, in addition to the kindness and the personal generosity which I am sure you feel towards the people, a public, a political trust and confidence in them. What I now say can hardly be said with an evil motive. I am conscious of no such sentiment towards any man or part)-. But, Sir, we are assailed ; this Bill is in a state of crisis and of peril, and the Government along with it. We stand or fall with it, as has been declared by my noble Friend Lord Russell. We stand with it now ; we may fall with it a short time hence. If we do so fall, we, or others in our places, shall rise with it hereafter. I shall not attempt to measure with precision the forces that are to be arrayed against us in the coming issue. Perhaps the great division of tonight is not the last that must 442 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY take place in the struggle. At some point of the contest you may possibly succeed. You may drive us from our seats. You may bury the Bill that we have introduced, but we will write upon its gravestone for an epitaph this line, with certain con- fidence in its fulfilment — '' Exoriare aliqids nostris ex ossi- his 7(1 tor." 1 You cannot fight against the future. Time is on our side. The great social forces which move onwards in their might and majesty, and which the tumult of our debate does not for a moment impede or disturb, — those great social forces are against you ; they are marshalled on our side, and the banner which we now carry in this fight, though perhaps at some moment it may droop over our sinking heads, yet it soon again will float in the eye of heaven, it will be borne by the firm hands of the united people of the three king- doms, perhaps not to an easy, but to a certain and to a not distant victory. Number y^ HOME RULE FOR IRELAND William Ewart Gladstone. Excerpt from a speech delivered in the House of Commons, i886. Hansard, Parliamentary Debates, Series in, Vol. 306, pp. 1 237-1 240. For the author, see Number 69, above. . . . What is the case of Ireland at this moment .? Have hon. Gentlemen considered that they are coming into con- flict with a nation "> Can anything stop a nation's demand, except its being proved to be immoderate and unsafe 1 But here are multitudes, and, I believe, millions upon millions, out-of-doors, who feel this demand to be neither immoderate nor unsafe. In our opinion, there is but one question before 1 May an avenger arise from our ashes ! (^En. IV, 625). HOME RULE FOR IRELAND 443 us about this demand. It is as to the time and circumstance of granting it. There is no question in our minds that it will be granted. We wish it to be granted in the mode prescribed by Mr. l^urke. Mr. Burke said, in his first speech at Bristol — "I was true to my old-standing invariable principle, that all things which came from Great Ikitain should issue as a gift of her bounty and beneficence rather than as claims recovered against struggling litigants, or at least, if your beneficence obtained no credit in your concessions, yet that they should appear the salutary provisions of your wisdom and foresight — not as things wrung from you with your blood by the cruel gripe of a rigid necessity." The differ- ence between giving with freedom and dignity on the one side, with acknowledgment and gratitude on the other, and giving under compulsion — giving with disgrace, giving with resentment dogging you at every step of )'our path — this difference is, in our eyes, fundamental, and this is the main reason not only why we have acted, but why we have acted now. This, if I understand it, is one of the golden moments of our history — one of those opportunities which may come and may go, but which rarely return, or, if they re- turn, return at long intervals, and under circumstances which no man can forecast. There have been such golden moments even in the tragic history of Ireland, as her poet says — " One time the harp of Innisfail Was tuned to notes of gladness." And then he goes on to say — " But yet did oftener tell a tale Of more prevailing sadness." But there was such a golden moment — it was in 1 795 — it was on the mission of Lord F'itzwilliam. At that moment it is his- torically clear that the Parliament of Grattan was on the point 444 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY of solving the Irish problem. The two great knots of that prob- lem were — in the first place, Roman Catholic Emancipation ; and in the second place, the Reform of Parliament. The cup was at her lips, and she was ready to drink it, when the hand of England rudely and ruthlessly dashed it to the ground in obedi- ence to the wild and dangerous intimations of an Irish faction. " Ex ill o flu ere ac retro sublapsa 7-eferri Spes DcDicuim.'''' ^ There has been no great day of hope for Ireland, no day when you might hope completely and definitely to end the controversy till now — more than 90 years. The long periodic time has at last run out, and the star has again mounted into the heavens. What Ireland was doing for herself in 1795 we at length have done. The Roman Catholics have been eman- cipated — emancipated after a woeful disregard of solemn promises through 29 years, emancipated slowly, sullenly, not from goodwill, but from abject terror, with all the fruits and consequences which will always follow that method of legis- lation. The second problem has been also solved, and the representation of Ireland has been thoroughly reformed ; and I am thankful to say that the franchise was given to Ireland on the re-adjustment of last year with a free heart, with an open hand, and the gift of that franchise was the last act re- quired to make the success of Ireland in her final effort abso- lutely sure. We have given Ireland a voice : we must all listen for a moment to what she says. We must all listen — both sides, both Parties, I mean as they are, divided on this question — divided, I am afraid, by an almost immeasurable gap. We do not undervalue or despise the forces opposed to us. I have described them as the forces of class and its depend- ents ; and that as a general description — as a slight and rude 1 From that day the hope of the Greeks began to ebb and to be borne away (/En. II, 169). HOME RULE FOR IRELAND 445 outline of a description — is, I believe, perfectly true. I do not deny that many are against us whom we should have expected to be for us. I do not deny that some whom we see against us have caused us by their conscientious action the bitterest dis- appointment. You have power, you have wealth, you have rank, you have station, \ou have organization. What have w-e ? We think that we have the people's heart ; we believe and we know we have the promise of the harvest of the future. As to the people's heart, you may dispute it, and dispute it with perfect sincerity. Let that matter make its own proof. As to the harvest of the future, I doubt if you have so much confidence, and I believe that there is in the breast of many a man who means to vote against us tonight a profound mis- giving, approaching even to a deep conviction, that the end will be as we foresee, and not as }'0u do — that the ebbing tide is with you and the flowing tide is with us. Ireland stands at your bar expectant, hopeful, almost suppliant. Her words are the words of truth and soberness. She asks a blessed oblivion of the past, and in that oblivion our interest is deeper than even hers. My right hon. Friend the Member for East Edinburgh asks us to-night to abide by the traditions of which we are the heirs. What traditions ? By the Irish tra- ditions .'' Go into the length and breadth of the world, ransack the literature of all countries, find, if you can, a single voice, a single book, ... in which the conduct of England towards Ire- land is anywhere treated except with profound and bitter con- demnation. Are these the traditions by which we are exhorted to stand ? No ; they are a sad exception to the glory of our coun- tr}^ They are a broad and black blot upon the pages of its his- tory ; and what we want to do is to stand by the traditions of which we are the heirs in all matters except our relations with Ireland, and to make our relations with Ireland conform to the other traditions of our countn'. So we treat our traditions — 446 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY so we hail the demand of Ireland for what I call a blessed oblivion of the past. She seeks also a boon for the future ; and that boon for the future, unless we are much mistaken, will be a boon to us in respect of honour, no less than a boon to her in respect of happiness, prosperity, and peace. Such, sir, is her prayer. Think, I beseech you ; think well, think wisely ; think, not for the moment, but for the years that are to come, before you reject this bill. Number / 5 ASQUITH AND LLOYD-GEORGE Sydney Brooks, " Some English Statesmen." iMcClnrc's Magazine, June, 191 1, pp. 123-126, 130-135. In any review of the men who are piloting England through her present unexampled difficulties, it is inevitable that one should begin with the Prime Minister. But I must own to a certain diffidence in doing so. I do not know Mr. Asquith ; I have never exchanged a word with him. I have, however, heard and read a great many of his speeches ; I have watched his career pretty closely from the time he was introduced into public life as one of Mr. Gladstone's discoveries ; I have constantly sat above him in the House of Commons ; and I have been moderately well placed for finding out what the average man, in and out of Parliament, says and thinks of him. The real Mr. Asquith may, of course, be very different from my outside estimate of him — one sees inevitably only the worst side of a public man in public. But, such as it is, it is at least unprejudiced and independent. Asquith is one of those men whose successes never sur- prise those who know them best. From the moment he entered his teens, he has been not merely distinguished, but ASQUITII AM) LLU\ IJ-GEORGE 447 supreme among his contemporaries. As a boy he took all the school prizes. As a youth he won the blue riband of classical scholarship, the Balliol, became president of the Oxford Union, — the famous debating society of the Univer- sity, — took a "double first," carried off the Craven scholar- ship, and -so impressed his professors and fellow graduates, from Dr. Jowett downwards, that perhaps no man ever left Oxford amid so many or such confident predictions of a brilliant future. He matured early, and a character sketch of him in those Oxford years would probably need little modification in detail and none at all in essentials to-day. A companionable youth among his chosen associates, but at no pains to be popular or ingratiating outside his own circle ; a hard reader, and nothing of an athlete, with few recreations beyond whist, chess, and talk ; a lucid, confident, somewhat arrogant, but undeniably effective debater at the Union ; one whom a few swore by and many, perhaps, were more inclined to swear at, but of whose ability, directness, strength of character, and dry, triumphant adequacy there could be no question — such was Asquith thirty-five years ago, and such, in the fun- damentals of mind and temperament, he remains to-day. Asquith has made his own way in life. A Yorkshireman of Puritan stock, born in moderate circumstances, he started out with none of those advantages of family influences and connections and high social position that in England, more perhaps than in any other countr)', smooth the path of pro- fessional and political ambition. He had his full share of the ordinary anxieties and difficulties of the briefless barrister, and he alleviated them, as do most briefless barristers, by journalism and lecturing. It was during this period of trial and uncertainty, when he was still only five-and-twenty, with his career all to make, that he took a step which the Asquith 448 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY of the popular imagination — the somewhat hard, self-centred embodiment of the sterner efficiencies — would never have taken : he married. One has to remember that. One has to remember also that years afterwards he sought and won, as his second wife. Miss Margot Tennant, perhaps the most brilliant and the keenest-witted woman in the British Isles. And, further, one must bear in mind all the reports that reach one of his staunchness as a friend, his pride in the achieve- ments of his gifted son, his sociability and considerateness as a host and companion. Asquith, after all, is human. That softer, warmer, more emotional side of him is not non-existent merely because the outer world is rarely, if ever, allowed to see it. It is a quarter of a century since Mr. Asquith, at the age of thirty-four, entered Parliament. The British House of Commons, unlike the American House of Representatives, does not as a rule take kindly to lawyers, but Asquith gained its ear at once. It was not, however, as a politician, but as an advocate, that he first became something of a national figure. He unsuccessfully but very ably defended John Burns when he was arrested in connection with the Trafalgar Square riots of 1887 — the same John Burns who is now President of the Local Government Board in the Cabinet of which Mr. Asquith is the official head. Two years later the famous Parnell Commission gave him his great chance. It fell to Mr. Asquith to cross-examine Mr. Macdonald, the manager of the Times. He did so with a masterly, merciless completeness that caught the popular fancy, was highly approved of by the profession, and put Mr. Asquith among the first flight of English lawyers. From that moment his star rose rapidly. He began to figure in all the great cases, in society, and in Parliament. Mr. Gladstone conceived a warm regard and admiration for his qualities, and in 1892, when the Liberals ASQUITH AND LLOVI )-()E()RGK 449 returned to power, made him Home Secretary. He proved himself a strong, competent, and open-minded administrator ; he met and solved three extremely troublesome questions with a firmness that lifted him at once altogether out of the ruck of time-serving politicians ; and the freshness and vigor with which he stretched his official powers in the cause of social reform, in fighting sweating and overcrowding, and in protect- ing the health and industrial interests of the working classes, made him the idol of Labor and penetrated the national con- sciousness with a new sense of its social responsibilities. In 1895, when the Conservatives came back into office, Mr. Asquith returned to his law practice, and for some years afterwards took only a casual, but always a prominent, part in politics. Throughout the Boer War he ranged himself with the Rosebery group of Liberals, and steadily supported his political opponents in a cause which he held to be above party. But it was not, I think, until I\Ir. Chamberlain, in 1903, launched his fiscal programme that the country took the full measure of Mr. Asquith's abilities. The controversy precisely suited his trenchant, lucid style. Eight }'ears ago he was one of the very few Liberals — so long had the question slept, so little did any one expect to see it reopened — who really knew why they were Free-Traders. lie at once took up Mr. Chamberlain's challenge, dogged his footsteps from town to town, and answered him speech for speech and point for point until it almost looked as if the issue would resolve itself into a gladiatorial combat between the two men. The great wave that in 1906 carried the Liberals to power in unprecedented force landed Mr. Asquith in the second highest post in the ministerial hierarchy, the Chancellorship of the Exchequer. Already it was clear that he was a predes- tined Premier. Within his own party he had no rival, no one who united as he did the range, the abilities, and the kind of 450 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY hold upon the people that are essential qualifications for the highest office of all. When Sir Henry Campbell-Banner- man early in 1908 laid down the reins, King Edward merely interpreted the universal expectation of the party and the people in summoning Mr. Asquith to take them up. For the past three years, through two general elections and amid a momentous Constitutional crisis, he has guided the nation and the Empire with an efficiency, an authority, and a deter- mination that have stamped him as one of the foremost of living Englishmen. Asquith has in an abundant degree the combative qualities that a party leader must have to be successful. He is a first- class fighting man, always supremely sure of himself, never at a loss for an effective retort, never far below the top of his form, and able to bring all his guns into action at a moment's notice. For pungency, vigor, concise and clean-cut com- pression, and a wealth of sonorous and cogent diction, there is nobody in the House of Commons to equal him. However damaging the attack upon the Government, there is a cheer of perfect confidence from the Liberal ranks when Asquith gets up to answer it. The stocky figure of medium height, the strong, clean-shaven, fresh-complexioned face that belies the white hair above it, give out an instant impression of assurance. W'itli few gestures, squarely confronting the Opposition, the Prime Minister begins to speak. There is no appeal to passion in what he says, no loose generalities, no attempt at rhetoric, nothing subtle or bewildering. The sen- tences roll out with a hammer-like precision ; the points made are direct and unambiguous ; the argument never wanders ; the humor is of the plain knockdown British brand ; the language is massive without being ornate and virile without being over- strained ; one gets the effect of some perfect machine produc- ing an almost effortless fusillade of logical, ordered dialectics. ASQUITH Ax\D LLUVD-GEORGE 451 I have, indeed, known Asquith to succeed, by a speech of pitiless, piled-up lucidity and compactness, in lashing his party into an enthusiasm such as even Mr. Gladstone could not always evoke. But the enthusiasm was wholly intellectual ; the cheers were for the achievement, not for the man. For, while his speeches in their way are models of what public speaking should be, they are not oratory. They lack the tone and color, the raptures and abandon and exaltations, of true oratory. Mr. Asquith always seems to know almost too well just what he is going to say and how he is going to say it. He never appears to be in the slightest danger of being carried out of himself. One could imagine him speaking equally well to no audience at all, or to an audience of broomsticks. The bloodless rigidity of excellence that runs through all his efforts seems to be independent of all spiritual communion between the speaker and those whom he is speaking to. It would be, perhaps, unfair to say that the party of all the enthusiasms is led by the man with none. Mr, Asquith 's Liberalism is not only a strongly held and closely reasoned creed : it is also an instinct, a vital part of the man himself, the sincerity of which is beyond question. At the same time, and by comparison with large sections of his party and with some of his principal lieutenants, the opinions, the manner, the whole bearing and attitude of the man have an air of almost piquant moderation and restraint. He is scrupulous of the dignities and traditions of his high office, of the decencies and amenities of Parliamentary debate, of the repute and de- corum of public life ; and of by no means all of his associates can as much be said. However much they may differ from his views and policies, all Englishmen are as one in feeling that the great succession of British Premiers suffers no deterioration in Mr. Asquith, and that his manliness, his impeccable honesty both of mind and character, and his great experience of affairs 452 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY and his unfailing competence are assets, particularly in such critical times as these, of the first value to the State. . . , . . . [Mr. Lloyd-George] is a Welshman, born in humble circumstances, a " man of the people " in every sense, whose life has been a constant and triumphant battle, and who has picked up for himself such knowledge as he possesses of the things that no amount of contact with life can teach. Twenty- odd years ago an obscure lawyer in a small Welsh country town ; to-day Chancellor of the Exchequer, the idol of his countrymen, and one of the most powerful, in some ways the most powerful, influence in British public life — the bare record of his career from the village green to Downing Street is enough by itself to arrest one's instantaneous attention and to proclaim a man far removed from the common run. Though of old yeoman stock, Mr, Lloyd-George's father was for most of his life a school-master, and only reverted to the soil when his health demanded an out-of-door existence. Dying while still a young man, he left his widow and two children almost wholly unprovided for, and Mr. Lloyd- George's earliest recollection is of his home and furniture being sold up. An uncle, who was a shoemaker and unsal- aried Baptist preacher in a village in North Wales, took charge of the family, and it was there, in a district saturated with the history and romance of the country, that Lloyd- George grew up, a quick-witted, high-spirited lad, disciplined by severely straitened circumstances, speaking both the Welsh and English tongues, and an eager listener at the informal parliament of neighbors and peasants that fore- gathered in the cobbler's workshop, there to discuss theology and politics, — they go together in Wales, — the iniquities of landlordism, and the oppressiveness of a social system that seemed to care so little for human life and happiness and so much for property and game. ASQUITH AM) LLUVD-GEORGE 453 Those early years have left an ineffaceable mark on the Chancellor of the Exchequer. It was then that he imbibed a spirit of passionate and poetic patriotism for Wales, and all that Wales contains of lonely lake and mist-clad mountain and rushing stream and ancient haunts of chivalry and romance. It was then that there was implanted in him a fiery and abiding sense of compassion for the disinherited, the " under dog," the millions who toil and ineffectively murmur. The iron of poverty entered into his soul, not to corrode it with unavailing bitterness, but to sting it with indignation and revolt. He was a born rebel. He is a rebel still. There is perhaps no man in the British Isles to whom the smugness and conventions, the appalling contrasts and inequalities, the buttressed authorities and arrangements of life in Great Britain are more absolutely repugnant. There is no man in whom the religion of humanity is more incarnate. That admirable man, the shoemaker uncle, set aside the scanty savings of a lifetime to prepare his nephew for the law, and together they quarried out of old dictionaries and gram- mars and text-books the knowledge that enabled him to pass the necessary examinations. At sixteen he was duly articled to a firm of solicitors ; at twenty-one he had qualified as a solicitor himself. The expense had completely drained his exchequer ; he had not even the fifteen dollars to buy the robes without which he could not practice in court. But suc- cess was not long in coming. A case of a kind peculiarly calculated to appeal to Welsh sentiment — a case involving the right of a Nonconformist to be buried in the graveyard of a local Episcopal church — was brought to him, and his con- duct of it made him the hero of the neighborhood. " Should the vicar," he told the village, " refuse to open the gates, then break down the wall which your subscriptions have built, force your way into the churchyard, reopen the grave, and 454 READINGS IX ENGLISH HISTORY bur)' the old man by his daughter." The advice was followed to the letter, and its legality was confirmed by the highest court in the realm. In a few years Lloyd-George had built up one of the largest practices in North Wales. But the law never engrossed him. He joined debating societies ; he plunged into the movement against the payment of tithes ; he stumped the countr)^side on behalf of land reform and temperance ; and, when the County Councils came into being, he roused the peasantry to shake off " the old feudal yoke of squirearchy," and was himself elected to the Council of Carnar\'onshire. A new Wales was born in the stress of that campaign. The spirit of Welsh nationalism and \\'elsh democracy awoke once more ; the old order of things, that permitted Wales to be rep- resented in the Imperial Parliament by landlords and commer- cial magnates or imported carpet-baggers, who neither spoke the language of the people nor had the wit or knowledge to look after their special interests, was clearly breaking up, and it was as an impassioned advocate of Welsh patriotism and the common Welsh people, peasants and workingmen, that Mr. Lloyd-George in 1 890 was elected to the House of Commons. It is too much to say that Lloyd-George has made a nation. But it is not too much to say that he has made that nation for the first time politically effective and politically conscious of itself. He marshalled the Welsh forces in Parliament into a single whole, and led them with a vigor and brilliancy not surpassed by Parnell. He pressed forward Welsh claims and rights as they had never been pressed before and against both the chief English parties in turn ; he withstood even Gladstone for the sake of Wales. Could he have had his way, a Welsh party, absolutely independent of any English connections, biased in favor of the Liberals but b\' no means annexed tcj them, would have been evolved. As it was, he ASQUITII AND T.T^OVn-GEORGE 455 passed over from the tributary of Welsh nationahsm to the broader stream of British Liberahsm, without, however, part- ing with one jot of his locaHsed patriotism. " Gallant little Wales " has in him the gallantest little champion she has yet produced. On all questions of domestic politics his voice is the voice of the Principality. He is as Welsh as O'Connell was Irish — more so, indeed, because he speaks the native tongue of the people. One would have to go back to the days of Owen Glendower to discover a leader who has won to an equal degree the enthusiasm that Mr. Lloyd-George commands among his warm-hearted and impressionable countrymen. It took but a few years for Mr. Lloyd-George to stamp himself on the House of Commons as a master of Parlia- mentary strateg)' and a daring, brilliant, biting swashbuckler of debate, the only man, indeed, on the Liberal side who could stand up to Joseph Chamberlain and return him blow for blow undismayed. He had from the first the three indis- pensable qualifications for political success — courage, the incommunicable gift of seizing the occasion and attracting notice, and, lastly, an unwearied assiduity. And to these attributes he added a pervasive and irrepressible humor, passion, sincerity, the legal eye for a weak argument, the legal turn for fresh and luminous exposition, and a wholly Celtic touch of idealism, zealotry, and imagination. The Boer War was the event that first brought him into really national prominence. He made himself the most in- tensely hated of all pro-Boers ; he was mobbed more than once ; it was only by desperate shifts that on one occasion he escaped being killed. But the English are not a resentful people, and they admire courage. When they think to-day of the war and Mr. Lloyd-George's part in it, they think of a man who, however misguided, wrong-headed, and mischievous, had at an\- rate the supreme political courage to stake his career on 456 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY his conscience. The ordeal of those exciting years did much to mature his powers, and hardly had the war ended than the Education Bill of 1902 gave him yet ampler scope for pungent attack. As a Welshman and as a Nonconformist it bitterly offended him, and he threw himself upon it with a dash and vehemence that thrilled his countrymen with some- thing of the fervor of a religious revival. He organised the Principality into what was little less than a rebellion against the enforcement of the Act. When the Tariff Reform movement was launched, Mr. Lloyd-George found another opportunity to hand. He shared with Mr. Asquith and Mr. Winston Churchill the distinction of being the most effective and sparkling of all the upholders of Free Trade. That was the close of the first stage of Lloyd-George's public career. The second opened in 1906, when, on the return of the Liberals to power, he became president of the Board of Trade. There were many who gasped when the fiery young Welshman, the consummate mob-orator whose name had become a synonym for all that was most tumultu- ous in politics, was entrusted with the care of British industr)' and commerce. His appointment was the last appointment "the City" would have thought of. Yet none turned out so supremely well. Among many successful Ministers, he proved the most successful. In two years he raised a com- paratively minor office to the highest level of prominence and utilit)'. He averted great industrial conflicts ; he passed some bold and beneficent measures ; he tackled and solved problems that his predecessors had found insoluble ; he showed himself to be beyond comparison the business man of the Cabinet. When it was known that Mr. Lloyd-George had taken up a question, people ceased to worry about it. It grew to be almost an article of faith with the masses and in the world of business, that he could not fail. ASQUITH AND LLOYD-GEORGE 457 From the presidency of the Board of Trade he passed to the Chancellorship of the Exchequer. As such he devised the momentous Budget of 1909, with its heavy super-taxes, the capture of part of the "unearned increment" of land, and its swinging duties on licenses. As such he has made himself the supreme advocate of the " condition of the people " question and of all measures of social reform. As such, too, he has surpassed all his colleagues in the vehe- mence, almost the virulence, of his attacks upon the House of Lords. No man in Great Britain has anything like his following among the masses, or his power of handling them to the utmost limit of emotion. There are at least six Lloyd-Georges. There is the Lloyd- George who lets himself go among his beloved Welsh hills with an exuberance of poetic and half-mystical declamation that makes the ordinary Englishman mutter something about the " Celtic temperament." There is the Lloyd-George, the Cabinet Minister, persuasive, polite, sagacious, pertinent, and conciliatory. There is the Lloyd-George, the administrator, composing disputes partly by his great tact and experience, partly by his almost instantaneous perception of what is essen- tial as well as of what is possible, and partly by the reflex action of his open and winning personality upon those with whom he is dealing. There is the Lloyd-George who holds forth upon Liberalism and social miseries and the " idle rich " with restrained, semi-religious fervor. And there is the Lloyd-George, the often vulgar, the often ranting, but always conquering demagogue, who plays upon vast audiences with the touch of another Clcon, and seems to care as little whether the points he makes have reason, decency, justice on their side, so long as they are effective. \ And, finally, there is Lloyd-George the man, the warm- hearted, practical idealist, frank, engaging, and generous, as 458 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY outspoken, cheery, and approachable to-day as when he was still an unknown novice. There is a tremendous air of life about him. He has something of Mr, Roosevelt's tingling alertness and far more than the ex-President's stock of gen- iality. Though he always hits his hardest, he is utterly destitute of malice and pettiness. He belongs altogether to the democ- racy of talent. One simply cannot imagine him " putting on side " or cultivating the English habit of " condescension." No man is so little hampered by formulae, or looks facts straighter in the face, or has so great a capacity for growth. Not a widely read man, not much of a thinker, he makes up for all deficiencies of culture and intellect by the intensity of his feelings and a sound, hard-headed instinct for practicality. The glow and zest and responsiveness of his nature, his candid, pouncing mind, the wholesome boyish streak that runs through all he says and does, the infectious freshness of his talk and outlook, his whole air of blithe comradeship, combine to make him, if not the greatest, at any rate the most remarkable personality in British politics to-day. THE RESTRICTION OF THE VE'l'O POWER 459 Number yd THE RESTRICTION OF THE VETO POWER OF THE HOUSE OF LORDS Herbert II. Asquith. Excerpt from a speech delivered in the House of Commons, March 28, 1910. Hansard, Ihr/iameniary DedaUs, Series V, Vol. 15, pp. 1 180-1 182. For the author, see Number 75, above. I am sorry to have detained the House so long in deahng with the details of these Resolutions. ^ . . . We put them forward as the first and indispensable step to the emancipa- tion of the House of Commons, and to rescue from something like paralysis the principles of popular government. Further, we put them forward as a demand, sanctioned as we believe by a large majority of the representatives of the people chosen at the recent General Election, themselves representing a large majority of the electorate. Fundamental changes in this country, as nothing illustrates more clearly than this controversy, are slow to bring into effect. There was a story current of the last Parliament, which in this connection bears repetition. It was told of a new Member of the then House of Commons that in 1906 he witnessed for the first time the ceremony of opening Parliament. He saw gathered in the other Chamber at one end the King sitting on his throne, at the other end Mr. Speaker standing at the Bar. In be- tween there was that scene of subdued but stately splendour, 1 These resolutions were as follows : (i) That the House of Lords be disabled by law from rejecting or amending a money bill. (2) That the power of the House of Lords over other bills be so restricted by law that a bill which has passed the House of Commons at two successive sessions, and has been rejected by the Lords each time, shall nevertheless become a law without the consent of the Lords on being passed by the Commons at a third session, provided, however, that two years shall have passed between the first introduction of the bill and its final passage. (3) That the life of a Parliament shall be restricted to five years, instead of seven. 46o READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY bringing and making alive to the eye and the imagination the unbroken course of centuries during which we alone here, of all the peoples of the world have been able to reconcile and harmonise the traditions of the past, the needs of the present, the hopes and aspirations of the future. He was a man of very advanced views, and as he gazed upon that unique and impressive spectacle, felt constrained to mutter to a neighbour, a man of like opinions with himself, " This will take a lot of abolishing." So it will. It was a very shrewd observation. But I am not sure that he had mastered the real lesson of the occasion. So far as outward vision goes, one would seem, no doubt, in the presence of such a ceremony as that, to be transplanted to the days of the Plantagenets. The frame- work is the same ; the setting is almost the same. The very figures of the picture — King, Peers, Judges, Commons — are the same, at any rate, in name. But that external and superficial identity masks a series of the greatest transfor- mations that have been recorded in the constitutional expe- rience of mankind. The Sovereign sits there on the Throne of Queen Elizabeth, who, as history tells us, on one occasion at the end of a single Session, opposed the Royal Veto to no less than forty-eight out of ninety-one Bills which had received the assent of both Houses of Parliament. That Royal Veto, then and for long afterwards, an active and potent enemy of popular rights, is literally as dead as Queen Anne. Yes, Sir ; and has the Monarchy suffered ? Has the Monarchy suffered ? There is not a man among us, in whatever quarter of this House he sits, who does not know the Crown of this Realm, with its hereditary succession, its Prerogatives adjusted from generation to generation to the needs of the people and the calls of the Empire, is held by our Gracious Sovereign by a far securer tenure than ever fell to the lot of any of his Tudor or Stuart ancestors. The liberties again of the Commons, THE ENGLISH REVOLUTION OF 1911 46 1 which you, Sir, only a month ago once more claimed and as- serted at the same Bar, in time-honoured phrases which carry us back to the days when those liberties were in jeopardy from the Crown — the liberties of the Commons, slowly and patiently won, in these days newly threatened and invaded — not, indeed, through the Crown, but from another quarter — are only in danger, if, unlike our forefathers here, we refuse to take the necessary steps to make them safe. But there is one factor in the Constitution which, while ever}thing else has changed, remains, sterilised in its development, possess- ing and exercising power without authority, still a standing menace and obstacle to progressive legislation and popular government. The absolute Veto of the Lords must follow the Veto of the Crown before the road can be clear for the advent of full-grown and unfettered democracy. Number yy THE ENGLLSH REVOLUTION OF 1911 Editorial in The Outlook, August 26, 191 1. The enactment into law of the bill curtailing the veto power of the British House of Lords is the culmination of a historical movement. It is not the arbitrar)' act of a par- tisan majority, nor the fruit of a reckless impulse of a band of revolutionary agitators. It marks a stage in the develop- ment, which has been going on for a thousand years, of the British Constitution. It was rendered inevitable, not by the partisan exasperation of the Liberals, nor by the Socialistic desires of the Laborites, nor even by the hunger for Home Rule of the Irish Nationalists, but by the irresistible force of an evolutionary process. The seeds of the tree from which the 462 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY peers have just gathered bitter fruit were sown, not in 1909, when the Lloyd-George Budget was rejected, but in 1832, when Reform was carried over the prostrate will of the House of Lords. Among the most interesting items in that somewhat incho- ate but tremendously effective mass of charters, statutes, cus- toms, precedents, traditions, and conventions which make up the British Constitution are certain solemn fictions. These fictions may once have been the truth, but now, through the process of evolution, they have come to be mere masks upon the face of the universally accepted facts. So long as the constitutional fiction is recognized, and no one acts as if the fiction were the fact, all is well. But when it is attempted to ignore the fact and translate the fiction into reality, the nation resents the attempt. It is one of these solemn fictions that the British Parlia- ment is composed of two co-ordinate branches with equal powers over general legislation ; but it has been universally recognized by the constitutional authorities of the past fifty years — and incidentally by the British people — that the fact is altogether different. The fact is that the only legitimate functions of the British House of Lords in relation to legis- lation are those of revision, amendment, and delay. And it is only when the House of Lords has tried to expand these functions into powers co-ordinate with those of the House of Commons that its prerogatives have been attacked. In 1832 the House of Commons, supported by the elec- torate, was determined upon the passage of the Reform Bill. The House of Lords, jealous of its control through rotten boroughs and pocket constituencies of many seats in the lower house, resisted the passage of the bill. The royal pre- rogative was invoked on the side of the popular house, and the Lords receded before the threat of " swamping " their THE ENGLISH RKXOLL'TION OF 1911 46 '> Chamber with new peers. In 1884 the majority in the Com- mons, supported by the majority in the country, were deter- mined upon an extension of the franchise. Again the Lords opposed, until the efforts of a diplomatic Queen and a wise Prime Minister brought them to reason. At that crisis Mr. Gladstone, in a confidential message to the Queen, declared that if the measure were rejected by the Lords a second time, only two courses would remain open to him : one to leave public life, the other " to become a supporter of organic change in the House of Lords." Two years later the Home Rule Bill was rejected by the upper chamber, as well as an- other important Government measure ; and in his last speech to the House of Commons, after sixty-one years of service there, Mr. Gladstone said : " The differences, not of a tem- porar)' or casual nature merely, but differences of conviction, differences of prepossession, differences of mental habit, and differences of fundamental tendency, between the House of Lords and the House of Commons, appear to have reached a development in the present year such as to create a state of things of which we are compelled to say that, in our judg- ment, it cannot continue." In 1906 the Education Bill was rejected by the House of Lords, and the Prime Minister, Sir Henry Campbell-Banner- man, declared : " The resources of the British Constitution are not wholly exhausted. The resources of the House of Commons are not exhausted. I say with conviction that a wav must be found, that a way will be found, b)- which the will of the people expressed through their elected representa- tives in this House will be made to prevail." The next year a resolution was adopted in the House of Commons, by a vote of 430 to 147, declaring, "that in order to give effect to the will of the people, as expressed by their elected rep- resentatives, it is necessary that the power of the other House 464 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY of altering or rejecting bills passed by this House shall be so restricted by law as to secure that within the limits of a single Parliament the final decision of the Commons shall prevail." In the fall of 1909 the Lloyd-George Budget ^ was rejected by the House of Lords. It was the last straw, and immediately the active campaign for the curtailment of the Lords' veto was be- gun. It was carried on through two general elections, and to a successful ending . . . when the Parliament Bill ^ became law. 1 The Budget is the annual financial statement prepared by the Chancellor of the Exchequer. It is not only an estimate of the expenses for the coming year but indi- cates the kind of taxes the party in power proposes to levy to raise the necessary amount. David Lloyd-CJeorge, as Chancellor of the Exchequer, was responsible for the Budget of the Liberal party in 1909. The chief items of this famous Budget were : first, a tax on incomes, particularly heavy on incomes over £s°°° ^"^ o" ^'^ unearned incomes ; second, a tax on inheritances, so applied that the larger the in- heritance the larger the tax, running up to 157c and over for inheritance $1,000,000 or more ; third, a new tax on land, commonly called a tax on the unearned incre- ment, by which is meant that any increase in the value of land due in no respect to the labor of the owner, but to natural causes, such as the growth of population near it, belongs, not to the owner but to the people. It was but natural that the Lords, representatives of the privileged and landlord classes, should assail furiously this Budget and the man behind it, for it aimed directly at their special interests. Chan- cellor Lloyd-Cieorge told the British people that '' A Duke was more expensive than a Dreadnaught " ; and he looked forward '" toward the time when poverty with its wretchedness and squalor will be as remote from the people of this country as the wolves which once infested the forests." 2 [The Parliament Bill] extinguishes the powers of the House of Lords in the matter of finance ; it makes it impossible for the peers ever again to act as they acted in November, 1909, when they rejected the Budget, and, by rejecting it, brought the Government to a standstill and compelled a dissolution ; it decrees that henceforward any money bill which is certified by the Speaker to be nothing but a money bill — that is, to contain no non-financial matter — shall be passed by the House of Lords without amendment and within a month after its introduction in the upper chamber, and, failing such passage, shall be presented to his Majesty and become an act of Parliament on the royal assent being signified. Secondly, the bill provides that any measure ("other than a money bill") which has passed the House of Commons in three successive sessions and has been rejected by the House of Lords in each of those sessions shall become law on receiving the royal assent, provided that two years have elapsed between its second reading in the House of Commons and its third and final passage. In other words, the power of the House of Lords over ordinary legis- lation is henceforward limited to criticism, amendment, and delay. It may discuss a measure ; it may propose alterations in its clauses, and the alterations may be ac- cepted by the Government and embodied in the measure ; it may postpone its pas- sage for two years ; but it cannot definitely throw it out or refer it to the judgment THE KNGT.ISII REVOLri'IOX OF 1911 465 At each (;f these juncLures the House of Lords has for- gotten that its equahty of power with the House of Commons is a fiction, and has acted as if it were a fact. It was impos- sible that the spirit of the British Constitution — a spirit of real democracy and popular rule — should countenance equal- ity between a chamber of elected representatives of the people, of popular rights, and of both political parties, and a chamber of hereditary representatives of a social class, of the rights of property, and of a single political party. When such an equal- ity had, time after time, been assumed, it was inevitable either that the power of the second chamber should be curtailed, or that its composition should be altered. The course of events led logically to the first result ; and it was evolution, not revolution, which brought it about. . . . The purpose of the movement which culminated in the Parliament Bill was to secure equality of legislative opportunity for both great political parties, to remove from the pathway of a Liberal Government and a Liberal majority in the House of Commons that insuperable obstacle, in the shape of a permanently Conservative House of Lords, which had repeatedly blocked its most important legislation. This could be accomplished by curtailing the Lords' veto. . . . The victory of the Government, and the means by which it was brought about, are significant of the distance which the British P^mpire has come along the road of popular govern- ment. A first step was taken in 1832, when the House of of the electorate ; when the two years have gone by, it automatically becomes law. Thirdly, the bill reduces the duration of Parliament from seven years to five. But, besides all this, the bill contains a preamble, and the preamble refers to the intention of the Government to substitute for the House of Lords as it at present exists '' a second chamber constituted on a popular instead of hereditary basis." Mr. Asquith has more than once reaffirmed this intention and has declared that his Government regards it as an obligation, " if time permits," to propose a scheme for reconstituting the House of Lords within the lifetime of the present Parliament. — "The Peers and the People" by Sidney Brooks. The Outlook, August 26, 191 1. 466 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Commons, until then a chamber whose membership was largely controlled by members of the House of Lords, was made representative of the constituencies. A second step was taken in 1884, when the constituencies were made rep- resentative of the people. These two steps completed the process by which the House of Commons was made a truly representative body. A third step was taken in 1 9 1 1 , when the Throne, in the contest between the Commons and the Lords, placed its prerogative definitely on the popular side. The principle is established that the Commons and the Crown both represent the people. The next step is to make the second chamber represent the people. The nearness of that step is indicated by the fact that the only claim made by the Lords in the later stages of the recent campaign was of a right to suspend legislation until the people had had an op- portunity to pass upon it, and the added fact that with the Conservative plan for the reform of the House of Lords was coupled a provision that conflicts between the two houses should be settled by the referendum. The British nation is fond of settling questions "by con- sent." The two great political parties in this controversy have " consented " on the essential — ultimate popular mle. They are divided only upon the method. The method which one party has succeeded in introducing may not prove the final solution, but the final solution, whatever it may be, can have no other purpose. IMPRESSIONS OF PARLIAMENT 467 Numbei'' yS IMPRESSIONS OF PARLIAMENT Thomas Francis Moran. 77ie Theory ami Practice of the English Gov ■ ernment} pp. 337-351. /«"''«• That famous legislative body which Carlyle sarcastically termed, " The great talking shop at Westminster," has a peculiar interest for American travellers in Europe. The English Parliament is in itself an important body, repre- senting as it does one of the greatest of the modern world powers ; but it possesses a peculiar attraction for the Ameri- can tourist, since his institutions are of English origin and are still strikingly similar in man\- respects to those of the mother country. Few Americans, then, will fail, if oppor- tunity offers, to look in upon that great legislative body which represents not only the Witan of Anglo-Saxon times, but also the original House of Commons established by Simon de Montfort in 1265. The histor)^ of the English Par- liament, its present importance, and its kinship to our insti- tutions invest it with a peculiar interest from the American standpoint. . , . The visitor will usually go to the House of Commons first, and to the House of Lords later, if at all. The House of Commons is now the real governing power in P^ngland. The power of the Crown has practically vanished, and that of the Lords is by no means co-ordinate with the power of the popular branch. Since 1832 the Lords have not been able to defeat a measure which the Commons have been determined to pass. Since the House of Commons can dictate to the Crown and coerce the Lords, greater interest 1 Copyright, Longmans, Green, & Co. 46S READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY attaches to its proceedings. Before being admitted, the visitor must wait until the Speaker has been conducted from his residence — which is in the Houses of Parhament — to the chamber of the Commons. That official is pre- ceded by the Sergeant-at-arms carr}'ing the mace, the symbol of authority, and his coming is announced in loud tones by the heralds in the corridors. After he has taken the chair and prayers are over, visitors are admitted ; not, however, until they have signed their names and written their ad- dresses, together with the names of the members whose orders they bear, in a book provided for that purpose. Then having obtained the printed order of the day from an official whose palm has been properly crossed, the visitor soon finds himself in the gallery overlooking the floor of the Commons. Here is the storm centre of English politics. Here a sover- eign legislative body is deliberating which " can do anything but make it rain." Here are those men who shape the destiny of the British Empire. The interior of the chamber is not impressive. The room is not large, — seating only four hundred and eighty-six members, — and the decorations while rich are rather sombre, and anything but startling. The seats are long benches, upholstered in dark green leather, are somewhat elevated, and extend the length of the room. Between the banks of benches and at one end of the room the Speaker sits in a somewhat conspicuous position. The historic "bar" is at the opposite end of the chamber, and the bar in the House of Lords is similarly located. The visitor who is familiar with the spacious gal- leries at Washington will feel himself somewhat cramped in the narrow quarters provided for strangers in the House of Commons. One of these galleries, — probably the smallest, — elevated only a short distance above the floor of the chamber, will accommodate only eight persons. However, the IMl'RESSIONS OF PARLIAMENT 469 galleries provided for the use of men are very commodious in comparison with that for the use of women. The latter gallery is located at one end of the chamber, immediately beneath the high ceiling, and is screened with a lattice-work, apparently of iron. From that lofty position the women of England are certainly unable to influence the trend of parlia- mentary legislation. The representatives of the press are well cared for. The reporters are favourably and conspicu- ously placed in the front row of the gallery, although, as has been said, there are at the present time orders upon the journals of the House prohibiting the publication of the debates. It is needless to say that these orders, although never repealed, are not now enforced. The House assembles at three o'clock in the afternoon, and the visitor will probably be surprised at the compara- tively small attendance. There are now six hundred and seventy members in the House of Commons, but the attend- ance will not exceed one hundred and fifty or two hundred, unless an unusually interesting debate is in progress, or a vote is being taken. Forty members constitute a quorum to do business, and the attendance is frequently not much in excess of that number. There is a reason for this however, which will appear presently. The American familiar with the legislative halls at Wash- ington will be impressed upon entering the House of Com- mons with the business-like atmosphere of the place and the lack of useless display. Business is carried on in a much more quiet and dignified way than in our House of Repre- sentatives. In the latter chamber each member has his own desk,i and while business is going on, is likely to be writing letters, conversing with a neighbour, or reading a book or daily paper. In the House of Commons there are no desks, 1 In 1913 the desks were removed and benches installed. 470 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY no writing is allowed, and no books or papers permitted except the printed order of the day. Messengers are not allowed upon the floor, and hence are not an element of con- fusion as the pages are at Washington. Pages and others not members of the House of Representatives go about upon the floor of the House with great freedom ; but the floor of the House of Commons is sacredly guarded, and no one but a member is allowed to put foot upon it while the body is in session. There is a railing at each end of the room beyond which the attendants may not venture. When a note or card is sent in, the attendant hands it to a member who happens to sit near the railing, or waits until some member comes to relieve him of the article. It is noticeable, however, that when a member sits only a short distance from the railing, the attendant will step in- side and hold out the message or card in one hand while grasping the railing with the other. As long as he holds to the railing, the law seems to be complied with, al- though he may be entirely within the sacred precincts of the Commons. The fact that the floor of the House of Commons is reserved exclusively for members makes for good order in that body. The absence of desks is more important still. , . . It is somewhat surprising to see the majority of the mem- bers sitting with their hats on. This custom has survived from the time when the members of Parliament wore hats, long boots, spurs, and swords during their deliberations. In the process of evolution the swords, spurs, and long boots have vanished, but the hats still remain. When a member rises to speak, and when he enters or leaves the room, his hat is removed and a slight bow is made in the direction of the Speaker, but under ordinary circumstances the hat remains upon the head of its owner. IMPRESSIONS OF PARLIAMENT 471 The attendance in the chamber on ordinary occasions seems small in comparison with the membership. There are now six hundred and seventy members in the Lower House, and only a minority of these are expected to be present in the chamber at any given time. The seating capacity of the House is only four hundred and eighty-six, so that the entire membership could not be accommodated if present. Since most of the discussions are rather prosy affairs and have little influence upon the voting, many members prefer to take refuge in other parts of the House while the debate is in progress, and to appear at its conclusion to cast their votes. The actual attendance at any given time may be comparatively slight, but if a vote or a division takes place, the members flock into the chamber in astonishing numbers. When a division is called for, the Speaker reverses a little sand-glass, which stands on the table in front of him. It takes exactly two minutes for the sand to run through, and this is the time allowed for the assembling of the members. Electric bells connected by sixty miles of wire are set ringing in all parts of the great building, which covers eight acres of ground, and "whips" hurry out to notify the members of their respective parties, who flock in from the library, the dining-room, the smoking and committee rooms, and other parts of the Houses. When the sand has run through, the doors are closed and no one may enter. In the division the " ayes " go to the lobby at the Speaker's right and the " noes " to the one at his left, where the counting is done by the tellers. In this way a member may vote on all importimt matters and attend but few or no debates. He may also know what is going on in the House. An electrical apparatus in each of the important rooms where members con- gregate, prints the name of the man speaking, the time when he began, and also indicates the subject under discussion. 472 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY When another gets the floor the change is duly indicated. The Enghshman, by the way, instead of "" getting the floor," is said to "get on his legs" to speak; as if, as Charles Dickens remarks in his " Sketches by Boz," it were some- times customary for members to stand on their heads while speaking by way of diversion. The manner of speaking is quite different from that in vogue at Washington. The conversational style prevails with no attempt at oratorical display. The lofty rhetoric so often heard in Congress is seldom inflicted upon the House of Commons. A member sometimes becomes eloquent because he cannot help it, but never with " malice aforethought." Members are not allowed to deliver speeches from manu- script, but may use notes if they wish. The result is that most of the speeches are short, business-like talks, while some are rambling and contain many repetitions. The aver- age member of the English Parliament is not fluent, but speaks in a hesitant way. He will not rush on, but will wait for the word which he wishes to express his idea. The re- sult is that he usually speaks with precision, saying exactly what he intends to say. His speech reads much better than it sounds. This hesitant manner of speaking is much affected in some quarters in America. There are some who wish to imitate the English manner of speaking, and others who think that readiness in utterance must accompany super- ficiality in thought. This, unfortunately, is too often true, but it is also true that fluency in delivery often results from a thorough mastery of the subject in hand. There have been great masters of parliamentary oratory in Eng- land, — there are a few such at present, — but the aver- age member of Parliament is far from being an orator in the popular sense of that term. He is a very effective speaker, nevertheless. IMPRESSIONS OF PARLIAMENT 473 The manners of the House of Commons are an interesting study. The individual member is the personification of cour- tesy ; but the House, as a whole, is hard, unsympathetic, and at times rude. While speaking, the member is scrupulously careful not to impute to a fellow member motives even in the slightest degree dishonourable. Should he do so, he is called to order instantly and apologises promptly. The House, as a whole, however, is not so courteous. When a man makes a long and tiresome speech or utters unpopular sentiments, all courtesy seems to vanish. It would be difficult to imagine a more disagreeable body to face. There is no applause by clapping of hands or evidence of disapproval by hissing, as in the United States Congress, but the words " hear ! hear ! " are uttered in such a way as to express approval, disapproval, contempt, or ridicule. The tone of voice is the indicator, and there is no mistaking it. When the cry " hear ! hear ! " is not effective, noises of all conceivable kinds may be resorted to. . . . However, it would not be fair to dwell too long upon this phase of the manners of the House, since disorder of this kind is entirely exceptional, and order and decorum as a rule prevail. . . . A visit to the House of Lords will not prove so attractive. The chamber itself is much more gorgeous than that of the Commons, but the business of the Upper House is not so important. The interior decorations are quite elaborate and striking, yet in good taste. The benches are upholstered in red leather, and the wood-carving, statuary, and paintings add to the attractiveness of the scene. At one end of the room is the ornate throne of the King, which, by the wa}-, he would not be allowed to occupy except on ver\' special occa- sions. The House usually convenes at four-fifteen o'clock in the afternoon, and its sessions are generally short and uneventful. There are nearly six hundred members at the 474 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY present time, and three of these constitute a quorum. A larger quorum would probably be embarrassing. Scores of members almost never attend the sessions. Many, like Lords Roberts and Kitchener, have duties elsewhere, while others appreci- ate the honours of the membership, but do not assume the responsibilities. . . . The Lord Chancellor presides, sitting on the famous " woolsack," which is now a large ottoman upholstered in red. The debates are likely to be rather perfunctory in character, owing to the predominance of the House of Commons. The real strength and importance of the House of Lords appear in the work of its committees. The archbishop and bishops of the Church of England, clad in their clerical robes, are present and participate in the business of the session. There has been an agitation for a number of years tending toward the disestablishment of the Church of England and the removal of the spiritual peers from the House of Lords. The change is destined to be made sooner or later, and when made .will benefit the Church and State alike. Number jg ORIENTAL PAX BRITANNICA Albert Bushnell Hart. The Obvious Orient} pp. 285-296. England is the modern Rome ; we know it because bril- liant essayists tell us so ; because Great Britain is the power most widely spread upon the earth's surface ; because Eng- land, like Rome, has conquered great civilized countries and built up native institutions on a foundation of English law ; because where the British drum beats there is order, peace 1 Copyright, 191 1, by D. Appleton & Company. ORIENTAL PAX BRITANNICA 475 and justice. The ordinary round-the-world journey gives some opportunity to test tiiis assertion, for it passes through, or very near, Canada, Hong Kong, the Straits Settlement, Ceylon, India, Egypt, Aden, Malta, Gibraltar, and the island of Great Britain. Besides which, anybody who so wishes may ticket from Vancouver to London via Melbourne and Capetown. That takes in most of the British possessions, except the West Indies, which, when the Panama Canal is finished, will be readily strung on a voyage from New York to South Africa, and will leave unvisited only the Central African possessions. This is a formidable list, and the history of the expansion of the British empire is a splendid story of adventure, grit, bulldog fighting, and a rare capacity to administer outlying lands. England is now at the maximum of her greatness as a colonial Power, not only at the greatest height yet reached, but probably at the greatest ever to be reached. P'or, as you skirt and penetrate Asia, you see how completely that conti- nent and its adjacent islands are now held by powers able to protect them from further annexations. The only small state which has extensive colonies in the Orient is Holland, and the last probability in the East is that Great Britain will ever absorb the Dutch islands ; and neither Russia, P^rance, Germany or the United States means to cede any territory. The first thing that the observer notices is the wide longi- tude of the British holdings. Without counting the British island groups in the Pacific, the British colonies begin at two points on the east coast of China ; Wei Hai Wei, opposite Port Arthur, and Hong Kong. The former is only a make- weight for the neighboring German and Japanese holdings ; the latter is a strategic commercial place, a ganglion in the l^ritish colonial system, and a main defense in eastern Asia, 476 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Passing westward, England, b)- the sagacity and dash of Sir Thomas Stamford Raffles, owns the whole of the Malay Peninsula, with its commanding port of Singapore, By a recent treaty with Siam, three considerable provinces, claimed by that kingdom, have been added to the Malay Federated States, the latest, and, perhaps, the last British territorial gain in that part of the world. Next west is Burma, join- ing the Malay States on one side and India on the other, and thus making the bay of Bengal a British lake. Then comes Ceylon, which will be the subject of a separate chap- ter. India is a large term, covering an empire in itself, and reaching backward into mountains, the ownership of which is still hardly settled. On the south coast of Arabia, commanding the entrance to the Red Sea, is the Rock of Aden, with a small hinterland. Then comes Eg)'pt, which includes the west coast of the Red Sea, the Suez Canal and the Mediterranean, stretching southward toward central Africa ; Cyprus, Malta and Gibraltar complete the chain of British posts and colonies extending half around the world. England has become possessed of these regions by various methods. The Malay States are almost the only part of Asia which England may claim by right of conquest, from unor- ganized, if not uncivilized people; for the most of her Oriental colonies England has had to fight and to hold by an army and navy. The fortified islands have been chosen with great skill and disregard of the previous holders. The Spaniards have, for two centuries, resented Gibraltar, Napoleon went to war again in 1803 for Malta ; Hong Kong was seized by the British in 1 84 1 and its hinterland on the continent was added in 1895 when the Chinese could not resist. Ceylon and India were conquered partly by dispossessing the Dutch, Spanish, Portuguese and PYench, partly by war with the native states. ORIENTAL TAX IIRriAXXICA 477 In this respect England is not unlike Rome, but east of Europe there is not a British possession which has been Anglicized as Asia Minor and Eg)pt were Romanized, by the conqueror imposing his gods and his jurisprudence upon the conquered people. There is nothing in Ceylon which corresponds to the Roman provincial basilicas, the theatres, the temples of Jupiter and the statues of the emperor. The Roman colonies accepted not only the rule but the customs of Rome, while in Egypt, India and the Malay States, the British are still exotic ; not one of those countries has accepted the religion or social system of Great Britain ; in their own minds they are not British, but still Eg}'ptians, East Indians and southern Asiatics. The English have been in Eg)'pt only a quarter of a century, and in the Malay Peninsula three times as long, but they have been in India for 300 years, and its master for 150, and up to this day not i per cent. of the native population is Christian and probably less than I per cent, can use the English language. It has never been the policy to Anglicize the English colonies ; with studious and wise discretion the British have as little as possible disturbed the religious and social life of the dependencies, except by permitting missionary work among those who chose to heed. No other policy was possible, because the English have never successfully colonized any tropical country. Australia and South Africa are no excep- tions, for they are mostly south of the tropics, and central Africa has a temperate climate because of its elevation. The experience of centuries has shown that most Englishmen who spend their lives in the tropics bring back the seeds of disease, and that their white children do not grow up strong and vigorous. There is not, and never will be, an English population in any Oriental country, outside of officers, mis- sionaries, planters, commercial men and their families, with 478 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY a floating addition of mechanics and former soldiers. Few Europeans expect to live long enough to die in the tropics. Even in Hong Kong the Chinese population outnumbers the European by at least forty to one. The British can govern those countries only by tact and forbearance. It cannot be said that tact and forbearance are the natural landmarks of British character, any more than an inborn sympathy for inferior races. Everybody who travels in the East sees Englishmen kicking and cuffing their native serv- ants, and a young American who chanced to room in an Indian bungalow with a lot of young Englishmen saw their native bearers literally pulling on their undershirts and draw- ing off their stockings in the midst of blows and abuse. A recent administrator in India has set forth in a formal book his conviction that the personal bearing of Englishmen toward the natives is weakening the bonds of the empire. He gives as an instance the complaint of a native prince that when he undertook to travel first-class with a party of young Englishmen, they made him black their boots. It is a fine trait of English character that, notwithstanding their contempt for the dark-skinned man, they hold up throughout the East a Roman standard of inflexible law ; the English courts are models of justice, as even-handed as the traf- fic will bear, for it is a little difficult to carr}- out inflexible justice in a country where, for example, a man is sued for a fictitious debt, in proof of which acknowledgm.ents in his own handwrit- ing are produced. Does he set to work to expose this forged testimony .? Not in the least ; he comes to court furnished with a corresponding set of receipts with forged signatures of his adversary, showing that the debt was paid. It is a wise judge who can hold the balance equal between such litigants. All the structure of British government and justice pro- ceeds from above downward. There are three great federations ORIKN'l'AL TAX BRITANNICA 479 within the British empire, Canada, Australia and South Africa, besides other democratic colonies, but not one of them is in Asia. Not even the handful of British out here have repre- sentative government for themselves except in some munici- palities. The British in India have less self-government than the British in Newfoundland. Still, in India there is a be- ginning of native representation. The normal type of British Asiatic government is an administrator at the head of a staff of subordinate officials and a small body of judges, all respon- sible to the ministry in London and ultimately to Parliament. Such a government works well in such a community as Hong Kong. The settled part of the island is practically all included in the city of Victoria, which, with its fine, tall buildings on the harbor front and its beautiful roads wind- ing up the slope, is (in the unusual intervals of sunshine) one of the most attractive places in the world. It is wonder- ful how the foreigners, who are but a handful, give tone and control to the city. Notwithstanding the large class of wealthy Chinese and many Eurasians, in spite of the Chinese shop- keepers and artisans and coolies and rickshamen who throng the streets, the place seems full of Europeans. They do not suffer, for their interests are watched over ; but the educated natives are also excluded from influence in their ow^n govern- ment, except the few who are appointed to administrative and judicial posts. In Singapore, Penang and Colombo the Eng- lish are fewer, and the natives in their brilliant and picturesque costumes take possession of the streets ; you are under no illusions as to their being European cities. In Singapore and Penang the Chinese are numerous and are much in evidence ; theirs are the most costly villas and fine carriages. . . . In India both economic and social conditions are less favorable to the British power than in the settlements farther east. India is an enormous country, inhabited by man)- race 480 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY stocks, and sub-divided by sharp religious antipathies. There are as many languages as in Austro-Hungary, Except in the north, where the Sikhs, Ghoorkas, Pathans and other hill people hold themselves aloof from central India, the races seem to feel little sense of hostility ; but of the three great religious elements, the Buddhist, Hindu and Mohammedan, the last two are at variance with each other. . . . Outside of India, race and religious problems do not much disturb the harmony of the British colonies. The authorities take the common-sense view that in such colonies the indus- trious and shrewd Chinaman is a blessing, and he is in force everywhere, as far west as Penang, furnishing not only mer- chants and capitalists, but also a reliable plantation laborer ; for the Malay likes to work for himself when he works at all. The Japanese have no footing west of Shanghai. A few Java- nese laborers have been brought over to the Straits, but with little success. Indians — mostly Tamils — go eastward as far as Singapore, and the Sikh policeman is a figure in several cities. A few Germans are carrying on business in the cities, and a battalion of them came on board ship at Penang, to give a send-off to one of their number with beer, songs and march- ings on the deck, enough to set up a small German university. For a good government the first essential is good order and the Pax Britannica has given to all the countries ruled by England freedom from the regime of raids, petty despo- tisms, civil wars and invasions which had prevailed since the dawn of history. Since the Indian mutiny, 50 years ago, British troops have not been used in India except for the enlargement of the empire. Ceylon since 1840 has been freed from civil war and local tyrannies, which had been her lot for 25 centuries. The Malay States are a standing miracle of government. " Robinson Crusoe " is not more thrilling than the story of Sir Stamford Raffles taking possession of ORIENTAL PAX TIRITANNICA 481 a site on the extreme southern end of the Malay Peninsula and, b\- his pluck, compelling the East India Company to back him up ; and out of a set of local tribes who inherited undying hostilities with each other, building up the most prosperous colony in Asia, The two towns of Singapore and Penang, so rankly tropical, have lovely villas, renowned botanic gardens, and every evidence of prosperity. It is the only part of the Asiatic coast, except India and Ikirma, in which a system of railroads is going forward. Singapore and Penang have just been connected, and before long there will be another line across the Siam. The profitable tin mines and rubber and other plantations give plenty of work and good dividends, but none of these sources of prosperity would avail but for the excellent British government. . . . The army is a necessary part of the British regime, and Mr. Thomas Atkins is the main dependence. Notwithstand- ing the British coup of sending native Indian regiments to Europe in 1878, they depend on British regiments for the ultimate defenses of their colonies. The world accepts Rud- yard Kipling as the bard and delineator of the British army in the East, but he does not do justice to the excellent tailoring in all branches of ser\'ice. In time of peace the soldier still wears the red coat, though he, and still more, his officers, have swag- ger outfits of khaki. The troops are much in evidence both in their forts and barracks and, when off duty, on the streets. Outside India they are only a few thousands, but in that empire since the Indian mutiny, no native soldier is allowed to serve in the artillery, and no regiments have native officers of high rank. The British army there is about 100,000 strong, which is one to 3,000 of the population, and that slender force bolsters up the British world power ; but it is a strain on that power, for to recRiit, maintain and send out such a force 8,000 miles is a heavy draught on England's available supply of soldiers. 482 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY The problem which the Enghsh government seeks to solve in the Orient is, with this slender support of military power, backed up by the British navy, to make millions of Asiatic people contented and productive, without according them an effective share in their own government, all under an irritat- ing assertion of superiority to a people which, in religion, literature, art, political histor)^, is a thousand years older than England, At the same time other Asiatic people are w'orking out their own destiny ; the victory of the Japanese over Rus- sia has resounded through Asia. If China gets out of her leading strings, India will be that much more discontented. The load grows heavier as the subject countries become more prosperous. If Great Britain had no other anxieties she might hold the East indefinitely, partly because the Pax Britannica in the East is preferable to any Pax Germanica or Pax Borussia, partly because India is not a solid countr)', the future of which could be predicted in case the English were compelled to leave ; partly because of the hold-fast nature of Englishmen. No combination in India and still less elsewhere, is now in a position to rival those who are in possession of the troops, the ships, the fortifications, the military supplies and the machinery of communication. The really pressing question of English dominion in the East is whether she can hold on in case of European war, when the attempt will perhaps be made to break off some of the British territories. Except Aden, which is a first-class fortress, and Hong Kong, which has some batteries, not a single British Asiatic port can defend itself ; it all depends on the na\7, and (unless Aus- tralia builds a fleet) that means a navy built in England, sent from England, coaled as far as Aden from England and reenforced from England. Every captain of the North Ger- man Lloyd carries sealed orders to be opened if war breaks THE TRUE CONCEPTION OF EMPIRE 4S3 out ; and somewhere — probably at Tsintau — are supplies of guns and ammunition for their ships. Tlic line of defense is already weakened by the passing of the Philippine Islands into the hands of a first-class Power. In the present condition of Asia a disaster to the English colonies would be a misfor- tune to civilization, for no rival Power, Russia, PYance or Germany, is so good a master as Great Britain, or so much interested in keeping commerce open. The question is whether good European governments are going to remain permanently in Asia. As in Japan and China, so in the Malay States and India, the Asiatic char- acter has not been much altered by contact with Europeans. Native governments, with native standards, are perfectly compatible with daily trains and morning newspapers. The plain tendency in Asia is to throw backward the tide of Euro- pean conquest and occupation. In such a movement Great Britain, as the principal colonizing power, has most to appre- hend. The Pax Britannica does not extend to world politics. Ntunber 80 THE TRUE CONCEPTION OF EMPIRE Joseph Chamkerlain. Speech delivered before the Royal Colonial Insti- tute, London, March 31, 1897. T/w U'or/ifs Famous Orations, Vol. V, pp. 184-191. William Jennings Bryan, editor in chief. It seems to me that there are three distinct stages in our imperial histon,-. We began to be, and we ultimately became, a great imperial Power in the eighteenth century, but, during the greater part of that time, the Colonies were regarded, not only by us, but by every European Power that possessed them, as possessions valuable in proportion to the pecuniary 484 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY advantage which they brought to the mother country, which, under that order of ideas, was not truly a mother at all, but appeared rather in the light of a grasping and absentee land- lord, desiring to take from his tenants the utmost rents he could exact. The Colonies were valued and maintained because it was thought that they would be a source of profit — of direct profit — to the mother countr)'. That was the first stage, and when we were rudely awakened by the War of Independence in America from this dream that the Colonies could be held for our profit alone, the second chapter was entered upon, and the public opinion seems then to have drifted to the opposite extreme ; and, be- cause the Colonies were no longer a source of revenue, it seems to have been believed and argued by many people that their separation from us was only a matter of time, and that that separation should be desired and encouraged, lest haply they might prove an encumbrance and a source of weakness. It was while those views were still entertained, while the Little Englanders were in their full career, that this Institute ^ was founded to protest against doctrines so injurious to our interests and so derogator}' to our honor ; and I rejoice that what was then, as it were, " a voice crying in the wilderness " is now the expressed and determined will of the overwhelm- ing majority of the British people. Partly by the efforts of this Institute and similar organizations, partly by the writings of such men as Froude and Seeley, but mainly by the instinc- tive good sense and patriotism of the people at large, we have now reached the third stage in our history, and the true con- ception of our empire. What is that conception ? As regards the self-governing Colonies we no longer talk of them as dependencies. The sense of possession has given place to the sentiment of kinship. iThe Royal Colonial Institute. THE TRUE CCJNCEPTIUX Ul' EMPIRE 4.S5 We think and speak of them as part of ourselves, as part of the Hrilish Empire, united to us, altho they may be dis- persed throughout the world, by ties of kindred, of religion, of history, and of language, and joined to us by the seas that formerly seemed to divide us. But the British Empire is not confined to the self-govern- ing Colonies and the United Kingdom. It includes a much greater area, a much more numerous population, in tropical climes, where no considerable European settlement is possible, ' and where the native population must always vastly outnum- ber the white inhabitants ; and in these cases also the same change has come over the imperial idea. Here also the sense of possession has given place to a different sentiment — the sense of obligation. We feel now that our rule over these territories can only be justified if we can show that it adds to the happiness and prosperity of the people, and I maintain that our rule does, and has, brought security and peace and comparative prosperity to countries that never knew these blessings before. In carr^'ing out this work of civilization we are fulfilling what I believe to be our national mission, and we are finding scope for the exercise of those faculties and qualities which have made of us a great governing race. I do not say that our success has been perfect in every case, I do not say that all our methods have been beyond reproach ; but I do say that in almost every instance in which the rule of the queen has been established and the great Pax Britannica has been enforced, there has come with it greater security to life and property, and a material improvement in the condition of the bulk of the population. No doubt, in the first instance, when these conquests have been made, there has been bloodshed, there has been loss of life among the native populations, loss of still more precious lives among those who have been sent 486 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY out to bring these countries into some kind of disciplined order, but it must be remembered that that is the condition of the mission we have to fulfil. . . . ... In the wide dominions of the queen the doors of the temple of Janus are never closed, and it is a gigantic task that we have undertaken when we have determined to wield the scepter of empire. Great is the task, great is the respon- sibility, but great is the honor ; and I am convinced that the 'conscience and the spirit of the country will rise to the height of its obligations, and that we shall have the strength to fulfil the mission which our history and our national character have imposed upon us. In regard to the self-governing Colonies our task is much lighter. We have undertaken, it is true, to protect them with all the strength at our command against foreign aggression, altho I hope that the need for our intervention may never arise. But there remains what then will be our chief duty — that is, to give effect to that sentiment of kinship to which I have referred and which I believe is deep in the heart of every Briton. We want to promote a closer and firmer union between all members of the great British race, and in this respect we have in recent years made great progress — so great that I think sometimes some of our friends are apt to be a little hasty, and to expect even a miracle to be accom- plished. I would like to ask them to remember that time and patience are essential elements in the development of all great ideas. Let us, gentlemen, keep our ideal always before us. For my own part, I believe in the practical pos- sibility of a federation of the British race, but I know that it will come, if it does come, not by pressure, not by anything in the nature of dictation from this country, but it will come as the realization of a universal desire, as the expression of the dearest wish of our Colonial fellow subjects themselves. THE TRUE CONCEPTKJN OE EMPIRI': 487 That such a result would be desirable, would be in the interest of all our Colonies as well as of ourselves, I do not believe any sensible man will doubt. It seems to me that the tendency of the time is to throw all power into the hands of the greater empires, and the minor kingdoms — those which are non-progressive — seem to be destined to fall into a secondary and subordintite place. But, if Greater Britain remains united, no empire in the world can ever surpass it in area, in population, in wealth, or in the diversity of its resources. Let us, then, have confidence in the future. I do not ask you to anticipate with Lord Macaulay the time when the New Zealander will come here to gaze upon the ruins of a great dead city. There arc in our present condition no visi- ble signs of decrepitude and decay. The mother country is still vigorous and fruitful, is still able to send forth troops of stalwart sons to people and to occupy the waste spaces of the earth ; but yet it may well be that some of these sister nations whose love and affection we eagerly desire may in the future equal and even surpass our greatness. A transoceanic capital may arise across the seas, which will throw into shade the glories of London itself ; but in the years that must inter- vene let it be our endeavor, let it be our task, to keep alight the torch of imperial patriotism, to hold fast the affection and the confidence of our kinsmen across the seas ; so that in every vicissitude of fortune the British Empire may present an unbroken front to all her foes, and may carry on even to distant ages the glorious traditions of the British flag. . . . 488 READINGS IN ENGLISH HIS'JORY Number 8i THE PLACE OF THE CROWN IN THE ENGLISH GOVERNMENT Frederic Austin Ogg. 77;^? Governments of Eu7-ofe, pp. 48-60, /«jj//«. THE CROWN: LEGAL STATUS AND PRIVILEGES Contrasts of Theory and Fact. — The government of the United Kingdom is in ultimate theory an absolute monarchy, in form a limited, constitutional monarchy, and in fact a thoroughgoing democracy. At its head stands the sovereign, who is at the same time the supreme executive, a co-ordinate legislative authority (and, in theory, much more than that), the fountain of justice and of honor, the " supreme governor " of the Church, the commander-in-chief of the army and navy, the conservator of the peace, and t\\Q parcjis patriae and ex officio guardian of the helpless and the needy. In law, all land is held, directly or indirectly, of him. Parliament exists only by his will. Those who sit in it are summoned by his writ, and the privilege of voting for a member of the lower chamber is only a franchise, not a right independent of his grant. Technically, the sovereign never dies ; there is only a demise of the crown, i.e., a transfer of regal authority from one person to another, and the state is never without a recognized head. The assertions that have been made represent with sub- stantial accuracy the ultimate theory of the status of the crown in the governmental system. In respect to the form and fact of that system as it actually operates, however, it would hardly be possible to make assertions that would convey a more erro- neous impression. The breadth of the discrepancy that here THE PLACE OE THE CROWN 489 subsists between theory and fact will l)e made apparent as examination proceeds of the organization and workings of the executive, the legislative, and the judicial departments of the government of the realm. It is necessary first of all, however, to give attention to certain of the more external aspects of the position which the monarch occupies. Title to the Throne : the Act of Settlement, 1701. — Since the Revolution of 1688 title to the English throne has been based solely upon the will of the nation as expressed in par- liamentary enactment. The statute under which the succes- sion is regulated is the Act of Settlement, passed by the Tory parliament of 1701, b\- wliich it was provided that, in default of heirs of William III. and Anne, the crown and all preroga- tives thereto appertaining should " be, remain, and continue to the most Excellent Princess Sophia, and the heirs of her body, being Protestants." Sophia, a granddaughter of James I., was the widow of the Elector of Hanover, and although in 1 70 1 she was not first in the natural order of succession, she was first among the surviving heirs who were Protestants, It was by virtue of the act mentioned that, upon the death of Anne in 17 14, the throne devolved upon the son of the German Electress (George I.). The present sovereign, George V., is the eighth of the Hanoverian dynasty. . . . Royal Privileges : the Civil List. — The sovereign is capa- ble of owning land and other property, and of disposing of it precisely as may any private citizen. The vast accumulations of property, however, which at one time comprised the prin- cipal source of revenue of the crown, have become the pos- session of the state, and as such are administered entirely under the direction of Parliament. In lieu of the income de- rived formerly from land and other independent sources the sovereign has been accorded for the support of the royal house- hold a fixed annual subsidy — voted under the designation 490 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY of the Civil List — the amount of which is determined afresh at the beginning of each reign. ... In addition to various annuities payable to the children of the royal family, the Civil List of Edward VII., established by Act of July 2, 1901, amounted to ;^470,ooo, of which ;^i 10,000 was appropriated to the privy purse of the king and queen, ;^ 12 5,000 to sala- ries and retiring allowances of the royal household, and £193,,- 000 to household expenses. At the accession of George V., in 19 10, the Civil List was continued in the sum of ^^4 70,000. The sovereign enjoys unrestricted immunity from political responsibility and from personal distraint. The theory of the law has long been that the king can do no wrong, which means that for his public acts the sovereign's ministers must bear complete responsibility and for his private conduct he may not be called to account in any court of law or by any legal process. . . . THE POWERS OF THE CROWN ,, . . • • • • • Powers, Theoretical and Actual. — It is not, ... the origin of the royal power, but rather the manner of its exercise, that fixes the essential character of monarchy in Great Britain to-day. The student of this phase of the subject is confronted at the outset with a paradox which has found convenient ex- pression in the aphorism that the king reigns but does not govern. The meaning of the aphorism is that, while the sov- ereign is possessed of all the inherent dignity of royalty, it is left to him actually to exercise in but a very restricted measure the powers which are involved in the business of government. Technically, all laws are made by the crown in parliament; all judicial decisions are rendered by the crown through the courts ; all laws are executed and all administrative acts are performed by the crown. But in point of fact laws are enacted THE PLACE OF THE CROWN 491 by Parliament independently ; verdicts are brought in by tri- bunals whose immunity from royal domination is thoroughly assured ; and the executive functions of the state are exercised all but exclusively by the ministers and their subordinates. One who would understand what English monarchy really is must take account continually both of what the king does and may do theoretically and of what he does and may do in actual practice. . . . Principles Governing the Actual Exercise of Powers. — After full allowances have been made, the powers of the British crown to-day comprise a sum total of striking magnitude. "All told," says Lowell, "the executive authority of the crown is, in the eye of the law, very wide, far wider than that of the chief magistrate in many countries, and well-nigh as extensive as that now possessed by the monarch in any gov- ernment not an absolute despotism ; and although the crown has no inherent legislative power except in conjunction with Parliament, it has been given by statute very large powers of subordinate legislation. . . ." The next fundamental thing to be observed is that the ex- tended powers here referred to are exercised, not by the king in person, but by ministers with whose choosing the sovereign has but little to do and over whose acts he has only an inci- dental and extra-legal control. Underlying the entire consti- tutional order are two principles whose operation would seem to reduce the sovereign to a sheer nonentity. The first is that the crown shall perform no important governmental act what- soever save through the agency of the ministers. The second is that these ministers shall be responsible absolutely to Par- liament for every public act which they perform. . . In the conduct of public affairs the ministry must conform to the will of the majority in the House of Commons ; otherwise the wheels of government would be blocked. And fn^n this 492 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY it follows that the crown is obliged to accept, with such grace as may be, the measures which the ministry, working with the parliamentary majority, formulates and for which it stands ready to shoulder responsibility. It is open to the king, of course, to dissuade the ministers from a given course of action. But if they cannot be turned back, and if they have the support of a parliamentary majority, there is nothing that the sovereign can do save acquiesce. Appointment of Ministers. — In the naming of a new premier, following the retirement of a ministry, the king is legally unhampered ; but here again in practice he is bound to designate the recognized leader of the dominant party, and so to pursue a course in which there is left no room for the exercise of discretion. Only when there is no clearly recog- nized leader, or when circumstances compel the formation of a coalition ministry, is there a real opportunity for the sov- ereign to choose a premier from a number of more or less available men. In the appointment of the remaining minis- ters, and of all persons whose offices are regarded as political, the crown yields uniformly to the judgment of the premier. The King's Speech, on the opening of Parliament, is written by the ministers ; all public communications of the crown pass through their hands ; peers are created and honors bestowed in accord with their advice ; measures are framed and execu- tive acts are undertaken by them, sometimes without the sover- eign's knowledge and occasionally even contrary to his wishes. THE IMPORTANCE AND STRENGTH OF THE MONARCHY The Real Authority and Service of the Crown. — It would be an error, however, to conclude that kingship in England is unimportant, or even that the power wielded in person by THE I'J.ACE OF THE CROWN 493 the crown is nc\2jli^iblc. On the contrary, the uses served by the crown are indisputable and the influence exerted upon the course of pubHc affairs may be decisive. The sovereign, in the words of Bagehot, has three rights — the right to be con- sulted, the right to encourage, and the right to warn. " A king of great sense and sagacity," it is added, "would want no others." Despite the fact that during upwards of two hun- dred years the sovereign has not attended the meetings of the cabinet, and so is deprived of the opportunity of wielding influence directly upon the deliberations of the ministers as a body, the king keeps in close touch with the premier, and cabinet councils at which important lines of policy are to be formulated are preceded not infrequently by a conference in which the subject in hand is threshed out more or less com- pletely by king and chief minister. Merely because the ancient relation has been reversed, so that now it is the king who advises and the ministry that arrives at decisions, it does not follow that the advisory function is an unimportant thing. Queen Victoria many times wielded influence of a decisive nature upon the public measures of her reign, especially in respect to the conduct of foreign relations. The extent of such influence cannot be made a matter of record, because the ministers are in effect bound not to publish the fact that a decision upon a matter of state has been taken at the sovereign's instance. It is familiarly known, however — to cite a recent illustration — that Edward \'II. approved and encouraged the Haldane army reforms, that he sought to dissuade the House of Lords from the rejection of the Lloyd- George budget of 1909, and that he discouraged the raising, in any form, of the issue of the reconstitution of the upper chamber. In other words, while as a constitutional monarch content to remain in the background of political controversy, the late king not only had opinions but did not hesitate to 494 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY make them known ; and in the shaping and execution of the Liberal programme his advice was at times a factor of importance. Why Monarchy Survives. — Monarchy in Great Britain is a sohd and, so far as can be foreseen, a lasting reality. Throughout the tempestuous years 1 909-191 1, when the nation was aroused as it had not been in generations upon the issue of constitutional reform, and when every sort of project was being warmly advocated and as warmly opposed, without exception every suggested programme took for granted the perpetuation of the monarchy as an integral part of the governmental system. In the general bombardment to which the hereditary House of Lords was subjected hereditary king- ship wholly escaped. The reasons are numerous and com- plex. They arise in part, though by no means so largely as is sometimes imagined, from the fact that monarchy in Eng- land is a venerable institution and the innate conservatism of the Englishman, while permitting him from time to time to regulate and modify it, restrains him from doing anything so revolutionary as to abolish it. That upon certain conspicu- ous occasions, as in the Cromwellian period, and again in 1688, kingship has owed its very life to the conservative instinct of the English people is well enough known to every student of history. But to-day, as ever, the institution rests upon a basis very much more substantial than a mere national predilection. Monarchy remains impregnably entrenched because the crown, in addition to comprising an accustomed feature of the governmental economy, fulfills specific ends which are recognized universally to be eminently worth while, if not indispensable. As a social, moral, and ceremonial agency, and as a visible symbol of the unity of the nation, king and court occupy an immeasurable place in the life and thought of the people ; and even within the domain of TlIK TARTIES OF TU DAY 495 government, to employ the figure of Lowell, if the crown is no longer the motive power of the ship of state, it is the spar on which the sail is bent, and as such it is not only a useful but an essential part of the vessel. The entire governmental order of Great Hrit:iin hinges upon the parliamentary system, and nowhere has that system been reduced to satisfactory opera- tion without the presence of some central, but essentially de- tached, figure, whether a king or, as in France, a president with the attributes of kingship. It is fundamentally because the English people have discerned that kingship is not nec- essarily incompatible with popular government that the mon- archy has persisted. If royalty had been felt to stand inevitably in the path of democratic progress, it is inconceivable that all the forces of tradition could have pulled it through the past seventy-five or eighty years. As it is, while half a cen- tury ago there was in the countr)- a small republican group which was fond of urging that the monarchy was but a source of needless expense, to-day there is hardly a vestige, in any grade of society, of anti-monarchical sentiment. Number S2 THE PARTIES OF TO-DAY Frederic Austin Ogg. The Governments of EH7vpe, pp. 162-166. Significance of " Liberal " and " Conservative." — Of the four political parties of Great Britain to-day one, the Irish Nationalist, is localized in Ireland and has for its essential purpose the attainment of the single end of Irish Home Rule ; another, the Labor party, is composed all but exclusively of workingmcn. mainly members of trade-unions, and exists to promote the interests of the laboring masses ; while the two 496 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY older and more powerful ones, the Liberal and the Conserv- ative or Unionist, are broadly national in their constituencies and well-nigh universal in the range of their principles and policies. It is essential to observe, however, that while the programme of the Nationalists is, at least to a certain point, perfectly precise, and that of the Laborites is hardly less so, there is no longer, despite the heat of recurring electoral and parliamentary combats, much that is fundamental or perma- nent in the demarcation which sets off the two major parties the one against the other. Even the names " Liberal " and " Conservative " denote in reality much less than might be supposed. During the generation which began with the Re- form Act of 1832 the Liberals, indeed, extended the fran- chise to the middle classes, reformed the poor law, overhauled the criminal law, introduced a new and more satisfactory scheme of municipal administration, instituted public pro- vision for elementary education, enacted statutes to safeguard the public health, removed the disabilities of dissenters, and assisted in the overthrow of the protective system. But if the Conservatives of the period 18 30- 18 70 played, in general, the role implied by their party designation, their attitude none the less was by no means always that of obstructionists, and in the days of the Disraelian leadership they became scarcely less a party of reform than were their opponents. Beginning with the Reform Act of 1 867, a long list of pro- gressive and even revolutionizing measures must be credited to them, and in late years they and the Liberals have vied in advocating old age pensions, factory legislation, accident insur- ance, housing laws, and other sorts of advanced and remedial governmental action. The differences which separate the two parties are not so much those of principle or of political dogma as those of policy respecting immediate and particular measures, and especially those of attitude toward certain THE PARrii:S OF ro-DAV 497 important organizations and interests. The Liberals assert themselves to be more trustful of the people and more con- cerned about the popular welfare, but the Conservatives enter a denial which possesses plausibility. It is probably true that the Liberals have fostered peace and economy with more resoluteness than have their rivals, yet so far as expenditures go the Liberal administration to-day is laying out more money than was ever laid out by a Conservative government in time of peace. The Liberals are seemingly more regardful of the interests of Scotland, Wales, and Ireland, but the difference is not so large as is sometimes supposed. Present-Day Issues. — Aside from the tariff question (and the Conservatives are far from united upon the Chamberlain programme), the principal issues which separate the two leading parties to-day are those which arise from the Conserva- tive attitude of friendliness toward the House of Lords, the Established Church, the landowners, and the publicans. Most of the political contests of recent years have been waged upon questions pertaining to the constitution of the upper chamber, denominational control of education, disestablishment, the tax- ation of land, and the regulation of the liquor traffic, and in all of these matters the Liberals have been insisting upon changes which their opponents either disapprove entirely or desire to confine within narrower bounds than those proposed. In the carrying through of the Parliament Bill of 191 1, pro- viding a means b)' which measures may be enacted into law over the protest of the Conservative majority in the Lords, the Liberals achieved their greatest triumph since 1832. The party stands committed to-day to a large number of far-reaching projects, including the extension of social insurance, the revision of the electoral system, the establishment of Home Rule, and, ultimately, a reconstitution of the second chamber as promised in the preamble of the Parliament Act. At the 498 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY date of writing (October, 191 2) there are pending in Parlia- ment a momentous measure for the granting of Home Rule to Ireland and another for the overhauling of the electoral system, an important bill for the disestablishment of the Church in Wales, a measure virtually annulling the principle involved in the Osborne Decision, and several minor Govern- ment proposals. The recent victories of the Liberals have been won with the aid of Labor and Irish Nationalist votes, and the concessions which have been, and are being, made to the interests of these auxiliary parties may be expected to affect profoundly the course of legislation during the continu- ance of the Liberal ascendancy. There are, it may be said, indications that the Liberals possess less strength through- out the country than they exhibited during the critical years 1 9 1 o- 1 9 1 1 . At thirty-eight by-elections contested by the Unionists since December, 19 10, the Liberals have suffered a net loss of eight seats ; and one of the contests lost was that in Midlothian, long the constituency represented by Gladstone, which returned, in September, 191 2, a Conserva- tive member for the first time in thirty-eight years. There is a tradition that when a Liberal government is defeated in Midlothian the end of that government is not far distant. Prophecy in such matters, however, is futile. Meanwhile the Unionists continue to be divided upon the tariff, but in the main they are united in opposition to the overturning of the ancient constitutional system, although they no longer generally oppose a moderate reform of the House of Lords. In a speech delivered at Leeds, November 16, 191 1, the new parliamentary leader of the party, Mr. Bonar Law, enumerated as the immediate Unionist purposes ( i ) to oppose the Govern- ment's Welsh Disestablishment scheme, (2) to resist Home Rule, (3) to labor for tariff reform as the only practicable means of solving the problem of unemployment, and (4) to defend at all costs the unity of the Empire. TiiE I'ARllES OF TO-DAY 499 Party Composition. — Both of the great parties as consti- tuted to-day possess substantial strength in all portions of the kingdom save Ireland, the Liberals being in the preponder- ance in Scotland, Wales, and northern h.ngland, and the Conservatives in the south and southwest. Within the Con- servative ranks are found much the greater portion of the people of title, wealth, and social position ; nearly all of the clergy of the Established Church, and some of the Dissenters ; a majority of the graduates of the universities and of members of the bar ; most of the prosperous merchants, manufacturers, and financiers ; a majority of clerks and approximately half of the tradesmen and shopkeepers ; and a very considerable mass, though not in these days half, of the workingmen. During the second half of the nineteenth century the well- to-do and aristocratic Whig element in the Liberal party was drawn over, in the main, to the ranks of the Conservatives, and to this day the Liberal party contains but a small pro- portion of the rank and wealth of the kingdom. It is pre- emincndy an organization of the middle and popular classes. The Independent Labor Party. — The Labor party of the present day is the product largely of the twin agencies of socialism and trade-unionism. As early as 1868 two persons sought seats in Parliament as representatives of labor, and at the elections of 1874 there were no fewer than thirteen labor candidates, two of whom were successful. Great industrial upheavals of succeeding years, notably the strike of the Lon- don dock laborers in 1889, together with the rise of new organizations composed of unskilled labor and pronouncedly infected with socialism, created demand for the interference of the state for the improvement of labor conditions and led eventually to the organization of the Independent Labor Party in 1893. The aim of this party as set forth in its constitution and rules is essentially socialistic, namely, '" the establishment of collective ownershio and control of the means of production. 500 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY distribution, and exchange " ; and the working programme as originally announced includes (i) a universal eight-hour day, (2) the abolition of over-time, piece-work, and the employ- ment of children under fourteen, (3) state provision for the ill, the invalid, and the aged, (4) free, non-sectarian education of all grades, (5) the extinction by taxation of unearned in- comes, and (6) universal disarmament. To this programme has been added woman's suffrage, a second ballot in parlia- mentary elections, municipal control of the liquor traffic and of hospitals, and a number of other proposed innovations. At the elections of 1895 the party named twenty-eight candi- dates, but no one of them was successful and Keir Hardie, founder and president, lost the seat which he had occupied since 1892. In 1900 it attained, in the re-election of Hardie, its first parliamentary victor}', and in 1906 when the tide of radicalism was running high seven of its candidates and six- teen of its members were elected to the House of Commons. The Labor Party To-day. — The Independent Labor Party has been throughout its history avowedly socialistic. It has sought and obtained the adherence of thousands of laboring men, some of whom are, and some of whom are not, social- ists. But its character is too radical to attract the mass of trade-union members and alongside it there has grown up a larger and broader organization known simply as the Labor Party. A trade-union congress held at London in September, 1899, caused to be brought together an assemblage of rep- resentatives of all co-operative, trade-union, socialist, and working-class organizations which were willing to share in an effort to increase the representation of labor in Parliament. This body held its first meeting at London in February, 1900, and an organization was formed in which the ruling forces were the politically inclined but non-socialistic trade-unions. The object of the affiliation was asserted to be "' to establish THE PARTIES OF T()-J)AY 501 a distinct labor group in Parliament, who shall have their own whips, and agree upon their own policy, which must embrace a readiness to co-operate with any party which for the time being may be engaged in promoting legislation in the direct interest of labor." The growth of the organization was rapid, and in 1906 the name which had been employed, i.e.. Labor Representation Committee, gave place to that of Labor Party. At the elections of 1906 twenty-nine of the fifty-one candidates (.)( this party were chosen to the House of Commons. Taking into account eleven members connected with miners' organi- zations and fourteen others who were Independent Laborites or Liberal Laborites ("' Lib.-Labs."), the parliament chosen in 1906 contained a labor contingent aggregating fifty-four members. Since 1908 there has been in progress a consoli- dation of the labor forces represented at Westminster and, although at the elections of 19 10 some seats were lost, there are in the House of Commons to-day forty-two labor repre- sentatives. The entire group is independent of, but friendly toward, the Liberal Government ; and since the Liberals stand in constant need of Labor support, its power in legislation is altogether disproportioned to its numbers. BIBLIOGRAPHY Archer, Thomas Andkkw. Kditor. The Crusade of Richard I (Knglish History by Contemporary Writers). Dana Nutt, London, 1888. AscHAM, Roger. The Scholemaster (edited by Edward Arber). A. Constable and Co., Westminster, 1903. Bacon, Edwin Munroe. English Voyages of Adventure and Discovery (voyages of the Cabots retold from Hakluyt). Charles Scribner's Sons, 1908. Bede. The Ecclesiastical History of the English Nation (translated by J. A. Giles). J. M. Dent and Co., London, 1903. B^MONT, Charles. Simon de Montfort, comte de Leicester, sa vie, son role politique en France et en Angleterre. Alphonse Picard, Paris, 1884. BowKKK, Ai.i'REU, Editor. Alfred the Great (Introduction by Sir Walter Besant). Adam and Charles Black, London, 1899. Bradford, William. Of Plimoth Plantation (printed by order of the General Court of Massachusetts). Boston, 1898. Bright, John. Public Addresses by John Bright, M.P. (edited by James E. Thorold Rogers). The Macmillan Company, 1879. Brooks, Sydney. Some English Statesmen. McClitre's Magazine, ]\inc, 1911. Burns, Robert. Complete Poetical Works (Cambridge Edition). Houghton Mifflin Company, 1897. Campbell, Thomas. Poetical Works. Little, Brown, and Company, 1854. Chamberlain, Joseph. The True Conception of Empire. The Times, London, 1897 (reprinted in The World's Famous Orations, W. J. Bryan, editor in chief). Cheyney, Edward Potts. Readings in English History (drawn from the original sources). Ginn and Company, 1908. Clarendon, First Earl of. History of the Rebellion and Civil Wars in England (edited by Dunn Macray). Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1888. Creighton, Mandell. The Age of Elizabeth. Longmans, Green, & Co., 1877. Firth, Charles Harding. Article on John Hampden, in Dictionary of National Biography. The Macmillan Company, New York; Smith, Elder & Co., London, 1890. 503 504 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY FisKE, John. Old Virginia and lier Neighbours. Houghton Mifflin Company, 1897. Freeman, Edward Augustus. The History of the Norman Conquest of England. Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1869. Freeman, Edward Augustus. A Short History of the Norman Con- quest. Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1901. Froissart, Jean. Chronicles (translated by Lord Berners and edited by G. C. Macaulry). The Macmillan Company, 1895. Gardiner, Samuel Rawson. History of England from the Accession of James I to the Outbreak of the Civil War. Longmans, Green, & Co., 1904. Gardiner, Samuel Rawson. Oliver Cromwell. Longmans, Green, & Co., 1901. GiBBiNS, Henry de Beltgens. The Industrial History of England (University Extension Series). Methuen & Co., 1900. GiusTiNiAN, Sebastian. Four Years at the Court of Henry VIII (translated by Rawdon Brown). Smith, Elder & Co., London, 1854. Goodrich, Chauncey Allen. Select British F^loquence. Harper & Brothers, 1852. Green, John Richard. The Conquest of England. Harper & Brothers, 1884. Green, John Richard. A Short History of the English People (illus- trated edition). Harper & Brothers, 1898. Hansard, Thomas Curson. Parliamentary Debates, Series III, vols. 183, 306; Series V, vol. 15. Hart, Albert Bushnell. The Obvious Orient. D. Appleton and Company, 1911. Hawker, Robert Stephen. Cornish Ballads and Other Poems. John Lane, London, 1908. Hill, Mabel. Liberty Documents. Longmans, Green, & Co., 1901. HoDGKiN, Thomas. Italy and her Invaders. Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1892. Hosmer, James Kendall. Samuel Adams (American Statesmen Series). Houghton Mifflin Company, 1885. HuTTON, Rev. William Holden, Editor. Simon de Montfort and his Cause (English History from Contemporary Writers). Dana Nutt, London, 1888. James I, King of England. The Workes of the most High and Mightie Prince James, by the Grace of God King of Great Britain, France, Ireland, Defender of the Faith, etc. James, Bishop of Winton, London, 161 6. MIllLIOGRAI'llY 505 jESSOPr, Augustus. The Coming of the P'riars, and Oihcr Historic Essays. (1. 1'. Putnam's Sons, 1892. JussERAM), Je.\n Adrikn Antoi.ne Jui.es. a Literary History of the Enghsh People. G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1906. Lecky, William Edward Hartpole. A History of England in the Eighteenth Century, Vol. II. D. Appieton and Company, 1878. Macaul.w, Thomas Babington. History of England from the Acces- sion of James II. Harper & Brothers, 1849. Marvel, Andrew. Poems. E. P. Button & Co., 1892. McCarthy, Justin. The Life of Gladstone. The Macmillan Company, 1897. McCarthy, Justin. The Story of the People of England in the Nine- teenth Century. G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1899. Milton, John. Poetical Works of. The Macmillan Company, 1895. Montague, Fr.\ncis Ch.vrles. The Elements of English Constitutional History from the Earliest Time to the Present Day. Longmans, Green, & Co., 1908. Moran, Thomas Francis. The Theory and Practice of the English Government. Longmans, Green, & Co., 1904. Morris, Edward Ellis. The Age of Anne. Charles Scribner's Sons, 1894. Norgate, Kate. John Lackland. The Macmillan Company, 1902. Ogg, Frederic Austin. The Governments of Europe. The Macmillan Company, 1913. Outlook, The. Editorial. August 26, 1911. Pepys, Samuel. Diary and Correspondence (edited by Rev. Mynors Bright). M. W. Jones. Petri Blesensis Opera C)mnia,Vol. I. Migne's Patrologia,Vol.CCVII, 1.S55. Rait, Robert Sangster, Editor. Mary Queen of Scots (Scottish His- tory from Contemporary Writers). Dana Nutt, London, 1899. Ransome, Cyril. A Short History of England. Longmans, Green, & Co., 1897. Rohertson, James Craigie, i:ditor. Materials for the History of Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury (Rolls Series). London. 1885. Robinson, James Harvey, and Beard, Charles Austin. The Devel- opment of Modern Europe. 2 vols. Ginn and Company, 1908. Roger ok Wendover. Flowers of History (translated by J. A. (Jiles). H. G. Bohn, London, 1849. Roper, William. The Mirrour of Vertue in Worldly Greatnes or the Life of Sir Thomas More, Knight. Alexander Moring, London, 1903. Shakespeare, William. King Henry the Eighth (Rolfc Edition). Harper & Brothers, 1884. 5o6 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Smith, Goldwix. Oxford and her Colleges. The Macmillan Com- pany, 1895. SouTHEY, Robert. Life of Nelson. Bell and Daldy, London, 1870. Stanley, Arthur Penrhyn. Historical Memorials of Canterbury. John Murray, 1875. Tacitus. Germania (translated, with notes, by Arthur C. Rowland), in University of Pennsylvania Translations and Reprints, Vol. VL Philadel- phia, 1900. Tennyson, Alfred, Lord. Poetic and Dramatic Works (Cambridge Edition). Houghton Mifflin Company, 1898. Trevelyan, George Macaulay. England under the Stuarts, Vol. V of A History of England (C. W. C. Oman, General Editor). G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1894. Wright, Thomas, Editor. Queen Elizabeth and her Times. Henry Colburn, London, 1838. INDEX Abbot, I02 Aden, 475, 476, 482 Alfred the Great, 26-36 Algiers, 248 Allegiance, oath of, 315 America, Civil War in, 421, 440; War of Independence in, 484 America, W^ar with, 359-363 American Revolution, Causes of the, 345-350 Amusements, of the Germans, 8 ; m the thirteenth century, 121; at Oxford, 137, 144; in Elizabeth's reign, 227-229 Anne, Queen, the England of, 335-344 Anti-Corn-Law League, 417, 418 Architecture, Norman, 48-49; in a mediaeval monastery, 97-99; Eliza- bethan, 223-224 ; in Anne's reign, 337-33^ Arkwright, Richard, 403, 404, 407, 408 Army, early English (Fyrd), 17; under Norman kings, 42, 50; in the civil war, 264; in 1685, 290; in India. 481 Ascham, Roger, T//e Schokfnaster, 203 Asia, 479, 483 Asquith, and Lloyd-George, 446-458 Asquith, H. II., speech of, 459 Atkins, Thomas, 481 Augustine, 11,12 Australia, 477, 479 Bacon, E. M.. English Voyages of Aih'eittttrc and Discoz'try, 172 Bannockburn, 145-146 Barons, and the Great Charter, 75-82, 86-88; under Simon de Montfort, 90, 92 ; as tenants of the king, 108 Bath, 338 Becket, 59 Bede, Ecclesiastical History of the English A'ation, 1 1 Bemont, Charles, Simon de Mont- fort, Cotnte de Leicester, 89 Bertha, cjueen of Kent, 12 Besant, Sir Walter, Alfred the Great, 26 Bishops, in early English kingdom, 16, 17; in House of Lords, 474 Black Prince, 153-154, 161-171 Board of Trade, 346-347 Bocland, 18 Boleyn, Anne, 184, 1S9, 206-208 Bologne, University of, 134 Borough. See Burgh Borough-reeve, 16 Bradford, William, Of Plimoth Plan- tation, 234 Bright, John, M. P., Picblic Addresses urke, Edmund, attitude toward home rule, 443 Burma, 476, 481 Burns, John, 44S Bums, Robert, Scots, IV/ia Hae, M5 507 =;oS READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Cabal, 424 Cabinet, English, the Development of the, 422-432 Cabinet Government in England, 432-437 Cabot, John, Voyages of, 172-177 Cabot, Sebastian, 173-175 Cadiz, 217, 220, 222, 246 Calais, Siege of, 1 56-161 Calais possessed by England, 163 Calicut, 405 Campbell-Bannerman, 463 Campbell, Thomas, Poetical Works, Canada, 354, 356, 475, 479 Cape Breton, 175, 356 Cartwright, Dr., 405 Catherine of Aragon, 178, 191-193 Cavendish, Thomas, 217 Central Africa, 475, 477 Ceylon, 475, 476, 477- 480 Chalgrove Field, 264-265 Chamberlain, Joseph, speech of, 483 Charles I, 242-244, 263-264 Charles I, Attempted Arrest of Five Members of the House of Com- mons by, 250-255 Charles I, Death of, 272 Charles I, Letters of (to Strafford and to the House of Lords), 270-272 Charles II, Character of, 277-280 Charles of Luxembourg, king of Bohemia, 152 Charter, The Great, 83-87 Charter, Winning of the Great, 74-82. See also Magna Charta Charter of Henry I, 51-54, 74> 77-79- 86 Chatham, Earl of. See Pitt Cheyney, E. P., Readings in English History, 129, 270 Chippenham, Danish headquarters, 26 Chivalry, 170 Church^ in Dunstan's day, 24 ; ef- fects of Norman Conquest on, 40-41 ; under Charter of Henry I, 52; under Great Charter, 83; law of, 111-112; parties in, 235; in 1685, 294-295; in Anne's reign, 344 ; movement toward disestab- lishment of, 474; conservatives and, 497, 499 ; disestablishment of Welsh, 498 Churchill, John. See Marlborough Civil List, 489-490 Civil War in America, 421, 440 Clarendon, Earl of. See Hyde Clergy, in 1685, 295-298; in Anne's reign, 344 Cleric, 11 2-1 13 Cloister, 98, 10 1 Cobden, Richard, 415-422 Coffee-houses, 342 Coifi, 13-15 Colonial policy, toward American colonies, 346-350 ; advocated by Pitt, 362 ; changes of, 483-486 Common council of the realm, 84, , 87 Commons. See House of Conn (Conaeus) Mary Queen of Scots, 2 1 1 Conservatives, 436, 466, 495-499 Constitution, effect of Norman Con- quest on, 43; Chatham's new Bible of, 87 ; development of, in 1911,461 ; fictions of, 462 ; demo- cratic spirit of, 465 ; steps in growth of, 466 Convent, 102 Convention Parliament, 312 Conversion of the English (Mission of Augustine ; Conversion of North umbria), 11-15 Corn Law, 417-419 Cotton gin, 406 County. See Shire Court of Common Pleas, 84 Creighton. Mandell, The Age of Elizabeth, 222 Cressy, Battle of, 147-155 Cressy, Black Prince at, 162-164 Crompton, 404 Cromwell, Oliver, 264, 276-277 Cromwell, Oliver (A Royalist View), 273-275 Cromwell, Oliver (A Modern View), 276-277 Cromwell, To the Lord General (A Puritan View), 275-276 INDEX 509 Cromwell, Tliomas. iSS-iqi, 197 Crown, I'liice of, in Knglish Govern- ment (Legal Status and Privi- leges; Towers; Importance and Strength), 4S8-495 Crown, powers of, under ]V\\\ of Rights, 310-324; prerogatives of to-day, 460-461, 467; theoretical and actual powers of, 490-491 ; executive authority of, 491-492; real authority and service of, 492-494 ; place of, in thought of people, 494-495 Crusade, An Incident of the Third, 71-74 Cyprus, 476 1 )anes, 26-20. 9=; Daie, Virginia, 21S, 221 Disraeli, 393-399- 496 Divine Right of Kings, 232, 233-234, 278, 324 Drake (Francis), 216-220 Dress, of the (Jermans, 7; in thir- teenth century, 118; in Eliza- beth's reign, 226-227 Dunstan, 19-25 Dwellings, of the Germans, 6-7 ; in thirteenth century, 116; in Eliza- beth's reign, 224; in 1685, 286, 292 Eadgar, 21, 23-25 Ealdorman, i(), 17 Education, of German youth, 7; in Dunstan's day, 22 ; under Alfred, 33 ; in a mediaval monastery, 99-101, 105; at Oxford, 135; in 1685, 292, 297; work of the Lib- erals for, 496 Education and Accomplishments of Mai7 Queen of Scots, 211-212 Education of Lady Jane Grey and of Queen Elizabeth, 203-206 Edward T. 74, 79, 121 Edward III, 147-149, 153-154, 156- 163, 166 Edward VII, Civil List of. 490; in- fluence of, on legislation, 493 Edward the Ulack Prince, 161-17 i Edwin, king of Northumbria, 13 Egypt, 475-477 Elections to Parliament, 364-366, , 3''>'. 3^3< 397. 435. 49«. 50 ' Eliot, Sir John, 242-245 Eliot, Sir John, speech of, 245 ; cor- respondence with Hampden, 257 Jlli/abeth, education of, 205-206 Elizabeth, Character of, 206-211 Klizabeth and the royal veto, 460 Elizabethan Sea Kings and the Spanish Armada, 216-222 Empire, True Conception of, 483- 487 Empire, British, possessions of, 475- 476 ; compared with Roman, 477 ; Unionist policy toward, 498 England, State of, in 1685, 286-309 England of Queen Anne, 335-344 English, Conversion of, 11-15 English, Government of, 15-18 English Life in IClizabeth's Reign, 222—2 "? I Erasmus. 181 Essex, Earl of, 264-265 Ethelbert, 11,31 Evesham, battle of, 91-94 Exclusion clause, 317 Extension of the Franchise, 437-442 Factory system, 409-414 F"airs, 126-129 " Fancy franchises," 383 Feudal system in England, 90 Fiefs, ic8 Fire in London, 280-2S4 Firth, C. H., article on Hampden, 256 Fiske. John, O/d J'/y^/z/m and Her A'eighbors, 216 Flving Coach, 304 Folkland, 18 Food and drink, in a mediaeval monastery, 104-105 ; in thirteenth century. 1 16-1 18; at Oxford, 143; in E]izabeth'sreign,226; in Anne's reign, 341 Forest I^ws under Great Charter, 85 Forfeiture, 53 Fort Ducjuesne, 356 Fox (Charles James), 350-351 5IO READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY France, relations with England after Norman Conquest, 41 ; Edward Ill's claim to, 162; attitude of William III to, 330-331 Franchise, Extension of, 437-442, 463, 496 Francis I, king of France, 178, 181, 183 Freeman, E. A., History of the Aor- vian Conquest of England, 36; Sho7-t History 0/ the Norman Con- quest, 39 i on War of Independ- ence, 345 Free tenants, 109 French War in America, 355-356 Friars, 1 13 Froissart, Chronicles, 147, 156 Fyrd, 17 Gardiner, S. R., History of England, 250; Oliver Cromwell, 276 Genoways, 1 51-152 Gentry, country, 119, 293-295, 295 George I, and the Cabinet, 426; and Act of Settlement, 489 George III, 345 George V, 489, 490 Germans, The Early, 1-9 Gibbins, H. de B., Industrial History of England, 122 Gibraltar, 475, 476 Gilds, 129-133, 230 Giustinian, Sebastian, Foitr Years at the Court of Henry VIII, 185 Gladstone and Disraeli, 393-399 Gladstone, attitude toward House of Lords, 463; speeches, 437, 442 Glastonbury, 20, 21, 22, 23 Golden Dragon, standard of Wes- sex, 27-28 Government of the English, 15-18 Great Charter, 83-87 Great Charter, Winning of, 74-82. See also Magna Charta Great Reform P)ill, 379-392 Green, J. R., The Conquest of Eng- land, 19; A Sho7-t History of the Eftglish People, 206, 231, 277; cited on Bill of Rights, 322 Gregory I, 1 i Grey, Lady Jane, the education of, 203-205 Grey, Lord, 379, 385-392 Guild. See Gilds Gutenberg, 411 Hakluyt, 172, 176 Hampden, John, 250, 253, 256-266 Hardie, Keir, 500 Hargreaves, James, 403 Hart, A. B., The Obvious Orient, 474 Hawker, R. S., Cornish Ballads and Other Foetns, 284 Heming, 301, 302 Henrietta Maria, 251-252 Henry I, Charter of, 51-54, 74. 77-79, 86 Henry II, 75, 86; description of, 55-59 Henry II and Becket, 59-70 Henry (VII), 172-176 Henry VIII, Character of, 177-184 Henry VIII, suppression of monas- teries, 95; portrait by Holbein, 184; and Thomas More, 195-196; and Elizabeth, 206; prerogatives of, 433 Highways (in 1685) and highway- men, 302-306 Hill, Mabel, Liberty Documents, 310 Holbein, iSi, 184 Holland, Pilgrims in, 236-241 Home Rule for Ireland, 442-446, 463, 495, 497. 498 Hong Kong, 475, 478, 479, 482 Hosmer, J. K., Samuel Adams, 345 ; cited on Bill of Rights, 323 House of Commons, de Montfort and, 90, 467 ; privileges of, 244, 254, 263; in 1832, 380-392, 462; and the Cabinet, 423, 425, 426; and the Prime Minister, 431 ; in 1884, 463 ; vs. House of Lords in 1886 and 1907, 463; as affected by Parliament Bill, 464; from 1832 to 191 1, 466; its present power, 467 ; membership of, 469- 473; compared with House of Representatives in United States, 469-470, 472-473; responsibiUty of ministers to, 491 INDEX 5" House of Lords, I>etter of Charles I to, 271-272; in 1832, 3S4, 3S7- 389, 391, 462; relation to House of Commons, 392 ; and the Cabi- net, 432-434; 7s. public opinion, 436; and restriction of its veto power, 459-461 ; functions in Parliament, 462, 464, 465 ; Glad- stone's attitude toward, 463 ; Campbell-lJannerman's attitude toward, 46^; tj-. House of Com- mons in 18S6 and 1907, 463; as affected by Parliament Bill, 464 ; from 1832 to 191 1, 466; its pres- ent power, 467 ; membership, 474; attitude of Edward \'II toward, 493; Conservatives and, 497 Houses. See Dwellings Huguenots, 405 Hundred, 15, 16, 17 Hundred-man, 16, 17 Hundred-moot, 16 Huyghens, 408 Hyde, Edward, Earl of Clarendon, Histoi'v of the Rebellion and Civil Wars in England, 273 Independent Labor Party, 499-501 Lidia, 475, 476, 477, 478, 479, 480, 481, 482, 483 Industrial Revolution, 399-414 Industrial villages, 122 Industry, domestic system of, 409- 414; factory system of, 409-414 Inglis, Sir Robert, 384 Ireland, Home Rule for, 442-446 Irish Nationalists, 437, 461, 495, 496, 498 James I, Character of, 231-232 James I, IVorkes of the Most High and Mightie Prince, James^ 233 Tames II, 270, 310-312, 332 Jessopp, Augustus, The Coming of the Friars, and Other Historic Essays, 95, 106 Jews at Oxford, 137 John, king oi England, 75-87 John, king of France, 165 Jusserand. J. J., A Literary History of the English People, 177 Katherine. See Catherine Kay, John, 402 King, the, among the Cermans, 2 ; in early England, 17, 18; Alfred as, 30 ; powers of, as affected by the Norman Conquest on, 41-42; in the (Jreat Charter, 83-87; as landlord, 108 ; ideal of Charles II as to, 279 ; powers of, in Bill of Rights, 310-324; powers of, as affected by Great Reform Bill, 392; and the Cabinet, 422-428, 432-436 ; powers of, as distinct from the powers of the Crown, 490-491. See also Divine Right of Kings Kipling, Rudyard, 30, 32, 481 Knollys, Sir Francis, quoted in Queen Elizabeth and her Times, 215 Knox. John, History of the Reforma- tion in Scotland, 2 1 z Labor party, 437, 461, 495, 496, 498, 500-501 Labourer in the thirteenth century, II 5-1 2 1 Lament of Earl Simon, The, 92- 94 Lane, Ralph, 217 Langton, Stephen, Archbishop of Canterbury, 74-82, 86 Law, Bonar, 498 Lawlessness, in thirteenth century, 119-120; in Elizabeth's time, 230; in 16S5, 305-306; under Queen Anne, 336-337 Lecky, W. E. IL, History of Eng- land in the Eighteenth Century, 350 Lenthall, 255 Leo X, 179 Leyden, 239-241 Liberals, 437, 456, 461, 465, 495-499, 501 Life, Daily, in a Mediasval Monas- tery, 95-105 Life, English, in Elizabeth's reign. Life, Village, Six Hundred Years Ago, 106-122 512 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Life at Oxford University in the Middle Ages, 134-145 Limoges, 170 Literature, under Alfred, 35 ; effects of Conquest on, 47; monastic, lOI Little Englanders, 484 Liverpool, popular election in, 38 1 ; attitude toward Reform Bill, 386 Lloyd-George, 452-458, 462, 464 Lloyd-George Budget, 464, 493 London, conditions in Alfred's reign, 2S-30; in 1685, 286, 299-302; in Anne's reign, 336-338 London, Fire in, 2S0-284 Long Parliament, 261 Loom, 401, 405 Lord Chancellor, 474 Lords. See House of Lords Louisburg, 354, 356 Louis XIV, 330 Luffman, J., cited on liill of Rights, 320 Macaulay, T. B., History of England from the Accession of Jain es II, 286, 324 ; cited on Bill of Rights, 320 McCarthy, Justin, T/ie Story of the People of England in the Nine- teenth Century, 379 ; Life of Glad- stone, 393 Magna Charta, Significance of, 87-88, 322, 348. See also Great Charter Malay Federated States, 476, 477, 480, 483 Malay Peninsula, 476, 477, 481 Malta, 475, 476 Manor house, 108-109, 115 Manufactures, textile, 123, 340, 400-402, 406; cutlery, 123, 340, 411 ; wool, 340, 400-402; cotton, 340, 406 Mariners of England, Ye, 377-379 Market towns, 123 Markets, 125-126 Marlborough, Duke of, 332-335, 426 Marvel, Andrew. Iloratian Ode upon Crotnweirs Return from Ireland, 27 2 Mary Queen of Scots, Education and Accomplishments of, 21 1-2 12 Mary Queen of Scots at Carlisle, 215-216 Mary Queen of Scots and John Knox, Interview between, 212- 215 Mediaeval lowns and Gilds, 129- 133 Merton, Walter de, 137 Merton College (Oxford), 138-141 Militia in 1685, 289 Milton, John, I'o the Lord General Cromwell, 275-276 Mohawks, 337 Monarchy, and early English Church, 24 ; ideas of James I in regard to, 232-234; under Bill of Rights, 322-323; affected by the Great Reform Bill, 392 ; prerogatives of, 460-461 ; characteristics of, 488- 489 ; importance and strength of, 492-493 ; reasons for survival of, 494 Monastery, Daily Life in a Mediae- val, 95-105 Alonastery, in Alfred's reign, 33 ; definition of, 96; church of, 97; cloister of, 98 ; library of, 99 ; Scriptorium, or Writing-Room, of, 100; chronicle of, 10 1 ; abbot of, 102 ; school of, 105 Monetage, 53 Montague, F. C, Elements of Eng- lish Constitittional History, 83, 422 Montcalm, 356 Montfort, Simon de, 89-91 Montreal, 356 Moran, T. F., The Theory and Prac- tice of the English Govern?nent, 467 More, Sir Thomas, 194-203, 189 Morris, E. E., The Age of Anne, 33-' 335 Nash, Richard (Beau), 338 Navy, under Alfred, 29; in 1685, 290 Nelson, Lord, 366-377 New College. Oxford, 134, 141-144 Newfoundland, 479 Norgate, Kate, yi'//;/ Lackland, 74 INDEX 51 v) Norman Conquest, The Results of the, 39-50 Normandy, 40, 41 Northumbria, 13-15, 26 Occupations, of the Germans, 6; in a mediaeval monastery, 104-105; in manufacturing towns, 123; in I'.li/aheth's reign, 229-230; in Anne's reign, 340 Ogg, F. A., The Goi'erntnents of Europe, 48S, 495 Ordeal, the, 16 Oriental Pax Britannica, 474-483 Outlook, They editorial in, 461 Oxford University, Life at, in the Middle Ages, 134-145, 193 Paris, Univc-sity of, 134 Parliament, Impressions of, 467- 474 Parliament, Sale of Seats in (Eight- eenth Century), 364-366 Parliament, relation towitena-gemot, 17,467; under Alfred tiie Great, 30-35; under William the Con- queror, 43, 44 ; and the Great Charter, 87; of 1265,90; of 1295, 91 ; and the Black Prince, 166; and Buckingham, 242 ; the Short, 260; the Long, 261; views of Charles II as to, 279; under Bill of Rights, 310-324; confers crown on William and Mary, 315, t^^z; and Revolution of 1911,324; and the American colonies, 349 ; in 1832, 380-3S2 ; and the Cabinet, 423; and the king, 433; dissolu- tion of, 435; representation of Ireland in, 444; representation of Wales in, 454 ; ceremony of open- ing, 459-460; functions of House of Lords in, 462, 464, 465 ; dura- tion of, 465 ; kinship to American institutions, 467 ; summoned by royal writ, 488*; administers jiroji- erty of the crown. 489; indejiend- ence of, in legislation, 400-491 ; responsibility of ministers to, 49 r Parliament Bill, the, 464-465, 497 Parties, William III and, 329, 425- 426; in Anne's reign, 342 ; minis- terial responsibility to, 426, 431 ; and the House of Commons, 434; Conservative and Liberal, 436; Irish and Labor, 437 ; and the Revolution of 191 1, 461-466 Parties of To-Uay, The, 495-501 I'aulinus, 13, 14 Paupers. See Poor Pax Britannica, 480, 482, 483, 485 Peel, Sir Robert, 390, 420 Penang, 479, 480, 481 Pepys, Samuel, cited on Cromwell, 277; cited on Charles II, 278; Diary, 280 Peter of Blois, 58 Peter of Blois, Materials for the History of 'Thomas liecket. Arch- bishop of Canterbury, 55 Philip (Vi), king of France, 148-151, •53. 155 Piiilippa, queen of Edward III, 161, 162 Pitt, William, the Elder, 350-359 Pitt, William, Earl of Chatham, speeches, 87, 359 Plimoth Plantation, Of, 234-241 Poitiers, 162, 164-165 Poor, in Elizabeth's reign, 229; in Anne's reign, 339 Port-reeve, 16 Poundage, 243 Premier. See Prime Minister Prime Minister, 427-431. 433-435- 492-493 Privy Council, 423, 424, 429 Pym', 250, 253, 255, 257, 261, 262 (Quebec, 356 RafHes, Sir Thomas Stamford, 476, 480 Raleigh,. Sir Walter, 218-220,222,228 Ralph of Coggeshall, 75, 82 Kali>h Red. i lo-i 1 1 Ransome, Cyril, .-/ Short I/iston- of Ku!:;land, 15; cited on Bill of Rights, 323 Reform Bill, The Great, 379-392 Relief, 52 514 READINGS IN ENGLISH HISTORY Revolution of i68S, 322, 324, 425 Revolution of 191 1, The English, 461-466 Rhe, attack on, 246, 248 Richard (of the Holy Trinity ?), Iti)ierarium Feregrinorinn et Cesta Regis Hicardi, 70, 71 Richard I, Portrait of King, 70-71 Richard 1 in Third Crusade, 71-74 Right, Declaration of, 323 Right, The Petition of, 245-250 Rights, The Bill of, 87, 310-319; comments on, 320-324 ; reference to, by American colonies, 348 Rights, Declaration of, 322 ; Peti- tion of, 87 Roanoke Island, 217, 218, 220, 221 Robert, duke of Normandy, 51 Robinson and Beard, Development of iModerii Europe, 399, 432 Roger of Wendover, 51, 75, 77 Roger of Wendover, IVie Flowers of History, 51 Romilly, Sir Samuel, Memoirs, 364 Roper, William, F/ie Life of Sir Thomas More, 194 Rougham, 106-108, no Runnimead, Si Rupert, Prince, 265 Russell, Lord John, 379-392 Salerno, University of, 134 Saxon Sea-Rovers, The, 9-10 Scutage, 62, 83 Sea kings, 219 Settlement, Act of, 489 Shakespeare, William, Kitig Henry the Eighth, 187 Shakespeare's description of Eng- land, 222-223 Sheriff, 16-43 Ship-money tax, 258-260 Shire, 15. 16, 17, 18 Shire-moot, 16 Shire-reeve, 16 Short Parliament, Hampden in, 260 Sidney (Sir Philip), 216 Sid(jnius, Apollinaris, Letters, 9 Simon de Montfort. See Montfort Singapore, 476, 479, 480, 481 Smith, Adam, 346, 410, 411 Smith, Goldwin, Oxford and her Colleges, 1 34 Song of the W^estern Men, The, 284-285 South Africa, 475, 477, 479 Southey, Robert, Life of N'elson, 366 Spanish Armada, 216-222, 242 Speaker, 468, 471 Spinning jennies, 403 Spinning mule, 404 Spinning wheel, 401 Squires, in thirteenth century, 119; in 1685, 291-295 Stanley, A. P., Historical Memorials of Canterbury, 161 Staple, 124-125; in Anne's reign, 339-341 Staple towns, 124-125 State of England in 1685, The, 286-309 Steam engine, 406-408 Stephen, 60, 66 Stevens, C. E., cited on Bill of Rights, 323 St. Paul's, 337-338 Stourbridge fair, 127, 128 Strafford, Earl of, 262 ; trial of, 262 Strafford, Earl of. Defense of the, 266-270 Strafford, Earl of, Letterof Charles I to, 270-271 Straits Settlement, 475 Sub-tenants, 108 Sugar Act, 347 Supremacy, oath of, 316 Tacitus, Germania, i Tasvvell-Langmead, T. P., cited on Bill of Rights, 322 Templars, 71-73 Tenants, free, 109 Tenants-in-chief, 83, 86. See also Sub-tenants Tennyson, Alfred, Becket, 59 Thane, 17, 18, 35 Thanet, 1 1, 25 Theatre, in Elizabeth's reign, 228, 229; in 1685, 306 Thegn. See Thane Tonnage and poundage, 243 INDEX 515 Tories, in 16S5, 294-295, 29S ; in 1685, 30S; and William III, 329, 425-426; in Anne's reign, 343- 344; in 1S32, 384, 387; in Dis- raeli's day, 395-396; in Walpole's day, 431-432 ; of to-day, 436 Town-moot, 16 Town-reeve, 16, 17 Towns, Industrial Villages, and Fairs, 122-129 Towns and cities, the rights of, 84 ; growth and industries of, 122-125; in Anne's reign, 335-336 Towns and Gilds, Mediaeval, 1 29- 1 ^2 Township, 16, 17 Trafalgar, Battle of, 366-377 Traveling in 16S5, 303-305 Trelawny, 285 Trevelyan, G. M., England under the Stuarts, 242 Unionists. See Conservatives Veto Power of House of Lords, Restriction of, 459-461, 464 Veto power of king, 460, 461 Victoria, intiuence of, 493 Village Life Six Hundred Years Ago, 106-122 Villein, 86, 109 Villeneuve, 368 Viscount. See Sheriff Voyages of John Cabot, The, 172- 177 Wages, in thirteenth century, 118; in 16S5, 307, 309; in Anne's reign, 339 \N alpole, Robert, 431 Walter, Hubert, 75 War with America, The, 359-363 Watt, James, 408 Weaving, 400 Wedmore, Peace of, 19 Wei Ilai Wei, 475 Wellington, Duke of, 389-391 Wendover, Roger of, 77/^ Flmuers of History, 51 Wentvvorth, Thomas. See Strafford Wesley, 359 Wessex, under Dunstan and Eadgar, 23-25; attacked by Danes, 26; standard of, 27 ; Danes driven from, 28 ; laws of, 31 West Indies, 475 Whigs, in 1685, 308; in reign of William III, 329, 425; in Anne's reign, 343 ; Pitt's appeal to, 352 ; under Anne and George III, 426; in Walpole's day, 431-432; of to-day, 437, 499 White, Governor John, 218-221 Whitney, Kli, 406 William the Marshal, 80 William the Norman, The Corona- tion of, 36-39 William III, Character of, 324-331 William III, summons of, to the Convention Parliament, 312; and Duke of Marlborough, ZZ-'IZZ^ and his ministers, 425 William IV, 386 William and Mary, crown conferred by Parliament, 315 Winchester fair, 127 Witena-gemot, 17, 35, 43, 467 Wolfe, 356 Wolsey, The Character of, 185-187 Wolsey, The Downfall of, 187-193 Wolsey as Lord Chancellor, 196, 197 Wren, Sir Christopher, 336-338 Wycliffe, 140, 142 Wykeham, Bishop of Winchester, 141, 142 Yeomanry, 299 ' NIVERSITY OF '"•AL' -r-ir i UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACIL TY AA 000 671 928