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Title: A Modern History, From the Time of Luther to the Fall of Napoleon
       For the Use of Schools and Colleges

Author: John Lord

Release Date: February 13, 2008 [EBook #24598]

Language: English

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[Transcriber's note: Obvious printer's errors have been corrected, all
other inconsistencies are as in the original. The author's spelling has
been maintained.

Page 492: A probable typographical error "Camide, Desmoulins" has been
replaced by "Camille Desmoulin".

The following sentences had illegible words; inserted words are shown
here between "=".

Page 82: "and his mother, Catharine, became virtually the =ruler= of
the nation."

Page 178: "The minority had now become a majority,"--which is not
unusual in revolutionary times,--and proceeded to the work, in good
earnest, which =he= had long contemplated.

Page 487: All classes in France were anxious for it, and =war= was
soon declared.]




                        A
                  MODERN HISTORY,
                    FROM THE
                  TIME OF LUTHER
                      TO THE
                 FALL OF NAPOLEON.


        FOR THE USE OF SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES.


                        BY
                  JOHN LORD, A.M.,
                LECTURER ON HISTORY.




  PHILADELPHIA:
    CHARLES DESILVER;
    CLAXTON, REMSEN & HAFFELFINGER;
    J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO.
  NEW YORK: D. APPLETON & Co.
  BOSTON: NICHOLS & HALL.
  CINCINNATI: ROBERT CLARKE & Co; WILSON, HINKLE & Co.
  SAN FRANCISCO: A. L. BANCROFT & Co.

  _Chicago_: S. C. GRIGGS & Co.--_Charleston, S. C._: J. M. Greer &
  Son; Edward Perry & Son.--_Raleigh, N. C._: Williams &
  Lambeth.--_Baltimore, Md._: Cushings & Bailey; W. J. C Dulaney &
  Co.--_New Orleans, La._: Stevens & Seymour.--_Savannah, Ga._: J. M.
  Cooper & Co.--_Macon, Ga._: J. M. Boardman.--_Augusta, Ga._: Thos.
  Richards & Son.--_Richmond, Va._: Woodhouse & Parham.

  1874.




  Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1849, by
  JOHN LORD,
  In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District
  of Massachusetts.




PREFACE.


In preparing this History, I make no claim to original and profound
investigations; but the arrangement, the style, and the sentiments,
are my own. I have simply attempted to condense the great and varied
subjects which are presented, so as to furnish a connected narrative
of what is most vital in the history of the last three hundred years,
avoiding both minute details and elaborate disquisitions. It has been
my aim to write a book, which should be neither a chronological table
nor a philosophical treatise, but a work adapted to the wants of young
people in the various stages of education, and which, it is hoped,
will also prove interesting to those of maturer age; who have not the
leisure to read extensive works, and yet who wish to understand the
connection of great events since the Protestant Reformation. Those
characters, institutions, reforms, and agitations, which have had the
greatest influence in advancing society, only have been described, and
these not to the extent which will satisfy the learned or the curious.
Dates and names, battles and sieges, have not been disregarded; but
more attention has been given to those ideas and to those men by whose
influence and agency great changes have taken place. In a work so
limited, and yet so varied, marginal references to original
authorities have not been deemed necessary; but a list of standard and
accessible authors is furnished, at the close of each chapter, which
the young student, seeking more minute information, can easily
consult. A continuation of this History to the present time might seem
desirable; but it would be difficult to condense the complicated
events of the last thirty years into less than another volume. Instead
of an unsatisfactory compend, especially of subjects concerning which
there are great differences of opinion, and considerable warmth of
feeling, useful tables of important events are furnished in the
Appendix. I have only to add, that if I have succeeded in remedying,
in some measure, the defects of those dry compendiums, which are used
for want of living histories; if I have combined what is instructive
with what is entertaining; and especially if I shall impress the
common mind, even to a feeble degree, with those great moral truths
which history ought to teach, I shall feel that my agreeable labor is
not without its reward.

                                        J. L.

  BOSTON, _October, 1849_.




CONTENTS.


  CHAPTER I.

  STATE OF EUROPEAN SOCIETY IN THE FIFTEENTH AND SIXTEENTH CENTURIES.
  (pp. 1-9.)

Revival of the Arts -- Influence of Feudalism -- Effects of
Scholasticism -- Ecclesiastical Corruptions -- Papal Infallibility --
The sale of Indulgences -- The Corruptions of the Church -- Necessity
for Reform.


  CHAPTER II.

  MARTIN LUTHER AND HIS ASSOCIATES.
  (pp. 10-29.)

The Early Life of Luther -- Luther's Early Religious Struggles -- The
Ninety-Five Propositions -- Erasmus -- Melancthon -- Leo X. -- The
Leipsic Disputation -- Principles of the Leipsic Disputation -- The
Rights of Private Judgment -- Luther's Elements of Greatness --
Excommunication of Luther -- The Diet of Worms -- Imprisonment at
Wartburg -- Carlstadt -- Thomas Münzer Ulric -- Zwingle -- Controversy
between Luther and Zwingle -- Diet of Augsburg -- League of Smalcalde
-- Death and Character of Luther.


  CHAPTER III.

  THE EMPEROR CHARLES V.
  (pp. 30-44.)

Charles V. -- Spain and France in the Fifteenth Century -- Wars
between Charles and Francis. -- Diet of Spires -- Hostilities between
Charles and Francis -- African War -- Council of Trent -- Treachery of
Maurice -- Captivity of the Landgrave of Hesse -- Heroism of Maurice
-- Misfortunes of Charles -- Treaty of Passau -- Character of Charles.


  CHAPTER IV.

  HENRY VIII.
  (pp. 45-59.)

Rise of Absolute Monarchy -- Henry VIII. -- Rise of Cardinal Wolsey --
Magnificence of Henry VIII. -- Anne Boleyn -- Queen Catharine --
Disgrace and Death of Wolsey -- More -- Cranmer -- Cromwell -- Quarrel
with the Pope -- Suppression of Monasteries -- Execution of Anne
Boleyn -- Anne of Cleves -- Catharine Howard -- Last Days of Henry --
Death of Henry.


  CHAPTER V.

  EDWARD VI. AND MARY.
  (pp. 60-68.)

War with Scotland -- Rebellions and Discontents -- Rivalry of the
great Nobles -- Religious Reforms -- Execution of Northumberland --
Marriage of the Queen -- Religious Persecution -- Character of Mary --
Accession of Elizabeth.


  CHAPTER VI.

  ELIZABETH.
  (pp. 69-81.)

Mary, Queen of Scots -- John Knox -- Marriage of Mary -- Darnley --
Bothwell -- Civil War in Scotland -- Captivity of Queen Mary --
Execution of Mary -- Military Preparations of Philip II. -- Spanish
Armada -- Irish Rebellion -- The Earl of Essex -- Character of
Elizabeth -- Improvements made in the Reign of Elizabeth --
Reflections.


  CHAPTER VII.

  FRANCIS II., CHARLES IX., HENRY III., AND HENRY IV.
  (pp. 82-90.)

Catharine de Medicis -- Civil War in France -- Massacre of St.
Bartholomew -- Henry III. -- Henry IV. -- Edict of Nantes --
Improvements during the Reign of Henry IV. -- Peace Scheme of
Henry IV. -- Death of Henry IV. -- France at the Death of Henry IV.


  CHAPTER VIII.

  PHILIP II. AND THE AUSTRIAN PRINCES OF SPAIN.
  (pp. 91-96.)

Bigotry of Philip II. -- Revolt of the Netherlands -- Revolt of the
Moriscoes -- Causes of the Decline of the Spanish Monarchy -- The
Increase of Gold and Silver -- Decline of the Spanish Monarchy.


  CHAPTER IX.

  THE JESUITS, AND THE PAPAL POWER IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.
  (pp. 97-107.)

The Roman Power in the Seventeenth Century -- Rise of the Jesuits --
Rapid Spread of the Jesuits -- Extraordinary Virtues of the older
Jesuits -- The Constitution of the Jesuits -- Degeneracy of the
Jesuits -- Evils in the Jesuit System -- The Popes in the Seventeenth
Century -- Nepotism of the Popes -- Rome in the Seventeenth Century.


  CHAPTER X.

  THIRTY YEARS' WAR.
  (pp. 108-119.)

Political Troubles after the Death of Luther -- Diet of Augsburg --
Commencement of the Thirty Years' War -- The Emperor Frederic -- Count
Wallenstein -- Character of Wallenstein -- Gustavus Adolphus -- Loss
of Magdeburg -- Wallenstein reinstated in Power -- Death of Gustavus
Adolphus -- Assassination of Wallenstein -- Treaty of Westphalia.


  CHAPTER XI.

  ADMINISTRATIONS OF CARDINALS RICHELIEU AND MAZARIN.
  (pp. 120-132.)

Regency of Mary de Medicis -- Rise of Cardinal de Richelieu --
Suppression of the Huguenots -- The Depression of the great Nobles --
Power of Richelieu -- Character of Richelieu -- Effects of Richelieu's
Policy -- Richelieu's Policy -- Cardinal de Retz -- Prince of Condé --
Power of Mazarin -- Death of Mazarin.


  CHAPTER XII.

  THE REIGNS OF JAMES I. AND CHARLES.
  (pp. 133-180.)

Accession of James I. -- The Genius of the Reign of James --
Conspiracy of Sir Walter Raleigh -- Gunpowder Plot -- Persecution of
the Catholics -- Robert Carr, Earl of Somerset -- Greatness and Fall
of Somerset -- Duke of Buckingham -- Lord Bacon -- Trial and Execution
of Raleigh -- Encroachments of James -- Quarrel between James and
Parliament -- Death of James -- The Struggle of Classes -- Rise of
Popular Power -- Quarrel between the King and the Commons -- The
Counsellors of Charles -- Death of Buckingham -- Petition of Right --
Earl of Strafford -- John Hampden -- Insurrection in Scotland -- Long
Parliament -- Rebellion of Ireland -- Flight of the King from London
-- Rise of the Puritans -- Original Difficulties and Differences --
Persecution during the Reign of Elizabeth -- Archbishops Grindal and
Whitgift -- Persecution under James -- Puritans in Exile -- Troubles
in Scotland -- Peculiarities of Puritanism in England -- Conflicts
among the Puritans -- Character of the Puritans -- John Hampden --
Oliver Cromwell -- The King at Oxford -- Cromwell after the Battle of
Marston Moor -- Enthusiasm of the Independents -- Battle of Naseby --
Success of the Parliamentary Army -- Seizure of the King -- Triumph of
the Independents -- Cromwell invades Scotland -- Seizure of the King a
second Time -- Trial of the King.


  CHAPTER XIII.

  PROTECTORATE OF OLIVER CROMWELL.
  (pp. 181-191.)

Storming of Drogheda and Wexford -- Battle of Worcester -- Policy of
Cromwell -- The Rump Parliament -- Dispersion of the Parliament
Cromwell assumes the Protectorship -- The Dutch War -- Cromwell rules
without a Parliament -- The Protectorate -- Regal Government restored.


  CHAPTER XIV.

  THE REIGN OF CHARLES II.
  (pp. 192-210.)

The Restoration -- Great Public Rejoicings -- Reaction to
Revolutionary Principles -- Excellencies in Charles's Government --
Failure of the Puritan Experiment -- Repeal of the Triennial Bill --
Secret Alliance with Louis XIV. -- Venality and Sycophancy of
Parliament -- Restrictions on the Press -- Habeas Corpus Act -- Titus
Oates -- Oates's Revelations -- Penal Laws against Catholics --
Persecution of Dissenters -- Execution of Russell and Sydney --
Manners and Customs of England -- Milton -- Dryden -- Condition of the
People of England.


  CHAPTER XV.

  THE REIGN OF JAMES II.
  (pp. 211-233.)

Accession of James II. -- Monmouth lands in England -- Battle of
Sedgemoor -- Death of Monmouth -- Brutality of Jeffreys -- Persecution
of the Dissenters -- George Fox -- Persecution of the Quakers --
Despotic Power of James -- Favor extended to Catholics -- High
Commission Court -- Quarrel with the Universities -- Magdalen College
-- Prosecution of the Seven Bishops -- Tyranny and infatuation of
James -- Organized Opposition -- William, Prince of Orange -- Critical
condition of James -- Invasion of England by William -- Flight of the
King -- Consummation of the Revolution -- Declaration of Rights.


  CHAPTER XVI.

  LOUIS XIV.
  (pp. 234-251.)

The Power and Resources of Louis -- His Habits and Pleasures -- His
Military Ambition -- William, Prince of Orange -- Second Invasion of
Holland -- Dutch War -- Madame de Montespan -- Madame de Maintenon --
League of Augsburg -- Opposing Armies and Generals -- War of the
Spanish Succession -- Duke of Marlborough -- Battle of Blenheim --
Exertions and Necessities of Louis -- Treaty of Utrecht -- Last Days
of Louis -- His Character.


  CHAPTER XVII.

  WILLIAM AND MARY.
  (pp. 252-270.)

Irish Rebellion -- King James in Ireland -- Freedom of the Press --
Act of Settlement -- Death of William III. -- Character of William --
Sir Isaac Newton and John Locke -- Anne -- The Duke of Marlborough --
Character of Marlborough -- Whigs and Tories -- Dr. Henry Sacheverell
-- Union of Scotland and England -- Duke of Hamilton -- Wits of Queen
Anne's Reign -- Swift -- Pope -- Bolingbroke -- Gay -- Prior --
Writers of the Age of Queen Anne.


  CHAPTER XVIII.

  PETER THE GREAT, AND RUSSIA.
  (pp. 271-289.)

Early History of Russia -- The Tartar Conquest -- Accession of Peter
the Great -- Peter's Reforms -- His War with Charles XII. --
Charles XII. -- Building of St. Petersburg -- New War with Sweden --
War with the Turks -- Peter makes a second Tour -- Elevation of
Catharine -- Early History of Sweden -- Introduction of Christianity
-- Gustavus Vasa -- Early Days of Charles XII -- Charles's Heroism --
His Misfortunes -- His Return to Sweden -- His Death.


  CHAPTER XIX.

  GEORGE I., AND THE ADMINISTRATION OF SIR ROBERT WALPOLE.
  (pp. 290-309.)

Accession of George I. -- Sir Robert Walpole -- The Pretender --
Invasion of Scotland -- The South Sea Bubble -- The South Sea Company
-- Opposition of Walpole -- Mania for Speculation -- Bursting of the
South Sea Bubble -- Enlightened policy of Walpole -- East India
Company -- Resignation of Townshend -- Unpopularity of Walpole --
Decline of his power -- John Wesley -- Early life of Wesley --
Whitefield -- Institution of Wesley -- Itinerancy -- Great influence
and power of Wesley.


  CHAPTER XX.

  THE COLONIZATION OF AMERICA AND THE EAST INDIES.
  (pp. 310-341.)

Commercial Enterprise -- Spanish Conquests and Settlements --
Portuguese Discoveries -- Portuguese Settlements -- Early English
Enterprise -- Sir Walter Raleigh -- London Company incorporated --
Hardships of the Virginia Colony -- New Charter of the London Company
-- Rapid Colonization -- Indian Warfare -- Governor Harvey --
Arbitrary Policy of Charles II. -- Settlement of New England --
Arrival of the Mayflower -- Settlement of New Hampshire --
Constitution of the Colony -- Doctrines of the Puritans -- Pequod War
-- Union of the New England Colonies -- William Penn -- Settlement of
New York -- Conquest of New Netherlands -- Discovery of the St.
Lawrence -- Jesuit Missionaries -- Prosperity of the English Colonies
-- French Encroachments -- European Settlements in the East -- French
Settlements in India -- La Bourdonnais and Dupleix -- Clive's
Victories -- Conquest of India.


  CHAPTER XXI.

  THE REIGN OF GEORGE II.
  (pp. 342-359.)

The Pelhams -- The Pretender Charles Edward Stuart -- Surrender of
Edinburgh -- Success of the Pretender -- The Retreat of the Pretender
-- Battle of Culloden -- Latter Days of the Pretender -- Maria Theresa
-- Capture of Louisburg -- Great Colonial Contest -- Character of the
Duke of Newcastle -- Unpopularity of the Pelhams -- Rise of William
Pitt -- Brilliant Military Successes -- Military Successes in America
-- Victories of Clive in India -- Resignation of Pitt -- Peace of
Paris.


  CHAPTER XXII.

  LOUIS XV.
  (pp. 360-379.)

Regency of the Duke of Orleans -- John Law -- Mississippi Company --
Popular Delusion -- Fatal Effects of the Delusion -- Administration of
Cardinal Fleury -- Cornelius Jansen -- St. Cyran -- Arnauld -- Le
Maitre -- The Labors of the Port Royalists -- Principles of Jansenism
-- Functions of the Parliament -- The Bull Unigenitus -- Madame de
Pompadour -- The Jesuits -- Exposure of the Jesuits -- Their Expulsion
from France -- Suppression in Spain -- Pope Clement XIV. -- Death of
Ganganelli -- Death of Louis XV.


  CHAPTER XXIII.

  FREDERIC THE GREAT.
  (pp. 380-390.)

Frederic William -- Accession of Frederic the Great -- The Seven
Years' War -- Battle of Rossbach -- Battle of Leuthen -- Fall of
Dresden -- Reverses of Frederic -- Continued Disasters -- Exhaustion
of Prussia by the War -- Death of Frederic -- Character of Frederic.


  CHAPTER XXIV.

  MARIA THERESA AND CATHARINE II.
  (pp. 391-401.)

The Germanic Constitution -- The Hungarian War -- The Emperor Joseph
-- Accession of Maria Theresa -- She institutes Reforms -- Successors
of Peter the Great -- Murder of Peter III. -- Assassination, of Ivan
-- Death of Catharine -- Her Character.


  CHAPTER XXV.

  CALAMITIES OF POLAND.
  (pp. 402-408.)

The Crown of Poland made elective -- Election of Henry, Duke of Anjou
-- Sobieski assists the Emperor Leopold -- The Liberum Veto -- The
Fall of Poland.


  CHAPTER XXVI.

  THE DECLINE OF THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE.
  (pp. 409-415.)

Saracenic Empire -- Rise of the Turks -- Turkish Conquerors --
Progress of the Turks -- Decline of Turkish Power -- Turkish
Institutions -- Turkish Character.


  CHAPTER XXVII.

  REIGN OF GEORGE III. TO ADMINISTRATION OF WILLIAM PITT.
  (pp. 416-431.)

Military Successes in America -- Prosecution of Wilkes -- Churchill --
Grafton's Administration -- Popularity of Wilkes -- Taxation of the
Colonies -- Indignation of the Colonies -- Functions of the Parliament
-- The Stamp Act -- Lord Chatham -- Administration of Lord North --
Irish Discontents -- Protestant Association -- Lord George Gordon's
Riots -- Parliamentary Reforms.


  CHAPTER XXVIII.

  THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION.
  (pp. 432-449.)

Causes of the Revolution -- Riots and Disturbances -- Duty on Tea --
Port of Boston closed -- Meeting of Congress -- Speech of Burke --
Battle of Bunker Hill -- Death of Montgomery -- Declaration of
American Independence -- Commissioners sent to France -- Capture of
Burgoyne -- Moral Effects of Burgoyne's Capture -- Arrival of La
Fayette -- Evacuation of Philadelphia -- The Treason of Arnold --
Surrender of Lord Cornwallis -- Resignation of Lord North.


  CHAPTER XXIX.

  ADMINISTRATION OF WILLIAM PITT.
  (pp. 450-470.)

William Pitt -- Early Life of Pitt -- Policy of Pitt -- Difficulties
with Ireland -- The United Irishmen -- Union of England and Ireland --
Condition of Ireland -- Parliamentary Reform -- Warren Hastings -- War
with Hyder Ali -- Robbery of the Princesses of Oude -- Prosecution of
Hastings -- Edmund Burke -- Charles James Fox -- Richard Brinsley
Sheridan -- Bill for the Regulation of India -- War with Tippoo Saib
-- Conquest of India -- Consequences of the Conquest -- War with
France -- Policy of Pitt.


  CHAPTER XXX.

  THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.
  (pp. 471-495.)

Causes of the French Revolution -- Helvetius -- Voltaire -- Rousseau
-- Diderot -- General Influence of the Philosophers -- Sufferings of
the People -- Degradation of the People -- Derangement of Finances --
Maurepas -- Turgot -- Malesherbes -- Necker -- Calonne -- States
General -- The Tiers État -- Commotions -- Rule of the People --
National Federation -- Flight of the King -- The Girondists and the
Jacobins -- The National Convention -- Marat -- Danton -- Robespierre
-- General War -- Reign of Terror -- Death of Robespierre -- New
Constitution -- The Directory.


  CHAPTER XXXI.

  NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
  (pp. 496-526.)

Character of Bonaparte -- Early Days of Bonaparte -- Early Services to
the Republic -- The Italian Campaign -- Battle of Cape St. Vincent --
Conquest of Venice by Bonaparte -- Invasion of Egypt -- Siege of
Acre -- Reverses of the French -- Bonaparte First Consul -- Immense
Military Preparations -- The Reforms of Bonaparte -- The Code Napoléon
-- Bonaparte becomes Emperor of the French -- Meditated Invasion of
England -- Battle of Austerlitz -- Battle of Jena -- Bonaparte
aggrandizes France -- Aggrandizement of Bonaparte's Family -- The
Peninsular War -- Invasion of Russia -- Battle of Smolensko -- Retreat
of the French -- Battles of Lutzen and Bautzen -- Battle of Leipsic --
The Allied Powers invade France -- Peace of Paris -- Bonaparte escapes
from Elba -- Battle of Waterloo -- Reflections on Napoleon's Fall.


  CHAPTER XXXII.

  EUROPE ON THE FALL OF NAPOLEON.
  (pp. 527-532.)

Remarkable Men of Genius -- Condition of Germany -- Condition of other
Powers -- The United States of America.


  APPENDIX.

      Chronological Table, from the Fall of Napoleon,              533
      Prime Ministers of England, from the Accession of
        Henry VIII.,                                               538
      Table of the Monarchy of Europe, during the Sixteenth,
        Seventeenth, and Eighteenth Centuries,                     541
      Genealogical Table of the Royal Family of England,           543
      Genealogical Table of the Bourbons,                          544




MODERN HISTORY.




CHAPTER I.

STATE OF EUROPEAN SOCIETY IN THE FIFTEENTH AND SIXTEENTH CENTURIES.


The period at which this History commences,--the beginning of the
sixteenth century,--when compared with the ages which had preceded it,
since the fall of the Roman empire, was one of unprecedented
brilliancy and activity. It was a period very fruitful in great men
and great events, and, though stormy and turbulent, was favorable to
experiments and reforms. The nations of Europe seem to have been
suddenly aroused from a state of torpor and rest, and to have put
forth new energies in every department of life. The material and the
political, the moral and the social condition of society was subject
to powerful agitations, and passed through important changes.

Great _discoveries and inventions_ had been made. The use of movable
types, first ascribed to a German, of Mentz, by the name of Gutenberg,
in 1441, and to Peter Schoeffer, in 1444, changed the whole system of
book-making, and vastly increased the circulation of the Scriptures,
the Greek and Latin classics, and all other valuable works, which, by
the industry of the monkish copyist, had been preserved from the
ravages of time and barbarism. Gunpowder, whose explosive power had
been perceived by Roger Bacon as early as 1280, though it was not used
on the field of battle until 1346, had completely changed the art of
war and had greatly contributed to undermine the feudal system. The
polarity of the magnet, also discovered in the middle ages, and not
practically applied to the mariner's compass until 1403, had led to
the greatest event of the fifteenth century--the discovery of America
by Christopher Columbus, in 1492. The impulse given to commerce by
this and other discoveries of unknown continents and oceans, by the
Portuguese, the Spaniards, the Dutch, the English, and the French,
cannot be here enlarged on. America revealed to the astonished
European her riches in gold and silver; and Indian spices, and silks,
and drugs, were imported, through new channels, into all the countries
inhabited by the Teutonic races. Mercantile wealth, with all its
refinements, acquired new importance in the eyes of the nations. The
world opened towards the east and the west. The horizon of knowledge
extended. Popular delusions were dispelled. Liberality of mind was
acquired. The material prosperity of the western nations was
increased. Tastes became more refined, and social intercourse more
cheerful.

[Sidenote: Revival of the Arts.]

Art, in all its departments, was every where revived at this epoch.
Houses became more comfortable, and churches more splendid. The
utensils of husbandry and of cookery were improved. Linen and woollen
manufactures supplanted the coarser fabrics of the dark ages. Music
became more elaborate, and the present system of notation was adopted.
The genius of the sculptor again gave life and beauty to a marble
block, and painting was carried to greater perfection than by the
ancient Greeks and Romans. Florence, Venice, Milan, and Rome became
seats of various schools of this beautiful art, of which Michael
Angelo, Correggio, the Carracci, and Raphael were the most celebrated
masters, all of whom were distinguished for peculiar excellences,
never since surpassed, or even equalled. The Flemish artists were
scarcely behind the Italian; and Rubens, of Antwerp, may well rank
with Correggio and Titian. To Raphael, however, the world has, as yet,
furnished no parallel.

[Sidenote: Influence of Feudalism.]

_The political and social structure_ of society changed. The crusades,
long before, had given a shock to the political importance of the
feudal aristocracy, and reviving commerce and art had shaken the
system to its foundations. The Flemish weavers had arisen, and a
mercantile class had clamored for new privileges. In the struggle of
classes, and in the misfortunes of nobles, monarchs had perceived the
advantages they might gain, and fortunate circumstances enabled them
to raise absolute thrones, and restore a central power, always so
necessary to the cause of civilization. Feudalism had answered many
useful ends in the dark ages. It had secured a reciprocity of duties
between a lord and his vassal; it had restored loyalty, truth, and
fidelity among semi-barbarians; it had favored the cultivation of the
soil; it had raised up a hardy rural population; it had promoted
chivalry, and had introduced into Europe the modern gentleman; it had
ennobled friendship, and spread the graces of urbanity and gentleness
among rough and turbulent warriors. But it had, also, like all human
institutions, become corrupt, and failed to answer the ends for which
it was instituted. It had become an oppressive social despotism; it
had widened the distinction between the noble and ignoble classes; it
had produced selfishness and arrogance among the nobles, and a mean
and cringing sycophancy among the people; it had perpetuated
privileges, among the aristocracy, exceedingly unjust, and ruinous to
the general welfare of society. It therefore fell before the advancing
spirit of the age, and monarchies and republics were erected on its
ruins. The people, as well as monarchs, had learned the secret of
their power. They learned that, by combining their power, they could
successfully resist their enemies. The principle of association was
learned. Combinations of masses took place. Free cities were
multiplied. A population of artificers, and small merchants, and free
farmers arose. They discussed their privileges, and asserted their
independence. Political liberty was born, and its invaluable blessings
were conceived, if they were not realized.

[Sidenote: Effects of Scholasticism.]

_And the intellectual state_ of Europe received an impulse as marked
and beneficent as the physical and social. The scholastic philosophy,
with its dry and technical logic, its abstruse formulas, and its
subtle refinements, ceased to satisfy the wants of the human mind, now
craving light and absolute knowledge in all departments of science and
philosophy. Like feudalism, it had once been useful; but like that
institution, it had also become corrupted, and an object of sarcasm
and mockery. It had trained the European mind for the discoveries of
the sixteenth century; it had raised up an inquisitive spirit, and had
led to profound reflections on the existence of God, on his attributes
and will, on the nature of the soul, on the faculties of the mind and
on the practical duties of life. But this philosophy became pedantic
and cold; covered, as with a funereal shade, the higher pursuits of
life; and diverted attention from what was practical and useful. That
earnest spirit, which raised up Luther and Bacon, demanded, of the
great masters of thought, something which the people could understand,
and something which would do them good.

In poetry, the insipid and immoral songs of the Provençal bards gave
place to the immortal productions of the great creators of the
European languages. Dante led the way in Italy, and gave to the world
the "Divine Comedy"--a masterpiece of human genius, which raised him
to the rank of Homer and Virgil. Petrarch followed in his steps, and,
if not as profound or original as Dante, yet is unequalled as an
"enthusiastic songster of ideal love." He also gave a great impulse to
civilization by his labors in collecting and collating manuscripts.
Boccaccio also lent his aid in the revival of literature, and wrote a
series of witty, though objectionable stories, from which the English
Chaucer borrowed the notion of his "Canterbury Tales." Chaucer is the
father of English poetry, and kindled a love of literature among his
isolated countrymen; and was one of the few men who, in the evening of
his days, looked upon the world without austerity, and expressed
himself with all the vivacity of youthful feeling.

[Sidenote: Ecclesiastical Corruptions.]

Such were some of the leading events and circumstances which gave a
new life to European society, and created a desire for better days.
All of these causes of improvement acted and reacted on each other in
various ways, and prepared the way to new and great developments of
action and passion. These new energies were, however, unfortunately
checked by a combination of evils which had arisen in the dark ages,
and which required to be subverted before any great progress could be
reasonably expected. These evils were most remarkable in the church
itself and almost extinguished the light which Christ and his apostles
had kindled. The church looked with an evil eye on many of the
greatest improvements and agitations of the age, and attempted to
suppress the spirit of insurrection which had arisen against the
abuses and follies of past ages. Great ideas were ridiculed, and
daring spirits were crushed. There were many good men in the church
who saw and who lamented prevailing corruptions, but their voice was
overwhelmed by the clamors of interested partisans, or silenced by the
authority of the popes. The character of the popes themselves was not
what was expected of the heads of the visible church, or what was
frequently exhibited in those ignorant and superstitious times, when
the papacy fulfilled, in the opinion of many enlightened Protestants,
a benevolent mission. None had the disinterestedness of Gregory I., or
the talents of Gregory VII. There had been a time when the great
central spiritual monarchy of Rome had been exercised for the peace
and tranquillity of Europe, when it was uniformly opposed to slavery
and war, and when it was a mild and paternal government, which
protected innocence and weakness, while it punished injustice and
crime. The time was, when popes had been elevated for their piety and
learning, and when they lived as saints and died as martyrs. But that
time had passed. The Roman church did not keep up with the spirit or
the wants of the age, and moreover did not reform itself from vices
which had been overlooked in ages of ignorance and superstition. In
the fifteenth century, many great abuses scandalized a body of men who
should have been the lights of the world; and the sacred pontiffs
themselves set examples of unusual depravity. Julius II. marched at
the head of armies. Alexander VI. secured his election by bribery, and
reigned by extortion. He poisoned his own cardinals, and bestowed on
his son Cæsar Borgia--an incarnated demon--the highest dignities and
rewards. It was common for the popes to sell the highest offices in
the church for money, to place boys on episcopal thrones, to absolve
the most heinous and scandalous crimes for gold, to encourage the
massacre of heretics, and to disgrace themselves by infamous vices.
And a general laxity of morals existed among all orders of the clergy.
They were ignorant, debauched, and ambitious. The monks were
exceedingly numerous; had ceased to be men of prayer and
contemplation, as in the days of Benedict and Bernard; and might be
seen frequenting places of demoralizing excitement, devoted to
pleasure, and enriched by inglorious gains.

But the evils which the church encouraged were more dangerous than the
vices of its members. These evils were inherent in the papal system,
and were hard to be subverted. There were corruptions of doctrine, and
corruptions in the government and customs of the church.

[Sidenote: Papal Infallibility.]

There generally prevailed, throughout Christendom, the belief in papal
infallibility, which notion subverted the doctrines of the Bible, and
placed its truths, at least, on a level with the authority of the
schoolmen. It favored the various usurpations of the popes, and
strengthened the bonds of spiritual despotism.

The popes also claimed a control over secular princes, as well as the
supremacy of the church. Hildebrand was content with riveting the
chains of universal spiritual authority, the evil and absurdity of
which cannot well be exaggerated; but his more ambitious successors
sought to reduce the kings of the earth to perfect vassalage, and,
when in danger of having their monstrous usurpations torn from them,
were ready to fill the world with discord and war.

But the worldly popes of the fifteenth century also aspired to be
temporal princes. They established the most elegant court in Europe;
they supported large armies; they sought to restore the splendor of
imperial Rome; they became ambitious of founding great families; they
enriched their nephews and relations at the sacrifice of the best
interests of their church; they affected great state and dignity; they
built gorgeous palaces; they ornamented their capital with pictures
and statues.

The territories of Rome were, however, small. The lawful revenues of
the popes were insufficient to gratify their extravagance and pomp.
But money, nevertheless, they must have. In order to raise it, they
resorted to extortion and corruption. They imposed taxes on
Christendom, direct and indirect. These were felt as an intolerable
burden; but such was the superstition of the times, that they were
successfully raised. But even these were insufficient to gratify papal
avarice and rapacity. They then resorted, in their necessities, to the
meanest acts, imposed on the simplicity of their subjects, and finally
adopted the most infamous custom which ever disgraced the world.

[Sidenote: The Sale of Indulgences.]

They pardoned sins for money--granted sales of indulgences for crime.
A regular scale for absolution was graded. A proclamation was made
every fifty, and finally every twenty-five years, of a year of
jubilee, when plenary remission of all sin was promised to those who
should make a pilgrimage to Rome. And so great was the influx of
strangers, and consequently of wealth, to Rome, that, on one occasion,
it was collected into piles by rakes. It is computed that two hundred
thousand deluded persons visited the city in a single month. But the
vast sums they brought to Rome, and the still greater sums which were
obtained by the sale of indulgences, and by various taxations, were
all squandered in ornamenting the city, and in supporting a luxurious
court, profligate cardinals, and superfluous ministers of a corrupted
religion. Then was erected the splendid church of St. Peter, more
after the style of Grecian temples, than after the model of the Gothic
cathedrals of York and Cologne. Glorious was that monument of reviving
art; wonderful was its lofty dome; but the vast sums required to build
it opened the eyes of Christendom to the extravagance and presumption
of the popes; and this splendid trophy of their glory also became the
emblem of their broken power. Their palaces and temples made an
imposing show, but detracted from their real strength, which consisted
in the affections of their spiritual subjects. Their outward grandeur,
like the mechanical agencies which kings employ, was but a poor
substitute for the invisible power of love,--in all ages, and among
all people, "that cheap defence" which supports thrones and kingdoms.

[Sidenote: The Corruptions of the Church.]

Another great evil was, the prevalence of an idolatrous spirit. In the
churches and chapels, and even in private families, were innumerable
images of saints, pictures of the Virgin, relics, crucifixes, &c.,
designed at first to kindle a spirit of devotion among the rude and
uneducated, but gradually becoming objects of real adoration.
Intercessions were supposed to be made by the Virgin Mary, and by
favorite saints, more efficacious with Deity than the penitence and
prayers of the erring and sinful themselves. The influence of this
veneration for martyrs and saints was degrading to the mind, and
became a very lucrative source of profit to the priests, who peddled
the bones and relics of saints as they did indulgences, and who
invented innumerable lies to attest the genuineness and antiquity of
the objects they sold, all of which were parts of the great system of
fraud and avarice which the church permitted.

Again; the public worship of God was in a language the people could
not understand, but rendered impressive by the gorgeous dresses of the
priests, and the magnificence of the altar, and the images and vessels
of silver and gold, reflecting their splendor, by the light of wax
candles, on the sombre pillars, roofs, and windows of the Gothic
church, and the effect heightened by exciting music, and other appeals
to the taste or imagination, rather than to the reason and the heart.
The sermons of the clergy were frivolous, and ill adapted to the
spiritual wants of the people. "Men went to the Vatican," says the
learned and philosophical Ranke, "not to pray, but to contemplate the
Belvidere Apollo. They disgraced the most solemn festivals by open
profanations. The clergy, in their services, sought the means of
exciting laughter. One would mock the cuckoo, and another recite
indecent stories about St. Peter." Luther, when he visited Italy, was
extremely shocked at the infidel spirit which prevailed among the
clergy, who were hostile to the circulation of the Scriptures, and who
encouraged persecutions and inquisitions. This was the age when the
dreadful tribunal of the Inquisition flourished, although its chief
enormities were perpetrated in Spain and Portugal. It never had an
existence in England, and but little influence in France and Germany.
But if the Church did not resort, in all countries, to that dread
tribunal which subjected youth, beauty, and innocence to the
inquisitorial vengeance of narrow-minded Dominican monks, still she
was hostile to free inquiry, and to all efforts made to emancipate the
reason of men.

The spirit of religious persecution, which inflamed the Roman Church
to punish all dissenters from the doctrine and abuses she promulgated,
can never be questioned. The Waldenses and Albigenses had suffered, in
darker times, almost incredible hardships and miseries--had been
almost annihilated by the dreadful crusade which was carried on
against them, so that two hundred thousand had perished for supposed
heresy. But reference is not now made to this wholesale massacre, but
to those instances of individual persecution which showed the extreme
jealousy and hatred of Rome of all new opinions. John Huss and Jerome
of Prague were publicly burned for attempting to reform the church,
and even Savonarola, who did not deny the authority of the popes, was
condemned to the flames for denouncing the vices of his age, rather
than the evils of the church.

[Sidenote: Necessity for Reform.]

These multiplied evils, which checked the spirit of improvement,
called loudly for reform. Councils were assembled for the purpose; but
councils supported, rather than diminished, the evils of which even
princes complained. The reform was not destined to come from
dignitaries in the church or state; not from bishops, nor
philosophers, nor kings, but from an obscure teacher of divinity in a
German university, whom the genius of a reviving and awakened age had
summoned into the field of revolutionary warfare. It was reserved for
Martin Luther to commence the first successful rebellion against the
despotism of Rome, and to give the greatest impulse to freedom of
thought, and a general spirit of reform, which ten centuries had seen.

The most prominent event in modern times is unquestionably the
Protestant Reformation, and it was by far the most momentous in its
results. It gave rise, directly or indirectly, to the great wars of
the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, as well as to those rival
sects which agitated the theological world. It is connected with the
enterprises of great monarchs, with the struggle of the Huguenots and
Puritans, with the diffusion of knowledge, and with the progress of
civil and religious liberty in Europe. An event, therefore, of such
interest and magnitude, may well be adopted as a starting point in
modern history, and will, accordingly, be the first subject of
especial notice. History is ever most impressive and philosophical
when great changes and revolutions are traced to the agency of great
spiritual ideas. Moreover, modern history is so complicated, that it
is difficult to unravel it except by tracing the agency of great
causes, rather than by detailing the fortunes of kings and nobles.




CHAPTER II.

MARTIN LUTHER AND HIS ASSOCIATES.


[Sidenote: The Early Life of Luther.]

Martin Luther was born the 10th of November, 1483, at Eisleben, in
Saxony. His father was a miner, of Mansfield, and his ancestors were
peasants, who lived near the summit of the Thuringian Forest. His
early years were spent at Mansfield, in extreme poverty, and he earned
his bread by singing hymns before the houses of the village. At the
age of fifteen, he went to Eisenach, to a high school, and at eighteen
entered the university of Erfurt, where he made considerable progress
in the sciences then usually taught, which, however, were confined
chiefly to the scholastic philosophy. He did not know either Greek or
Hebrew, but read the Bible in Latin. In 1505, he took his degree of
bachelor of arts, and, shortly after, his religious struggles
commenced. He had witnessed a fearful tempest, which alarmed him,
while on a visit at his father's house, and he was also much depressed
by the death of an intimate friend. In that age, the serious and the
melancholy generally sought monastic retreats, and Luther, thirsty
after divine knowledge, and anxious to save his soul, resolved to
forsake the world, and become a monk. He entered an Augustinian
monastery at Erfurt, soon after obtaining his first degree. But the
duties and studies of monastic life did not give his troubled soul the
repose he sought. He submitted to all the irksome labors which the
monks imposed; he studied the fathers and the schoolmen; he practised
the most painful austerities, and fastings, and self-lacerations:
still he was troubled with religious fears. His brethren encouraged
his good works, but his perplexities and doubts remained. In this
state of mind, he was found by Staupitz, vicar-general of the order,
who was visiting Erfurt, in his tour of inspection, with a view to
correct the bad morals of the monasteries. He sympathized with Luther
in his religious feelings, treated him with great kindness, and
recommended the reading of the Scriptures, and also the works of St.
Augustine whose theological views he himself had embraced. Although
St. Augustine was a great oracle in the Roman church, still, his
doctrines pertaining to personal salvation differed in spirit from
those which were encouraged by the Roman Catholic divines generally,
who attached less importance to justification by faith than did the
venerated bishop of Hyppo. In that age of abuses, great importance was
attached, by the church, to austerities, penance, and absolutions for
money. But Luther, deeply imbued with the spirit of Augustine, at
length found light, and repose, and joy, in the doctrine of
justification by faith alone. This became more and more the idea of
his life, especially at this time. The firmness of his convictions on
this point became extraordinary, and his spiritual gladness now
equalled his former depression and anxiety. He was soon to find a
sphere for the development of his views.

Luther was consecrated as a priest in 1507, and in 1508 he was invited
by Frederic, Elector of Saxony, to become a professor in the new
university which he had established at Wittemberg. He was now
twenty-five years of age, and the fact, that he should have been
selected, at that early age, to teach dialectics, is a strong argument
in favor of his attainments and genius.

He now began to apply himself to the study of the Greek and Hebrew,
and delivered lectures on biblical theology; and his novel method, and
great enthusiasm, attracted a crowd of students. But his sermons were
more striking even than his lectures, and he was invited, by the
council of Wittemberg, to be the preacher for the city. His eloquence,
his learning, and his zeal, now attracted considerable attention, and
the elector himself visited Wittemberg to hear him preach.

In 1512, he was sent on an embassy to Rome, and, while in Italy,
obtained useful knowledge of the actual state of the hierarchy, and of
morals and religion. Julius II., a warlike pontiff, sat on the throne
of St. Peter; and the "Eternal City" was the scene of folly,
dissipation, and clerical extortion. Luther returned to Germany
completely disgusted with every thing he had seen--the levity and
frivolity of the clergy, and the ignorance and vices of the people. He
was too earnest in his religious views and feelings to take much
interest in the works of art, or the pleasures, which occupied the
attention of the Italians; and the impression of the general iniquity
and corruption of Rome never passed away, and probably gave a new
direction to his thoughts.

[Sidenote: Luther's Early Religious Struggles.]

On his return, in 1512, he was made doctor of divinity, then a great
distinction, and renewed his lectures in the university with great
ardor. He gave a new impulse to the studies, and a new form to the
opinions of both professors and students. Lupinus and Carlstadt, his
colleagues, were converts to his views. All within his sphere were
controlled by his commanding genius, and extraordinary force of
character. He commenced war upon the schoolmen, and was peculiarly
hostile to Thomas Aquinas, whom he accused of Pelagianism. He also
attacked Aristotle, the great idol of the schools, and overwhelmed
scholasticism with sarcasm and mockery.

Such was the state of things when the preachers of indulgences, whom
Leo X. had encouraged, in order to raise money for St. Peter's Church,
arrived in the country round the Elbe. They had already spread over
Germany, Switzerland, and France. Their luxury and extravagance were
only equalled by their presumption and insolence. All sorts of crime
were pardoned by these people for money. Among the most remarkable of
these religious swindlers and peddlers was Tetzel. He was a friar of
the Dominicans, apostolical commissioner, inquisitor, and bachelor of
theology. He united profligate morals with great pretensions to
sanctity; was somewhat eloquent, so far as a sonorous voice was
concerned, and was very bold and haughty, as vulgar men, raised to
eminence and power, are apt to be. But his peculiarity consisted in
the audacity of his pretensions, and his readiness in inventing
stories to please the people, ever captivated by rhetoric and
anecdote. "Indulgences," said he, "are the most precious and sublime
of God's gifts." "I would not exchange my privileges for those of St.
Peter in heaven; for I have saved more souls, with my indulgences,
than he, with his sermons." "There is no sin so great that the
indulgence cannot remit it: even repentance is not necessary:
indulgences save not the living alone,--they save the dead." "The very
moment that the money clinks against the bottom of this chest, the
soul escapes from purgatory, and flies to heaven." "And do you know
why our Lord distributes so rich a grace? The dilapidated Church of
St. Peter and St. Paul is to be restored, which contains the bodies of
those holy apostles, and which are now trodden, dishonored, and
polluted."

[Sidenote: The Ninety-Five Propositions.]

Tetzel found but few sufficiently enlightened to resist him, and he
obtained great sums from the credulous people. This abomination
excited Luther's intensest detestation; and he accordingly wrote
ninety-five propositions, and nailed them, in 1517, to the gates of
the church, in which he denounced the traffic in indulgences, and
traced the doctrine of absolution to the usurped power of the pope. He
denied the value of his absolution, and maintained that the divine
favor would only be granted on the condition of repentance and faith.

In these celebrated propositions, he struck at the root of scholastic
absurdities, and also of papal pretensions. The spirit which they
breathed was bold, intrepid, and magnanimous. They electrified
Germany, and gave a shock to the whole papal edifice. They had both a
religious and a political bearing; religious, in reference to the
grounds of justification, and political, in opening men's eyes to the
unjust and ruinous extortions of Rome.

Among those who perceived with great clearness the political tendency
of these propositions, and rejoiced in it, was the elector of Saxony
himself, the most powerful prince of the empire, who had long been
vexed, in view of the vast sums which had been drained from his
subjects. He also lamented the corruptions of the church, and probably
sympathized with the theological opinions of Luther. He accordingly
protected the bold professor, although he did not openly encourage
him, or form an alliance with him. He let things take their course.
Well did Frederic deserve the epithet of _Wise_.

[Sidenote: Erasmus--Melancthon.]

There was another great man who rejoiced in the appearance of Luther's
theses; and this was Erasmus, the greatest scholar of his age, the
autocrat of letters, and, at that time, living in Basle. He was born
in Rotterdam, in 1467, of poor parents, but early attracted notice for
his attainments, and early emancipated himself from the trammels of
scholasticism, which he hated and despised as cordially as Luther
himself. He also attacked, with elegant sarcasm the absurdities of his
age, both in literature and morals. He denounced the sins and follies
of the monks, and spoke of the necessity of reform. But his
distinguishing excellence was his literary talent and taste. He was a
great Greek scholar, and published a critical edition of the
Testament, which he accompanied with a Latin translation. In this, he
rendered great service to the reformers, especially to Luther. His
fascinating style and extensive erudition gave him great literary
fame. But he was timid, conservative, and vain; and sought to be
popular, except among the monks, whom he uniformly ridiculed. One
doctor hated him so cordially, that he had his picture hung up in his
study, that he might spit in his face as often as he pleased. So far
as Luther opposed monkery and despotism, his sympathies were with him.
But he did not desire a radical reformation, as Luther did, and always
shunned danger and obloquy. He dreaded an insurrection among the
people, and any thing which looked either revolutionary or fanatical.
Luther, therefore, much as he was gratified by his favor at first,
soon learned to distrust him; and finally these two great men were
unfriendly to each other.

Melancthon was too prominent an actor in the great drama about to be
performed, to be omitted in this sketch of great men who were on the
side of reform. He was born in 1497, and was, therefore, fourteen
years younger than Luther. He was educated under the auspices of the
celebrated Greek scholar Reuchlin, who was also a relative. At twelve,
he was sent to the university of Heidelberg; at fourteen, was made
bachelor of arts; and at seventeen, doctor of philosophy. He began to
lecture publicly at the age of seventeen; and, for his extraordinary
attainments, was invited to Wittemberg, as professor of ancient
languages, at the age of twenty-one. He arrived there in 1518, and
immediately fell under the influence of Luther, who, however,
acknowledged his classical attainments. He was considered a prodigy;
was remarkably young looking, and so boyish, that the grave professors
conceived but little hope of him at first. But, when he delivered his
inaugural oration in Latin, all were astonished; and their prejudices
were removed. Luther himself was enthusiastic in his praises, and a
friendship commenced between them, which was never weakened by a
quarrel. The mildness and gentleness of Philip Melancthon strongly
contrasted with the boldness, energy, and tumultuous passions of
Luther. The former was the more learned and elegant; the latter was
the superior genius--a genius for commanding men, and guiding great
enterprises.

[Sidenote: Melancthon--Leo X.]

But there was another great personage, who now viewed the movement of
Luther with any thing but indifference; and this was Leo X., the
reigning pope when the theses were published. He belonged to the
illustrious family of the Medici, and was chosen cardinal at the age
of thirteen. He was the most elegant and accomplished of all the
popes, patronized art and literature, and ornamented his capital with
palaces, churches, and statues. But with his sympathy for intellectual
excellence, he was prodigal, luxurious, and worldly. Indeed, his
spirit was almost infidel. He was more ambitious for temporal than
spiritual power; and, when he commenced his reign, the papal
possessions were more extensive and flourishing, than at any previous
period. His leading error was, his recklessness in the imposition of
taxes, even on the clergy themselves, by which he lost their
confidence and regard. With a very fine mind, he was, nevertheless,
quite unfitted for his station and his times.

Thus far, he had allowed the outcry which Luther had raised against
indulgences to take its course, and even disregarded the theses, which
he supposed originated in a monkish squabble. But the Emperor
Maximilian was alarmed, and wrote to the pope an account of Luther's
differences with Tetzel. Frederic of Saxony had also written to his
holiness, to palliate the conduct of Luther.

When such powerful princes became interested, Leo was startled. He
summoned Luther to Rome, to be tried by Prierias. Luther, not daring
to refuse, and not willing to obey, wrote to his friend Spalatin to
use his influence with the elector to have his cause tried in Germany;
and the pope, willing to please Frederic, appointed De Vio, his
legate, to investigate the matter. Luther accordingly set out for
Augsburg, in obedience to the summons of De Vio, although dissuaded by
many of his friends. He had several interviews with the legate, by
whom he was treated with courtesy and urbanity, and by whom he was
dissuaded from his present courses. But all the persuasion and
argument of the cardinal legate were without effect on the mind of
Luther, whose convictions were not to be put aside by either kindness
or craft. De Vio had hoped that he could induce Luther to retract;
but, when he found him fixed in his resolutions, he changed his tone,
and resorted to threats. Luther then made up his mind to leave
Augsburg; and, appealing to the decision of the sovereign pontiff,
whose authority he had not yet openly defied, he fled from the city,
and returned to Wittemberg, being countenanced by the elector, to whom
he also addressed letters. His life was safe so long as Frederic
protected him.

[Sidenote: The Leipsic Disputation.]

The next event in the progress of Luther was the Leipsic disputation,
June, 1519. The pope seemed willing to make one more effort to
convince Luther, before he proceeded to more violent courses. There
was then at his court a noble Saxon, Charles Miltitz, whose talents
and insinuating address secured him the high office of chamberlain to
the pope. He accordingly was sent into his native country, with the
dignity of legate, to remove the difficulties which De Vio had
attempted. He tried persuasion and flattery, and treated the reformer
with great civility. But Luther still persisted in refusing to
retract, and the matter was referred to the elector archbishop of
Trèves.

While the controversy was pending, Dr. Eck, of the university of
Ingolstadt, a man of great scholastic ingenuity and attainment, and
proud of the prizes of eight universities, challenged the professors
of Wittemberg to a public controversy on Grace and Free Will. He
regarded a disputation with the eye of a practised fencer, and sought
the means of extending his fame over North Germany. Leipsic was the
appointed arena, and thither resorted the noble and the learned of
Saxony. Eck was among the first who arrived, and, soon after, came
Carlstadt, Luther, and Melancthon.

[Sidenote: Principles of the Leipsic Disputation.]

The place for the combat was a hall in the royal palace of Duke
George, cousin to the elector Frederic, which was arranged and
ornamented with great care, and which was honored by the presence of
the duke, and of the chief divines and nobles of Northern Germany.
Carlstadt opened the debate, which did not excite much interest until
Luther's turn came, the antagonist whom Eck was most desirous to meet,
and whose rising fame he hoped to crush by a brilliant victory. Ranke
thus describes Luther's person at this time. "He was of the middle
size, and so thin as to be mere skin and bone. He possessed neither
the thundering voice, nor the ready memory, nor the skill and
dexterity, of his distinguished antagonist. But he stood in the prime
of manhood and in the fulness of his strength. His voice was melodious
and clear; he was perfectly versed in the Bible, and its aptest
sentences presented themselves unbidden to his mind; above all, he
inspired an irresistible conviction that he sought the truth. He was
always cheerful at home, and a joyous, jocose companion at table; he
even, on this grave occasion, ascended the platform with a nosegay in
his hand; but, when there, he displayed the intrepid and
self-forgetting earnestness arising from the depth of a conviction,
until now, unfathomed, even by himself. He drew forth new thoughts,
and placed them in the fire of the battle, with a determination that
knew no fear and no personal regard. His features bore the traces of
the storms that had passed over his soul, and of the courage with
which he was prepared to encounter those which yet awaited him. His
whole aspect evinced profound thought, joyousness of temper, and
confidence in the future. The battle immediately commenced on the
question of the authority of the papacy, which, at once intelligible
and important, riveted universal attention." Eck, with great erudition
and masterly logic, supported the claim of the pope, from the decrees
of councils, the opinions of scholastics, and even from those
celebrated words of Christ to Peter--"Thou art Peter, and on this rock
will I build my church," &c. Luther took higher and bolder ground,
denied the infallibility of councils, and appealed to Scripture as the
ultimate authority. Eck had probably the advantage over his
antagonist, so far as dialectics were concerned, being a more able
disputant; but Luther set at defiance mere scholastic logic, and
appealed to an authority which dialectics could not reach. The victory
was claimed by both parties; but the result was, that Luther no longer
acknowledged the authority of the Roman church, and acknowledged none
but the Scriptures.

[Sidenote: The Rights of Private Judgment.]

The Leipsic disputation was the grand intellectual contest of the
Reformation, and developed its great idea--the only great principle,
around which all sects and parties among the Protestants rally. This
is the idea, that _the Scriptures are the only ultimate grounds of
authority in religion, and that, moreover, every man has a right to
interpret them for himself_. The rights of private judgment--that
religion is a matter between the individual soul and God, and that
every man is answerable to his own conscience alone how he interprets
Scripture--these constitute the great Protestant platform. Different
sects have different views respecting justification, but all profess
to trace them to the Scriptures. Luther's views were similar to those
of St. Augustine--that "man could be justified by faith alone," which
was _his_ great theological doctrine--a doctrine adopted by many who
never left the communion of the Church of Rome, before and since his
day, and a doctrine which characterized the early reformers, Zwingle,
Calvin, Knox, Cranmer, and the Puritans generally. It is as absurd to
say that Luther's animating principle in religion was not this
doctrine, as it is unphilosophical to make the reformation consist
merely in its recognition. After Luther's convictions were settled on
this point, and he had generally and openly declared them, the main
contest of his life was against the papacy, which he viewed as the
predicted Antichrist--the "scarlet mother of abominations." It is not
the object of the writer of this History to defend or oppose Luther's
views, or argue any cause whatever, but simply to place facts in their
true light, which is, to state them candidly.

Although the Leipsic controversy brought out the great principle of
the Reformation, Luther's views, both respecting the true doctrines
and polity of the church, were not, on all points, yet developed, and
were only gradually unfolded, as he gained knowledge and light. It was
no trifling matter, even to deny the supremacy of the Roman church in
matters of faith. He was thus placed in the position of Huss and
Jerome, and other reformers, who had been destroyed, with scarcely an
exception. He thus was brought in direct conflict with the pope, with
the great dignitaries of the church, with the universities, and with
the whole scholastic literature. He had to expect the violent
opposition and vengeance of the pope, of the monks, of the great
ecclesiastical dignitaries, of the most distinguished scholars, and of
those secular princes who were friendly to Rome. He had none to
protect him but a prince of the empire, powerful, indeed, and wise,
but old and wavering. There were but few to uphold and defend him--the
satirical Erasmus, who was called a second Lucian, the feeble
Staupitz, the fanatical Carlstadt, and the inexperienced Melancthon.
The worldly-minded, the learned, the powerful, and the conservative
classes were his natural enemies. But he had reason and Scripture on
his side, and he appealed to their great and final verdict. He had
singular faith in the power of truth, and the gracious protection of
God Almighty. Reposing on the greatness of his cause, and the
providence of the omnipotent Protector, he was ready to defy all the
arts, and theories, and malice of man. His weapon was truth. For truth
he fought, and for truth he was ready to die. The sophistries of the
schools he despised; they had distorted and mystified the truth. And
he knew them well, for he had been trained in the severest dialectics
of his time, and, though he despised them, he knew how to use them.
The simple word of God, directed to the reason and conscience of men,
seemed alone worthy of his regard.

[Sidenote: Luther's Elements of Greatness.]

But, beside Scripture and unperverted reason, he had another element
of power. He was master of the sympathies and passions of the people.
His father was a toiling miner. His grandfather was a peasant. He had
been trained to penury; he had associated with the poor; he was a man
of the people; he was their natural friend. He saw and lamented their
burdens, and rose up for their deliverance. And the people
distinguished their true friend, from their false friends. They saw
the sincerity, earnestness, and labors of the new apostle of liberty,
and believed in him, and made an idol of him. They would protect him,
and honor him, and obey him, and believe what he taught them, for he
was their friend, whom God had raised up to take off their burdens,
and point a way to heaven, without the intercession of priests, or
indulgences, or penance. Their friend was to expose the corruptions of
the clergy, and to give battle to the great arch enemy who built St.
Peter's Church from their hard-earned pittances. A spirit from heaven
enlightened those to whom Luther preached, and they rallied around his
standard, and swore never to separate, until the great enemies of the
poor and the oppressed were rendered powerless. And their sympathies
were needed, and best services, too; for the great man of the age--the
incarnated spirit of liberty--was in danger.

[Sidenote: Excommunication of Luther.]

The pope, hitherto mild, persuasive, and undecided, now arose in the
majesty of his mighty name, and, as the successor of St. Peter, hurled
those weapons which had been thunderbolts in the hands of the
Gregories and the Innocents. From his papal throne, and with all the
solemnity of God's appointed vicegerent, he denounced the daring monk
of Wittemberg, and sentenced him to the wrath of God, and to the
penalty of eternal fire. Luther was excommunicated by a papal bull,
and his writings were condemned as heretical and damnable.

This was a dreadful sentence. Few had ever resisted it successfully,
even monarchs themselves. Excommunication was still a fearful weapon,
and used only in desperate circumstances. It was used only as the last
resort; for frequency would destroy its power. In the middle ages,
this weapon was omnipotent; and the middle ages had but just passed
away. No one could stand before that awful anathema which consigned
him to the wrath of incensed and implacable Deity. Much as some
professed to despise the sentence, still, when inflicted, it could not
be borne, especially if accompanied with an interdict. Children were
left unburied. The churches were closed. The rites of religion were
suspended. A funereal shade was spread over society. The fears of hell
haunted every imagination. No reason was strong enough to resist the
sentence. No arm was sufficiently powerful to remove the curse. It
hung over a guilty land. It doomed the unhappy offender, who was
cursed, wherever he went, and in whatever work he was engaged.

But Luther was strong enough to resist it, and to despise it. He saw
it was an imposition, which only barbarous and ignorant ages had
permitted. Moreover, he perceived that there was now no alternative
but victory or death; that, in the great contest in which he was
engaged, retreat was infamy. Nor did he wish to retreat. He was
fighting for oppressed humanity, and death even, in such a cause, was
glory. He understood fully the nature and the consequence of the
struggle. He perceived the greatness of the odds against him, in a
worldly point of view. No man but a Luther would have been equal to
it; no man, before him, ever had successfully rebelled against the
pope. It is only in view of this circumstance, that his intrepidity
can be appreciated.

What did the Saxon monk do, when the papal bull was published? He
assembled the professors and students of the university, declared his
solemn protest against the pope as Antichrist, and marched in
procession to the gates of the Castle of Wittemberg, and there made a
bonfire, and cast into it the bull which condemned him, the canon law,
and some writings of the schoolmen, and then reëntered the city,
breathing defiance against the whole power of the pope, glowing in the
consciousness that the battle had commenced, to last as long as life,
and perfectly secure that the victory would finally be on the side of
truth. This was in 1520, on the 10th of December.

The attention of the whole nation was necessarily drawn to this open
resistance; and the sympathy of the free thinking, the earnest, and
the religious, was expressed for him. Never was popular interest more
absorbing, in respect to his opinions, his fortunes, and his fate. The
spirit of innovation became contagious, and pervaded the German mind.
It demanded the serious attention of the emperor himself.

[Sidenote: The Diet of Worms.]

A great Diet of the empire was convened at Worms, and thither Luther
was summoned by the temporal power. He had a safe-conduct, which even
so powerful a prince as Charles V. durst not violate. In April, 1521,
the reformer appeared before the collected dignitaries of the German
empire, both spiritual and temporal, and was called upon to recant his
opinions as heretical in the eyes of the church, and dangerous to the
peace of the empire. Before the most august assembly in the world,
without a trace of embarrassment, he made his defence, and refused to
recant. "Unless," said he, "my errors can be demonstrated by texts
from Scripture, I will not and cannot recant; for it is not safe for a
man to go against his conscience. Here I am. I can do no otherwise.
God help me! Amen."

This declaration satisfied his friends, though it did not satisfy the
members of the diet. Luther was permitted to retire. He had gained the
confidence of the nation. From that time, he was its idol, and the
acknowledged leader of the greatest insurrection of human intelligence
which modern times have seen. The great principles of the reformation
were declared. The great hero of the Reformation had planted his cause
upon a rock. And yet his labors had but just commenced. Henceforth,
his life was toil and vexation. New difficulties continually arose.
New questions had to be continually settled. Luther, by his letters,
was every where. He commenced the translation of the Scriptures; he
wrote endless controversial tracts; his correspondence was
unparalleled; his efforts as a preacher were prodigious. But he was
equal to it all; was wonderfully adapted to his age and circumstances.

[Sidenote: Imprisonment at Wartburg.]

About this time commenced his voluntary imprisonment at Wartburg,
among the Thuringian forests: he being probably conducted thither by
the orders of the elector of Saxony. Here he was out of sight, but not
out of mind; and his retirement, under the disguise of a knight, gave
him leisure for literary labor. In the old Castle of Wartburg, a great
part of the Scriptures was translated into that beautiful and simple
version, which is still the standard of the German language.

[Sidenote: Carlstadt.]

While Luther was translating the Scriptures, in his retreat,
Wittemberg was the scene of new commotions, pregnant with great
results. There were many of the more zealous converts to the reformed
doctrines, headed by Carlstadt, dean of the faculty of theology, who
were not content with the progress which had been made, and who
desired more sweeping and radical changes. Such a party ever exists in
all reforms; for there are some persons who are always inclined to
ultra and extravagant courses. Carlstadt was a type of such men. He
was learned, sincere, and amiable, but did not know where to stop; and
the experiment was now to be tried, whether it was possible to
introduce a necessary reform, without annihilating also all the
results of the labors of preceding generations. Carlstadt's mind was
not well balanced, and to him the reformation was only a half measure,
and a useless movement, unless all the external observances of
religion and the whole economy of the church were destroyed. He
abolished, or desired to abolish, all priestly garments, all fasts and
holydays, all pictures in the churches, and all emblematical
ceremonies of every kind. He insisted upon closing all places of
public amusement, the abolition of all religious communities, and the
division of their possessions among the poor. He maintained that there
was no need of learning, or of academic studies, and even went into
the houses of the peasantry to seek explanation of difficult passages
of Scripture. For such innovations, the age was certainly not
prepared, even had they been founded on reason; and the conservative
mind of Luther was shocked at extravagances which served to disgust
the whole Christian world, and jeopardize the cause in which he had
embarked. So, against the entreaties of the elector, and in spite of
the ban of the empire, he returned to Wittemberg, a small city, it was
true, but a place to which had congregated the flower of the German
youth. He resolved to oppose the movements of Carlstadt, even though
opposition should destroy his influence. Especially did he declare
against all violent measures to which the ultra reformers were
inclined, knowing full well, that, if his cause were sullied with
violence or fanaticism, all Christendom would unite to suppress it.
His sermons are, at this time, (1522,) pervaded with a profound and
conservative spirit, and also a spirit of conciliation and love,
calculated to calm passions, and carry conviction to excited minds.
His moderate counsels prevailed, the tumults were hushed, and order
was restored. Carlstadt was silenced for a time; but a mind like his
could not rest, especially on points where he had truth on his side.
One of these was, in reference to the presence of Christ's body in the
Eucharist, which Carlstadt totally denied. He taught "that the Lord's
supper was purely symbolic, and was simply a pledge to believers of
their redemption." But Luther saw, in every attempt to exhibit the
symbolical import of the supper, only the danger of weakening the
authority of Scripture, which was his stronghold, and became
exceedingly tenacious on that point; carried his views to the extreme
of literal interpretation, and never could emancipate himself from the
doctrines of Rome respecting the eucharist. Carlstadt, finding himself
persecuted at Wittemberg left the city, and, as soon as he was
released from the presence of Luther, began to revive his former zeal
against images also, and was the promoter of great disturbances. He at
last sought refuge in Strasburg, and sacrificed fame, and friends, and
bread to his honest convictions.

[Sidenote: Thomas Münzer.]

But, nevertheless, the views of Carlstadt found advocates, and his
extravagances were copied with still greater zeal. Many pretended to
special divine illumination--the great central principle of all
fanaticism. Among these was Thomas Münzer, of Zwickau, mystical,
ignorant, and conceited, but sincere and simple hearted. "Luther,"
said he, "has liberated men's consciences from the papal yoke, but has
not led them in spirit towards God." Considering himself as called
upon by a special revelation to bring men into greater spiritual
liberty, he went about inflaming the popular mind, and raising
discontents, and even inciting to a revolt. Religion now became
mingled with politics, and social and political evils were violently
resisted, under the garb of religion. An insurrection at last arose in
the districts of the Black Forest, (1524,) near the sources of the
Danube, and spread from Suabia to the Rhine provinces, until it became
exceedingly formidable. Then commenced what is called the "peasants'
war," which was only ended by the slaughter of fifty thousand people.
As the causes of this war, after all, were chiefly political, the
details belong to our chapter on political history. For this
insurrection of the peasantry, however, Luther expressed great
detestation; although he availed himself of it to lecture the princes
of Germany on their duties as civil rulers.

The peasant war was scarcely ended, when Luther married Catharine
Bora; and, as she was a nun, and he was a monk, the marriage gave
universal scandal. But this marriage, which proved happy, was the
signal of new reforms. Luther now emancipated himself from his
monastic fetters, and lifted up his voice against the whole monastic
system. Eight years had elapsed since he preached against indulgences.
During these eight years, reform had been gradual, and had now
advanced to the extreme limit it ever reached during the life of the
reformer.

But, in another quarter, it sprang up with new force, and was carried
to an extent not favored in Germany. It was in Switzerland that the
greatest approximation was made to the forms, if not to the spirit, of
primitive Christianity.

[Sidenote: Ulric Zwingle.]

The great hero of this Swiss movement was Ulric Zwingle, the most
interesting of all the reformers. He was born in 1484, and educated
amid the mountains of his picturesque country, and, like Erasmus,
Reuchlin, Luther, and Melancthon, had no aristocratic claims, except
to the nobility of nature. But, though poor, he was well educated, and
was a master of the scholastic philosophy and of all the learning of
his age. Like Luther, he was passionately fond of music, and played
the lute, the harp, the violin, the flute and the dulcimer. There was
no more joyous spirit in all Switzerland than his. Every one loved his
society, and honored his attainments, and admired his genius. Like
Luther and Erasmus, he was disgusted with scholasticism, and regretted
the time he had devoted to its study. He was ordained in 1506, by the
bishop of Constance, and was settled in Zurich in 1518. At first, his
life did not differ from that which the clergy generally led, being
one of dissipation and pleasure. But he was studious, and became well
acquainted with the fathers, and with the original Greek. Only
gradually did light dawn upon him, and this in consequence of his
study of the Scriptures, not in consequence of Luther's preaching. He
had no tempests to withstand, such as shook the soul of the Saxon
monk. Nor had he ever devoted himself with the same ardor to the
established church. Nor was he so much interested on doctrinal points
of faith. But he saw with equal clearness the corruptions of the
church, and preached with equal zeal against indulgences and the
usurpations of the popes. The reformation of morals was the great aim
of his life. His preaching was practical and simple, and his doctrine
was, that "religion consisted in trust in God, loving God, and
innocence of life." Moreover, he took a deep interest in the political
relations of his country, and was an enthusiast in liberty as well as
in religion. To him the town of Zurich was indebted for its
emancipation from the episcopal government of Constance, and also for
a reformation in all the externals of the church. He inspired the
citizens with that positive spirit of Protestantism, which afterwards
characterized Calvin and the Puritans. He was too radical a reformer
to suit Luther, although he sympathized with most of his theological
opinions.

[Sidenote: Controversy between Luther and Zwingle.]

On one point, however, they differed; and this difference led to an
acrimonious contest, quite disgraceful to Luther, and the greatest
blot on his character, inasmuch as it developed, to an extraordinary
degree, both obstinacy and dogmatism, and showed that he could not
bear contradiction or opposition. The quarrel arose from a difference
of views respecting the Lord's supper, Luther maintaining not exactly
the Roman Catholic doctrine of transubstantiation, but something
approximating to it--even the omnipresence of Christ's body in the
sacred elements. He relinquished the doctrine of the continually
repeated miracle, but substituted a universal miracle, wrought once
for all. In his tenacity to the opinions of the schoolmen on this
point, we see his conservative spirit; for he did not deny tradition,
unless it was expressly contradicted by Scripture. He would have
maintained the whole structure of the Latin church, had it not been
disfigured by modern additions, plainly at variance with the
Scriptures; and so profoundly was he attached to the traditions of the
church, and to the whole church establishment, that he only
emancipated himself by violent inward storms. But Zwingle had not this
lively conception of the universal church, and was more radical in his
sympathies. He took Carlstadt's view of the supper, that it was merely
symbolic. Still he shrunk from a rupture with Luther, which, however,
was unavoidable, considering Luther's views of the subject and his
cast of mind. Luther rejected all offers of conciliation, and, as he
considered it essential to salvation to believe in the real presence
of Christ in the sacrament, he refused to acknowledge Zwingle as a
brother.

Zwingle, nevertheless, continued his reforms, and sought to restore,
what he conceived to be, the earliest forms in which Christianity had
manifested itself. He designed to restore a worship purely spiritual.
He rejected all rites and ceremonies, not expressly enjoined in the
Bible. Luther insisted in retaining all that was not expressly
forbidden. And this was the main point of distinction between them and
their adherents.

But Zwingle contemplated political, as well as religious, changes,
and, as early as 1527, two years before his conference with Luther at
Marburg, had projected a league of all the reformers against the
political authorities which opposed their progress. He combated the
abuses of the state, as well as of the church. This opposition created
great enemies against him among the cantons, with their different
governments and alliances. He also secured enthusiastic friends, and,
in all the cantons, there was a strong democratic party opposed to the
existing oligarchies, which party, in Berne and Basle, St. Gall,
Zurich, Appenzell, Schaffhausen, and Glarus, obtained the ascendency.
This led to tumults and violence, and finally to civil war between the
different cantons, those which adhered to the old faith being assisted
by Austria. Lucerne, Uri Schwytz, Zug, Unterwalden took the lead
against the reformed cantons, the foremost of which was Zurich, where
Zwingle lived. Zurich was attacked. Zwingle, from impulses of
patriotism and courage, issued forth from his house, and joined the
standard of his countrymen, not as a chaplain, but as an armed
warrior. This was his mistake. "They who take the sword shall perish
with the sword." The intrepid and enlightened reformer was slain in
1531, and, with his death, expired the hopes of his party. The
restoration of the Roman Catholic religion immediately commenced in
Switzerland.

Luther, more wise than Zwingle, inasmuch as he abstained from
politics, continued his labors in Germany. And they were immense. The
burdens of his country rested on his shoulders. He was the dictator of
the reformed party, and his word was received as law. Moreover, the
party continually increased, and, from the support it received from
some of the most powerful of the German princes, it became formidable,
even in a political point of view. Nearly one half of Germany embraced
the reformed faith.

[Sidenote: Diet of Augsburg.]

The illustrious Charles V. had now, for some time, been emperor, and,
in the prosecution of his conquests, found it necessary to secure the
support of united Germany, especially since Germany was now invaded by
the Turks. In order to secure this support, he found it necessary to
make concessions in religion to his Protestant subjects. At the diet
of Augsburg, (1530,) where there was the most brilliant assemblage of
princes which had been for a long time seen in Germany, the celebrated
confession of the faith of the Protestants was read. It was written by
Melancthon, in both Latin and German, on the basis of the articles of
Torgau, which Luther had prepared. The style was Melancthon's; the
matter was Luther's. It was comprised in twenty-eight articles, of
which twenty-one pertained to the faith of the Protestants--the name
they assumed at the second diet of Spires, in 1529--and the remaining
seven recounted the errors and abuses of Rome. It was subscribed by
the Elector of Saxony, the Marquis of Brandenburg, the Duke of
Lunenburg, the Landgrave of Hesse, the Prince of Anhalt, and the
deputies of the imperial cities Nuremberg and Reutlingen. But the
Catholics had the ascendency in the diet, and the "Confession of
Augsburg" was condemned. But the emperor did not venture on any
decisive measures for the extirpation of the "heresy." He threatened
and published edicts, but his menaces had but little force.
Nevertheless, the Protestant princes assembled, first at Smalcalde,
and afterwards at Frankfort, for an alliance of mutual defence,--the
first effective union of free princes and states against their
oppressors in modern Europe,--and laid the foundation of liberty of
conscience. Hostilities, however, did not commence, since the emperor
was desirous of uniting Germany against the Turks; and he therefore
recalled his edicts of Worms and Augsburg against the Protestants, and
made important concessions, and promised them undisturbed enjoyment of
their religion. This was a great triumph to the Protestants, and as
great a shock to the Papal power.

[Sidenote: League of Smalcalde.]

The Confession of Augsburg and the League of Smalcalde form an
important era of Protestantism, since, by these, the reformed faith
received its definite form, and was moreover guaranteed. The work for
which Luther had been raised up was now, in the main, accomplished.
His great message had been delivered and heard.

[Sidenote: Death and Character of Luther.]

After the confirmation of his cause, his life was perplexed and
anxious. He had not anticipated those civil commotions which he now
saw, sooner or later, were inevitable. With the increase of his party
was the decline of spirituality. Political considerations, also, with
many, were more prominent than moral. Religion and politics were
mingled together, not soon to be separated in the progress of reform.
Moreover, the reformers differed upon many points among themselves.
There was a lamentable want of harmony between the Germans and the
Swiss. Luther had quarrelled with nearly every prominent person with
whom he had been associated, except Melancthon, who yielded to him
implicit obedience. But, above all, the Anabaptist disorders, which he
detested, and which distracted the whole bishopric of Münster,
oppressed and mortified him. Worn out with cares, labors, and
vexations, which ever have disturbed the peace and alloyed the
happiness of great heroes, and from which no greatness is exempt, he
died at Eisleben, in 1545, while on a visit to his native place in
older to reconcile dissensions between the counts of Mansfeldt.

Luther's name is still reverenced in Germany, and, throughout all
Protestant countries, he is regarded as the greatest man connected
with the history of the church since the apostolic age. Others have
been greater geniuses, others more learned, others more devout, and
others more amiable and interesting; but none ever evinced greater
intrepidity, or combined greater qualities of mind and heart. He had
his faults: he was irritable, dogmatic, and abusive in his
controversial writings. He had no toleration for those who differed
from him--the fault of the age. But he was genial, joyous, friendly,
and disinterested. His labors were gigantic; his sincerity
unimpeached; his piety enlightened; his zeal unquenchable.
Circumstances and the new ideas of his age, favored him, but he made
himself master of those circumstances and ideas, and, what is more,
worked out ideas of his own, which were in harmony with Christianity.
The Reformation would have happened had there been no Luther, though
at a less favorable time; but, of all the men of his age that the
Reformation could least spare, Martin Luther stands preëminent. As the
greatest of reformers, his name will be ever honored.

       *       *       *       *       *

     REFERENCES.--The attention of the student is directed only
     to the most prominent and valuable works which treat of
     Luther and the Protestant reformation. All the works are too
     numerous, even to be decimated. Allusion is made to those
     merely which are accessible and useful. Among them may be
     mentioned, as most important, Ranke's History of the
     Reformation; D'Aubigné's History of the Reformation;
     Michelet's Life of Luther; Audin's Life of Luther, a
     Catholic work, written with great spirit, but not much
     liberality; Stebbing's History of the Reformation; a Life of
     Luther, by Rev. Dr. Sears, a new work, written with great
     correctness and ability; Guizot's Lectures on Civilization;
     Plank's Essay on the Consequences of the Reformation.




CHAPTER III.

THE EMPEROR CHARLES V.


[Sidenote: Charles V.]

When Luther appeared upon the stage, the great monarchies of Europe
had just arisen upon the ruins of those Feudal states which survived
the wreck of Charlemagne's empire.

The Emperor of Germany, of all the monarchs of Europe, had the
greatest claim to the antiquity and dignity of his throne. As
hereditary sovereign of Austria, Styria, Carinthia, and the Tyrol, he
had absolute authority in his feudal provinces; while, as an elected
emperor, he had an indirect influence over Saxony, the Palatinate, the
three archbishoprics of Trèves, Mentz, and Cologne, and some
Burgundian territories.

[Sidenote: Spain and France in the Fifteenth Century.]

But the most powerful monarchy, at this time, was probably that of
France; and its capital was the finest city in Europe, and the resort
of the learned and elegant from all parts of Christendom. All
strangers extolled the splendor of the court, the wealth of the
nobles, and the fame of the university. The power of the monarch was
nearly absolute, and a considerable standing army, even then, was
ready to obey his commands.

Spain, at the beginning of the sixteenth century, was ruled by
Ferdinand and Isabella, who, by their marriage, had united the crowns
of Castile and Arragon. The conquest of Granada and the discovery of
America had added greatly to the political importance of Spain, and
laid the foundation of its future greatness under Philip II.

England, from its insular position, had not so much influence in
European politics as the other powers to which allusion has been made,
but it was, nevertheless, a flourishing and united kingdom.
Henry VII., the founder of the house of Tudor, sat on the throne, and
was successful in suppressing the power of the feudal nobility, and in
increasing the royal authority. Kings, in the fifteenth century, were
the best protectors of the people, and aided them in their struggles
against their feudal oppressors. England, however, had made but little
advance in commerce or manufactures, and the people were still rude
and ignorant. The clergy, as in other countries, were the most
intelligent and wealthy portion of the population, and, consequently,
the most influential, although disgraced by many vices.

Italy then, as now, was divided into many independent states, and
distracted by civil and religious dissensions. The duchy of Milan was
ruled by Ludovico Moro, son of the celebrated Francis Sforza. Naples,
called a kingdom, had just been conquered by the French. Florence was
under the sway of the Medici. Venice, whose commercial importance had
begun to decline, was controlled by an oligarchy of nobles. The chair
of St. Peter was filled by pope Alexander VI., a pontiff who has
obtained an infamous immortality by the vices of debauchery, cruelty,
and treachery. The papacy was probably in its most corrupt state, and
those who had the control of its immense patronage, disregarded the
loud call for reformation which was raised in every corner of
Christendom. The popes were intent upon securing temporal as well as
spiritual power, and levied oppressive taxes on both their spiritual
and temporal subjects.

The great northern kingdoms of Europe, which are now so
considerable,--Russia, Denmark, Sweden, and Norway,--did not, at the
beginning of the sixteenth century, attract much attention. They were
plunged in barbarism and despotism, and the light of science or
religion rarely penetrated into the interior. The monarchs were
sensual and cruel, the nobles profligate and rapacious, the clergy
ignorant and corrupt, and the people degraded, and yet insensible to
their degradation, with no aspirations for freedom and no appreciation
of the benefits of civilization. Such heroes as Peter and Gustavus
Adolphus had not yet appeared. Nor were these northern nations
destined to be immediately benefited by the impulse which the
reformation gave, with the exception of Sweden, then the most powerful
of these kingdoms.

The Greek empire became extinct when Constantinople was taken by the
Turks, in 1453. On its ruins, the Ottoman power was raised. At the
close of the fifteenth century, the Turkish arms were very powerful,
and Europe again trembled before the Moslems. Greece and the whole of
Western Asia were obedient to the sultan. But his power did not reach
its culminating point until a century afterwards.

Such were the various states of Europe when the Reformation broke out.
Maximilian was emperor of Germany, and Charles V. had just inherited,
from his father, Philip the Fair, who had married a daughter of
Ferdinand and Isabella, the kingdom of Spain, in addition to the
dominion of the Netherlands.

By the death of Maximilian, in 1519, the youthful sovereign of Spain
and the Netherlands came into possession of the Austrian dominions;
and the electors, shortly after, chose him emperor of Germany.

He was born at Ghent, A. D. 1500, and was educated with great care. He
early displayed his love of government, and, at fifteen, was present
at the deliberations of the cabinet. But he had no taste for learning,
and gave but few marks of that genius which he afterwards evinced. He
was much attached to his Flemish subjects, and, during the first year
of his reign, gave great offence to the grandees of Spain and the
nobles of Germany by his marked partiality for those men who had been
his early companions.

It is difficult to trace, in the career of Charles V., any powerful
motives of conduct, separate from the desire of aggrandizement. The
interests of the church, with which he was identified, and the true
welfare of his subjects, were, at different times, sacrificed to his
ambition. Had there been no powerful monarchs on the other thrones of
Europe, his dreams of power might possibly have been realized. But at
this period there happened to be a constellation of princes.

[Sidenote: Wars between Charles and Francis.]

The greatest of these, and the chief rival through life of Charles,
was Francis I. of France. He had even anticipated an election to the
imperial crown, which would have made him more powerful than even
Charles himself. The electors feared both, and chose Frederic of
Saxony; but he declined the dangerous post. Charles, as Archduke of
Austria, had such great and obvious claims, that they could not be
disregarded. He was therefore the fortunate candidate. But his
election was a great disappointment to Francis, and he could not
conceal his mortification. Peace could not long subsist between two
envious and ambitious princes. Francis was nearly of the same age as
Charles, had inherited nearly despotic power, was free from financial
embarrassments, and ruled over an united and loyal people. He was
therefore no contemptible match for Charles. In addition, he
strengthened himself by alliances with the Swiss and Venetians.
Charles sought the favor of the pope and Henry VIII. of England. The
real causes of war were mutual jealousies, and passion for military
glory. The assigned causes were, that Charles did not respect the
claims of Francis as king of Naples; and, on the other hand, that
Francis had seized the duchy of Milan, which was a fief of the empire,
and also retained the duchy of Burgundy, the patrimonial inheritance
of the emperor.

The political history of Europe, for nearly half a century, is a
record of the wars between these powerful princes, of their mutual
disasters, disappointments, and successes. Other contests were
involved in these, and there were also some which arose from causes
independent of mutual jealousy, such as the revolt of the Spanish
grandees, of the peasants in Germany, and of the invasion of the
empire by the Turks. During the reign of Charles, was also the
division of the princes of Germany, on grounds of religion--the
foundation of the contest which, after the death of Charles, convulsed
Germany for thirty years. But the Thirty Years' War was a religious
war--was one of the political consequences of the Reformation. The
wars between Charles and Francis were purely wars of military
ambition. Charles had greater territories and larger armies; but
Francis had more money, and more absolute control over his forces.
Charles's power was checked in Spain by the free spirit of the Cortes,
and in Germany by the independence of the princes, and by the
embarrassing questions which arose out of the Reformation.

It would be tedious to read the various wars between Charles and his
rival. Each of them gained, at different times, great successes, and
each experienced, in turn, the most humiliating reverses. Francis was
even taken prisoner at the battle of Pavia, in 1525, and confined in a
fortress at Madrid, until he promised to the victors the complete
dismemberment of France--an extorted promise he never meant to keep.
No sooner had he recovered his liberty, than he violated all his
oaths, and Europe was again the scene of fresh hostilities. The
passion of revenge was now added to that of ambition, and, as the pope
had favored the cause of Francis, the generals of Charles invaded
Italy. Rome was taken and sacked by the constable Bourbon, a French
noble whom Francis had slighted, and cruelties and outrages were
perpetrated by the imperial forces which never disgraced Alaric or
Attila.

Charles affected to be filled with grief in view of the victories of
his generals, and pretended that they acted without his orders. He
employed every artifice to deceive indignant Christendom, and
appointed prayers and processions throughout Spain for the recovery of
the pope's liberty, which one stroke of his pen could have secured.
Thus it was, that the most Catholic and bigoted prince in Europe
seized the pope's person, and sacked his city, at the very time when
Luther was prosecuting his reform. And this fact shows how much more
powerfully the emperor was influenced by political, than by religious
considerations. It also shows the providence of God in permitting the
only men, who could have arrested the reformation, to spend their
strength in battling each other, rather than the heresy which they
deplored. Had Charles been less powerful and ambitious, he probably
would have contented himself in punishing heretics, and in uniting
with his natural ally, the pope, in suppressing every insurrection
which had for its object the rights of conscience and the enjoyment of
popular liberty.

The war was continued for two years longer between Francis and
Charles, with great acrimony, but with various success, both parties
being, at one time, strengthened by alliances, and then again weakened
by desertions. At last, both parties were exhausted, and were willing
to accede to terms which they had previously rejected with disdain.
Francis was the most weakened and disheartened, but Charles was the
most perplexed. The troubles growing out of the Reformation demanded
his attention, and the Turks, at this period a powerful nation, were
about invading Austria. The Spaniards murmured at the unusual length
of the war, and money was with difficulty obtained.

Hence the peace of Cambray, August 5, 1529; which was very
advantageous to Charles, in consequence of the impulsive character of
Francis, and his impatience to recover his children, whom he had
surrendered to Charles in order to recover his liberty. He agreed to
pay two millions of crowns for the ransom of his sons, and renounce
his pretensions in the Low Countries and Italy. He, moreover, lost
reputation, and the confidence of Europe, by the abandonment of his
allies. Charles remained the arbiter of Italy, and was attentive to
the interests of all who adhered to him. With less _chivalry_ than his
rival, he had infinitely more _honor_. Cold, sagacious, selfish, and
ambitious, he was, however, just, and kept his word. He combined
qualities we often see in selfish men--a sort of legal and technical
regard to the letter of the law, with the constant violation of its
spirit. A Shylock might not enter a false charge upon his books, while
he would adhere to a most extortionate bargain.

Charles, after the treaty of Cambray was signed, visited Italy with
all the pomp of a conqueror. At Genoa, he honored Doria with many
marks of distinction, and bestowed upon the republic new privileges.
He settled all his difficulties with Milan, Venice, and Florence, and
reëstablished the authority of the Medici. He was then crowned by the
pope, whom he had trampled on, as King of Lombardy and Emperor of the
Romans, and hastened into Germany, which imperatively required his
presence, both on account of dissensions among the princes, which the
reformation caused, and the invasion of Austria by three hundred
thousand Turks. He resolved to recover the old prerogatives of the
emperor of Germany, and crush those opinions which were undermining
his authority, as well as the power of Rome, with which his own was
identified.

[Sidenote: Diet of Spires.]

A Diet of the empire was accordingly summoned at Spires, in order to
take into consideration the state of religion, the main cause of all
the disturbances in Germany. It met on the 15th of March, 1529, and
the greatest address was required to prevent a civil war. All that
Charles could obtain from the assembled princes was, the promise to
prevent any further innovations. A decree to that effect was passed,
against which, however, the followers of Luther protested, the most
powerful of whom were the Elector of Saxony, the Marquis of
Brandenburg, the Landgrave of Hesse, the Duke of Lunenburg, the Prince
of Anhalt, and the deputies of fourteen imperial cities. This protest
gave to them the name of _Protestants_--a name ever since retained.
Soon after, the diet assembled at Augsburg, when the articles of faith
among the Protestants were read,--known as the Confession of
Augsburg,--which, however, the emperor opposed. In consequence of his
decree, the Protestant princes entered into a league at Smalcalde,
(December 22, 1530,) to support one another, and defend their
religion. Circumstances continually occurred to convince Charles, that
the extirpation of heresy by the sword was impossible in Germany, and
moreover, he saw it was for his interest--to which his eye was
peculiarly open--to unite all the German provinces in a vigorous
confederation. Accordingly after many difficulties, and with great
reluctance, terms of pacification were agreed upon at Nuremburg,
(1531,) and ratified in the diet at Ratisbon, shortly after, by which
it was agreed that no person should be molested in his religion, and
that the Protestants, on their part, should assist the emperor in
resisting the invasion of the Turks. The Germans, with their customary
good faith, furnished all the assistance they promised, and one of the
best armies ever raised in Germany, amounting to ninety thousand foot,
and thirty thousand horse, took the field, commanded by the emperor in
person. But the campaign ended without any memorable event, both
parties having erred from excessive caution.

[Sidenote: Hostilities between Charles and Francis.]

Francis soon availed himself of the difficulties and dangers of his
rival, formed an alliance with the Turks, put forth his old claims,
courted the favor of the German Protestants, and renewed hostilities.
He marched towards Italy, and took possession of the dominions of the
duke of Savoy, whom the emperor, at this juncture, was unable to
assist, on account of his African expedition against the pirate
Barbarossa. This noted corsair had built up a great power in Tunis and
Algiers, and committed shameful ravages on all Christian nations.
Charles landed in Africa with thirty thousand men, took the fortress
of Goletta, defeated the pirate's army, captured his capital, and
restored the exiled Moorish king to his throne. In the midst of these
victories Francis invaded Savoy. Charles was terribly indignant, and
loaded his rival with such violent invectives that Francis challenged
him to single combat. The challenge was accepted, but the duel was
never fought. Charles, in his turn, invaded France, with a large army,
for that age--forty thousand foot and ten thousand horse; but the
expedition was unfortunate. Francis acted on the defensive with
admirable skill, and was fortunate in his general Montmorency, who
seemed possessed with the spirit of a Fabius. The emperor, at last,
was compelled to return ingloriously, having lost half of his army
without having gained a single important advantage. The joy of
Francis, however, was embittered by the death of the dauphin,
attributed by some to the infamous Catharine de Medicis, wife of the
Duke of Orleans, in order to secure the crown to her husband. War did
not end with the retreat of Charles, but was continued, with great
personal animosity, until mutual exhaustion led to a truce for ten
years, concluded at Nice, in 1538. Both parties had exerted their
utmost strength, and neither had obtained any signal advantage.
Notwithstanding their open and secret enmity, they had an interview
shortly after the truce, in which both vied with each other in
expressions of esteem and friendship, and in the exhibition of
chivalrous courtesies--a miserable mockery, as shown by the violation
of the terms of the truce, and the renewal of hostilities in 1541.

[Sidenote: African Wars.]

These were, doubtless, facilitated by Charles's unfortunate expedition
against Algiers in 1541, by which he gained nothing but disgrace. His
army was wasted by famine and disease, and a tempest destroyed his
fleet. All the complicated miseries which war produces were endured by
his unfortunate troops, but a small portion of whom ever returned.
Francis, taking advantage of these misfortunes, made immense military
preparations, formed a league with the Sultan Solyman, and brought
five armies into the field. He assumed the offensive, and invaded the
Netherlands, but obtained no laurels. Charles formed a league with
Henry VIII., and the war raged, with various success, without either
party obtaining any signal advantage, for three years, when a peace
was concluded at Crespy, in 1544. Charles, being in the heart of
France with an invading army, had the apparent advantage but the
difficulty of retreating out of France in case of disaster, and the
troubles in Germany, forced him to suspend his military operations.
The pope, also, was offended because he had conceded so much to the
Protestants, and the Turks pressed him on the side of Hungary.
Moreover, he was afflicted with the gout, which indisposed him for
complicated enterprises. In view of these things, he made peace with
Francis, formed a strong alliance with the pope, and resolved to
extirpate the Protestant religion, which was the cause of so many
insurrections in Germany.

[Sidenote: Council of Trent.]

In the mean time, the pope resolved to assemble the famous Council of
Trent, the legality of which the Protestants denied. It met in
December, 1545, and was the last general council which the popes ever
assembled. It met with a view of healing the dissensions of the
church, and confirming the authority of the pope. The princes of
Europe hoped that important reforms would have been made; but nothing
of consequence was done, and the attention of the divines was directed
to dogmas rather than morals. The great number of Italian bishops
enabled the pope to have every thing his own way, in spite of the
remonstrance of the German, Spanish, and French prelates, and the
ambassadors of the different monarchs, who also had seats in the
council. The decrees of this council, respecting articles of faith,
are considered as a final authority by the Roman church. It denounced
the reform of Luther, and confirmed the various ecclesiastical
usurpations which had rendered the reformation necessary. It lasted
twenty-two years, at different intervals, during the pontificate of
five popes. The Jesuits, just rising into notice, had considerable
influence in the council, in consequence of the learning and ability
of their representatives, and especially of Laynez, the general of the
order. The Dominicans and Franciscans manifested their accustomed
animosities and rivalries, and questions were continually proposed and
agitated, which divided the assembly. The French bishops, headed by
the Cardinal of Lorraine, were opposed to the high pretensions of the
Italians, especially of Cardinal Morone, the papal legate; but, by
artifice and management, the more strenuous adherents of the pope
attained their ends.

About the time the council assembled, died three distinguished
persons--Henry VIII. of England, Francis I., and Luther. Charles V.
was freed from his great rival, and from the only private person in
his dominions he had reason to fear. He now, in good earnest, turned
his attention to the internal state of his empire, and resolved to
crush the Reformation, and, by force, if it were necessary. He
commenced by endeavoring to amuse and deceive the Protestants, and
evinced that profound dissimulation, which was one of his
characteristics. He formed a strict alliance with the pope, made a
truce with Solyman, and won over to his side Maurice and other German
princes. His military preparations and his intrigues alarmed the
Protestants, and they prepared themselves for resistance. Religious
zeal seconded their military ardor. One of the largest armies, which
had been raised in Europe for a century, took the field, and Charles,
shut up in Ratisbon, was in no condition to fight. Unfortunately for
the Protestants, they negotiated instead of acting. The emperor was in
their power, but he was one of those few persons who remained haughty
and inflexible in the midst of calamities. He pronounced the ban of
the empire against the Protestant princes, who were no match for a man
who had spent his life in the field: they acted without concert, and
committed many errors. Their forces decreased, while those of the
emperor increased by large additions from Italy and Flanders. Instead
of decisive action, the Protestants dallied and procrastinated,
unwilling to make peace, and unwilling to face their sovereign. Their
army melted away, and nothing of importance was effected.

[Sidenote: Treachery of Maurice.]

Maurice, cousin to the Elector of Saxony, with a baseness to which
history scarcely affords a parallel, deserted his allies, and joined
the emperor, purely from ambitious motives, and invaded the
territories of his kinsman with twelve thousand men. The confederates
made overtures of peace, which being rejected, they separated, and
most of them submitted to the emperor. He treated them with
haughtiness and rigor, imposed on them most humiliating terms, forced
them to renounce the league of Smalcalde, to give up their military
stores, to admit garrisons into their cities, and to pay large
contributions in money.

The Elector of Saxony and the Landgrave of Hesse, however held out;
and such was the condition of the emperor, that he could not
immediately attack them. But the death of Francis gave him leisure to
invade Saxony, and the elector was defeated at the battle of
Muhlhausen, (1547,) and taken prisoner. The captive prince approached
the victor without sullenness or pride. "The fortune of war," said he,
"has made me your prisoner, most gracious emperor, and I hope to be
treated ----" Here Charles interrupted him--"And am I, at last,
acknowledged to be emperor? Charles of Ghent was the only title you
lately allowed me. You shall be treated as you deserve." At these
words he turned his back upon him with a haughty air.

[Sidenote: Captivity of the Landgrave of Hesse.]

The unfortunate prince was closely guarded by Spanish soldiers, and
brought to a trial before a court martial, at which presided the
infamous Duke of Alva, afterwards celebrated for his cruelties in
Holland. He was convicted of treason and rebellion, and sentenced to
death--a sentence which no court martial had a right to inflict on the
first prince of the empire. He was treated with ignominious harshness,
which he bore with great magnanimity, but finally made a treaty with
the emperor, by which, for the preservation of his life, he
relinquished his kingdom to Maurice.

The landgrave was not strong enough to resist the power of Charles,
after all his enemies were subdued, and he made his submission, though
Charles extorted the most rigorous conditions, he being required to
surrender his person, abandon the league of Smalcalde, implore pardon
on his knees, demolish his fortifications, and pay an enormous fine.
In short, it was an unconditional submission. Beside infinite
mortifications, he was detained a prisoner, which, on Charles's part,
was but injury added to insult--an act of fraud and injustice which
inspired the prince, and the Protestants, generally, with unbounded
indignation. The Elector of Brandenburg and Maurice in vain solicited
for his liberty, and showed the infamy to which he would be exposed if
he detained the landgrave a prisoner. But the emperor listened to
their remonstrances with the most provoking coolness, and showed very
plainly that he was resolved to crush all rebellion, suppress
Protestantism, and raise up an absolute throne in Germany, to the
subversion of its ancient constitution.

To all appearances, his triumph was complete. His great rival was
dead; his enemies were subdued and humiliated; Luther's voice was
hushed; and immense contributions filled the imperial treasury. He now
began to realize the dreams of his life. He was unquestionably, at
that time, the most absolute and powerful prince Europe has ever seen
since Charlemagne, with the exception of Napoleon.

But what an impressive moral does the history of human greatness
convey! The hour of triumph is often but the harbinger of defeat and
shame. "Pride goeth before destruction." Charles V., with all his
policy and experience, overreached himself. The failure of his
ambitious projects and the restoration of Protestantism, were brought
about by instruments the least anticipated.

[Sidenote: Heroism of Maurice..]

[Sidenote: Misfortunes of Charles..]

The cause of Protestantism and the liberties of Germany were
endangered by the treachery of Maurice, who received, as his reward,
the great electorate of Saxony. He had climbed to the summit of glory
and power. Who would suppose that this traitor prince would desert the
emperor, who had so splendidly rewarded his services, and return to
the rescue of those princes whom he had so basely betrayed? But who
can thread the labyrinth of an intriguing and selfish heart? Who can
calculate the movements of an unprincipled and restless politician?
Maurice, at length, awoke to the perception of the real condition of
his country. He saw its liberties being overturned by the most
ambitious man whom ten centuries had produced. He saw the cause, which
his convictions told him was the true one, in danger of being wrecked.
He was, moreover, wounded by the pride, coldness, and undisguised
selfishness of the emperor. He was indignant that the landgrave, his
father-in-law, should be retained a prisoner, against all the laws of
honor and of justice. He resolved to come to the rescue of his
country. He formed his plans with the greatest coolness, and exercised
a power of dissimulation that has no parallel in history. But his
address was even greater than his hypocrisy. He gained the confidence
of the Protestants, without losing that of the emperor. He even
obtained the command of an army which Charles sent to reduce the
rebellious city of Magdeburg, and, while he was besieging the city, he
was negotiating with the generals who defended it for a general union
against the emperor. Magdeburg surrendered in 1551. Its chieftains
were secretly assured that the terms of capitulation should not be
observed. His next point was, to keep the army together until his
schemes were ripened, and then to arrest the emperor, whose thoughts
now centred on the council of Trent. So he proposed sending Protestant
divines to the council, but delayed their departure by endless
negotiations about the terms of a safe conduct. He, moreover, formed a
secret treaty with Henry II., the successor of Francis, whose
animosity against Charles was as intense as was that of his father.
When his preparations were completed, he joined his army in Thuringia,
and took the field against the emperor, who had no suspicion of his
designs, and who blindly trusted to him, deeming it impossible that a
man, whom he had so honored and rewarded, could turn against him.
March 18, 1552, Maurice published his manifesto, justifying his
conduct; and his reasons were, to secure the Protestant religion, to
maintain the constitution of the empire, and deliver the Landgrave of
Hesse from bondage. He was powerfully supported by the French king,
and, with a rapidly increasing army, marched towards Innspruck, where
the emperor was quartered. The emperor was thunderstruck when he heard
the tidings of his desertion, and was in no condition to resist him.
He endeavored to gain time by negotiations, but these were without
effect. Maurice, at the head of a large army, advanced rapidly into
Upper Germany. Castles and cities surrendered as he advanced, and so
rapid was his progress, that he came near taking the emperor captive.
Charles was obliged to fly, in the middle of the night, and to travel
on a litter by torchlight, amid the passes of the Alps. He scarcely
left Innspruck before Maurice entered it--but too late to gain the
prize he sought. The emperor rallied his armies, and a vigorous war
was carried on between the contending parties, to the advantage of the
Protestants. The emperor, after a while, was obliged to make peace
with them, for his Spanish subjects were disgusted with the war, his
funds were exhausted, his forces dispersed, and his territories
threatened by the French. On the 2d of August, 1552, was concluded the
peace of Passau, which secured the return of the landgrave to his
dominions, the freedom of religion to the Protestants, and the
preservation of the German constitution. The sanguine hopes of the
emperor were dispelled, and all his ambitious schemes defeated, and he
left to meditate, in the intervals of the pains which he suffered from
the gout, on the instability of all greatness, and the vanity of human
life. Maurice was now extolled as extravagantly as he had been before
denounced, and his treachery justified, even by grave divines. But
what is most singular in the whole affair, was, that the French king,
while persecuting Protestants at home, should protect them abroad. But
this conduct may confirm, in a signal manner, the great truth of
history, that God regulates the caprice of human passions, and makes
them subservient to the accomplishment of his own purposes.

[Sidenote: Treaty of Passau.]

The labors and perplexities of Charles V. were not diminished by the
treaty of Passau. He continued his hostilities against the French and
against the Turks. He was obliged to raise the siege of Metz, which
was gallantly defended by the Duke of Guise. To his calamities in
France, were added others in Italy. Sienna revolted against his
government, and Naples was threatened by the Turks. The imperialists
were unsuccessful in Italy and in Hungary, and the Archduke Ferdinand
was obliged to abandon Transylvania. But war was carried on in the Low
Countries with considerable vigor.

Charles, whose only passion was the aggrandizement of his house, now
projected a marriage of his son, Philip, with Mary, queen of England.
The queen, dazzled by the prospect of marrying the heir of the
greatest monarch in Europe, and eager to secure his powerful aid to
reëstablish Catholicism in England, listened to his proposal, although
it was disliked by the nation. In spite of the remonstrance of the
house of commons, the marriage treaty was concluded, and the marriage
celebrated, (1554.)

[Sidenote: Character of Charles V.]

Soon after, Charles formed the extraordinary resolution of resigning
his dominions to his son, and of retiring to a quiet retreat.
Diocletian is the only instance of a prince, capable of holding the
reins of government, who had adopted a similar course. All Europe was
astonished at the resolution of Charles, and all historians of the
period have moralized on the event. But it ceases to be mysterious,
when we remember that Charles was no nearer the accomplishment of the
ends which animated his existence, than he was thirty years before;
that he was disgusted and wearied with the world; that he suffered
severely from the gout, which, at times, incapacitated him for the
government of his extensive dominions. It was never his habit to
intrust others with duties and labors which he could perform himself,
and he felt that his empire needed a more powerful protector than his
infirmities permitted him to be. He was grown prematurely old, he felt
his declining health; longed for repose, and sought religious
consolation. Of all his vast possessions, he only reserved an annual
pension of one hundred thousand crowns; resigning Spain and the Low
Countries into the hands of Philip, and the empire of Germany to his
brother Ferdinand, who had already been elected as King of the Romans.
He then set out for his retreat in Spain, which was the monastery of
St. Justus, near Placentia, situated in a lovely vale, surrounded with
lofty trees, watered by a small brook, and rendered attractive by the
fertility of the soil, and the delightful temperature of the climate.
Here he spent his last days in agricultural improvements and religious
exercises, apparently regardless of that noisy world which he had
deserted forever, and indifferent to those political storms which his
restless ambition had raised. Here his grandeur and his worldly hopes
were buried in preparing himself for the future world. He lived with
great simplicity, for two years after his retreat, and died (1558,)
from the effects of the gout, which, added to his great labors, had
shattered his constitution. He was not what the world would call a
great genius, like Napoleon; but he was a man of great sagacity,
untiring industry, and respectable attainments. He was cautious, cold,
and selfish; had but little faith in human virtue, and was a slave, in
his latter days, to superstition. He was neither affable nor
courteous, but was sincere in his attachments, and munificent in
rewarding his generals and friends. He was not envious nor cruel, but
inordinately ambitious, and intent on aggrandizing his family. This
was his characteristic defect, and this, in a man so prominent and so
favored by circumstances, was enough to keep Europe in a turmoil for
nearly half a century.

       *       *       *       *       *

     REFERENCES.--Robertson's History of Charles V. Ranke's
     History of the Reformation. Kohlrausch's History of Germany.
     Russell's Modern Europe. The above-mentioned authors are
     easily accessible, and are all that are necessary for the
     student. Robertson's History is a classic, and an immortal
     work.




CHAPTER IV.

HENRY VIII.


The history of Europe in the sixteenth century is peculiarly the
history of the wars of kings, and of their efforts to establish
themselves and their families on absolute thrones. The monotonous, and
almost exclusive, record of royal pleasures and pursuits shows in how
little consideration the people were held. They struggled, and toiled,
and murmured as they do now. They probably had the same joys and
sorrows as in our times. But, in these times, they have considerable
influence on the government, the religion, the literature, and the
social life of nations. In the sixteenth century, this influence was
not so apparent; but power of all kinds seemed to emanate from kings
and nobles; at least from wealthy and cultivated classes. When this is
the case, when kings give a law to society, history is not
unphilosophical which recognizes chiefly their enterprises and ideas.

[Sidenote: Rise of Absolute Monarchy.]

The rise of absolute monarchy on the ruins of feudal states is one of
the chief features of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. There was
every where a strong tendency to centralization. Provinces, before
independent, were controlled by a central government. Standing armies
took the place of feudal armies. Kings took away from nobles the right
to coin money, administer justice, and impose taxes. The power of the
crown became supreme and unlimited.

But some monarchs were more independent than others, in proportion as
the power of nobles was suppressed, or, as the cities sided with the
central government, or, as provinces were connected and bound
together. The power of Charles V. was somewhat limited, in Spain, by
the free spirit of the Cortes, and, in Germany, by the independence of
the princes of the empire. But, in France and England, the king was
more absolute, although he did not rule over so great extent of
territory as did the emperor of Germany; and this is one reason why
Francis I. proved so strong an antagonist to his more powerful rival.

The history of France, during the reign of this monarch, is also the
history of Charles V., since they were both engaged in the same wars;
which wars have already been alluded to. Both of these monarchs failed
in the objects of their existence. If Charles did not realize his
dream of universal empire, neither did Francis leave his kingdom, at
his death, in a more prosperous state than he found it.

Francis I. was succeeded by his son Henry II., a warlike prince, but
destitute of prudence, and under the control of women. His policy,
however, was substantially that of his father, and he continued
hostilities against the emperor of Germany, till his resignation. He
was a bitter persecutor of the Protestants, and the seeds of
subsequent civil wars were sown by his zeal. He was removed from his
throne prematurely, being killed at a tournament, in 1559, soon after
the death of Charles V. Tournaments ceased with his death.

[Sidenote: Henry VIII.]

The reign of Henry VIII., the other great contemporary of Charles V.,
merits a larger notice, not only because his reign was the
commencement of a new era in England, but, also, because the affairs,
which engaged his attention, are not much connected with continental
history.

He ascended the throne in the year 1509, in his eighteenth year,
without opposition, and amid the universal joy of the nation; for his
manners were easy and frank, his disposition was cheerful, and his
person was handsome. He had made respectable literary attainments, and
he gave promise of considerable abilities. He was married, soon after
his accession, to Catharine, daughter of the King of Spain, and the
first years of his reign were happy, both to himself and to his
subjects. He had a well-filled treasury, which his father had amassed
with great care, a devoted people and an obedient parliament. All
circumstances seemed to conspire to strengthen his power, and to make
him the arbiter of Europe.

But this state did not last long. The young king was resolved to make
war on France, but was diverted from his aim by troubles in Scotland,
growing out of his own rapacity--a trait which ever peculiarly
distinguished him. These troubles resulted in a war with the Scots,
who were defeated at the memorable battle of Flodden Field, which Sir
Walter Scott, in his Marmion, has immortalized. The Scotch commanders,
Lenox and Argyle, both perished, as well as the valiant King James
himself. There is scarcely an illustrious Scotch family who had not an
ancestor slain on that fatal day, September 9, 1513. But the victory
was dearly bought, and Surrey, the English general, afterwards Duke of
Norfolk, was unable to pursue his advantages.

[Sidenote: Rise of Cardinal Wolsey.]

About this time, the celebrated Cardinal Wolsey began to act a
conspicuous part in English affairs. His father was a butcher of
Ipswich; but was able to give his son a good education. He studied at
Oxford, was soon distinguished for his attainments, and became tutor
to the sons of the Marquis of Dorset. The marquis gave him the rich
living of Limington; but the young parson, with his restless ambition,
and love of excitement and pleasure, was soon wearied of a country
life. He left his parish to become domestic chaplain to the treasurer
of Calais. This post introduced him to Fox, bishop of Winchester, who
shared with the Earl of Surrey the highest favors of royalty. The
minister and diplomatist, finding in the young man learning, tact,
vivacity, and talent for business, introduced him to the king, hoping
that he would prove an agreeable companion for Henry, and a useful
tool for himself. But those who are able to manage other people's
business, generally are able to manage their own. The tool of Fox
looked after his own interest chiefly. He supplanted his master in the
loyal favor, and soon acquired more favor and influence at court than
any of the ministers or favorites. Though twenty years older than
Henry, he adapted himself to all his tastes, flattered his vanity and
passions, and became his bosom friend. He gossiped with him about
Thomas Aquinas, the Indies, and affairs of gallantry. He was a great
refiner of sensual pleasures, had a passion for magnificence and
display, and a real genius for court entertainments. He could eat and
drink with the gayest courtiers, sing merry songs, and join in the
dance. He was blunt and frank in his manners; but these only concealed
craft and cunning. "It is art to conceal art," and Wolsey was a master
of all the tricks of dissimulation. He rose rapidly after he had once
gained the heart of the king. He became successively dean of York,
papal legate, cardinal, bishop of Lincoln, archbishop of York, and
lord chancellor. He also obtained the administration and the
temporalities of the rich abbey of St. Albans, and of the bishoprics
of Bath and Wells, Durham and Winchester. By these gifts, his revenues
almost equalled those of the crown; and he squandered them in a style
of unparalleled extravagance. He dressed in purple and gold, supported
a train of eight hundred persons, and built Hampton Court. He was the
channel through which the royal favors flowed. But he made a good
chancellor, dispensed justice, repressed the power of the nobles,
encouraged and rewarded literary men, and endowed colleges. He was the
most magnificent and the most powerful subject that England has ever
seen. Even nobles were proud to join his train of dependants. There
was nothing sordid or vulgar, however, in all his ostentation. Henry
took pleasure in his pomp, for it was a reflection of the greatness of
his own majesty.

[Sidenote: Magnificence of Henry VIII.]

The first years of the reign of Henry VIII., after the battle of
Flodden Field, were spent in pleasure, and in great public displays of
magnificence, which charmed the people, and made him a popular idol.
Among these, the interview of the king with Francis I. is the most
noted, on the 4th of June, 1520; the most gorgeous pageant of the
sixteenth century, designed by Wolsey, who had a genius for such
things. The monarchs met in a beautiful valley, where jousts and
tournaments were held, and where was exhibited all the magnificence
which the united resources of France and England could command. The
interview was sought by Francis to win, through Wolsey, the favor of
the king, and to counterbalance the advantages which it was supposed
Charles V. had gained on a previous visit to the king at Dover.

The getting up of the "Field of the Cloth of Gold" created some
murmurs among the English nobility, many of whom were injured by the
expensive tastes of Wolsey. Among these was the Duke of Buckingham,
hereditary high constable of England, and connected with the royal
house of the Plantagenets. Henry, from motives of jealousy, both on
account of his birth and fortune, had long singled him out as his
victim. He was, also, obnoxious to Wolsey, since he would not flatter
his pride, and he had, moreover, insulted him. It is very easy for a
king to find a pretence for committing a crime; and Buckingham was
arrested, tried, and executed, for making traitorous prophecies. His
real crime was in being more powerful than it suited the policy of the
king. With the death of Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, in 1521,
commenced the bloody cruelty of Henry VIII.

Soon after the death of Buckingham, the king made himself notorious
for his theological writings against Luther, whose doctrines he
detested. He ever had a taste for theological disputation, and a love
of the schoolmen. His tracts against Luther, very respectable for
talent and learning, though disgraced by coarse and vulgar
vituperation, secured for him the favor of the pope, who bestowed upon
him the title of "Defender of the Faith;" and a strong alliance
existed between them until the divorce of Queen Catharine.

The difficulties and delays, attending this act of cruelty and
injustice, constitute no small part of the domestic history of England
during the reign of Henry VIII. Any event, which furnishes subjects of
universal gossip and discussion, is ever worthy of historical notice,
inasmuch as it shows prevailing opinions and tastes.

Queen Catharine, daughter of Ferdinand, King of Spain, was eight years
older than her husband, whom she married in the first year of his
reign. She had been previously married to his brother Arthur, who died
of the plague in 1502. For several years after her marriage with
Henry VIII., her domestic happiness was a subject of remark; and the
emperor, Charles V., congratulated her on her brilliant fortune. She
was beautiful, sincere, accomplished; religious, and disinterested,
and every way calculated to secure, as she had won, the king's
affections.

[Sidenote: Anne Boleyn.]

But among her maids of honor there was one peculiarly accomplished and
fascinating, to whom the king transferred his affections with unwonted
vehemence. This was Anne Boleyn, daughter of Sir Thomas Boleyn, who,
from his great wealth, married Elizabeth Howard, daughter of the first
duke of Norfolk. This noble alliance brought Sir Thomas Boleyn into
close connection with royalty, and led to the appointment of his
daughter to the high post which she held at the court of Queen
Catharine. It is probable that the king suppressed his passion for
some time; and it would have been longer concealed, even from its
object, had not his jealousy been excited by her attachment to Percy,
son of the Earl of Northumberland. The king at last made known his
passion; but the daughter of the Howards was too proud, or too
politic, or too high principled, to listen to his overtures. It was
only _as queen of England_, that she would return the passion of her
royal lover. Moreover, she resolved to be revenged on the all-powerful
cardinal, for assisting in her separation from Percy, whom she loved
with romantic attachment. The king waited four years, but Anne
remained inflexibly virtuous. He then meditated the divorce from
Catharine, as the only way to accomplish the object which now seemed
to animate his existence. He confided the matter to his favorite
minister; but Wolsey was thunderstruck at the disclosure, and remained
with him four hours on his knees, to dissuade him from a step which
he justly regarded as madness. Here Wolsey appears as an honest man
and a true friend; but royal infatuation knows neither wisdom,
justice, nor humanity. Wolsey, as a man of the world, here made a
blunder, and departed from the policy he had hitherto pursued--that of
flattering the humors of his absolute master. Wolsey, however,
recommended the king to consult the divines; for Henry pretended that,
after nearly twenty years of married life, he had conscientious
scruples about the lawfulness of his marriage. The learned English
doctors were afraid to pronounce their opinions, and suggested a
reference to the fathers. But the king was not content with their
authority; he appealed to the pope, and to the decisions of half of
the universities of Europe. It seems very singular that a sovereign so
unprincipled, unscrupulous, and passionate, and yet so absolute and
powerful as was Henry, should have wasted his time and money in
seeking countenance to an act on which he was fully determined, and
which countenance he never could reasonably hope to secure. But his
character was made up of contradictions. His caprice, violence, and
want of good faith, were strangely blended with superstition and
reverence for the authority of the church. His temper urged him to the
most rigorous measure of injustice; and his injustice produced no
shame, although he was restrained somewhat by the opinions of the very
men whom he did not hesitate to murder.

[Sidenote: Queen Catharine.]

Queen Catharine, besides being a virtuous and excellent woman, was
powerfully allied, and was a zealous Catholic. Her repudiation,
therefore, could not take place without offending the very persons
whose favor the king was most anxious to conciliate especially the
Emperor Charles, her nephew, and the pope, and all the high
dignitaries and adherents of the church. Even Wolsey could not in
honor favor the divorce, although it was his policy to do so. In
consequence of his intrigues, and the scandal and offence so
outrageous an act as the divorce of Catharine must necessarily produce
throughout the civilized world, Henry long delayed to bring the matter
to a crisis, being afraid of a war with Charles V., and of the
anathemas of the pope. Moreover, he hoped to gain him over, for the
pope had sent Cardinal Campeggio to London, to hold, with his legate
Wolsey, a court to hear the case. But it was the farthest from his
intention to grant the divorce, for the pope was more afraid of
Charles V. than he was of Henry VIII.

[Sidenote: Disgrace and Death of Wolsey.]

The court settled nothing, and the king's wrath now turned towards
Wolsey, whom he suspected of secretly thwarting his measures. The
accomplished courtier, so long accustomed to the smiles and favors of
royalty, could not bear his disgrace with dignity. The proudest man in
England became, all at once, the meanest. He wept, he cringed, he lost
his spirits; he surrendered his palace, his treasures, his honors, and
his offices, into the hands of him who gave them to him, without a
single expostulation: wrote most abject letters to "his most gracious,
most merciful, and most pious sovereign lord;" and died of a broken
heart on his way to a prison and the scaffold. "Had I but served my
God as diligently as I have served the king, he would not have given
me over in my gray hairs"--these were the words of the dying cardinal;
his sad confessions on experiencing the vanity of human life. But the
vindictive prince suffered no word of sorrow or regret to escape him,
when he heard of the death of his prime minister, and his intimate
friend for twenty years.

[Sidenote: More--Cranmer--Cromwell.]

Shortly after the disgrace of Wolsey, which happened nearly a year
before his death, (1529,) three remarkable men began to figure in
English politics and history. These were Sir Thomas More, Thomas
Cranmer, and Thomas Cromwell. More was the most accomplished, most
learned, and most enlightened of the three. He was a Catholic, but
very exemplary in his life, and charitable in his views. In moral
elevation of character, and beautiful serenity of soul, the annals of
the great men of his country furnish no superior. His extensive
erudition and moral integrity alone secured him the official station
which Wolsey held as lord chancellor. He was always the intimate
friend of the king, and his conversation, so enlivened by wit, and so
rich and varied in matter, caused his society to be universally
sought. He discharged his duties with singular conscientiousness and
ability; and no one ever had cause to complain that justice was not
rendered him.

Cranmer's elevation was owing to a fortunate circumstance,
notwithstanding his exalted merit. He happened to say, while tutor to
a gentleman of the name of Cressy, in the hearing of Dr. Gardiner,
then secretary to Henry, that the proper way to settle the difficulty
about the divorce was, to appeal to learned men, who would settle the
matter on the sole authority of the Bible, without reference to the
pope. This remark was reported to the king, and Cranmer was sent to
reside with the father of Anne Boleyn, and was employed in writing a
treatise to support his opinion. His ability led to further honors,
until, on the death of Warham, archbishop of Canterbury, he was
appointed to the vacant see, the first office in dignity and
importance in the kingdom, and from which no king, however absolute,
could eject him, except by the loss of life. We shall see that, in all
matters of religion, Cranmer was the ruling spirit in England until
the accession of Mary.

Cromwell's origin was even more obscure than that of Wolsey's; but he
received his education at one of the universities. We first hear of
him as a clerk in an English factory at Antwerp, then as a soldier in
the army of the Constable Bourbon when it sacked Rome, then as a clerk
in a mercantile house in Venice, and then again as a lawyer in
England, where he attracted the attention of Wolsey, who made him his
solicitor, and employed him in the dissolution of monasteries. He then
became a member of the house of commons, where his address and
business talents were conspicuous. He was well received at court, and
confirmed in the stewardship of the monasteries, after the disgrace of
his master. His office brought him often into personal conference with
the king; and, at one of these, he recommended him to deny the
authority of the pope altogether, and declare himself supreme head of
the church. The boldness of this advice was congenial to the temper of
the king, worried by the opposition of Rome to his intended divorce,
and Cromwell became a member of the privy council. His fortune was
thus made by his seasonable advice. All who opposed the king were sure
to fall, and all who favored him were sure to rise, as must ever be
the case in an absolute monarchy, where the king is the centre and the
fountain of all honor and dignity.

With such ministers as Cranmer and Cromwell, the measures of Henry
were now prompt and bold. Queen Catharine was soon disposed of; she
was divorced and disgraced, and Anne Boleyn was elevated to her
throne, (1533.) The anathemas of the pope and the outcry of all Europe
followed. Sir Thomas More resigned the seals, and retired to poverty
and solitude. But he was not permitted to enjoy his retirement long.
Refusing to take the oath of supremacy to Henry, as head of the church
as well as of the state, he was executed, with other illustrious
Catholics. The execution of More was the most cruel and uncalled-for
act of the whole reign, and entailed on its author the execrations of
all the learned and virtuous men in Europe, most of whom appreciated
the transcendent excellences of the murdered chancellor, the author of
the Utopia, and the Boethius of his age.

[Sidenote: Quarrel with the Pope.]

The fulminations of the pope only excited Henry to more decided
opposition. The parliament, controlled by Cromwell, acknowledged him
as the supreme head of the Church of England, and the separation from
Rome was final and irrevocable. The tenths were annexed to the crown,
and the bishops took a new oath of supremacy.

The independence of the Church of England, effected in 1535, was
followed by important consequences, and was the first step to the
reformation, afterwards perfected by Edward VI. But as the first acts
of the reformation were prompted by political considerations, the
reformers in England, during the reign of Henry VIII., should be
considered chiefly in a political point of view. The separation from
Rome, during the reign of this prince, was not followed by the
abolition of the Roman Catholic worship, nor any of the rites and
ceremonies of that church. Nor was religious toleration secured. Every
thing was subservient to the royal conscience, and a secular, instead
of an ecclesiastical pope, still reigned in England.

[Sidenote: Abolition of Monasteries.]

Henry soon found that his new position, as head of the English Church,
imposed new duties and cares: he therefore established a separate
department for the conduct of ecclesiastical affairs, over which he
placed the unscrupulous, but energetic Cromwell--a fit minister to
such a monarch. A layman, who hated the clergy, and who looked solely
to the pecuniary interests of his master, was thus placed over the
highest prelates of the church. But Cromwell, in consulting the
pecuniary interests of the king, also had an eye to the political
interests of the kingdom. He was a sagacious and practical man of the
world, and was disgusted with the vices of the clergy, and especially
with the custom of sending money to Rome, in the shape of annates and
taxes. This evil he remedied, which tended greatly to enrich the
country, for the popes at this time were peculiarly extortionate. He
then turned his attention to the reform of the whole monastic
institution, but with an eye also to its entire destruction. Cromwell
hated the monks. They were lazy, ignorant, and debauched. They were a
great burden on the people, and were as insolent and proud as they
were idle and profligate. The country swarmed with them. The roads,
taverns, and the houses of the credulous were infested with them.
Cranmer, who sympathized with the German reformers, hated them on
religious grounds, and readily coöperated with Cromwell; while the
king, whose extortion and rapacity knew no bounds, listened, with
glistening eye, to the suggestions of his two favorite ministers. The
nation was suddenly astounded with the intelligence that parliament
had passed a bill, giving to the king and his heirs all the monastic
establishments in the kingdom, which did not exceed two hundred pounds
a year. Three hundred and eighty thus fell at a blow, whereby the king
was enriched by thirty-two thousand pounds a year, and one hundred
thousand pounds ready money--an immense sum in that age. By this
spoliation, perhaps called for, but exceedingly unjust and harsh, and
in violation of all the rights of property, thousands were reduced to
beggary and misery, while there was scarcely an eminent man in the
kingdom who did not come in for a share of the plunder. Vast grants of
lands were bestowed by the king on his favorites and courtiers, in
order to appease the nation; and thus the foundations of many of the
great estates of the English nobility were laid. The spoliations,
however, led to many serious riots and insurrections, especially in
Lincolnshire. At one place there were forty thousand rebels under
arms; but they were easily suppressed.

[Sidenote: Suppression of Monasteries.]

The rapacious king was not satisfied with the plunder he had secured,
and, in 1539, the final suppression of all the monasteries in England
was decreed. Then followed the seizure of all the church property in
England connected with monasteries--shrines, relics, gold and silver
vessels of immense value and rarity, lands, and churches. Canterbury,
Bath, Merton, Stratford, Bury St. Edmonds, Glastonbury, and St.
Albans, suffered most, and many of those beautiful monuments of Gothic
architecture were levelled with the dust. Their destruction deprived
the people of many physical accommodations, for they had been
hospitals and caravansaries, as well as "cages of unclean birds."
Neither the church nor the universities profited much from the
confiscation of so much property, and only six new bishoprics were
formed, and only fourteen abbeys were converted into cathedrals and
collegiate churches. The king and the nobles were the only gainers by
the spoil; the people obtained no advantage in that age, although they
have in succeeding ages.

After renouncing the pope's supremacy, and suppressing the
monasteries, where were collected the treasures of the middle ages,
one would naturally suppose that the king would have gone farther, and
changed the religion of his people. But Henry hated Luther and his
doctrines, and did not hate the pope, or the religion of which he was
the sovereign pontiff. He loved gold and new wives better than the
interests of the Catholic church. Reform proceeded no farther in his
reign; while, on the other hand, he caused a decree to pass both
houses of his timid, complying parliament, by which the doctrines of
transubstantiation, the communion of one kind, the celibacy of the
clergy, masses, and auricular confession, were established; and any
departure from, or denial of, these subjected the offender to the
punishment of death.

[Sidenote: Execution of Anne Boleyn.]

But Henry had new domestic difficulties long before the suppression of
monasteries--the great political act of Thomas Cromwell. His new wife,
Anne Boleyn, was suspected of the crime of inconstancy, and at the
very time when she had reached the summit of power, and the
gratification of all worldly wishes. She had been very vain, and fond
of display and of ornaments; but the latter years of her life were
marked by her munificence, and attachment to the reform doctrines. But
her power ceased almost as soon as she became queen. She could win,
but she could not retain, the affections of her royal husband. His
passion subsided into languor, and ended in disgust. The beauty of
Anne Boleyn was soon forgotten when Jane Seymour, her maid of honor,
attracted the attention of Henry. To make this lady his wife now
became the object of his life, and this could only be effected by the
divorce of his queen, who gave occasion for scandal by the levity and
freedom of her manners. Henry believed every insinuation against her,
because he wished to believe her guilty. There was but a step between
the belief of guilt and the resolution to destroy her. She was
committed to the Tower, impeached, brought to trial, condemned without
evidence, and executed without remorse. Even Cranmer, whom she had
honored and befriended, dared not defend her, although he must have
believed in her innocence. He knew the temper of the master whom he
served too well to risk much in her defence. She was the first woman
who had been beheaded in the annals of England. Not one of the
Plantagenet kings ever murdered a woman. But the age of chivalry was
past, and the sentiments it encouraged found no response in the bosom
of such a sensual and vindictive monarch as was Henry VIII.

The very day after the execution of that accomplished lady, for whose
sake the king had squandered the treasures of his kingdom, and had
kept Christendom in a ferment, he married Jane Seymour, "the fairest,
discreetest, and most meritorious of all his wives," as the historians
say, yet a woman who did not hesitate to steal the affections of Henry
and receive his addresses, while his queen was devoted to her husband.
But Anne Boleyn had done so before her, and suffered a natural
retribution.

Jane Seymour lived only eighteen months after her marriage, and died
two days after giving birth to a son, afterwards Edward VI. She was
one of those passive women who make neither friends nor enemies. She
indulged in no wit or repartee, like her brilliant but less beautiful
predecessor, and she passed her regal life without uttering a sentence
or a sentiment which has been deemed worthy of preservation.

[Sidenote: Anne of Cleves--Catharine Howard.]

She had been dead about a month, when the king looked round for
another wife, and besought Francis I. to send the most beautiful
ladies of his kingdom to Calais, that he might there inspect them, and
select one according to his taste. But this Oriental notion was not
indulged by the French king, who had more taste and delicacy; and
Henry remained without a wife for more than two years, the princesses
of Europe not being very eager to put themselves in the power of this
royal Bluebeard. At last, at the suggestion of Cromwell, he was
affianced to Anne, daughter of the Duke of Cleves, whose home was on
the banks of the Rhine, in the city of Dusseldorf.

The king no sooner set his eyes on her than he was disappointed and
disgusted, and gave vent to his feelings before Cromwell, calling her
a "great Flanders mare." Nevertheless, he consummated his marriage,
although his disgust constantly increased. This mistake of Cromwell
was fatal to his ambitious hopes. The king vented on him all the
displeasure which had been gathering in his embittered soul.
Cromwell's doom was sealed. He had offended an absolute monarch. He
was accused of heresy and treason,--the common accusations in that age
against men devoted to destruction,--tried by a servile board of
judges, condemned, and judicially murdered, in 1540. In his
misfortunes, he showed no more fortitude than Wolsey. The atmosphere
of a court is fatal to all moral elevation.

But, before his execution, Anne of Cleves, a virtuous and worthy
woman, was divorced, and Catharine Howard, granddaughter of the victor
of Flodden Field, became queen of England. The king now fancied that
his domestic felicity was complete; but, soon after his marriage, it
was discovered that his wife had formerly led a dissolute life, and
had been unfaithful also to her royal master. When the proofs of her
incontinence were presented to him, he burst into a flood of tears;
but soon his natural ferocity returned, and his guilty wife expiated
her crime by death on the scaffold, in 1542.

Henry's sixth and last wife was Catharine Parr, relict of Lord
Latimer, a woman of great sagacity, prudence, and good sense. She
favored the reformers, but had sufficient address to keep her opinions
from the king, who would have executed her, had he suspected her real
views. She survived her husband, who died four years after her
marriage, in 1547.

[Sidenote: Last Days of Henry.]

The last years of any tyrant are always melancholy, and those of Henry
were embittered by jealousies and domestic troubles. His finances were
deranged, his treasury exhausted, and his subjects discontented. He
was often at war with the Scots, and different continental powers. He
added religious persecution to his other bad traits, and executed, for
their opinions, some of the best people in the kingdom. His father had
left him the richest sovereign of Europe, and he had seized the abbey
lands, and extorted heavy sums from his oppressed people; and yet he
was poor. All his wishes were apparently gratified; and yet he was the
most miserable man in his dominions. He exhausted all the sources of
pleasure, and nothing remained but satiety and disgust. His mind and
his body were alike diseased. His inordinate gluttony made him most
inconveniently corpulent, and produced ulcers and the gout. It was
dangerous to approach this "corrupt mass of dying tyranny." It was
impossible to please him, and the least contradiction drove him into
fits of madness and frenzy.

In his latter days, he ordered, in a fit of jealousy, the execution of
the Duke of Norfolk, the first nobleman of the kingdom, who had given
offence to the Earl of Hertford, uncle to the young prince of Wales,
and the founder of the greatness of the Seymours. But the tyrant died
before the sentence was carried into effect, much to the joy of the
good people of England, whom he had robbed and massacred. Several
thousands perished by the axe of the executioner during his
disgraceful reign, and some of them were the lights of the age, and
the glory of their country.

Tyrannical as was Henry VIII., still he ever ruled by the laws. He did
not abolish parliament, or retrench its privileges. The parliament
authorized all his taxes, and gave sanction to all his violent
measures. The parliament was his supple instrument; still, had the
parliament resisted his will, doubtless he would have dissolved it, as
did the Stuart princes. But it was not, in his reign, prepared for
resistance, and the king had every thing after his own way.

[Sidenote: Death of Henry VIII.]

By nature, he was amiable, generous, and munificent. But his temper
was spoiled by self-indulgence and incessant flattery. The moroseness
he exhibited in his latter days was partly the effect of physical
disease, brought about, indeed, by intemperance and gluttony. He was
faithful to his wives, so long as he lived with them; and, while he
doted on them, listened to their advice. But few of his advisers dared
tell him the truth; and Cranmer himself can never be exculpated from
flattering his perverted conscience. No one had the courage to tell
him he was dying but one of the nobles of the court. He died, in great
agony, June, 1547, in the thirty-eighth year of his reign, and the
fifty-sixth of his age, and was buried, with great pomp, in St. George
Chapel, Windsor Castle.

       *       *       *       *       *

     REFERENCES.--The best English histories of the reign of
     Henry VIII. are the standard ones of Hume and Lingard. The
     Pictorial History, in spite of its pictures, is also
     excellent. Burnet should be consulted in reference to
     ecclesiastical matters, and Hallam, in reference to the
     constitution. See also the lives of Wolsey, Sir Thomas More,
     and Cranmer. The lives of Henry's queens have been best
     narrated by Agnes Strickland.




CHAPTER V.

EDWARD VI. AND MARY.


[Sidenote: War with Scotland.]

Henry VIII. was succeeded by his son, Edward VI., a boy of nine years
of age, learned, pious, and precocious. Still he was a boy; and, as
such, was a king but in name. The history of his reign is the history
of the acts of his ministers.

The late king left a will, appointing sixteen persons, mostly members
of his council, to be guardians of his son, and rulers of the nation
during his minority. The Earl of Hertford, being uncle of the king,
was unanimously named protector.

The first thing the council did was to look after themselves, that is,
to give themselves titles and revenues. Hertford became Duke of
Somerset; Essex, Marquis of Northampton; Lisle, Earl of Warwick; the
Chancellor Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton. At the head of these
nobles was Somerset. He was a Protestant, and therefore prosecuted
those reforms which Cranmer had before projected. Cranmer, as member
of the council, archbishop of Canterbury, and friend of Somerset, had
ample scope to prosecute his measures.

The history of this reign is not important in a political point of
view, and relates chiefly to the completion of the reformation, and to
the squabbles and jealousies of the great lords who formed the council
of regency.

The most important event, of a political character, was a war with
Scotland, growing out of the attempts of the late king to unite both
nations under one government. In consequence, Scotland was invaded by
the Duke of Somerset, at the head of eighteen thousand men. A great
battle was fought, in which ten thousand of the Scots were slain. But
the protector was compelled to return to England, without following up
the fruits of victory, in consequence of cabals at court. His brother,
Lord Seymour, a man of reckless ambition, had married the queen
dowager, and openly aspired to the government of the kingdom. He
endeavored to seduce the youthful king, and he had provided arms for
ten thousand men.

The protector sought to win his brother from his treasonable designs
by kindness and favors; but, all his measures proving ineffectual, he
was arrested, tried, and executed, for high treason.

[Sidenote: Rebellions and Discontents.]

But Somerset had a more dangerous enemy than his brother; and this was
the Earl of Warwick, who obtained great popularity by his suppression
of a dangerous insurrection, the greatest the country had witnessed
since Jack Cade's rebellion, one hundred years before. The discontent
of the people appears to have arisen from their actual suffering. Coin
had depreciated, without a corresponding rise of wages, and labor was
cheap, because tillage lands were converted to pasturage. The popular
discontent was aggravated by the changes which the reformers
introduced, and which the peasantry were the last to appreciate. The
priests and ejected monks increased the discontent, until it broke out
into a flame.

The protector made himself unpopular with the council by a law which
he caused to be passed against enclosures; and, as he lost influence,
his great rival, Warwick, gained power. Somerset, at last, was obliged
to resign his protectorship; and Warwick, who had suppressed the
rebellion, formed the chief of a new council of regency. He was a man
of greater talents than Somerset, and equal ambition, and more fitted
for stormy times.

As soon as his power was established, and the country was at peace,
and he had gained friends, he began to execute those projects of
ambition which he had long formed. The earldom of Northumberland
having reverted to the crown, Warwick aspired to the extinct title and
the estates, and procured for himself a grant of the same, with the
title of duke. But there still remained a bar to his elevation; and
this was the opposition of the Duke of Somerset, who, though disgraced
and unpopular, was still powerful. It is unfortunate to be in the way
of a great man's career, and Somerset paid the penalty of his
opposition--the common fate of unsuccessful rivals in unsettled times.
He was accused of treason, condemned, and executed, (1552.)

[Sidenote: Rivalry of the Great Nobles.]

Northumberland, as the new dictator, seemed to have attained the
highest elevation to which a subject could aspire. In rank, power, and
property, he was second only to the royal family, but his ambition
knew no bounds, and he began his intrigues to induce the young king,
whose health was rapidly failing, and who was zealously attached to
Protestantism, to set aside the succession of his sister Mary to the
throne, really in view of the danger to which the reformers would be
subjected, but under pretence of her declared illegitimacy, which
would also set aside the claims of the Princess Elizabeth. Mary, Queen
of Scots, was to be set aside on the ground of the will of the late
king, and the succession would therefore devolve on the Lady Jane
Grey, granddaughter of the Duke of Suffolk and of the French queen,
whom he hoped to unite in marriage with his son. This was a
deeply-laid scheme, and came near being successful, since Edward
listened to it with pleasure. Northumberland then sought to gain over
the judges and other persons of distinction, and succeeded by bribery
and intimidation. At this juncture, the young king died, possessed of
all the accomplishments which could grace a youth of sixteen, but
still a tool in the hands of his ministers.

[Sidenote: Religious Reforms.]

Such were the political movements of this reign--memorable for the
rivalries of the great nobles. But it is chiefly distinguished for the
changes which were made in the church establishment, and the
introduction of the principles of the continental reformers. No
changes of importance were ever made beyond what Cranmer and his
associates effected. Indeed, all that an absolute monarch could do,
was done, and done with prudence, sagacity, and moderation. The people
quietly--except in some rural districts--acquiesced in the change.
Most of the clergy took the new oath of allegiance to Edward VI., as
supreme head of the church; and very few suffered from religious
persecution. There is no period in English history when such important
changes were made, with so little bloodshed. Cranmer always watched
the temper of the nation, and did nothing without great caution. Still
a great change was effected--no less than a complete change from
Romanism to Protestantism. But it was not so radical a reform as the
Puritans subsequently desired, since the hierarchy and a liturgy, and
clerical badges and dresses, were retained. It was the fortune of
Cranmer, during the six years of Edward's reign, to effect the two
great objects of which the English church has ever since been
proud--the removal of Roman abuses, and the establishment of the creed
of Luther and Calvin; and this without sweeping away the union of
church and state, which, indeed, was more intimate than before the
reformation. The papal power was completely subverted. Nothing more
remained to be done by Cranmer. He had compiled the Book of Common
Prayer, abolished the old Latin service, the worship of images, the
ceremony of the mass, and auricular confessions. He turned the altars
into communion tables, set up the singing of psalms in the service,
caused the communion to be administered in both kinds to the laity,
added the litany to the ritual, prepared a book of homilies for the
clergy, invited learned men to settle in England, and magnificently
endowed schools and universities.

The Reformation is divested of much interest, since it was the work of
_authority_, rather than the result of _popular convictions_. But
Cranmer won immortal honor for his skilful management, and for making
no more changes than he could sustain. A large part of the English
nation still regard his works as perfect, and are sincerely and
enthusiastically attached to the form which he gave to his church.

The hopes of his party were suddenly dispelled by the death of the
amiable prince whom he controlled, 6th of July, 1553. The succession
to the throne fell to the Princess Mary, or, as princesses were then
called, the _Lady_ Mary; nor could all the arts of Northumberland
exclude her from the enjoyment of her rights. This ambitious nobleman
contrived to keep the death of Edward VI. a secret two days, and
secure from the Mayor and Alderman of London a promise to respect the
will of the late king. In consequence, the Lady Jane Grey was
proclaimed Queen of England. "So far was she from any desire of this
advancement, that she began to act her part of royalty with many
tears, thus plainly showing to those who had access to her, that she
was forced by her relations and friends to this high, but dangerous
post." She was accomplished, beautiful, and amiable, devoted to her
young husband, and very fond of Plato, whom she read in the original.

[Sidenote: Execution of Northumberland.]

But Mary's friends exerted themselves, and her cause--the cause of
legitimacy, rather than that of Catholicism--gained ground.
Northumberland was unequal to this crisis, and he was very feebly
sustained. His forces were suppressed, his schemes failed, and his
hopes fled. From rebellion, to the scaffold, there is but a step; and
this great nobleman suffered the fate of Somerset, his former rival.
His execution confirms one of the most striking facts in the history
of absolute monarchies, when the idea of legitimacy is firmly
impressed on the national mind; and that is, that no subject, or
confederacy of subjects, however powerful, stand much chance in
resisting the claims or the will of a legitimate prince. A nod or a
word, from such a king, can consign the greatest noble to hopeless
impotence. And he can do this from the mighty and mysterious force of
ideas alone. Neither king nor parliament can ever resist the
omnipotence of popular ideas. When ideas establish despots on their
thrones, they are safe. When ideas demand their dethronement, no
forces can long sustain them. The age of Queen Mary was the period of
the most unchecked absolutism in England. Mary was apparently a
powerless woman when Lady Jane Grey was proclaimed queen by the party
of Northumberland, and still she had but to signify her intentions to
claim her rights, and the nation was prostrate at her feet. The
Protestant party dreaded her accession; but loyalty was a stronger
principle than even Protestantism, and she was soon firmly established
in the absolute throne of Henry VIII.

Then almost immediately followed a total change in the administration,
which affected both the political and religious state of the country.
Those who had languished in confinement, on account of their religion,
obtained their liberty, and were elevated to power. Gardiner, Bonner,
and other Catholic bishops, were restored to their sees, while
Cranmer, Ridley, Latimer, Hooper Coverdale, and other eminent
Protestants, were imprisoned. All the statutes of Edward VI.
pertaining to religion were repealed, and the queen sent assurances to
the pope of her allegiance to his see. Cardinal Pole, descended from
the royal family of England, and a man of great probity, moderation,
and worth, was sent as legate of the pope. Gardiner, Bishop of
Winchester, was made lord chancellor, and became the prime minister.
He and his associates recommended violent councils; and a reign,
unparalleled in England for religious persecution, commenced.

[Sidenote: Marriage of the Queen.]

Soon after the queen's accession, she married Philip, son of the
Emperor Charles, and heir of the Spanish monarchy. This marriage,
brought about by the intrigues of the emperor, and favored by the
Catholic party, was quite acceptable to Mary, whose issue would
inherit the thrones of Spain and England. But ambitious matches are
seldom happy, especially when the wife is much older than the husband,
as was the fact in this instance. Mary, however, was attached to
Philip, although he treated her with great indifference.

This Spanish match, the most brilliant of that age, failed, however,
to satisfy the English, who had no notion of becoming the subjects of
the King of Spain. In consequence of this disaffection, a rebellion
broke out, in which Sir Thomas Wyatt was the most conspicuous, and in
which the Duke of Suffolk, and even the Lady Jane and her husband,
were implicated, though unjustly. The rebellion was easily suppressed,
and the leaders sent to the Tower. Then followed one of the most
melancholy executions of this reign--that of the Lady Jane Grey, who
had been reprieved three months before. The queen urged the plea of
self-defence, and the safety of the realm--the same that Queen
Elizabeth, in after times, made in reference to the Queen of the
Scots. Her unfortunate fate excited great popular compassion, and she
suffered with a martyr's constancy, and also her husband--two
illustrious victims, sacrificed in consequence of the ambition of
their relatives, and the jealousy of the queen. The Duke of Suffolk,
the father of Lady Jane, was also executed, and deserved his fate,
according to the ideas of his age. The Princess Elizabeth expected
also to be sacrificed, both because she was a Protestant and the next
heiress to the throne. But she carefully avoided giving any offence,
and managed with such consummate prudence, that she was preserved for
the future glory and welfare of the realm.

[Sidenote: Religious Persecution.]

The year 1555 opened gloomily for the Protestants. The prisons were
all crowded with the victims of religious persecution, and bigoted
inquisitors had only to prepare their fagots and stakes. Over a
thousand ministers were ejected from their livings, and such as
escaped further persecution fled to the continent. No fewer than two
hundred and eighty-eight persons, among whom were five bishops,
twenty-one clergymen, fifty-five women, and four children, were burned
for religious opinions, besides many thousands who suffered various
other forms of persecution. The constancy of Ridley, Latimer, and
Hooper has immortalized their names on the list of illustrious
martyrs: but the greatest of all the victims was Cranmer, Archbishop
of Canterbury. The most artful and insinuating promises were held out
to him, to induce him to retract. Life and dignities were promised
him, if he would consent to betray his cause. In an evil hour, he
yielded to the temptation, and consented to sell his soul. Timid,
heartbroken, and old, the love of life and the fear of death were
stronger than the voice of conscience and his duty to his God. But,
when he found he was mocked, he came to himself, and suffered
patiently and heroically. His death was glorious, as his life was
useful; and the sincerity of his repentance redeemed his memory from
shame. Cranmer may be considered as the great author of the English
Reformation, and one of the most worthy and enlightened men of his
age; but he was timid, politic, and time-serving. The Reformation
produced no perfect characters in any country. Some great defect
blemished the lives of all the illustrious men who have justly earned
imperishable glory. But the character of such men as Cranmer, and
Ridley, and Latimer, present an interesting contrast to those of
Gardiner and Bonner. The former did show, however, some lenity in the
latter years of this reign of Mary; but the latter, the Bishop of
London, gloated to the last in the blood which he caused to be shed.
He even whipped the Protestant prisoners with his own hands, and once
pulled out the beard of an heretical weaver, and held his finger in
the flame of a candle, till the veins shrunk and burnt, that he might
realize what the pain of burning was. So blind and cruel is religious
intolerance.

But Providence ordered that the religious persecution, which is
attributed to Mary, but which, in strict justice, should be ascribed
to her counsellors and ministers, should prepare the way for a popular
and a spiritual movement in the subsequent reign. The fires of
Smithfield, and the cruelties of the pillory and the prison, opened
the eyes of the nation to the spirit of the old religion, and also
caused the flight of many distinguished men to Frankfort and Geneva,
where they learned the principles of both religious and civil liberty.
"The blood of martyrs proved the seed of the church"--a sublime truth,
revealed to Cranmer and Ridley amid the fires which consumed their
venerable bodies; and not to them merely, but to all who witnessed
their serenity, and heard their shouts of triumph when this mortal
passed to immortality. Heretics increased with the progress of
persecution, and firm conviction took the place of a blind confession
of dogmas. "It was not," says Milman, "until Christ was lain in his
rock-hewn sepulchre, that the history of Christianity commenced." We
might add, it was not until the fires of Smithfield were lighted, that
great spiritual ideas took hold of the popular mind, and the intense
religious earnestness appeared which has so often characterized the
English nation. The progress which man makes is generally seen through
disaster, suffering, and sorrow. This is one of the fundamental truths
which history teaches.

[Sidenote: Character of Mary.]

The last years of the reign of Mary were miserable to herself, and
disastrous to the nation. Her royal husband did not return her warm
affections, and left England forever. She embarked in a ruinous war
with France, and gained nothing but disgrace. Her health failed, and
her disposition became gloomy. She continued, to the last, most
intolerant in her religious opinions, and thought more of restoring
Romanism, than of promoting the interests of her kingdom. Her heart
was bruised and broken, and her life was a succession of sorrows. It
is fashionable to call this unfortunate queen the "bloody Mary," and
not allow her a single virtue; but she was affectionate, sincere,
high-minded, and shrunk from the dissimulation and intrigue which
characterized "the virgin queen"--the name given to her masculine but
energetic successor. Mary was capable of the warmest friendship; was
attentive and considerate to her servants, charitable to the poor, and
sympathetic with the unfortunate, when not blinded by her religious
prejudices. She had many accomplishments, and a very severe taste, and
was not addicted to oaths, as was Queen Elizabeth and her royal
father. She was, however, a bigoted Catholic; and how could partisan
historians see or acknowledge her merits?

[Sidenote: Accession of Elizabeth.]

But her reign was disastrous, and the nation hailed with enthusiasm
the accession of Elizabeth, on the 17th of November, 1558. With her
reign commences a new epoch, even in the history of Europe. Who does
not talk of the Elizabethan era, when Protestantism was established in
England, when illustrious poets and philosophers adorned the
literature of the country, when commerce and arts received a great
impulse, when the colonies in North America were settled, and when a
constellation of great statesmen raised England to a pitch of glory
not before attained?

       *       *       *       *       *

     REFERENCES.--See Hume's, and Lingard's, and other standard
     Histories of England; Miss Strickland's Lives of the Queens
     of England; Burnet's History of the Reformation; Life of
     Cranmer; Fox's Book of Martyrs. These works contain all the
     easily-accessible information respecting the reigns of
     Edward and Mary, which is important.




CHAPTER VI.

ELIZABETH.


Elizabeth, daughter of Henry VIII., by Anne Boleyn, was in her
twenty-sixth year when she ascended the throne. She was crowned the
15th of June, 1559, and soon assembled her parliament and selected her
ministers. After establishing her own legitimacy, she set about
settling the affairs of the church, but only restored the Protestant
religion as Cranmer had left it. Indeed, she ever retained a fondness
for ceremonial, and abhorred a reform spirit among the people. She
insisted on her supremacy, as head of the church, and on conformity
with her royal conscience. But she was not severe on the Catholics,
and even the gluttonous and vindictive Bonner was permitted to end his
days in peace.

As soon as the Protestant religion was established, the queen turned
her attention towards Scotland, from which much trouble was expected.

[Sidenote: Mary, Queen of Scots.]

Scotland was then governed by Mary, daughter of James V., and had
succeeded her father while a mere infant, eight days after her birth,
(1542.) In 1558, she married the dauphin, afterwards King of France,
by which marriage she was Queen of France as well as of Scotland.

[Sidenote: John Knox.]

According to every canonical law of the Roman church, the claim of
Mary Stuart to the English throne was preferable to that of her cousin
Elizabeth. Her uncles, the Guises, represented that Anne Boleyn's
marriage had never been lawful, and that Elizabeth was therefore
illegitimate. In an evil hour, she and her husband quartered the arms
of England with their own, and assumed the titles of King and Queen of
Scotland and England. And Elizabeth's indignation was further excited
by the insult which the pope had inflicted, in declaring her birth
illegitimate. She, therefore, resolved to gratify, at once, both her
ambition and her vengeance, encouraged by her ministers, who wished to
advance the Protestant interest in the kingdom. Accordingly,
Elizabeth, with consummate art, undermined the authority of Mary in
Scotland, now distracted by religious as well as civil commotions.
Mary was a Catholic, and had a perfect abhorrence and disgust of the
opinions and customs of the reformers, especially of John Knox, whose
influence in Scotland was almost druidical. The Catholics resolved to
punish with fire and sword, while the Protestants were equally intent
on defending themselves with the sword. And it so happened that some
of the most powerful of the nobility were arrayed on the side of
Protestantism. But the Scotch reformers were animated with a zeal
unknown to Cranmer and his associates. The leaders had been trained at
Geneva, under the guidance of Calvin, and had imbibed his opinions,
and were, therefore, resolved to carry the work of reform after the
model of the Genevan church. Accordingly, those pictures, and statues,
and ornaments, and painted glass, and cathedrals, which Cranmer
spared, were furiously destroyed by the Scotch reformers, who
considered them as parts of an idolatrous worship. The antipathy to
bishops and clerical vestments was equally strong, and a sweeping
reform was carried on under the dictatorship of Knox. Elizabeth had no
more sympathy with this bold, but uncouth, reformer and his movements,
than had Mary herself, and never could forgive him for his book,
written at Geneva, aimed against female government, called the "First
Blast of a Trumpet against the monstrous Regiment of Women." But Knox
cared not for either the English or the Scottish queens, and zealously
and fearlessly prosecuted his work, and gained over to his side the
moral strength of the kingdom. Of course, a Catholic queen resolved to
suppress his doctrines; but nearly the whole Scottish nobility rallied
around his standard, marching with the Bible in one hand, and the
sword in the other. The queen brought in troops from France to support
her insulted and tottering government, which only increased the zeal
of the Protestant party, headed by the Earls of Argyle, Arran, Morton,
and Glencairn, and James Stuart, Prior of St. Andrews, who styled
themselves "Lords of the Congregation." A civil war now raged in
Scotland, between the queen regent, who wished to suppress the
national independence, and extinguish the Protestant religion, and the
Protestants, who comprised a great part of the nation, and who were
resolved on the utter extirpation of Romanism and the limitation of
the regal power. The Lords of the Congregation implored the aid of
England, which Elizabeth was ready to grant, both from political and
religious motives. The Protestant cause was in the ascendant, when the
queen regent died, in 1560. The same year died Francis II., of France;
and Mary, now a widow, resolved to return to her own kingdom. She
landed at Leith, August, 1561, and was received with the grandest
demonstration of joy. For a time, affairs were tolerably tranquil,
Mary having intrusted the great Protestant nobles with power. She was
greatly annoyed, however, by Knox, who did not treat her with the
respect due to a queen, and who called her Jezebel; but the reformer
escaped punishment on account of his great power.

[Sidenote: Marriage of Mary--Darnley.]

In 1565, Mary married her cousin, Lord Darnley, son of the Earl of
Lennox,--a match exceedingly distasteful to Elizabeth, who was ever
jealous of Mary, especially in matrimonial matters, since the Scottish
queen had not renounced her pretensions to the throne of her
grandfather, Henry VII. The character of Elizabeth now appears in its
worst light; and meanness and jealousy took the place of that
magnanimity which her admirers have ascribed to her. She fomented
disturbances in Scotland, and incited the queen's natural brother, the
Prior of St. Andrews, now Earl of Murray, to rebellion, with the
expectation of obtaining the government of the country. He formed a
conspiracy to seize the persons of Mary and her husband. The plot was
discovered, and Murray fled to England; but it was still unremittingly
pursued, till at length it was accomplished.

Darnley, the consort of Mary, was a man of low tastes, profligate
habits, and shallow understanding. Such a man could not long retain
the affections of the most accomplished woman of her age, accustomed
to flattery, and bent on pursuing her own pleasure, at any cost.
Disgust and coldness therefore took place. Darnley, enraged at this
increasing coldness, was taught to believe that he was supplanted in
the queen's affections by an Italian favorite, the musician Rizzio,
whom Mary had made her secretary. He therefore signed a bond, with
certain lords, for the murder of the Italian, who seems to have been a
man of no character. One evening, as the queen was at supper, in her
private apartment, with the countess of Argyle and Rizzio, the Earl of
Morton, with one hundred and sixty men, took possession of the palace
of Holyrood, while Darnley himself showed the way to a band of
ruffians to the royal presence. Rizzio was barbarously murdered in the
presence of the queen, who endeavored to protect him.

Darnley, in thus perpetrating this shocking murder, was but the tool
of some of the great lords, who wished to make him hateful to the
queen, and to the nation, and thus prepare the way for his own
execution. And they succeeded. A plot was contrived for the murder of
Darnley, of which Murray was probably the author. Shortly after, the
house, in which he slept, was blown up by gunpowder, in the middle of
the night.

[Sidenote: Bothwell--Civil War in Scotland.]

The public voice imputed to the Earl of Bothwell, a great favorite of
the queen, the murder of Darnley. Nor did the queen herself escape
suspicion. "But no inquiry or research," says Scott, "has ever been
able to bring us either to that clear opinion upon the guilt of Mary
which is expressed by many authors, or guide us to that triumphant
conclusion in favor of her innocence of all accession, direct or
tacit, to the death of her husband, which others have maintained with
the same obstinacy." But whatever doubt exists as to the queen's
guilt, there is none respecting her ministers--Maitland, Huntley,
Morton, and Argyle. Still they offered a reward of two thousand pounds
for the discovery of the murderers. The public voice accused Bothwell
as the principal: and yet the ministers associated with him, and the
queen, entirely exculpated him. He was brought to a trial, on the
formal accusation of the Earl of Lennox, in the city of Edinburgh,
which he was permitted to obtain possession of. In a place guarded by
his own followers, it was not safe for any witnesses to appear against
him, and he was therefore acquitted, though the whole nation believed
him guilty.

Mary was rash enough to marry, shortly after, the man whom public
opinion pronounced to be the murderer of her husband; and Murray, her
brother, was so ambitious and treacherous, as to favor the marriage,
with the hope that the unpopularity of the act would lead to the
destruction of the queen, and place him at the helm of state. No
sooner was Mary married to Bothwell, than Murray and other lords threw
off the mask, pretended to be terribly indignant, took up arms against
the queen, with the view of making her prisoner, and with the pretence
of delivering her from her husband. Bothwell escaped to Norway, and
the queen surrendered herself, at Carberry Hill, to the insurgent
army, the chiefs of which instantly assumed the reins of government,
and confined the queen in the castle of Lochleven, and treated her
with excessive harshness. Shortly after, (1567,) she resigned her
crown to her infant son, and Murray, the prime mover of so many
disturbances, became regent of the kingdom. Murray was a zealous
Protestant, and had the support of Knox in all his measures, and the
countenance of the English ministry. Abating his intrigue and
ambition, he was a most estimable man, and deserved the affections of
the nation, which he retained until his death. M'Crie, in his Life of
Knox, represents him as a model of Christian virtue and integrity, and
every way worthy of the place he held in the affections of his party.

[Sidenote: Captivity of Queen Mary.]

The unfortunate queen suffered great unkindness in her lonely
confinement, and Knox, with the more zealous of his party, clamored
for her death, as an adulteress and a murderer. She succeeded in
escaping from her prison, raised an army, marched against the regent,
was defeated at the battle of Langside, fled to England, and became,
May, 1568, the prisoner-guest of her envious rival. Elizabeth obtained
the object of her desires. But the captivity of Mary, confined in
Tutbury Castle, against all the laws of hospitality and justice, gave
rise to incessant disturbances, both in England and Scotland, until
her execution, in 1587. And these form no inconsiderable part of the
history of England for seventeen years. Scotland was the scene of
anarchy, growing out of the contentions and jealousies of rival
chieftains, who stooped to every crime that appeared to facilitate
their objects. In 1570, the regent Murray was assassinated. He was
succeeded by his enemy, the Earl of Lennox, who, in his turn, was shot
by an assassin. The Earl of Mar succeeded him, but lived only a year.
Morton became regent, the reward of his many crimes but retribution at
last overtook him, being executed when James assumed the sovereignty.

[Sidenote: Execution of Mary.]

Meanwhile, the unfortunate Mary pined in hopeless captivity. It was
natural for her to seek release, and also for her friends to help her.
Among her friends was the Duke of Norfolk, the first nobleman in
England, and a zealous Catholic. He aspired to her hand; but Elizabeth
chose to consider his courtship as a treasonable act, and Norfolk was
arrested. On being afterwards released, he plotted for the liberation
of Mary, and his intrigues brought him to the block. The unfortunate
captive, wearied and impatient, naturally sought the assistance of
foreign powers. She had her agents in Rome, France, Spain, and the Low
Countries. The Catholics in England espoused her cause, and a
conspiracy was formed to deliver her, assassinate Elizabeth, and
restore the Catholic religion. From the fact that Mary was privy to
that part of it which concerned her own deliverance, she was brought
to trial as a criminal, found guilty by a court incompetent to sit on
her case, and executed without remorse, 8th February, 1587.

Few persons have excited more commiseration than this unfortunate
queen, both on account of her exalted rank, and her splendid
intellectual accomplishments. Whatever obloquy she merited for her
acts as queen of Scotland, no one can blame her for meditating escape
from the power of her zealous but more fortunate rival; and her
execution is the greatest blot in the character of the queen of
England, at this time in the zenith of her glory.

Next to the troubles with Scotland growing out of the interference of
Elizabeth, the great political events of the reign were the long and
protracted war with Spain, and the Irish rebellion. Both of these
events were important.

Spain was at this time governed by Philip II., son of the emperor
Charles, one of the most bigoted Catholics of the age, and allied with
Catharine de Medicis of France for the entire suppression of
Protestantism. She incited her son Charles IX. to the massacre of St.
Bartholomew, and Philip established the inquisition in Flanders. This
measure provoked an insurrection, to suppress which the Duke of Alva,
one of the most celebrated of the generals of Charles V., was sent
into the Netherlands with a large army, and almost unlimited powers.
The cruelties of Alva were unparalleled. In six years, eighteen
thousand persons perished by the hands of the executioner, and Alva
counted on the entire suppression of Protestantism by the mere force
of armies. He could count the physical resources of the people, but he
could not estimate the degree of their resistance when animated by the
spirit of liberty or religion. Providence, too, takes care of those
who strive to take care of themselves. A great leader appeared among
the suffering Hollanders, almost driven to despair--the celebrated
William of Nassau, Prince of Orange. He appeared as the champion of
the oppressed and insulted people; they rallied around his standard,
fought with desperate bravery, opened the dikes upon their cultivated
fields, expelled their invaders, and laid the foundation of their
liberties. But they could not have withstood the gigantic power of the
Spanish monarchy, then in the fulness of its strength, and the most
powerful in Europe, had it not been for aid rendered by Elizabeth. She
compassionated their sufferings, and had respect for their cause. She
entered into an alliance, defensive and offensive, and the Netherlands
became the great theatre of war, even after they had thrown off the
Spanish yoke. Although the United Provinces in the end obtained their
liberty, they suffered incredible hardships, and lost some of the
finest of their cities, Antwerp among the rest, long the rival of
Amsterdam, and the scene of Rubens's labors.

[Sidenote: Military Preparations of Philip II.]

The assistance which Elizabeth rendered to the Hollanders, of course,
provoked the resentment of Philip II., and this was increased by the
legalized piracies of Sir Francis Drake, in the West Indies, and on
the coasts of South America. This commander, in time of peace,
insisted on a right to visit those ports which the Spaniards had
closed, which, by the law of nations, is piracy. Philip, according to
all political maxims, was forced to declare war with England, and he
made immense preparations to subdue it. But the preparations of
Elizabeth to resist the powerful monarch were also great, and Drake
performed brilliant exploits on the sea, among other things,
destroying one hundred ships in the Bay of Cadiz, and taking immense
spoil. The preparations of the Spanish monarch were made on such a
gigantic scale, that Elizabeth summoned a great council of war to meet
the emergency, at which the all-accomplished Sir Walter Raleigh took a
leading part. His advice was to meet the Spaniards on the sea.
Although the royal navy consisted, at this time, of only thirty-six
sail, such vigorous measures were prosecuted, that one hundred and
ninety-one ships were collected, manned by seventeen thousand four
hundred seamen. The merchants of London granted thirty ships and ten
thousand men, and all England was aroused to meet the expected danger.
Never was patriotism more signally evinced, never were more decisive
proofs given of the popularity of a sovereign. Indeed, Elizabeth was
always popular with the nation; and with all her ceremony, and state,
and rudeness to the commons, and with all their apparent servility,
she never violated the laws, or irritated the people by oppressive
exactions. Many acts of the Tudor princes seem to indicate the reign
of despotism in England, but this despotism was never grievous, and
had all the benignity of a paternal government. Capricious and
arbitrary as Elizabeth was, in regard to some unfortunate individuals
who provoked her hatred or her jealousy, still she ever sedulously
guarded the interests of the nation, and listened to the counsel of
patriotic and able ministers. When England was threatened with a
Spanish invasion, there was not a corner of the land which did not
rise to protect a beloved sovereign; nor was there a single spot,
where a landing might be effected, around which an army of twenty
thousand could not be rallied in forty-eight hours.

[Sidenote: Spanish Armada.]

But Philip, nevertheless, expected the complete conquest of England;
and, as his "Invincible Armada" of one hundred and thirty ships, left
the mouth of the Tagus, commanded by Medina Sidonia, and manned by the
noblest troops of Spain, he fancied his hour of triumph was at hand.
But his hopes proved dreams, like most of the ambitious designs of
men. The armada met with nothing but misfortunes, both from battle and
from storms. Only fifty ships returned to Spain. An immense booty was
divided among the English sailors, and Elizabeth sent, in her turn, a
large fleet to Spain, the following year, (1589,) under the command of
Drake, which, after burning a few towns, returned ingloriously to
England, with a loss of ten thousand men. The war was continued with
various success till 1598, when a peace was negotiated. The same year,
died Philip II., and Lord Burleigh, who, for forty years, directed the
councils of Elizabeth, and to whose voice she ever listened, even when
opposed by such favorites as Leicester and Essex. Burleigh was not a
great genius, but was a man admirably adapted to his station and his
times,--was cool, sagacious, politic, and pacific, skilful in the
details of business competent to advise, but not aspiring to command.
He was splendidly rewarded for his services, and left behind him three
hundred distinct landed estates.

[Sidenote: Irish Rebellion.]

Meanwhile the attention of the queen was directed to the affairs of
Ireland, which had been conquered by Henry II. in the year 1170, but
over which only an imperfect sovereignty had been exercised. The Irish
princes and nobles, divided among themselves, paid the exterior marks
of obedience, but kept the country in a constant state of
insurrection.

The impolitic and romantic projects of the English princes for
subduing France, prevented a due attention to Ireland, ever miserably
governed. Elizabeth was the first of the English sovereigns to
perceive the political importance of this island, and the necessity
for the establishment of law and order. Besides furnishing governors
of great capacity, she founded the university of Dublin, and attempted
to civilize the half-barbarous people. Unfortunately, she also sought
to make them Protestants, against their will, which laid the
foundation of many subsequent troubles, not yet removed. A spirit of
discontent pervaded the country, and the people were ready for
rebellion. Hugh O'Neale, the head of a powerful clan, and who had been
raised to the dignity of Earl of Tyrone, yet attached to the barbarous
license in which he had been early trained, fomented the popular
discontents, and excited a dangerous rebellion. Hostilities, of the
most sanguinary character, commenced. The queen sent over her
favorite, the Earl of Essex, with an army of twenty thousand men, to
crush the rebellion. He was a brave commander, but was totally
unacquainted with the country and the people he was expected to
subdue, and was, consequently, unsuccessful. But his successor, Lord
Mountjoy, succeeded in restoring the queen's authority, though at the
cost of four millions and a half, an immense sum in that age, while
poor Ireland was devastated with fire and sword, and suffered every
aggravation of accumulated calamities.

[Sidenote: The Earl of Essex.]

Meanwhile, Essex, who had returned to England against the queen's
orders, was treated with coldness, deprived of his employments, and
sentenced to be confined. This was more than the haughty favorite
could bear, accustomed as he had been to royal favor. At first, he
acquiesced in his punishment, with every mark of penitence, and
Elizabeth was beginning to relax in her severity for she never
intended to ruin him; but he soon gave vent to his violent temper,
indulged in great liberties of speech, and threw off all appearance of
duty and respect. He even engaged in treasonable designs, encouraged
Roman Catholics at his house, and corresponded with James VI. of
Scotland about his succession. His proceedings were discovered, and he
was summoned before the privy council. Instead of obedience, he armed
himself and his followers, and, in conjunction with some discontented
nobles, and about three hundred gentlemen, attempted to excite an
insurrection in London, where he was very popular with the citizens.
He was captured and committed to the Tower, with the Earl of
Southampton. These rash but brave noblemen were tried by their peers,
and condemned as guilty of high treason. In this trial, the celebrated
Bacon appeared against his old patron, and likened him to the Duke of
Guise. The great lawyer Coke, who was attorney-general, compared him
to Catiline.

Essex disdained to sue the queen for a pardon, and was privately
beheaded in the Tower. He merited his fate, if the offence of which he
was guilty deserved such a punishment. It is impossible not to be
interested in the fate of a man so brave, high-spirited, and generous,
the idol of the people, and the victor in so many enterprises. Some
historians maintain that Elizabeth relented, and would have saved her
favorite, had he only implored her clemency; but this statement is
denied by others; nor have we any evidence to believe that Essex,
caught with arms against the sovereign who had honored him, could have
averted his fate.

Elizabeth may have wept for the death of the nobleman she had loved.
It is certain that, after his death, she never regained her spirits,
and that a deep melancholy was visible in her countenance. All her
actions showed a deeply-settled inward grief, and that she longed for
death, having tasted the unsubstantial nature of human greatness. She
survived the execution of Essex two years, but lived long enough to
see the neglect into which she was every day falling, and to feel
that, in spite of all her glory and power, she was not exempted from
drinking the cup of bitterness.

[Sidenote: Character of Elizabeth.]

Whatever unamiable qualities she evinced as a woman, in spite of her
vanity, and jealousy, and imperious temper, her reign was one of the
most glorious in the annals of her country. The policy of Burleigh was
the policy of Sir Robert Walpole--that of peace, and a desire to
increase the resources of the kingdom. Her taxes were never
oppressive, and were raised without murmur; the people were loyal and
contented; the Protestant religion was established on a firm
foundation; and a constellation of great men shed around her throne
the bright rays of immortal genius.

The most unhappy peculiarity of her reign was the persecution of the
Non-conformists, which, if not sanguinary, was irritating and severe.
For some time after the accession of Elizabeth, the Puritans were
permitted to indulge in their peculiarities, without being excluded
from the established church; but when Elizabeth felt herself secure,
then they were obliged to conform, or suffered imprisonment, fines,
and other punishments. The original difficulty was their repugnance to
the surplice, and to some few forms of worship, which gradually
extended to an opposition to the order of bishops; to the temporal
dignities of the church; to the various titles of the hierarchy; to
the jurisdiction of the spiritual courts; to the promiscuous access of
all persons to the communion table; to the liturgy; to the observance
of holydays; to the cathedral worship; to the use of organs; to the
presentation of living by patrons; and finally, to some of the
doctrines of the established church. The separation of the Puritans
from the Episcopal church, took place in 1566; and, from that time to
the death of Elizabeth, they enjoyed no peace, although they sought
redress in the most respectful manner, and raised no opposition to the
royal authority. Thousands were ejected from their livings, and
otherwise punished, for not conforming to the royal conscience. But
persecution and penal laws fanned a fanatical spirit, which, in the
reign of Charles, burst out into a destructive flame, and spread
devastation and ruin through all parts of the kingdom.

If the queen and her ministers did not understand the principles of
religious toleration, they pursued a much more enlightened policy in
regard to all financial and political subjects, than during any former
reign. The commercial importance of England received a new impulse.
The reign of Henry VIII. was a reign of spoliation. The king was
enriched beyond all former precedent, but his riches did not keep pace
with his spendthrift habits. The value of the abbey lands which Henry
seized amounted, a century after his death, to six million pounds. The
lands of the abbey of St. Alban's alone rented for two hundred
thousand pounds. The king debased the coin, confiscated chapels and
colleges, as well as monasteries, and raised money by embargoes,
monopolies, and compulsory loans.

[Sidenote: Improvements Made in the Reign of Elizabeth.]

But Elizabeth, instead of contracting debts, paid off the old ones,
restored the coin to its purity, and was content with an annual
revenue of five hundred thousand pounds, even at a time when the
rebellion in Ireland cost her four hundred thousand pounds. Her
frugality equalled the rapacity of her father, and she was extravagant
only in dress, and on great occasions of public rejoicings. But her
economy was a small matter compared with the wise laws which were
passed respecting the trade of the country, by which commercial
industry began to characterize the people. Improvements in navigation
followed, and also maritime discoveries and colonial settlements. Sir
Francis Drake circumnavigated the globe, and the East India Company
was formed. Under the auspices of Sir Walter Raleigh, Virginia was
discovered and colonized. Unfortunately, also, the African slave trade
commenced--a traffic which has been productive of more human misery,
and led to more disastrous political evils, than can be traced to any
other event in the history of modern times.

During this reign, the houses of the people became more comfortable;
chimneys began to be used; pewter dishes took the place of wooden
trenchers, and wheat was substituted for rye and barley; linen and
woollen cloth was manufactured; salads, cabbages, gooseberries,
apricots, pippins, currants, cherries, plums, carnations, and the
damask rose were cultivated, for the first time. But the great glory
of this reign was the revival of literature and science. Raleigh, "the
soldier, the sailor, the scholar, the philosopher, the poet, the
orator, the historian, the courtier," then, adorned the court, and the
prince of poets, the immortal Shakspeare, then wrote those plays,
which, for moral wisdom and knowledge of the human soul, appear to us
almost to be dictated by the voice of inspiration. The prince of
philosophers too, the great miner and sapper of the false systems of
the middle ages, Francis Bacon, then commenced his career, and Spenser
dedicated to Elizabeth his "Fairy Queen," one of the most truly
poetical compositions that genius ever produced. The age produced also
great divines; but these did not occupy so prominent a place in the
nation's eye as during the succeeding reigns.

[Sidenote: Reflections.]

While the virgin queen was exercising so benign an influence on the
English nation, great events, though not disconnected with English
politics, were taking place on the continent. The most remarkable of
these was the persecution of the Huguenots. The rise and fortunes of
this sect, during the reigns of Henry II., Francis II., Charles IX.,
Henry III., and Henry IV., now demand our attention. If a newspaper
had, in that age, been conducted upon the principles it now is, the
sufferings of the Huguenots would always be noticed. It is our
province to describe just what a modern newspaper would have alluded
to, had it been printed three hundred years ago. It would not have
been filled with genealogies of kings, but with descriptions of great
popular movements. And this is history.

       *       *       *       *       *

     REFERENCES.--For the history of this reign, see Hume,
     Lingard, and Hallam; Miss Strickland's Queens of England;
     Life of Mary, Queen of Scots; M'Crie's Life of Knox;
     Robertson's History of Scotland; Macaulay's Essay on Nares's
     Life of Burleigh; Life of Sir Walter Raleigh; Neale's
     History of the Puritans. Kenilworth may also be profitably
     read.




CHAPTER VII.

FRANCIS II., CHARLES IX., HENRY III., AND HENRY IV.


The history of France, from the death of Francis I. to the accession
of Henry IV. is virtually the history of religious contentions and
persecutions, and of those civil wars which grew out of them. The
Huguenotic contest, then, is a great historical subject, and will be
presented in connection with the history of France, until the death of
Henry IV., the greatest of the French monarchs, and long the
illustrious head of the Protestant party.

The reform doctrines first began to spread in France during the reign
of Francis I. As early as 1523, he became a persecutor, and burned
many at the stake, among whom the descendants of the Waldenses were
the most numerous. In 1540, sentence was pronounced against them by
the parliament of Aix. Their doctrines were the same in substance as
those of the Swiss reformers.

While this persecution was raging, John Calvin fled from France to
Ferrara, from which city he proceeded to Geneva. This was in the year
1536, when his theological career commenced by the publication of his
Institutes, which were dedicated to Francis I., one of the most
masterly theological works ever written, although compended from the
writings of Augustine. The Institutes of Calvin, the great text-book
of the Swiss and French reformers, were distasteful to the French
king, and he gave fresh order for the persecution of the Protestants.
Notwithstanding the hostility of Francis, the new doctrines spread,
and were embraced by some of the most distinguished of the French
nobility. The violence of persecution was not much arrested during the
reign of Henry II., and, through the influence of the Cardinal of
Lorraine, the inquisition was established in the kingdom.

[Sidenote: Catharine de Medicis.]

The wife of Henry II. was the celebrated Catharine de Medicis; and she
was bitterly opposed to the reform doctrines, and incited her husband
to the most cruel atrocities. Francis II. continued the persecution,
and his mother, Catharine, became virtually the ruler of the nation.

The power of the queen mother was much increased when Francis II.
died, and when his brother, Charles IX., a boy of nine years of age,
succeeded to the French crown. She exercised her power by the most
unsparing religious persecution recorded in the history of modern
Europe. There had been some hope that Protestantism would be
established in France; but it did not succeed, owing to the violence
of the persecution. It made, however, a desperate struggle before it
was overcome.

At the head of the Catholic party were the queen regent, the Cardinal
of Lorraine, the Duke of Guise, his brother, and the Constable
Montmorency. They had the support of the priesthood, of the Spaniards,
and a great majority of the nation.

The Protestants were headed by the King of Navarre, father of
Henry IV., the Prince of Condé, his brother, and Admiral Coligny; and
they had the sympathy of the university, the parliaments, and the
Protestants of Germany and England.

[Sidenote: Civil War in France.]

Between these parties a struggle lasted for forty years, with various
success. Persecution provoked resistance, but resistance did not lead
to liberty. Civil war in France did not secure the object sought.
Still the Protestants had hope, and, as they could always assemble a
large army, they maintained their ground. Their conduct was not marked
by the religious earnestness which characterized the Puritans, or by
the same strength of religious principle. Moreover, political motives
were mingled with religious. The contest was a struggle for the
ascendency of rival chiefs, as well as for the establishment of
reformed doctrines. The Bourbons hated the Guises, and the Guises
resolved to destroy the Bourbons. In the course of their rivalry and
warfare, the Duke of Guise was assassinated, and the King of Navarre,
as well as the Prince of Condé, were killed.

Charles IX. was fourteen years of age when the young king of
Navarre,--at that time sixteen years of age,--and his cousin, the
Prince of Condé, became the acknowledged heads of the Protestant
party. Their education was learned in the camp and the field of
battle.

Charles IX., under the influence of his hateful mother, finding that
civil war only destroyed the resources of the country, without
weakening the Protestants, made peace, but formed a plan for their
extermination by treachery. In order to cover his designs he gave his
sister, Margaret de Valois, in marriage to the King of Navarre, first
prince of the blood, then nineteen years of age. Admiral Coligny was
invited to Paris, and treated with distinguished courtesy.

[Sidenote: Massacre of St. Bartholomew.]

It was during the festivities which succeeded the marriage of the King
of Navarre that Coligny was murdered, and the signal for the horrid
slaughter of St. Bartholomew was given. At midnight, August 23, 1572,
the great bell at the Hotel de Ville began to toll; torches were
placed in the windows, chains were drawn across the streets, and armed
bodies collected around the hotels. The doors of the houses were
broken open, and neither age, condition, nor sex was spared, of such
as were not distinguished by a white cross in the hat. The massacre at
Paris was followed by one equally brutal in the provinces. Seventy
thousand people were slain in cold blood. The King of Navarre and the
Prince of Condé only escaped in consequence of their relationship with
the king, and by renouncing the Protestant religion.

Most of the European courts expressed their detestation of this
foulest crime in the history of religious bigotry; but the pope went
in grand procession to his cathedral, and ordered a _Te Deum_ to be
sung in commemoration of an event which steeped his cause in infamy to
the end of time.

The Protestants, though nearly exterminated, again rallied, and the
King of Navarre and his cousin the Prince of Condé escaped, renounced
the religion which had been forced on them by fear of death, and
prosecuted a bloody civil war, with the firm resolution of never
abandoning it until religious liberty was guarantied.

Meanwhile, Charles IX. died, as it was supposed, by poison. His last
hours were wretched, and his remorse for the massacre of St.
Bartholomew filled his soul with agony. He beheld spectres, and
dreamed horrid dreams; his imagination constantly saw heaps of livid
bodies, and his ears were assailed with imaginary groans. He became
melancholy and ferocious, while his kingdom became the prey of
factions and insurrections. But he was a timid and irresolute king,
and was but the tool of his infamous mother, the grand patroness of
assassins, against whom, on his death bed, he cautioned the king of
Navarre.

[Sidenote: Henry III.--Henry IV.]

He was succeeded by his brother, the King of Poland, under the title
of Henry III. The persecutions of the Huguenots were renewed, and the
old scenes of treachery, assassination, and war were acted over again.
The cause of religion was lost sight of in the labyrinth of
contentions, jealousies, and plots. Intrigues and factions were
endless. Nearly all the leaders, on both sides, perished by the sword
or the dagger. The Prince of Condé, the Duke of Guise, and his
brother, the Cardinal of Lorraine, were assassinated. Shortly after,
died the chief mover of all the troubles, Catharine de Medicis, a
woman of talents and persuasive eloquence, but of most unprincipled
ambition, perfidious, cruel, and dissolute. She encouraged the
licentiousness of the court, and even the worst vices of her sons,
that she might make them subservient to her designs. All her passions
were subordinate to her calculations of policy, and every womanly
virtue was suppressed by the desire of wielding a government which she
usurped.

Henry III. soon followed her to the grave, being, in turn,
assassinated by a religious fanatic. His death (1589) secured the
throne to the king of Navarre, who took the title of Henry IV.

Henry IV., the first of the Bourbon line, was descended from Robert,
the sixth son of St. Louis, who had married the daughter and heiress
of John of Burgundy and Agnes of Bourbon. He was thirty-six years of
age when he became king, and had passed through great experiences and
many sorrows. Thus far he had contended for Protestant opinions, and
was the acknowledged leader of the Protestant party in France. But a
life of contention and bloodshed, and the new career opened to him as
king of France, cooled his religious ardor, and he did not hesitate to
accept the condition which the French nobles imposed, before they
would take the oaths of allegiance. This was, that he should abjure
Protestantism. "My kingdom," said he, "is well worth a mass." It will
be ever laid to his reproach, by the Protestants, that he renounced
his religion for worldly elevation. Nor is it easy to exculpate him on
the highest principles of moral integrity. But there were many
palliations for his conduct, which it is not now easy to appreciate.
It is well known that the illustrious Sully, his prime minister, and,
through life, a zealous Protestant, approved of his course. It was
certainly clear that, without becoming a Catholic, he never could
peaceably enjoy his crown, and France would be rent, for another
generation, by those civil wars which none lamented more than Henry
himself. Besides, four fifths of the population were Catholics, and
the Protestants could not reasonably expect to gain the ascendency.
All they could expect was religious toleration, and this Henry was
willing to grant. It should also be considered that the king, though
he professed the reform doctrines, was never what may be called a
religious man, being devoted to pleasure, and to schemes of ambition.
It is true he understood and consulted the interests of his kingdom,
and strove to make his subjects happy. Herein consists his excellence.
As a magnanimous, liberal-minded, and enterprising man, he surpassed
all the French kings. But it is ridiculous to call him a religious
man, or even strongly fixed in his religious opinions. "Do you," said
the king to a great Protestant divine, "believe that a man may be
saved by the Catholic religion?" "Undoubtedly," replied the clergyman,
"if his life and heart be holy." "Then," said the king, "prudence
dictates that I embrace the Catholic religion, and not yours; for, in
that case, according to both Catholics and Protestants, I may be
saved; but, if I embrace your religion, I shall not be saved,
according to the Catholics."

But the king's conversion to Catholicism did not immediately result in
the tranquillity of the distracted country. The Catholics would not
believe in his sincerity, and many battles had to be fought before he
was in peaceable enjoyment of his throne. But there is nothing so
hateful as civil war, especially to the inhabitants of great cities;
and Paris, at last, and the chief places in the kingdom, acknowledged
his sway. The king of Spain, the great Catholic prelates, and the
pope, finally perceived how hopeless was the struggle against a man of
great military experience, with a devoted army and an enthusiastic
capital on his side.

The peace of Verviens, in 1598, left the king without foreign or
domestic enemies. From that period to his death, his life was devoted
to the welfare of his country.

[Sidenote: Edict of Nantes.]

His first act was the celebrated Edict of Nantes, by which the
Huguenots had quiet and undisturbed residence, the free exercise of
their religion, and public worship, except in the court, the army, and
within five leagues of Paris. They were eligible to all offices, civil
and military; and all public prosecutions, on account of religion,
were dropped. This edict also promulgated a general amnesty for
political offences, and restored property and titles, as before the
war; but the Protestants were prohibited from printing controversial
books, and were compelled to pay tithes to the established clergy.

Henry IV., considering the obstacles with which he had to contend, was
the greatest general of the age; but it is his efforts in civilization
which entitle him to his epithet of _Great_.

[Sidenote: Improvements during the Reign of Henry IV.]

The first thing which demanded his attention, as a civil ruler, was
the settlement of the finances--ever the leading cause of troubles
with the French government. These were intrusted to the care of Rosny,
afterward Duke of Sully, the most able and upright of all French
financiers--a man of remarkable probity and elevation of sentiment. He
ever continued to be the minister and the confidant of the king, and
maintained his position without subserviency or flattery, almost the
only man on the records of history who could tell, with impunity,
wholesome truths to an absolute monarch. So wise were his financial
arrangements, that a debt of three hundred million of livres was paid
off in eight years. In five years, the taxes were reduced one half,
the crown lands redeemed, the arsenals stored, the fortifications
rebuilt, churches erected, canals dug, and improvements made in every
part of the kingdom. On the death of the king, he had in his treasury
nearly fifty millions of livres. Under the direction of this able
minister, the laws were enforced, robbery and vagrancy were nearly
stopped, and agriculture received a great impulse. But economy was the
order of the day. The king himself set an illustrious example, and
even dressed in gray cloth, with a doublet of taffeta, without
embroidery, dispensed with all superfluity at his table, and dismissed
all useless servants.

The management and economy of the king enabled him to make great
improvements, besides settling the deranged finances of the kingdom.
He built innumerable churches, bridges, convents, hospitals,
fortresses, and ships. Some of the finest palaces which adorn Paris
were erected by him. He was also the patron of learning, the benefits
of which he appreciated. He himself was well acquainted with the
writings of the ancients. He was particularly fond of the society of
the learned, with whom he conversed with freedom and affability. He
increased the libraries, opened public schools, and invited
distinguished foreigners to Paris, and rewarded them with stipends.
Lipsius, Scaliger, and De Thou, were the ornaments of his court.

And his tender regard to the happiness and welfare of his subjects was
as marked as his generous appreciation of literature and science. It
was his ambition to be the father of his people; and his memorable
saying, "Yes, I will so manage matters that the poorest peasant in my
kingdom may eat meat each day in the week, and, moreover, be enabled
to put a fowl in the pot on a Sunday," has alone embalmed his memory
in the affections of the French nation, who, of all their monarchs,
are most partial to Henry IV.

[Sidenote: Peace Scheme of Henry IV.]

But this excellent king was also a philanthropist, and cherished the
most enlightened views as to those subjects on which rests the
happiness of nations. Though a warrior, the preservation of a lasting
peace was the great idea of his life. He was even visionary in his
projects to do good; for he imagined it was possible to convince
monarchs that they ought to prefer purity, peace, and benevolence, to
ambition and war. Hence, he proposed to establish a Congress of
Nations, chosen from the various states of Europe, to whom all
international difficulties should be referred, with power to settle
them--a very desirable object, the most so conceivable; for war is the
greatest of all national calamities and crimes. The scheme of the
enlightened Henry, however, did not attract much attention; and, even
had it been encouraged, would have been set aside in the next
generation. What would such men as Frederic the Great, or Marlborough,
or Louis XIV., or Napoleon have cared for such an object? But Henry,
in his scheme, also had in view the regulation of such forces as the
European monarchs should sustain, and this arose from his desire to
preserve the "Balance of Power"--the great object of European
politicians in these latter times.

[Sidenote: Death of Henry IV.]

But Henry was not permitted, by Providence, to prosecute his
benevolent designs. He was assassinated by a man whom he had never
injured--by the most unscrupulous of all misguided men--a religious
bigot. The Jesuit Ravaillac, in a mood, as it is to be hoped,
bordering on madness, perpetrated the foul deed. But Henry only
suffered the fate of nearly all the distinguished actors in those
civil and religious contentions which desolated France for forty
years. He died in 1610, at the age of fifty-seven, having reigned
twenty-one years, nine of which were spent in uninterrupted warfare.

By his death the kingdom was thrown into deep and undissembled
mourning. Many fell speechless in the streets when the intelligence of
his assassination was known; others died from excess of grief. All
felt that they had lost more than a father, and nothing was
anticipated but storms and commotions.

He left no children by his wife, Margaret de Valois, who proved
inconstant, and from whom he was separated. By his second wife, Mary
de Medicis, he had three children, the oldest of whom was a child when
he ascended the throne, by the title of Louis XIII. His daughter,
Henrietta, married Charles I. of England.

Though great advances were made in France during this reign, it was
still far from that state of civilization which it attained a century
afterwards. It contained about fifteen million of inhabitants, and
Paris about one hundred and fifty thousand. The nobles were numerous
and powerful, and engrossed the wealth of the nation. The people were
not exactly slaves, but were reduced to great dependence, were
uneducated, degraded, and enjoyed but few political or social
privileges. They were oppressed by the government, by the nobles, and
by the clergy.

The highest official dignitary was the constable, the second the
keeper of the seals, the third the chamberlain, then the six or eight
marshals, then the secretary of state, then gentlemen of the
household, and military commanders. The king was nearly absolute. The
parliament was a judicial tribunal, which did not enact laws, but
which registered the edicts of the king.

Commerce and manufactures were extremely limited, and far from
flourishing; and the arts were in an infant state. Architecture, the
only art in which half-civilized nations have excelled, was the most
advanced, and was displayed in the churches and royal palaces. Paris
was crowded with uncomfortable houses, and the narrow streets were
favorable to tumult as well as pestilence. Tapestry was the most
common and the most expensive of the arts, and the hangings, in a
single room, often reached a sum which would be equal, in these times,
to one hundred thousand dollars. The floors of the palaces were spread
with Turkey carpets. Chairs were used only in kings' palaces, and
carriages were but just introduced, and were clumsy and awkward. Mules
were chiefly used in travelling, the horses being reserved for war.
Dress, especially of females, was gorgeous and extravagant; false
hair, masks, trailed petticoats, and cork heels ten inches high, were
some of the peculiarities. The French then, as now, were fond of the
pleasures of the table, and the hour for dinner was eleven o'clock.
Morals were extremely low, and gaming was a universal passion, in
which Henry IV. himself extravagantly indulged. The advice of
Catharine de Medicis to her son Charles IX. showed her knowledge of
the French character, even as it exists now: "Twice a week give public
assemblies, for the specific secret of the French government is, to
keep the people always cheerful; for they are so restless you must
occupy them, during peace, either with business or amusement, or else
they will involve you in trouble."

[Sidenote: France at the Death of Henry IV.]

Such was France, at the death of Henry IV., 1610, one of the largest
and most powerful of the European kingdoms, though far from the
greatness it was destined afterwards to attain.

A more powerful monarchy, at this period, was Spain. As this kingdom
was then in the zenith of its power and glory, we will take a brief
survey of it during the reign of Philip II., the successor of
Charles V., a person to whom we have often referred. With his reign
are closely connected the struggles of the Hollanders to secure their
civil and religious independence. The Low Countries were provinces of
Spain, and therefore to be considered in connection with Spanish
history.

       *       *       *       *       *

     REFERENCES.--For a knowledge of France during the reign of
     Henry IV., see James's History of Henry IV.; James's Life of
     Condé; History of the Huguenots. Rankin's and Crowe's
     Histories of France are the best in English, but far
     inferior to Sismondi's, Millot's, and Lacretelle's. Sully's
     Memoirs throw considerable light on this period, and Dumas's
     Margaret de Valois may be read with profit.




CHAPTER VIII.

PHILIP II. AND THE AUSTRIAN PRINCES OF SPAIN.


[Sidenote: Bigotry of Philip II.]

Spain cannot be said to have been a powerful state until the reign of
Ferdinand and Isabella; when the crowns of Castile and Arragon were
united, and when the discoveries of Columbus added a new world to
their extensive territories. Nor, during the reign of Ferdinand and
Isabella, was the power of the crown as absolute as during the sway of
the Austrian princes. The nobles were animated by a bold and free
spirit, and the clergy dared to resist the encroachments of royalty,
and even the usurpations of Rome. Charles V. succeeded in suppressing
the power of the nobles, and all insurrections of the people, and laid
the foundation for the power of his gloomy son, Philip II. With Philip
commenced the grandeur of the Spanish monarchy. By him, also, were
sown the seeds of its subsequent decay. Under him, the inquisition was
disgraced by ten thousand enormities, Holland was overrun by the Duke
of Alva, and America conquered by Cortes and Pizarro. It was he who
built the gorgeous palaces of Spain, and who, with his Invincible
Armada, meditated the conquest of England. The wealth of the Indies
flowed into the royal treasury, and also enriched all orders and
classes. Silver and gold became as plenty at Madrid as in old times at
Jerusalem under the reign of Solomon. But Philip was a different
prince from Solomon. His talents and attainments were respectable, but
he had a jealous and selfish disposition, and exerted all the energies
of his mind, and all the resources of his kingdom, to crush the
Protestant religion and the liberties of Europe.

Among the first acts of his reign was the effort to extinguish
Protestantism in the Netherlands, an assemblage of seigniories, under
various titles, subject to his authority. The opinions of Luther and
Calvin made great progress in this country, and Philip, in order to
repress them, created new bishops, and established the Inquisition.
The people protested, and these protests were considered as
rebellious.

[Sidenote: Revolt of the Netherlands.]

At the head of the nobility was William, the Prince of Orange, on whom
Philip had conferred the government of Holland, Zealand, Friesland,
and Utrecht, provinces of the Netherlands. He was a haughty but
resolute and courageous character, and had adopted the opinions of
Calvin, for which he lost the confidence of Philip. In the prospect of
destruction, he embraced the resolution of delivering his country from
the yoke of a merciless and bigoted master. Having reduced the most
important garrisons of Holland and Zealand, he was proclaimed
stadtholder, and openly threw off his allegiance to Spain.
Hostilities, of course, commenced. Alva, the general of Philip, took
the old city of Haerlem, and put fifteen hundred to the sword, among
whom were all the magistrates, and all the Protestant clergy.

Don John, Archduke of Austria, and the brother of Philip, succeeded
the Duke of Alva, during whose administration the seven United
Provinces formed themselves into a confederation, and chose the Prince
of Orange to be the general of their armies, admiral of their fleets,
and chief magistrate, by the title of _stadtholder_. But William was
soon after assassinated by a wretch who had been bribed by the
exasperated Philip, and Maurice, his son, received his title,
dignities, and power. His military talents, as the antagonist of the
Duke of Parma, lieutenant to Philip, in the Netherlands, secured him a
high place in the estimation of warriors. To protect this prince and
the infant republic of Holland, Queen Elizabeth sent four thousand men
under the Earl of Leicester, her favorite; and, with this assistance,
the Hollanders maintained their ground against the most powerful
monarch in Europe, as has been already mentioned in the chapter on
Elizabeth.

After the loss of the Netherlands, the next great event of his reign
was the acquisition of Portugal, to which he laid claim on the death
of Don Henry, in 1581. There were several other claimants, but Philip,
with an army of twenty thousand, was stronger than any of the others.
He gained a decisive victory over Don Antonio, uncle to the last
monarch, and was crowned at Lisbon without opposition.

[Sidenote: Revolt of the Moriscoes.]

The revolt of the Moriscoes occupies a prominent place in the annals
of this reign. They were Christianized Moors, but, at heart,
Mohammedans. A decree had been published that their children should
frequent the Christian church, that the Arabic should no longer be
used in writing, that both men and women should wear the Spanish
costume, that they no longer should receive Mohammedan names, or marry
without permission. The Moriscoes contended that no particular dress
involved religious opinions, that the women used the veil according to
their notions of modesty, that the use of their own language was no
sin, and that baths were used, not from religious motives, but for the
sake of cleanliness. These expostulations were, however, without
effect. Nothing could move the bigoted king. So revolt followed
cruelty and oppression. Great excesses were committed by both parties,
and most horrible barbarities were exhibited. The atrocious nature of
civil war is ever the same, and presents nearly the same undeviating
picture of misery and crime. But in this war there was something
fiendish. A clergyman was roasted over a brazier, and the women,
wearied with his protracted death, despatched him with their needles
and knives. The rebels ridiculed the sacrifice of the mass by
slaughtering a pig on the high altar of a church. These insults were
retaliated with that cruelty which Spanish bigotry and malice know so
well how to inflict. Thousands of defenceless women and children were
murdered in violation of the most solemn treaties. The whole Moorish
population was finally exterminated, and Granada, with its beautiful
mountains and fertile valleys, was made a desert. No less than six
hundred thousand were driven to Africa--an act of great impolicy,
since the Moriscoes were the most ingenious and industrious part of
the population; and their exile contributed to undermine that national
prosperity in which, at that day, every Spaniard gloried. But
destruction ever succeeds pride: infatuation and blindness are the
attendants of despotism.

The destruction of the Spanish Armada, and the losses which the
Spaniards suffered from Sir Francis Drake and Admiral Hawkins, have
already been mentioned. But the pride of Philip was mortified, rather
than that his power was diminished. His ambition received a check, and
he found it impossible to conquer England. His finances, too, became
deranged; still he remained the absolute master of the richest kingdom
in the world.

[Sidenote: Causes of Decline of the Spanish Monarchy.]

The decline of the Spanish monarchy dates from his death which took
place in his magnificent palace of the Escurial, in 1598. Under his
son Philip III., decline became very marked, and future ruin could be
predicted.

The principal cause of the decline of prosperity was the great
increase of the clergy, and the extent of their wealth. In the Spanish
dominions, which included Spain, Naples, Milan, Parma, Sicily,
Sardinia, the Netherlands, Portugal, and the Indies, there were
fifty-four archbishops, six hundred and eighty-four bishops, seven
thousand hospitals, one hundred thousand abbeys and nunneries, six
hundred thousand monks, and three hundred and ten thousand secular
priests--a priest to every ten families. Almost every village had a
monastery. The diocese of Seville had fourteen thousand priests,
nearly the present number of all the clergy of the establishment in
England. The cathedral of Seville gave support and occupation to one
hundred priests.

And this numerous clergy usurped the power and dignities of the state.
They also encouraged that frightful inquisition, the very name of
which conjures up the most horrid images of death and torture. This
institution, committed to the care of Dominican monks, was instituted
to put down heresy; that is, every thing in poetry, philosophy, or
religion, which was distasteful to the despots of the human mind. The
inquisitors had power to apprehend people even suspected of heresy,
and, on the testimony of two witnesses, could condemn them to torture,
imprisonment, and death. Resistance was vain; complaint was ruin.
Arrests took place suddenly and secretly. Nor had the prisoner a
knowledge of his accusers, or of the crimes of which he was accused.
The most delicate maidens, as well as men of hoary hairs and known
integrity, were subjected to every outrage that human nature could
bear, or satanic ingenuity inflict. Should the jailer take compassion,
and bestow a few crumbs of bread or drops of water, he would be
punished as the greatest of traitors. Even nobles were not exempted
from the supervision of this court, which was established in every
village and town in Portugal and Spain, and which, in the single city
of Toledo, condemned, in one year, seventeen thousand people. This
institution was tolerated by the king, since he knew very well that
there ever exists an intimate union between absolutism in religion and
absolutism in government.

[Sidenote: The Increase of Gold and Silver.]

[Sidenote: Decline of the Spanish Monarchy.]

Besides the spiritual despotism which the clergy of Spain exercised
over a deluded people, but a people naturally of fine elements of
character, the sudden increase of gold and silver led to luxury,
idleness, and degeneracy. Money being abundant, in consequence of the
gold and silver mines of America, the people neglected the cultivation
of those things which money could procure. Then followed a great rise
in the prices of all kinds of provision and clothing. Houses, lands,
and manufactures also soon rose in value. Hence money was delusive,
since, with ten times the increase of specie, there was a
corresponding decrease in those necessaries of life which gold and
silver would purchase. Silver and gold are only the medium of trade,
not the basis of wealth. The real prosperity of a country depends upon
the amount of productive industry. If diamonds were as numerous as
crystals, they would be worth no more than crystals. The sudden influx
of the precious metals into Spain doubtless gave a temporary wealth to
the kingdom; but when habits of industry were lost, and the culture of
the soil was neglected, the gold and silver of the Spaniards were
exchanged for the productive industry of other nations. The Dutch and
the English, whose manufactures and commerce were in a healthy state,
became enriched at their expense. With the loss of substantial wealth,
that is, industry and economy, the Spaniards lost elevation of
sentiment, became cold and proud, followed frivolous pleasures and
amusements, and acquired habits which were ruinous. Plays, pantomimes,
and bull-fights now amused the lazy and pleasure-seeking nation, while
the profligacy of the court had no parallel in Europe, with the
exception of that of France. The country became exhausted by war. The
finances were deranged, and province after province rebelled. Every
where were military reverses, and a decrease of population. Taxes, in
the mean while, increased, and a burdened people lamented in vain
their misfortune and decline. The reign of Philip IV. was the most
disastrous in the annals of the country. The Catalan insurrection, the
loss of Jamaica, the Low Countries, and Portugal, were the results of
his misrule and imbecility. So rapidly did Spain degenerate, that,
upon the close of the Austrian dynasty, with all the natural
advantages of the country, the best harbors and sea-coast in Europe,
the richest soil, and the finest climate, and with the possession of
the Indies also, the people were the poorest, the most ignorant, and
the most helpless in Europe. The death of Charles II., a miserable,
afflicted, superstitious, priest-ridden monarch, left Spain without a
king, and the vacant throne became the prize of any monarch in Europe
who could raise and send across the Pyrenees the largest army. It fell
into the power of Louis XIV., and the Bourbon princes have ever since
in vain attempted the restoration of the broken monarchy to its former
glory. But, alas, Spain has, since the spoliation of the Mexicans and
Peruvians, only a melancholy history--a history of crime, bigotry,
anarchy, and poverty. The Spaniards committed awful crimes in their
lust for gold and silver. "They had their request," but God, in his
retributive justice, "sent leanness into their souls."

       *       *       *       *       *

     For the history of Spain during the Austrian princes, see a
     history in Lardner's Encyclopedia; Watson's Life of
     Philip II.; James's Foreign Statesmen; Schiller's Revolt of
     the Netherlands; Russell's Modern Europe; Prescott's
     Conquest of Mexico and Peru.




CHAPTER IX.

THE JESUITS, AND THE PAPAL POWER IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.


[Sidenote: The Roman Power in the Seventeenth Century.]

During the period we have just been considering, the most marked
peculiarity was, the struggle between Protestantism and Romanism. It
is true that objects of personal ambition also occupied the minds of
princes, and many great events occurred, which were not connected with
the struggles for religious liberty and light. But the great feature
of the age was the insurrection of human intelligence. There was a
spirit of innovation, which nothing could suppress, and this was
directed, in the main, to matters of religion. The conflict was not
between church and state, but between two great factions in each. "No
man asked whether another belonged to the same country as himself, but
whether he belonged to the same sect." Luther, Calvin, Zwingle, Knox,
Cranmer, and Bacon were the great pioneers in this march of
innovation. They wished to explode the ideas of the middle ages, in
philosophy and in religion. They made war upon the Roman Catholic
Church, as the great supporter and defender of old ideas. They
renounced her authority. She summoned her friends and vassals, rallied
all her forces, and, with desperate energy, resolved to put down the
spirit of reform. The struggles of the Protestants in England,
Germany, France, and the Netherlands, alike manifested the same
spirit, were produced by the same causes, and brought forth the same
results. The insurrection was not suppressed.

[Sidenote: Rise of the Jesuits.]

The hostile movements of Rome, for a while, were carried on by armies,
massacres, assassinations, and inquisitions. The duke of Alva's
cruelties in the Netherlands, St. Bartholomew's massacre in France,
inquisitorial tortures in Spain, and Smithfield burnings in England,
illustrate this assertion. But more subtle and artful agents were
required, especially since violence had failed. Men of simple lives,
of undoubted piety, of earnest zeal, and singular disinterestedness to
their cause, arose, and did what the sword and the stake could not
do,--revived Catholicism, and caused a reaction to Protestantism
itself. These men were Jesuits, the most faithful, intrepid, and
successful soldiers that ever enlisted under the banners of Rome. The
rise and fortunes of this order of monks form one of the most
important and interesting chapters in the history of the human race.
Their victories, and the spirit which achieved them, are well worth
our notice. In considering them, it must be borne in mind, that the
Jesuits have exhibited traits so dissimilar and contradictory, that it
is difficult to form a just judgment. While they were achieving their
victories, they appeared in a totally different light from what
distinguished them when they reposed on their laurels. In short, the
_earlier_ and the _latter_ Jesuits were entirely different in their
moral and social aspects, although they had the same external
organization. The principles of their system were always the same. The
men who defended them, at first, were marked by great virtues, but
afterwards were deformed by equally as great vices. It was in the
early days of Jesuitism that the events we have recorded took place.
Hence our notice, at present, will be confined to the Jesuits when
they were worthy of respect, and, in some things, even of admiration.
Their courage, fidelity, zeal, learning, and intrepidity for half a
century, have not been exaggerated.

The founder of the order was Ignatius Loyola, a Spanish gentleman of
noble birth, who first appeared as a soldier at the siege of
Pampeluna, where he was wounded, about the time that Luther was
writing his theses, and disputing about indulgences. He amused
himself, on his sick bed, by reading the lives of the saints. His
enthusiastic mind was affected, and he resolved to pass from worldly
to spiritual knighthood. He became a saint, after the notions of the
age; that is, he fasted, wore sackcloth, lived on roots and herbs,
practised austerities, retired to lonely places, and spent his time in
contemplation and prayer. The people were attracted by his sanctity,
and followed him in crowds. His heart burned to convert heretics; and,
to prepare himself for his mission, he went to the universities, and
devoted himself to study. There he made some distinguished converts,
all of whom afterwards became famous. In his narrow cell, at Paris, he
induced Francis Xavier, Faber, Laynez Bobadilla, and Rodriguez to
embrace his views, and to form themselves into an association, for the
conversion of the world. On the summit of Montmartre, these six young
men, on one star-lit night, took the usual monastic vows of _poverty_,
_chastity_, and _obedience_, and solemnly devoted themselves to their
new mission.

[Sidenote: Rapid Spread of the Jesuit Order.]

They then went to Rome, to induce the pope to constitute them a new
missionary order. But they were ridiculed as fanatics. Moreover, for
several centuries, there had been great opposition in Rome against the
institution of new monastic orders. It was thought that there were
orders enough; that the old should be reformed, not new ones created.
Even St. Dominic and St. Francis had great difficulty in getting their
orders instituted. But Loyola and his companions made extraordinary
offers. They professed their willingness to go wherever the pope
should send them, among Turks, heathens, or heretics, instantly,
without condition, or reward.

How could the pope refuse to license them? His empire was in danger;
Luther was in the midst of his victories; the power of ideas and truth
was shaking to its centre the pontifical throne; all the old orders
had become degenerate and inefficient, and the pope did not know where
to look for efficient support. The venerable Benedictines were
revelling in the wealth of their splendid abbeys, while the Dominicans
and the Franciscans had become itinerant vagabonds, peddling relics
and indulgences, and forgetful of those stern duties and virtues which
originally characterized them. All the monks were inexhaustible
subjects of sarcasm and mockery. They even made scholasticism
ridiculous, and the papal dogmas contemptible. Erasmus laughed at
them, and Luther mocked them. They were sensual, lazy, ignorant, and
corrupt. The pope did not want such soldiers. But the followers of
Loyola were full of ardor, talent, and zeal; willing to do any thing
for a sinking cause; able to do any thing, so far as human will can
avail. And they did not disappoint the pope. Great additions were
made. They increased with marvellous rapidity. The zealous, devout,
and energetic, throughout all ranks in the Catholic church, joined
them. They spread into all lands. They became the confessors of kings,
the teachers of youth, the most popular preachers, the most successful
missionaries. In sixteen years after the scene of Montmartre, Loyola
had established his society in the affections and confidence of
Catholic Europe, against the voice of universities, the fears of
monarchs, and the jealousy of the other monastic orders. In sixteen
years, from the condition of a ridiculed fanatic, whose voice,
however, would have been disregarded a century earlier or later, he
became one of the most powerful dignitaries of the church, influencing
the councils of the Vatican, moving the minds of kings, controlling
the souls of a numerous fraternity, and making his power felt, even in
the courts of Japan and China. Before he died, his spiritual sons had
planted their missionary stations amid Peruvian mines, amid the marts
of the African slave trade, in the islands of the Indian Ocean, and in
the cities of Japan and China. Nay, his followers had secured the most
important chairs in the universities of Europe, and had become
confessors to the most powerful monarchs, teachers in the best schools
of Christendom, and preachers in its principal pulpits. They had
become an organization, instinct with life, endued with energy and
will, and forming a body which could outwatch Argus with his hundred
eyes, and outwork Briareus with his hundred arms. It had forty
thousand eyes open upon every cabinet and private family in Europe,
and forty thousand arms extended over the necks of both sovereigns and
people. It had become a mighty power in the world, inseparably
connected with the education and the religion of the age, the prime
mover of all political affairs, the grand prop of absolute monarchies,
the last hope of the papal hierarchy.

[Sidenote: Rapid Spread of the Jesuits.]

The sudden growth and enormous resources of the "Society of Jesus"
impress us with feelings of amazement and awe. We almost attribute
them to the agency of mysterious powers, and forget the operations of
natural causes. The history of society shows that no body of men ever
obtained a wide-spread ascendency, except by the exercise of
remarkable qualities of mind and heart. And this is the reason why the
Jesuits prospered. When Catholic Europe saw young men, born to fortune
and honors, voluntarily surrendering their rank and goods, devoting
themselves to religious duties, spending their days in hospitals and
schools, wandering, as missionaries, into the most unknown and
dangerous parts of the world, exciting the young to study, making
great attainments in all departments of literature and science, and
shedding a light, wherever they went, by their genius and
disinterestedness, it was natural that they would be received as
preachers, teachers, and confessors. That they were characterized,
during the first fifty years, by such excellencies, has never been
denied. The Jesuit missionary called forth the praises of Baxter, and
the panegyric of Leibnitz. He went forth, without fear, to encounter
the most dreaded dangers. Martyrdom was nothing to him, for he knew
that the altar, which might stream with his blood, would, in after
times, be a cherished monument of his fame, and an impressive emblem
of the power of his religion. Francis Xavier, one of the first
converts of Loyola, a Spaniard of rank, traversed a tract of more than
twice the circumference of the globe, preaching, disputing, and
baptizing, until seventy thousand converts attested the fruits of his
mission. In perils, fastings, and fatigues, was the life of this
remarkable man passed, to convert the heathen world; and his labors
have never been equalled, as a missionary, except by the apostle Paul.
But China and Japan were not the only scenes of the enterprises of
Jesuit missionaries. As early as 1634, they penetrated into Canada,
and, shortly after to the sources of the Mississippi and the prairies
of Illinois. "My companion," said the fearless Marquette, "is an envoy
of France, to discover new countries; but I am an ambassador of God,
to enlighten them with the gospel." But of all the missions of the
Jesuits, those in Paraguay were the most successful. They there
gathered together, in _reductions_, or villages, three hundred
thousand Indians, and these were bound together by a common interest,
were controlled by a paternal authority, taught useful arts, and
trained to enjoy the blessings of civilization. On the distant banks
of the La Plata, while the Spanish colonists were hunting the Mexicans
and Peruvians with bloodhounds, or the English slave traders were
consigning to eternal bondage the unhappy Africans, the Jesuits were
realizing the ideal paradise of More--a Utopia, where no murders or
robberies were committed, and where the blessed flowers of peace and
harmony bloomed in a garden of almost primeval loveliness.

[Sidenote: Extraordinary Virtues of the Older Jesuits.]

In that age, the Jesuit excelled in any work to which he devoted his
attention. He was not only an intrepid missionary, but a most
successful teacher. Into the work of education he entered heart and
soul. He taught gratuitously, without any crabbed harshness, and with
a view to gain the heart. He entered into the feelings of his pupils,
and taught them to subdue their tempers, and avoid quarrels and oaths.
He excited them to enthusiasm, perceived their merits, and rewarded
the successful with presents and favors. Hence the schools of the
Jesuits were the best in Europe, and were highly praised even by the
Protestants. The Jesuits were even more popular as preachers than they
were as teachers; and they were equally prized as confessors. They
were so successful and so respected, that they soon obtained an
ascendency in Europe. Veneration secured wealth, and their
establishments gradually became magnificently endowed. But all their
influence was directed to one single end--to the building up of the
power of the popes, whose obedient servants they were. Can we wonder
that Catholicism should revive?

[Sidenote: The Constitution of the Jesuits.]

Again, their constitution was wonderful, and admirably adapted to the
ends they had in view. Their vows were indeed substantially the same
as those of other monks, but there was among them a more practical
spirit of obedience. All the members were controlled by a single
will--all were passive, instruments in the hands of the general of the
order. He appointed presidents of colleges and of religious houses;
admitted, dismissed, dispensed, and punished at his pleasure. His
power was irresponsible, and for life. From his will there was no
appeal. There were among them many gradations in rank, but each
gradation was a gradation in slavery. The Jesuit was bound to obey
even his own servant, if required by a superior. Obedience was the
soul of the institution, absolute, unconditional, and unreserved--even
the submission of the will, to the entire abnegation of self. The
Jesuit gloried in being made a puppet, a piece of machinery, like a
soldier, if the loss of his intellectual independence would advance
the interests of his order. The _esprit de corps_ was perfectly
wonderful, and this spirit was one secret of the disinterestedness of
the body. "_Ad majorem Dei gloriam,_" was the motto emblazoned on
their standards, and written on their hearts; but this glory of God
was synonymous with the ascendency of their association.

The unconditional obedience to a single will, which is the genius of
Jesuitism, while it signally advanced the interests of the body, and
of the pope, to whom they were devoted, still led to the most
detestable and resistless spiritual despotism ever exercised by man.
The Jesuit, especially when obscure and humble, was a tool, rather
than an intriguer. He was bound hand and foot by the orders of his
superiors, and they alone were responsible for his actions.

[Sidenote: Degeneracy of the Jesuits.]

We can easily see how the extraordinary virtues and attainments of the
early Jesuits, and the wonderful mechanism of their system, would
promote the growth of the order and the interests of Rome, before the
suspicions of good people would be aroused. It was a long time after
their piety had passed to fraud, their simplicity to cunning, their
poverty to wealth, their humility to pride, and their indifference to
the world to cabals, intrigues, and crimes, before the change was
felt. And, moreover, it was more than a century before the fruits of
the system were fully reaped. With all the excellences of their
schools and missions, dangerous notions and customs were taught in
them, which gradually destroyed their efficacy. A bad system often
works well for a while, but always carries the seeds of decay and
ruin. It was so with the institution of Loyola, in spite of the
enthusiasm and sincerity of the early members, and the masterly wisdom
displayed by the founders. In after times, evils were perceived, which
had, at first, escaped the eye. It was seen that the system of
education, though specious, and, in many respects, excellent, was
calculated to narrow the mind, while it filled it with knowledge.
Young men, in their colleges, were taught blindly to follow a rigid
mechanical code; they were closely watched; all books were taken from
them of a liberal tendency; mutilated editions of such as could not be
denied only were allowed; truths of great importance were concealed or
glossed over; exploded errors were revived, and studies recommended
which had no reference to the discussion of abstract questions on
government or religion. And the boys were made spies on each other,
their spirits were broken, and their tastes perverted. The Jesuits
sought to guard the avenues to thought, not to open them, were jealous
of all independence of mind, and never sought to go beyond their age,
or base any movement on ideal standards.

[Sidenote: Evils in the Jesuit System.]

Again, as preachers, though popular and eloquent, they devoted their
talents to convert men to the _Roman church_ rather than to _God_.
They were bigoted sectarians; strove to make men Catholics rather than
Christians. As missionaries, they were content with a mere nominal
conversion. They gave men the crucifix, but not the Bible, and even
permitted their converts to retain many of their ancient superstitions
and prejudices. And thus they usurped the authority of native rulers,
and sought to impose on China and Japan their despotic yoke. They
greatly enriched themselves in consequence of the credulity of the
natives, whom they flattered, and wielded an unlawful power. And this
is one reason why they were expelled, and why they made no permanent
conquests among the millions they converted in Japan. They wished not
only to subjugate the European, but the Asiatic mind. Europe did not
present a field sufficiently extensive for their cupidity and
ambition.

Finally, as confessors, they were peculiarly indulgent to those who
sought absolution, provided their submission was complete. Then it was
seen what an easy thing it was to bear the yoke of Christ. The
offender was told that sin consisted in wilfulness, and wilfulness in
the perfect knowledge of the nature of sin, according to which
doctrine blindness and passion were sufficient exculpations. They
invented the doctrine of mental reservation, on which Pascal was so
severe. Perjury was allowable, if the perjured were inwardly
determined not to swear. A man might fight a duel, if in danger of
being stigmatized as a coward; he might betray his friend, if he could
thus benefit his party. The Jesuits invented a system of casuistry
which confused all established ideas of moral obligation. They
tolerated, and some of them justified, crimes, if the same could be
made subservient to the apparent interests of the church. Their
principle was to do evil that good might come. Above all, they
conformed to the inclinations of the great, especially to those of
absolute princes, on whom they imposed no painful penance, or austere
devotion. Their sympathies always were with absolutism, in all its
forms and they were the chosen and trusted agents of the despots of
mankind, until even the eyes of Europe were open to their vast
ambition, which sought to erect an independent empire within the
limits of despotism itself. But the corruptions of the Jesuits, their
system of casuistry, their lax morality, their disgraceful intrigues,
their unprincipled rapacity, do not belong to the age we have now been
considering. These fruits of a bad system had not then been matured;
and the infancy of the society was as beautiful as its latter days
were disgraceful and fearful. In a future chapter, we shall glance at
the decline and fall of this celebrated institution--the best adapted
to its proposed ends of any system ever devised by the craft and
wisdom of man.

[Sidenote: The Popes in the Seventeenth Century.]

The great patrons of the Jesuits--the popes and their empire in the
sixteenth century, after the death of Luther--demand some notice. The
Catholic church, in this century, was remarkable for the reformation
it attempted within its own body, and for the zeal, and ability, and
virtue, which marked the character of many of the popes themselves.
Had it not been for this counter reformation, Protestantism would have
obtained a great ascendency in Europe. But the Protestants were
divided among themselves, while the Catholics were united, and
animated with singular zeal. They put forth their utmost energies to
reconquer what they had lost. They did not succeed in this, but they
secured the ascendency, on the whole, of the Catholic cause in Europe.
For this ascendency the popes are indebted to the Jesuits.

[Sidenote: Nepotism of the Popes.]

At the close of the sixteenth century, the popes possessed a
well-situated, rich, and beautiful province. All writers celebrated
its fertility. Scarcely a foot of land remained uncultivated. Corn was
exported, and the ports were filled with ships. The people were
courageous, and had great talents for business. The middle classes
were peaceful and contented, but the nobles, who held in their hands
the municipal authority, were turbulent, rapacious, and indifferent to
intellectual culture. The popes were generally virtuous characters,
and munificent patrons of genius. Gregory XIII. kept a list of men in
every country who were likely to acquit themselves as bishops, and
exhibited the greatest caution in appointing them. Sixtus V., whose
father was an humble gardener, encouraged agriculture and
manufactures, husbanded the resources of the state, and filled Rome
with statues. He raised the obelisk in front of St. Peter's, and
completed the dome of the Cathedral. Clement VIII. celebrated the mass
himself, and scrupulously devoted himself to religious duties. He was
careless of the pleasures which formerly characterized the popes, and
admitted every day twelve poor persons to dine with him. Paul V. had
equal talents and greater authority, but was bigoted and cold.
Gregory XIV. had all the severity of an ancient monk. The only
religious peculiarity of the popes, at the latter end of the sixteenth
century, which we unhesitatingly condemn, was, their religious
intolerance. But they saw that their empire would pass away, unless
they used vigorous and desperate measures to retain it. During this
period, the great victories of the Jesuits, the establishment of their
colleges, and the splendid endowments of their churches took place.
Gregory XV. built, at his own cost, the celebrated church of St.
Ignatius, at Rome, and instituted the Propaganda, a missionary
institution, under the control of the Jesuits.

[Sidenote: Rome in the Seventeenth Century.]

The popes, whether good or bad, did not relinquish their nepotism in
this century, in consequence of which great families arose with every
pope, and supplanted the old aristocracy. The Barberini family, in one
pontificate, amassed one hundred and five millions of scudi--as great
a fortune as that left by Mazarin. But they, enriched under
Urban VII., had to flee from Rome under Innocent X. Jealousy and
contention divided and distracted all the noble families, who vied
with each other in titles and pomp, ceremony and pride. The ladies of
the Savelli family never quitted their palace walls, except in closely
veiled carriages. The Visconti decorated their walls with the
portraits of the popes of their line. The Gaetana dwelt with pride on
the memory of Boniface VIII. The Colonna and Orsini boasted that for
centuries no peace had been concluded in Christendom, in which they
had not been expressly included. But these old families had become
gradually impoverished, and yielded, in wealth and power, though not
in pride and dignity, to the Cesarini, Borghesi, Aldobrandini,
Ludovisi, Giustiniani, Chigi, and the Barberini. All these families,
from which popes had sprung, had splendid palaces, villas, pictures,
libraries, and statues; and they contributed to make Rome the centre
of attraction for the elegant and the literary throughout Europe. It
was still the moral and social centre of Christendom. It was a place
to which all strangers resorted, and from which all intrigues sprung.
It was the scene of pleasure, gayety, and grandeur. And the splendid
fabric, which was erected in the "ages of faith," in spite of all the
calamities and ravages of time, remained still beautiful and
attractive. Since the first secession, in the sixteenth century, Rome
has lost none of her adherents, and those, who remained faithful, have
become the more enthusiastic in their idolatry.

       *       *       *       *       *

     REFERENCES.--Ranke's History of the Popes. Father Bouhour's
     Life of Ignatius Loyola. A Life of Xavier, by the same
     author. Stephens's Essay on Loyola. Charlevoix's History of
     Paraguay. Pascal's Provincial Letters. Macaulay's Review of
     Ranke's History of the Popes. Bancroft's chapter, in the
     History of the United States, on the colonization of Canada.
     "Secreta Monita." Histoire des Jésuites. "Spiritual
     Exercises." Dr. Williams's Essay. History of Jesuit
     Missions. The works on the Jesuits are very numerous; but
     those which are most accessible are of a violent partisan
     character. Eugene Sue, in his "Wandering Jew," has given
     false, but strong, impressions. Infidel writers have
     generally been the most bitter, with the exception of
     English and Scotch authors, in the seventeenth century. The
     great work of Ranke is the most impartial with which the
     author is acquainted. Ranke's histories should never be
     neglected, of which admirable translations have been made.




CHAPTER X.

THIRTY YEARS WAR.


[Sidenote: Political Troubles after the Death of Luther.]

The contests which arose from the discussion of religious ideas did
not close with the sixteenth century. They were, on the other hand,
continued with still greater acrimony. Protestantism had been
suppressed in France, but not in Holland or Germany. In England, the
struggle was to continue, not between the Catholics and Protestants,
but between different parties among the Protestants themselves. In
Germany, a long and devastating war of thirty years was to be carried
on before even religious liberty could be guaranteed.

This struggle is the most prominent event of the seventeenth century
before the English Revolution, and was attended with the most
important religious and political consequences. The event itself was
one of the chief political consequences of the Reformation. Indeed,
all the events of this period either originated in, or became mixed up
with, questions of religion.

From the very first agitation of the reform doctrines, the house of
Austria devoted against their adherents the whole of its immense
political power. Charles V. resolved to suppress Protestantism, and
would have perhaps succeeded, had it not been for the various wars
which distracted his attention, and for the decided stand which the
Protestant princes of Germany took respecting Luther and his
doctrines. As early as 1530, was formed the league of Smalcalde,
headed by the elector of Saxony, the most powerful of the German
princes, next to the archduke of Austria. The princes who formed this
league, resolved to secure to their subjects the free exercise of
their religion, in spite of all opposition from the Catholic powers.
But hostilities did not commence until after Luther had breathed his
last. The Catholics gained a great victory at the battle of Mühlberg,
when the Elector of Saxony was taken prisoner. With the treaty of
Smalcalde, the freedom of Germany seemed prostrate forever, and the
power of Austria reached its meridian. But the cause of liberty
revived under Maurice of Saxony, once its formidable enemy. All the
fruits of victory were lost again in the congress of Passau, and the
diet of Augsburg, when an equitable peace seemed guaranteed to the
Protestants.

[Sidenote: Diet of Augsburg.]

The diet of Augsburg, 1555, the year of the resignation of Charles V.,
divided Germany into two great political and religious parties, and
recognized the independence of each. The Protestants were no longer
looked upon as rebels, but as men who had a right to worship God as
they pleased. Still, in reality, all that the Lutherans gained was
toleration, not equality. The concessions of the Catholics were made
to necessity, not to justice. Hence, the treaty of Augsburg proved
only a truce, not a lasting peace. The boundaries of both parties were
marked out by the sword, and by the sword only were they to be
preserved.

For a while, however, peace was preserved, and might have continued
longer, had it not been for the dissensions of Protestants among
themselves, caused by the followers of Calvin and Luther. The
Lutherans would not include the Calvinists in their communion, and the
Calvinists would not accede to the Lutheran church. During these
dissensions, the Jesuits sowed tares, and the Protestants lost the
chance of establishing their perfect equality with the Catholics.

Notwithstanding all the bitterness and jealousy which existed between
sects and parties, still the peace of Germany, in a political sense,
was preserved during the reign of Ferdinand, the founder of the German
branch of the house of Austria, and who succeeded his brother
Charles V. On his death, in 1564, his son Maximilian II., was chosen
emperor, and during his reign, and until his death, in 1576, Germany
enjoyed tranquillity. His successor was his son Rodolph, a weak
prince, and incapable of uniting the various territories which were
hereditary in his family--Austria, Hungary, Transylvania, Bohemia,
Moravia, and Styria. There were troubles in each of these provinces,
and one after another revolted, until Rodolph was left with but the
empty title of emperor. But these provinces acknowledged the sway of
his brother Matthias, who had delivered them from the Turks, and had
granted the Protestants liberty of conscience. The emperor was weak
enough to confirm his brother in his usurpation. In 1612, he died, and
Matthias mounted the imperial throne.

[Sidenote: Commencement of the Thirty Years War.]

It was during the reign of this prince, that the Thirty Years' War
commenced. In proportion as the reformed religion gained ground in
Hungary and Bohemia,--two provinces very difficult to rule,--the
Protestant princes of the empire became desirous of securing and
extending their privileges. Their demands were refused, and they
entered into a new confederacy, called the _Evangelical Union_. This
association was opposed by another, called the _Catholic League_. The
former was supported by Holland, England, and Henry IV., of France.
The humiliation of Austria was the great object of Henry in supporting
the Protestant princes of Germany, and he assembled an army of forty
thousand men, which he designed to head himself. But, just as his
preparations were completed, he was assassinated, and his death and
the dissensions in the Austrian family prevented the war breaking out
with the fury which afterwards characterized it.

The Emperor Matthias died in 1618, and was succeeded by his cousin
Ferdinand, Duke of Styria, who was an inveterate enemy to the
Protestant cause. His first care was to suppress the insurrection of
the Protestants, which, just before his accession had broken out in
Bohemia, under the celebrated Count Mansfeldt. The Bohemians renounced
allegiance to Ferdinand II., and chose Frederic V., elector palatine,
for their king. Frederic unwisely accepted the crown, which confirmed
the quarrel between Ferdinand and the Bohemians. Frederic was seconded
by all the Protestant princes, except the Elector of Saxony, by two
thousand four hundred English volunteers, and by eight thousand troops
from the United Provinces. But Ferdinand, assisted by the king of
Spain and all the Catholic princes, was more than a match for
Frederic, who wasted his time and strength in vain displays of
sovereignty. Maximilian, Duke of Bavaria, commanded the forces of the
Catholics, who, with twenty-five thousand troops from the Low
Countries, invaded Bohemia. The Bohemian forces did not amount to
thirty thousand, but they intrenched themselves near Prague, where
they were attacked (1620) and routed, with immense slaughter. The
battle of Prague decided the fate of Bohemia, put Frederic in
possession of all his dominions, and invested him with an authority
equal to what any of his predecessors had enjoyed. All his wishes were
gratified, and, had he been wise, he might have maintained his
ascendency in Germany. But he was blinded by his success, and, from a
rebellion in Bohemia, the war extended through Germany, and afterwards
throughout Europe.

[Sidenote: The Emperor Frederic.]

The emperor had regained his dominions by the victorious arms of
Maximilian, Duke of Bavaria. To compensate him, without detriment to
himself, he resolved to bestow upon him the dominions of the Count
Palatine of the Rhine, who had injudiciously accepted the crown of
Bohemia. Frederic must be totally ruined. He was put under the ban of
the empire, and his territories were devastated by the Spanish general
Spinola, with an army of twenty-five thousand men.

Apparently there was no hope for Frederic, or the Protestant cause.
The only Protestant princes capable of arresting the Austrian
encroachments were the Electors of Saxony and Brandenburg. But the
former, John George, preferred the aggrandizement of his house to the
emancipation of his country, and tamely witnessed the victories of the
emperor, without raising an arm for the relief of the Protestants, of
whom he was the acknowledged head. George William of Brandenburg was
still more shamefully fettered by the fear of Austria, and of losing
his dominions; and he, too, cautiously avoided committing himself to
either party.

But while these two great princes ingloriously abandoned Frederic to
his fate, a single soldier of fortune, whose only treasure was his
sword, Ernest Count Mansfield, dared, in the Bohemian town of Pilsen,
to defy the whole power of Austria. Undismayed by the reverses of the
elector palatine, he succeeded in enlisting an army of twenty thousand
men. With such an army, the cause of Frederic was not irretrievably
lost. New prospects began to open, and his misfortunes raised up
unexpected friends. James of England opened his treasures, and
Christian of Denmark offered his powerful support. Mansfeldt was also
joined by the Margrave of Baden. The courage of the count palatine
revived, and he labored assiduously to arouse his Protestant brethren.
Meanwhile, the generals of the emperor were on the alert, and the
rising hopes of Frederic were dissipated by the victories of Tilly.
The count palatine was again driven from his hereditary dominions, and
sought refuge in Holland.

[Sidenote: Count Wallenstein.]

But, though the emperor was successful, his finances were exhausted,
and he was disagreeably dependent on Bavaria. Under his circumstances,
nothing was more welcome than the proposal of Wallenstein, an
experienced officer, and the richest nobleman in Bohemia.

[Sidenote: Character of Wallenstein.]

He offered, at his own expense, and that of his friends, to raise,
clothe, and maintain an army for the emperor, if he were allowed to
augment it to fifty thousand men. His project was ridiculed as
visionary; but the offer was too valuable to be rejected. In a few
months, he had collected an army of thirty thousand. His reputation,
the prospect of promotion, and the hope of plunder, attracted
adventurers from all parts of Germany. Knowing that so large a body
could not be held together without great resources, and having none of
his own, he marched his troops into the most fertile territories,
which had not yet suffered from the war, where they subsisted by
contributions and plunder, as obnoxious to their friends as they were
to their enemies. Nothing shows the weakness of the imperial power,
with all its apparent strength, and the barbarous notions and customs
of the country, more than this grant to Wallenstein. And, with all his
heroism and success, he cannot now be viewed in any other light than
as a licensed robber. He was virtually at the head of a troop of
banditti, who fought for the sake of plunder, and who would join any
side which would present the greatest hopes of gain. The genius of
Schiller, both in his dramas and histories, has immortalized the name
of this unprincipled hero, and has excited a strange interest in his
person, his family, and his fortunes. He is represented as "born to
command. His acute eye distinguished at a glance, from among the
multitude, such as were competent, and he assigned to each his proper
place. His praise, from being rarely bestowed, animated and brought
into full operation every faculty; while his steady, reserved, and
earnest demeanor secured obedience and discipline. His very appearance
excited awe and reverence; his figure was proud, lofty, and warlike,
while his bright, piercing eye expressed profundity of thought,
combined with gravity and mystery. His favorite study was that of the
stars, and his most intimate friend was an Italian astrologer. He had
a fondness for pomp and extravagance. He maintained sixty pages; his
ante-chamber was guarded by fifty life-guards, and his table never
consisted of less than one hundred covers. Six barons and as many
knights were in constant attendance on his person. He never smiled,
and the coldness of his temperament was proof against sensual
seductions. Ever occupied with grand schemes, he despised those
amusements in which so many waste their lives. Terror was the talisman
with which he worked: extreme in his punishments as in his rewards, he
knew how to keep alive the zeal of his followers, while no general of
ancient or modern times could boast of being obeyed with equal
alacrity. Submission to his will was more prized by him than bravery,
and he kept up the obedience of his troops by capricious orders. He
was a man of large stature, thin, of a sallow complexion, with short,
red hair, and small, sparkling eyes. A gloomy and forbidding
seriousness sat upon his brow, and his munificent presents alone
retained the trembling crowd of his dependants."

Such was this enterprising nobleman, to whom the emperor Ferdinand
committed so great authority. And the success of Wallenstein
apparently justified the course of the emperor. The greater his
extortions, and the greater his rewards, the greater was the concourse
to his standard. Such is human nature. It is said that, in seven
years, Wallenstein exacted not less than sixty millions of dollars
from one half of Germany--an incredible sum, when the expenditure of
the government of England, at this time, was less than two million
pounds a year. His armies flourished, while the states through which
they passed were ruined. What cared he for the curses of the people,
or the complaints of princes, so long as his army adored him? It was
his object to humble all the princes of the empire, and make himself
so necessary to the emperor that he would gradually sink to become his
tool. He already was created Duke of Friedland, and generalissimo of
the imperial armies. Nor had his victorious career met with any severe
check, but uninterrupted success seemed to promise the realization of
his vast ambition. Germany lay bleeding at his feet, helpless and
indignant.

But the greatness and the insolence of Wallenstein raised up enemies
against him in all parts of the empire. Fear and jealousy increased
the opposition, even in the ranks of the Catholics. His dismissal was
demanded by the whole college of electors, and even by Spain.
Maximilian, Duke of Bavaria, felt himself eclipsed by the successful
general, and was at the head of the cabals against him.

The emperor felt, at this crisis, as Ganganelli did when compelled to
disband the Jesuits, that he was parting with the man to whom he owed
all his supremacy. Long was he undecided whether or not he would make
the sacrifice. But all Germany was clamorous, and the disgrace of
Wallenstein was ordained.

Would the ambitious chieftain, at the head of one hundred thousand
devoted soldiers, regard the commands of the emperor? He made up his
mind to obey, looking to the future for revenge, and feeling that he
could afford to wait for it. Seni had read in the stars that glorious
prospects still awaited him. Wallenstein retired to his estates in
Bohemia, but maintained the pomp and splendor of a prince of the
empire.

[Sidenote: Gustavus Adolphus.]

Scarcely had he retired from the command of the army before his
services were again demanded. One hero produces another. A Wellington
is ever found to oppose a Napoleon. Providence raised up a friend to
Germany, in its distress, in the person of Gustavus Adolphus, King of
Sweden. It was not for personal aggrandizement that he lent his
powerful arm to the Protestant princes, who, thus far, had vainly
struggled against Maximilian, Tilly, and Wallenstein. Zeal for
Protestantism, added to strong provocations, induced him to land in
Germany with fifteen thousand men--a small body to oppose the
victorious troops of the emperor, but they were brave and highly
disciplined, and devoted to their royal master. He himself was
indisputably the greatest general of the age, and had the full
confidence of the Protestant princes, who were ready to rally the
moment he obtained any signal advantage. Henceforth, Gustavus Adolphus
was the hero of the war. He was more than a hero; he was a Christian,
regardful of the morals of his soldiers, and devoted to the interests
of spiritual religion. He was frugal, yet generous, serene in the
greatest danger; and magnanimous beyond all precedent in the history
of kings. On the 20th of May, 1630, taking his daughter Christiana in
his arms, then only four years of age, he presented her to the states
as their future sovereign, and made his farewell address. "Not
lightly, not wantonly," said he, "am I about to involve myself and you
in this new and dangerous war. God is my witness that I do not fight
to gratify my own ambition; but the emperor has wronged me, has
supported my enemies, persecuted my friends, trampled my religion in
the dust, and even stretched forth his revengeful arm against my
crown. The oppressed states of Germany call loudly for aid, which, by
God's help, we will give them.

"I am fully sensible of the dangers to which my life will be exposed.
I have never yet shrunk from them, nor is it likely that I shall
always escape them. Hitherto, Providence has protected me; but I shall
at last fall in defence of my country and my faith. I commend you to
the protection of Heaven. Be just, conscientious, and upright, and we
shall meet again in eternity. For the prosperity of all my subjects, I
offer my warmest prayer to Heaven; and bid you all a sincere--it may
be an eternal--farewell."

He had scarcely landed in Germany before his victorious career began.
France concluded a treaty with him, and he advanced against Tilly, who
now headed the imperial armies.

[Sidenote: Loss of Magdeburg.]

The tardiness of the Electors of Saxony and Brandenburg in rendering
assistance caused the loss of Magdeburg, the most important fortress
of the Protestants. It was taken by assault, even while Gustavus was
advancing to its relief. No pen can paint, and no imagination can
conceive, the horrors which were perpetrated by the imperial soldiers
in the sack of that unfortunate place. Neither childhood nor helpless
age--neither youth, beauty, sex, nor rank could disarm the fury of the
conquerors. No situation or retreat was sacred. In a single church
fifty-three women were beheaded. The Croats amused themselves with
throwing children into the flames. Pappenheim's Walloons stabbed
infants at the breast. The city was reduced to ashes, and thirty
thousand of the inhabitants were slain.

But the loss of this important city was soon compensated by the battle
of Leipsic, 1630, which the King of Sweden gained over the imperial
forces, and in which the Elector of Saxony at last rendered valuable
aid. The rout of Tilly, hitherto victorious, was complete, and he
himself escaped only by chance. Saxony was freed from the enemy, while
Bohemia, Moravia, Austria, and Hungary, were stripped of their
defenders. Ferdinand was no longer secure in his capital; the freedom
of Germany was secured. Gustavus was every where hailed as a
deliverer, and admiration for his genius was only equalled by the
admiration of his virtues. He rapidly regained all that the
Protestants had lost, and the fruits of twelve years of war were
snatched away from the emperor. Tilly was soon after killed, and all
things indicated the complete triumph of the Protestants.

It was now the turn of Ferdinand to tremble. The only person who could
save him was dismissed and disgraced. Tilly was dead. Munich and
Prague were in the hands of the Protestants, while the king of Sweden
traversed Germany as a conqueror, law giver, and judge. No fortress
was inaccessible; no river checked his victorious career. The Swedish
standards were planted in Bavaria, Bohemia, the Palatinate, Saxony,
and along the banks of the Rhine. Meanwhile the Turks were preparing
to attack Hungary, and a dangerous insurrection threatened his own
capital. None came to his assistance in the hour of peril. On all
sides, he was surrounded by hostile armies, while his own forces were
dispirited and treacherous.

[Sidenote: Wallenstein Reinstated in Power.]

From such a hopeless state he was rescued by the man whom he had
injured, but not until he had himself to beg his assistance.
Wallenstein was in retirement, and secretly rejoiced in the victories
of the Swedish king, knowing full well that the emperor would soon be
compelled to summon him again to command his armies. Now he could
dictate his terms. Now he could humiliate his sovereign, and at the
same time obtain all the power his ambition craved. He declined
entering his service unless he had the unlimited command of all the
armies of Austria and Spain. No commission in the army was to be
granted by the emperor, without his own approval. He demanded the
ordinary pay, and an imperial hereditary estate. In short, he demanded
sovereign authority; and with such humiliating terms the emperor, in
his necessities, was obliged to comply.

[Sidenote: Death of Gustavus Adolphus.]

No sooner did he raise his standard, than it was resorted to by the
unprincipled, the rapacious, and the needy from all parts of the
empire. But Wallenstein now resolved to pursue, exclusively, his own
selfish interests, and directed all his aims to independent
sovereignty. When his forces were united with those of Maximilian, he
found himself at the head of sixty thousand men. Then really commenced
the severity of the contest, for Wallenstein was now stronger than
Gustavus. Nevertheless, the heroic Swede offered to give his rival
battle at Nuremburg, which was declined. He then attacked his camp,
but was repulsed with loss. At last, the two generals met on the
plains of Lutzen, in Saxony, 1632. During the whole course of the war,
two such generals had not been pitted against each other, nor had so
much been staked on the chance of a battle. Victory declared for the
troops of Gustavus, but the heroic leader himself was killed, in the
fulness of his glory. It was his fortune to die with an untarnished
fame. "By an untimely death," says Schiller, "his protecting genius
rescued him from the inevitable fate of man--that of forgetting
moderation in the intoxication of success, and justice in the
plenitude of power. It may be doubted whether, had he lived longer, he
would still have deserved the tears which Germany shed over his grave,
or maintained his title to the admiration with which posterity regards
him,--as the first and only just conqueror that the world has
produced. But it was no longer the benefactor of Germany who fell at
Lutzen; the beneficent part of his career Gustavus Adolphus had
already terminated; and now the greatest service which he could render
to the liberties of Germany was--to die. The all-engrossing power of
an individual was at an end; the equivocal assistance of an
over-powerful protector gave place to a more noble self-exertion on
the part of the estates; and those who formerly were the mere
instruments of his aggrandizement, now began to work for themselves.
The ambition of the Swedish monarch aspired, unquestionably, to
establish a power within Germany inconsistent with the liberties of
the estates. His aim was the imperial crown; and this dignity,
supported by his power, would be liable to more abuse than had ever
been feared from the house of Austria. His sudden disappearance
secured the liberties of Germany, and saved his own reputation, while
it probably spared him the mortification of seeing his own allies in
arms against him, and all the fruits of his victories torn from him by
a disadvantageous peace."

After the battle of Lutzen we almost lose sight of Wallenstein, and no
victories were commensurate with his reputation and abilities. He
continued inactive in Bohemia, while all Europe was awaiting the
exploits which should efface the remembrance of his defeat. He
exhausted the imperial provinces by enormous contributions, and his
whole conduct seems singular and treacherous. His enemies at the
imperial court now renewed their intrigues, and his conduct was
reviewed with the most malicious criticism. But he possessed too great
power to be openly assailed by the emperor, and measures were
concerted to remove him by treachery. Wallenstein obtained notice of
the designs against him, and now, too late, resolved on an open
revolt. But he was betrayed, and his own generals, on whom he counted,
deserted him, so soon as the emperor dared to deprive him of his
command. But he was only removed by assassination, and just at the
moment when he deemed himself secure against the whole power of the
emperor. No man, however great, can stand before an authority which is
universally deemed legitimate, however reduced and weakened that
authority may be. In times of anarchy and revolution, there is
confusion in men's minds respecting the persons in whom legitimate
authority should be lodged, and this is the only reason why rebellion
is ever successful.

[Sidenote: Assassination of Wallenstein.]

[Sidenote: Treaty of Westphalia.]

The death of Wallenstein, in 1634, did not terminate the war. It raged
eleven years longer, with various success, and involved the other
European powers. France was then governed by Cardinal Richelieu, who,
notwithstanding his Catholicism, lent assistance to the Protestants,
with a view of reducing the power of Austria. Indeed, the war had
destroyed the sentiments which produced it, and political motives
became stronger than religious. Oxenstiern and Richelieu became the
master spirits of the contest, and, in the recesses of their cabinets,
regulated the campaigns of their generals. Battles were lost and won
on both sides, and innumerable intrigues were plotted by interested
statesmen. After all parties had exhausted their resources, and
Germany was deluged with the blood of Spaniards, Hollanders,
Frenchmen, Swedes, besides that of her own sons, the peace of
Westphalia was concluded, (1648,)--the most important treaty in the
history of Europe. All the princes and states of the empire were
reëstablished in the lands, rights, and prerogatives which they
enjoyed before the troubles in Bohemia, in 1619. The religious
liberties of the Lutherans and Calvinists were guaranteed, and it was
stipulated that the Imperial Chamber should consist of twenty-four
Protestant members and twenty-six Catholic, and that the emperor
should receive six Protestants into the Aulic Council, the highest
judicial tribunal in the empire. This peace is the foundation of the
whole system of modern European politics, of all modern treaties, of
that which is called the freedom of Germany, and of a sort of balance
of power among all the countries of Western Europe. Dearly was it
purchased, by the perfect exhaustion of national energies, and the
demoralizing sentiments which one of the longest and bloodiest wars in
human history inevitably introduced.

       *       *       *       *       *

     REFERENCES.--Schiller's History of the Thirty Years' War.
     Russell's Modern Europe. Coleridge's Translation of
     Wallenstein. Kohlrausch's History of Germany. See also a
     history of Germany in Dr. Lardner's Cyclopedia. History of
     Sweden. Plank on the Political Consequences of the
     Reformation. The History of Schiller, however is a classic,
     and is exceedingly interesting and beautiful.




CHAPTER XI.

ADMINISTRATIONS OF CARDINALS RICHELIEU AND MAZARIN.


While Germany was rent with civil commotions, and the power of the
emperors was limited by the stand taken against it by the Protestant
princes, France was ruled with an iron hand, and a foundation was laid
for the despotism of Louis XIV. The energetic genius of Cardinal
Richelieu, during the whole period of the thirty years' war, affected
the councils of all the different courts of Europe. He was
indisputably the greatest statesman of his age and nation. To him
France is chiefly indebted for the ascendency she enjoyed in the
seventeenth century. Had Henry IV. lived to the age of Louis XIV.,
France would probably have been permanently greater, although the
power of the king might not have been so absolute.

[Sidenote: Regency of Mary de Medicis.]

When Henry IV. died, he left his kingdom to his son Louis XIII., a
child nine years of age. The first thing to be done was the
appointment of a regent. The Parliament of Paris, in whom this right
seems to have been vested, nominated the queen mother, Mary de
Medicis, and the young king, in a bed of justice,--the greatest of the
royal prerogatives,--confirmed his mother in the regency. Her regency
was any thing but favorable to the interests of the kingdom. The
policy of the late king was disregarded, and a new course of measures
was adopted. Sully, through whose counsels the reign of Henry IV. had
been so beneficent, was dismissed. The queen regent had no sympathy
with his views. Neither the corrupt court nor the powerful aristocracy
cared any thing for the interests of the people, for the improvement
of agriculture, commerce, and manufactures, for the regulation of the
finances, or for increasing the productive industry of the country, on
which its material prosperity ever depends. The greedy courtiers
obtained from a lavish queen the treasures which the wise care of
Henry had amassed, and which he thoughtlessly bestowed in order to
secure their fidelity. The foreign policy also was changed, and a
strong alliance was made with the pope, with Spain, and with the
Jesuits.

On the retirement of the able and incorruptible Sully, favorites of no
talent or worth arose to power. Concini, an Italian, controlled the
queen regent, and through him all her favors flowed. He was succeeded
by Luynes, a mere falconer, who made himself agreeable to the young
king, and usurped the power of Concini, when the king attained his
majority. He became constable of France, the highest officer in the
realm, and surpassed all the old nobility in arrogance and cupidity.
His mismanagement and selfishness led to an insurrection of some of
the great nobles among whom were Condé and D'Épernon.

[Sidenote: Rise of Cardinal de Richelieu.]

While the kingdom was thus convulsed with civil war, and in every way
mismanaged, Richelieu, Bishop of Luçon, appeared upon the stage. He
was a man of high birth, was made doctor of the Sorbonne at the age of
twenty-two, and, before he was twenty-five, a bishop. During the
ascendency of Mancini, he attracted the attention of the queen, and
was selected as secretary of state. Soon after the death of Luynes, he
obtained a cardinal's hat, and a seat in the council. The moment he
spoke, his genius predominated, and the monarch, with all his pride,
bowed to the ascendency of intellect, and yielded, with a good grace,
to a man whom it was impolitic to resist.

From that moment, in 1622, the reins of empire were in the hands of a
master, and the king himself, were it not for the splendor of his
court, would have disappeared from the eye, both of statesmen and
historians. The reign of anarchy, for a quarter of a century, at
least, was over, and the way was prepared for the aggrandizement of
the French monarchy. When Richelieu came into power, universal
disorder prevailed. The finances were deranged, the Huguenots were
troublesome, and the nobles were rebellious. Such was the internal
state of France,--weakened, distracted, and anarchical. She had lost
her position among the great powers, and Austria threatened to
overturn the political relations of all the states of Europe. Austria,
in the early part of the seventeenth century, was, unquestionably, the
leading power in Christendom, and her ascendency boded no good to the
liberties which men were beginning to assert.

[Sidenote: Suppression of the Huguenots.]

Three great objects animated the genius of Richelieu, and in the
attainment of these he was successful. These were, the suppression of
the Huguenots, as a powerful party, the humiliation of the great
barons, and the reduction of the power of Austria. For these objects
he perseveringly contended for twenty years; and his struggles and
intrigues to secure these ends constitute the history of France during
the reign of Louis XIII. And they affected not only France, but the
whole continent. His policy was to preserve peace with England and
Spain,--the hereditary enemies of France,--with Sweden, and with the
Protestants of Germany, even while he suppressed their religion within
his own realm. It was the true policy of England to prevent the ruin
of the Huguenots in France, as before she had aided the Protestants in
Holland. But, unfortunately, England was then ruled by James and
Charles, and they were controlled by profligate ministers, who were
the tools of the crafty cardinal. A feeble assistance was rendered by
James, but it availed nothing.

In order to annihilate the political power of the Huguenots,--for
Richelieu cared more for this than for their religious opinions,--it
was necessary that he should possess himself of the city of La
Rochelle, on the Bay of Biscay, a strong fortress, which had resisted,
during the reign of Charles IX., the whole power of the Catholics, and
which continued to be the stronghold of the Huguenots. Here they could
always retire and be safe, in times of danger. It was strongly
fortified by sea, as well as by land; and only a vigorous blockade
could exclude provisions and military stores from the people. But
England was mistress of the ocean, and supplies from her would always
relieve the besieged.

After ineffectual but vigorous attempts to take the city by land,
Richelieu determined to shut up its harbor, first by stakes, and then
by a boom. Both of these measures failed. But the military genius of
the cardinal was equal to his talents as a statesman. He remembered
what Alexander did at the siege of Tyre. So, with a volume of Quintus
Curtius in his hand, he projected and finished a mole, half a mile in
length, across a gulf, into which the tide flowed. In some places, it
was eight hundred and forty feet below the surface of the water, and
sixty feet in breadth. At first, the besieged laughed at an attempt so
gigantic and difficult. But the work steadily progressed, and the city
was finally cut off from communication with the sea. The besieged,
wasted by famine, surrendered; the fortifications were destroyed, the
town lost its independence, and the power of the Huguenots was broken
forever. But no vengeance was taken on the heroic citizens, and they
were even permitted to enjoy their religion. Fifteen thousand,
however, perished at this memorable siege.

The next object of Richelieu was the humiliation of Austria. But the
detail of his military operations would be complicated and tedious,
since no grand and decisive battles were fought by his generals, and
no able commanders appeared. Turenne and Condé belonged to the next
age. The military operations consisted in frontier skirmishes, idle
sieges, and fitful expeditions, in which, however, the cardinal had
the advantage, and by which he gained, since he could better afford to
pay for them. War is always ruinously expensive, and that party
generally is successful which can the longer furnish resources. It is
a proof that religious bigotry did not mainly influence him, since he
supported the Protestant party. All motives of a religious kind were
absorbed in his prevailing passion to aggrandize the French monarchy.
Had it not been for the intrigues and forces of Richelieu, the peace
of Westphalia might not have been secured, and Austria might again
have overturned the "Balance of Power."

[Sidenote: The Depression of the Great Nobles.]

The third great aim of the minister, and the one which he most
systematically pursued to the close of his life, was the depression of
the nobles, whose power was dangerously exercised. They had almost
feudal privileges, were enormously wealthy, numerous, corrupt, and
dissolute. His efforts to suppress their power raised up numerous
conspiracies.

Among the earliest was one supported by the queen mother and Gaston,
Duke of Orleans, brother to the king, and presumptive heir to the
throne. Connected with this conspiracy were the Dukes of Bourbon and
Vendome, the Prince de Chalais, and several others of the highest
rank. It was intended to assassinate the cardinal and seize the reins
of government. But he got timely notice of the plot, informed the
king, and guarded himself. The conspirators were too formidable to be
punished in a body; so he dissembled and resolved to cut them off in
detail. He moreover threatened the king with resignation, and
frightened him by predicting a civil war. In consequence, the king
gave orders to arrest his brothers, the Dukes of Bourbon and Vendome,
while the Prince of Chalais was executed. The Duke of Orleans, on the
confession of Chalais, fled from the kingdom. The queen mother was
arrested, Bassompierre was imprisoned in the Bastile, and the Duke of
Guise sent on a pilgrimage to Rome. The powerful D'Épernon sued for
pardon.

Still Richelieu was not satisfied. He resolved to humble the
parliament, because it had opposed an ordinance of the king declaring
the partisans of the Duke of Orleans guilty of treason. It had rightly
argued that such a condemnation could not be issued without a trial.
"But," said the artful minister to the weak-minded king, "to refuse to
verify a declaration which you yourself announced to the members of
parliament, is to doubt your authority." An extraordinary council was
convened, and the parliament, which was simply a court of judges, was
summoned to the royal presence. They went in solemn procession,
carrying with them the record which showed their refusal to register
the edict. The king received them with stately pomp. They were
required to kneel in his presence, and their decree was taken from the
record and torn in pieces before their eyes, and the leading members
were suspended and banished.

The Court of Aids, by whom the money edicts were registered, also
showed opposition. The members left the court when the next edict was
to be registered. But they were suspended, until they humbly came to
terms.

"All the malcontents, the queen, the prince, the nobles, the
parliament, and the Court of Aids hoped for the support of the people,
and all were disappointed." And this is the reason why they failed and
Richelieu triumphed. There never have been, among the French,
disinterestedness and union in the cause of liberty, which never can
be gained without perseverance and self-sacrifice.

The next usurpation of Richelieu was the erection of a new tribunal
for trying state criminals, in which no record of its proceedings
should be preserved, and the members of which should be selected by
himself. This court was worse than that of the Star Chamber.

Richelieu showed a still more culpable disregard of the forms of
justice in the trial of Marshal Marrillac, charged with crimes in the
conduct of the army. He was brought before a commission, and not
before his peers, condemned, and executed.

In view of this judicial murder, the nobles, generally, were filled
with indignation and alarm. They now saw that the minister aimed at
the complete humiliation of their order, and therefore made another
effort to resist the cardinal. At the head of this conspiracy was the
Duke of Montmorency, admiral and constable of France, one of the most
powerful nobles in the kingdom. He was governor of Provence, and
deeply resented the insult offered to his rank in the condemnation of
Marrillac. He moreover felt indignant that the king's brother should
be driven into exile by the hostility of a priest. He therefore joined
his forces with those of the Duke of Orleans, was defeated, tried, and
executed for rebellion, against the entreaty and intercession of the
most powerful families.

[Sidenote: Power of Richelieu.]

The cardinal minister was now triumphant over all his enemies. He had
destroyed the political power of the Huguenots, extended the boundary
of France, and decimated the nobles. He now turned his attention to
the internal administration of the kingdom. He created a national
navy, protected commerce and industry, rewarded genius, and formed the
French Academy. He attained a greater pitch of greatness than any
subject ever before or since enjoyed in his country, greater even than
was possessed by Wolsey. Wolsey, powerful as he was, lived, like a
Turkish vizier, in constant fear of his capricious master. But
Richelieu controlled the king himself. Louis XIII. feared him, and
felt that he could not reign without him. He did not love the
cardinal, and was often tempted to dismiss him, but could never summon
sufficient resolution. Richelieu was more powerful than the queen
mother, the brothers of the king, the royal mistresses, or even all
united, since he obtained an ascendency over all, doomed the queen
mother to languish in exile at Cologne, and compelled the duke of
Orleans to succumb to him. He was chief of three of the principal
monastic orders, and possessed enormous wealth. He erected a palace as
grand as Hampton Court, and appeared in public with great pomp and
ceremony.

[Sidenote: Character of Richelieu.]

But an end came to his greatness. In 1642, a mortal malady wasted him
away; he summoned to his death bed his royal master; recommended
Mazarin as his successor; and died like a man who knew no remorse, in
the fifty-eighth year of his age, and the eighteenth of his reign as
minister. He was eloquent, but his words served only to disguise his
sentiments; he was direct and frank in his speech, and yet a perfect
master of the art of dissimulation; he could not be imposed upon, and
yet was passionately fond of flattery, which he liked in such large
doses that it seemed hyperbolical; he was not learned, yet appreciated
learning in others, and magnificently rewarded it; he was fond of
pleasure, and easily fascinated by women, and yet was cold, politic,
implacable, and cruel. But he was a great statesman, and aimed to
suppress anarchy and preserve law. In view of his labors to preserve
order, we may almost excuse his severity. "Placed," says Montrésor, as
quoted by Miss Pardoe, "at an equal distance between Louis IX., whose
aim was to abolish feudality, and the national convention, whose
attempt was to crush aristocracy, he appeared, like them, to have
received a mission of blood from heaven." The high nobility, repulsed
under Louis XI. and Francis I., almost entirely succumbed under
Richelieu, preparing, by its overthrow, the calm, unitarian, and
despotic reign of Louis XIV., who looked around him in vain for a
great noble, and found only courtiers. The great rebellion, which, for
nearly two centuries, agitated France, almost entirely disappeared
under the ministry of the cardinal. The Guises, who had touched with
their hand the sceptre of Henry III., the Condés, who had placed their
foot on the steps of the throne of Henry IV., and Gaston, who had
tried upon his brow the crown of Louis XIII.,--all returned, at the
voice of the minister, if not into nothingness, at least into
impotency. All who struggled against the iron will, enclosed in that
feeble body, were broken like glass. And all the struggle which
Richelieu sustained, he did not sustain for his own sake, but for that
of France. All the enemies, against whom he contended, were not his
enemies merely, but those of the kingdom. If he clung tenaciously by
the side of a king, whom he compelled to live a melancholy, unhappy,
and isolated life, whom he deprived successively of his friends, of
his mistresses, and of his family, as a tree is stripped of its
leaves, of its branches, and of its bark, it was because friends,
mistresses, and family exhausted the sap of the expiring royalty,
which had need of all its egotism to prevent it from perishing. For it
was not intestinal struggles merely,--there was also foreign war,
which had connected itself fatally with them. All those great nobles
whom he decimated, all those princes of the blood whom he exiled, were
inviting foreigners to France; and these foreigners, answering eagerly
to the summons, were entering the country on three different
sides,--the English by Guienne, the Spaniards by Roussillon, and the
Austrians by Artois.

[Sidenote: Effects of Richelieu's Policy.]

"He repulsed the English by driving them to the Isle of Ré, and by
besieging La Rochelle; the Spaniards, by creating beside them the new
kingdom of Portugal; and the imperialists, by detaching Bavaria from
its alliance, by suspending their treaty with Denmark, and by sowing
dissensions in the Catholic league. His measures were cruel, but not
uncalled for. Chalais fell, but he had conspired with Lorraine and
Spain; Montmorency fell, but he had entered France with arms in his
hand; Cinq-Mars fell, but he had invited foreigners into the kingdom.
Bred a simple priest, he became not only a great statesman, but a
great general. And when La Rochelle fell before those measures to
which Schomberg and Bassompierre were compelled to bow, he said to the
king, 'Sire, I am no prophet, but I assure your majesty that if you
will condescend to act as I advise you, you will pacificate Italy in
the month of May, subjugate Languedoc in the month of July, and be on
your return in the month of August.' And each of these prophecies he
accomplished in its time and place, and in such wise that, from that
moment, Louis XIII. vowed to follow forever the counsels of a man by
which he had so well profited. Finally, he died, as Montesquieu
asserts, after having made the monarch enact the secondary character
in the monarchy, but the first in Europe; after having abased the
king, but after having made his reign illustrious; and after having
mowed down rebellion so close to the soil, that the descendants of
those who had composed the league could only form the Fronde, as,
after the reign of Napoleon, the successors of the La Vendée of '93
could only execute the Vendée of '32."

Louis XIII. did not long survive this greatest of ministers. Naturally
weak, he was still weaker by disease. He was reduced to skin and bone.
In this state, he called a council, nominated his queen, Anne of
Austria, regent, during the minority of his son Louis XIV., then four
years of age, and shortly after died, in 1643.

[Sidenote: Richelieu's Policy.]

Mazarin, the new minister, followed out the policy of Richelieu. The
war with Austria and Spain was continued, which was closed, on the
Spanish side, by the victory of Rocroi, in 1643, obtained by the
Prince of Condé, and in which battle twenty-three thousand Frenchmen
completely routed twenty-six thousand Spaniards, killing eight
thousand, and taking six thousand prisoners--one of the bloodiest
battles ever fought. The great Condé here obtained those laurels which
subsequent disgrace could never take away. The war on the side of
Germany was closed, in 1648, by the peace of Westphalia. Turenne first
appeared in the latter campaign of this long war, but gained no signal
victory.

Cardinal Mazarin, a subtle and intriguing Italian, while he pursued
the policy of Richelieu, had not his genius or success. He was soon
involved in domestic troubles. The aristocracy rebelled. Had they been
united, they would have succeeded; but their rivalries, jealousies,
and squabbles divided their strength and distracted their councils.
Their cause was lost, and Mazarin triumphed, more from their divisions
than from his own strength.

He first had to oppose a clique of young nobles, full of arrogance and
self-conceit, but scions of the greatest families. They hoped to
recover the ancient ascendency of their houses. The chief of these
were the Dukes of Beaufort, Épernon, and Guise. They made use, as
their tool, of Madame Chevreuse, the confidential friend of the queen
regent. And she demanded of the minister that posts of honor and power
should be given to her friends, which would secure that independence
which Richelieu had spent his life in restraining. Mazarin tried to
amuse her, but, she being inexorable, he was obliged to break with
her, and a conspiracy was the result, which, however, was easily
suppressed.

[Sidenote: Cardinal de Retz.]

But a more formidable enemy appeared in the person of De Retz,
coadjutor archbishop of Paris, and afterwards cardinal, a man of
boundless intrigue, unconquerable ambition, and restless discontent.
To detail his plots and intrigues, would be to describe a labyrinth.
He succeeded, however, in keeping the country in perpetual turmoil,
now inflaming the minds of the people, then exciting insurrections
among the nobles, and then, again, encouraging the parliaments in
resistance. He never appeared as an actor, but every movement was
directed by his genius. He did not escape suspicion, but committed no
overt acts by which he could be punished. He and the celebrated
Duchess de Longueville, a woman who had as great a talent for intrigue
as himself, were the life and soul of the Fronde--a civil war which
ended only in the reëstablishment of the monarchy on a firmer
foundation. As the Fronde had been commenced by a troop of urchins,
who, at the same time, amused themselves with slings, the wits of the
court called the insurgents _frondeurs_, or slingers, insinuating that
their force was trifling, and their aim mischief.

[Sidenote: Prince of Condé.]

Nevertheless, the Frondeurs kept France in a state of anarchy for six
years, and they were headed by some of the most powerful nobles, and
even supported by the Parliament of Paris. The people, too, were on
the side of the rebels, since they were ground down by taxation, and
hoped to gain a relief from their troubles. But the rebels took the
side of the oppressed only for their private advantage, and the
parliament itself lacked the perseverance and intrepidity necessary to
secure its liberty. The civil war of the Fronde, though headed by
discontented nobles, and animated by the intrigues of a turbulent
ecclesiastic, was really the contest between the parliament and the
arbitrary power of the government. And the insurrection would have
been fearful and successful, had the people been firm or the nobles
faithful to the cause they defended. But the English Revolution, then
in progress, and in which a king had been executed, shocked the lovers
of constitutional liberty in France, and reacted then, even as the
French Revolution afterwards reacted on the English mind. Moreover,
the excesses which the people perpetrated at Paris, alarmed the
parliament and the nobles who were allied with it, while it urged on
the ministers to desperate courses. The prince of Condé, whose
victories had given him an immortality, dallied with both parties, as
his interests served. Allied with the court, he could overpower the
insurgents; but allied with the insurgents, he could control the
court. Sometimes he sided with the minister and sometimes with the
insurgents, but in neither case unless he exercised a power and
enjoyed a remuneration dangerous in any government. Both parties were
jealous of him, both feared him, both hated him, both insulted him, and
both courted him. At one time, he headed the royal troops to attack
Paris, which was generally in the hands of the people and of
parliament; and then, at another, he fought like a tiger to defend
himself in Paris against the royal troops. He had no sympathy with
either the parliament or the people, while he fought for them; and he
venerated the throne, while he rebelled against it. His name was Louis
de Bourbon, and he was a prince of the blood. He contended against the
crown only to wrest from it the ancient power of the great nobles; and
to gain this object, he thought to make the parliament and the
Parisian mob his tools. The parliament, sincerely devoted to liberty,
thought to make the nobles its tools, and only leagued with them to
secure their services. The crafty Mazarin quietly beheld these
dissensions, and was sure of ultimate success, even though at one time
banished to Cologne. And, like a reed, he was ever ready to bend to
difficulties he could not control. But he stooped to conquer. He at
last got the Prince of Condé, his brother the Prince of Conti, and the
Duke of Longueville, in his power. When the Duke of Orleans heard of
it, he said, "He has taken a good haul in the net; he has taken a
lion, a fox, and a monkey." But the princes escaped from the net, and,
leagued with Turenne, Bouillon, La Rochefoucault, and other great
nobles reached Paris, and were received with acclamations of joy by
the misguided people. Then, again, they obtained the ascendant. But
the ascendency was no sooner gained than the victors quarrelled with
themselves, and with the parliament, for whose cause they professed to
contend. It was in their power, when united, to have deprived the
queen regent of her authority, and to have established constitutional
liberty in France. But they would not unite. There was no spirit of
disinterestedness, nor of patriotism, nor public virtue, without which
liberty is impossible, even though there were forces enough to batter
down Mount Atlas. Condé, the victor, suffered himself to be again
bribed by the court. He would not persevere in his alliance with
either nobles or the parliament. He did not unite with the nobles
because he felt that he was a prince. He did not continue with the
parliament, because he had no sympathy with freedom. The cause of the
nobles was lost for want of mutual confidence; that of the parliament
for lack of the spirit of perseverance. The parliament, at length,
grew weary of war and of popular commotions, and submitted to the
court. All parties hated and distrusted each other, more than they did
the iron despotism of Mazarin. The power of insurgent nobles declined.
De Retz, the arch intriguer, was driven from Paris. The Duchess de
Longueville sought refuge in the vale of Port Royal; and, in the
Jansenist doctrines, sought that happiness which earthly grandeur
could not secure. Condé quitted Paris to join the Spanish armies. The
rest of the rebellious nobles made humble submission. The people found
they had nothing to gain from any dominant party, and resigned
themselves to another long period of political and social slavery. The
magistrates abandoned, in despair and disgust, their high claims to
political rights, while the young king, on his bed of justice, decreed
that parliament should no more presume to discuss or meddle with state
affairs. The submissive parliament registered, without a murmur, the
edict which gave a finishing stroke to its liberties. The Fronde war
was a complete failure, because all parties usurped powers which did
not belong to them, and were jealous of the rights of each other. The
nobles wished to control the king, and the magistracy put itself
forward to represent the commons, when the states general alone was
the ancient and true representative of the nation, and the body to
which it should have appealed. The Fronde rebellion was a failure,
because it did not consult constitutional forms, because it formed
unnatural alliances, and because it did not throw itself upon the
force of immortal principles, but sought to support itself by mere
physical strength rather than by moral power, which alone is the
secret and the glory of all great internal changes.

[Sidenote: Power of Mazarin.]

The return of Cardinal Mazarin to power, as the minister of
Louis XIV., was the era of his grandeur. His first care was to restore
the public finances; his second was to secure his personal
aggrandizement. He obtained all the power which Richelieu had enjoyed,
and reproved the king, and such a king as Louis XIV., as he would a
schoolboy. He enriched and elevated his relatives, married them into
the first families of France; and amassed a fortune of two hundred
millions of livres, the largest perhaps that any subject has secured
in modern times. He even aspired to the popedom; but this greatest of
all human dignities, he was not permitted to obtain. A fatal malady
seized him, and the physicians told him he had not two months to live.
Some days after, he was seen in his dressing-gown, among his pictures,
of which he was extravagantly fond, and exclaimed, "Must I quit all
these? Look at that Correggio, this Venus of Titian, this incomparable
deluge of Carracci. Farewell, dear pictures, that I have loved so
dearly, and that have cost me so much."

[Sidenote: Death of Mazarin.]

The minister lingered awhile, and amused his last hours with cards. He
expired in 1661; and no minister after him was intrusted with such
great power. He died unlamented, even by his sovereign, whose throne
he had preserved, and whose fortune he had repaired. He had great
talents of conversation, was witty, artful, and polite. He completed
the work which Richelieu began; and, at his death, his master was the
most absolute monarch that ever reigned in France.

       *       *       *       *       *

     REFERENCES.--Louis XIV. et son Siècle. Miss Pardoe's History
     of Louis XIV. Voltaire's and James's Lives of Louis XIV.
     Memoirs of Cardinal Richelieu. Memoirs of Mazarin. Mémoires
     de Mademoiselle de Montpensier. Mémoires du Duc de Saint
     Simon. Life of Cardinal de Retz, in which the Fronde war is
     well traced. Memoir of the Duchess de Longueville.
     Lacretelle's History of France. Rankin's History of France.
     Sismondi's History of France. Crowe's History, in Lardner's
     Cyclopedia. Rowring's History of the Huguenots. Lord Mahon's
     Life of the Prince of Condé. The above works are the most
     accessible to the American student.




CHAPTER XII.

THE REIGNS OF JAMES I. AND CHARLES I.


While the Protestants in Germany were struggling for religious
liberty, and the Parliaments of France for political privileges, there
was a contest going on in England for the attainment of the same great
ends. With the accession of James I. a new era commences in English
history, marked by the growing importance of the House of Commons, and
their struggles for civil and religious liberty. The Commons had not
been entirely silent during the long reign of Elizabeth, but members
of them occasionally dared to assert those rights of which Englishmen
are proud. The queen was particularly sensitive to any thing which
pertained to her prerogative, and generally sent to the Tower any man
who boldly expressed his opinion on subjects which she deemed that she
and her ministers alone had the right to discuss. These forbidden
subjects were those which pertained to the management of religion, to
her particular courts, and to her succession to the crown. She never
made an attack on what she conceived to be the constitution, but only
zealously defended what she considered as her own rights. And she was
ever sufficiently wise to yield a point to the commons, after she had
asserted her power, so that concession, on her part, had all the
appearance of bestowing a favor. She never pushed matters to
extremity, but gave way in good time. And in this policy she showed
great wisdom; so that, in spite of all her crimes and caprices, she
ever retained the affections of the English people.

[Sidenote: Accession of James I.]

The son of her rival Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots, ascended the throne,
(1603,) under the title of _James I._, and was the first of the Stuart
kings. He had been king of Scotland under the title of _James VI._,
and had there many difficulties to contend with, chiefly in
consequence of the turbulence of the nobles, and the bigotry of the
reformers. He was eager to take possession of his English inheritance,
but was so poor that he could not begin his journey until Cecil sent
him the money. He was crowned, with great ceremony, in Westminster
Abbey, on the 25th of June.

The first acts of his reign were unpopular; and it was subsequently
disgraced by a continual succession of political blunders. To detail
these, or to mention all the acts of this king, or the events of his
inglorious reign would fill a volume larger than this History.
Moreover, from this period, modern history becomes very complicated
and voluminous, and all that can be attempted in this work is, an
allusion to the principal events.

[Sidenote: The Genius of the Reign of James.]

The genius of this reign is the contest between _royal prerogative and
popular freedom_. The proceedings in parliament were characterized by
a spirit of boldness and resistance never before manifested, while the
speeches and acts of the king were marked by an obstinate and stupid
pertinacity to those privileges which absolute kings extorted from
their subjects in former ages of despotism and darkness. The boldness
of the Commons and the bigotry of the king led to incessant
disagreement and discontent; and, finally, under Charles I., to open
rupture, revolution, and strife.

The progress of this insurrection and contest furnishes one of the
most important and instructive chapters in the history of society and
the young student cannot make himself too familiar with details, of
which our limits forbid a description.

The great Puritan contest here begins, destined not to be closed until
after two revolutions, and nearly a century of anxiety, suffering, and
strife. Providence raised up, during the whole of the Stuart dynasty,
great patriots and statesmen, who had an eye to perceive the true
interests and rights of the people, and a heart and a hand to defend
them. No period and no nation have ever been more fertile in great men
than England was from the accession of James I. to the abdication of
James II., a period of eighty-five years. Shakspeare, Raleigh, Coke,
Bacon, Cecil, Selden, Pym, Wentworth, Hollis, Leighton, Taylor,
Baxter, Howe, Cromwell, Hampden, Blake, Vane, Milton, Clarendon,
Burnet, Shaftesbury, are some of the luminaries which have shed a
light down to our own times, and will continue to shine through all
future ages. They were not all contemporaneous, but they all took
part, more or less, on one side or the other, in the great contest of
the seventeenth century. Whether statesmen, warriors, poets, or
divines, they alike made their age an epoch, and their little island
the moral centre of the world.

But we must first allude to some of the events of the reign of
James I., before the struggle between prerogative and liberty
attracted the attention of Europe.

[Sidenote: Conspiracy of Sir Walter Raleigh.]

One of the first was the conspiracy against the king, in which Lord
Cobham and Sir Walter Raleigh were engaged. We lament that so great a
favorite with all readers as Sir Walter Raleigh, so universal a
genius, a man so learned, accomplished, and brave, should have even
been suspected of a treasonable project, and without the excuse of
some traitors, that they wished to deliver their country from tyranny.
But there is no perfection in man. Sir Walter was restless and
ambitious, and had an eye mainly to his own advantage. His wit,
gallantry, and chivalry were doubtless very pleasing qualities in a
courtier, but are not the best qualities of a patriot. He was
disappointed because he could not keep pace with Cecil in the favor of
his sovereign, and because the king took away the monopolies he had
enjoyed. Hence, in conjunction with other disappointed politicians, he
was accused of an attempt to seize the king's person, to change the
ministry, and to place the Lady Arabella Stuart on the throne. Against
Raleigh appeared no less a person than the great Coke, who prosecuted
him with such vehemence that Raleigh was found guilty, and condemned
to death. But the proofs of his guilt are not so clear as the evidence
of his ambition; and much must be attributed to party animosity.
Though condemned, he was not executed; but lived to write many more
books, and make many more voyages, to the great delight both of the
cultivated and the adventurous. That there was a plot to seize the
king is clear, and the conspirators were detected and executed.
Raleigh was suspected of this, and perhaps was privy to it; but the
proofs of his crime were not apparent, except to the judges, and to
the attorney-general, Coke, who compared the different plots to
Samson's foxes, joined in the tails, though their heads were
separated.

[Sidenote: Gunpowder Plot.]

[Sidenote: Persecution of the Catholics.]

The most memorable event at this time in the domestic history of the
kingdom was the Gunpowder Plot, planned by Catesby and other
disappointed and desperate Catholics for the murder of the king, and
the destruction of both houses of parliament. Knowing the sympathies
of James for their religion, the Catholics had expected toleration, at
least. But when persecution continued against them, some reckless and
unprincipled men united in a design to blow up the parliament. Percy,
a relation of the Earl of Northumberland, was concerned in the plot,
and many of the other conspirators were men of good families and
fortunes, but were implacable bigots. They hired a cellar, under the
parliament house, which had been used for coals; and there they
deposited thirty-one barrels of gunpowder, waiting several months for
a favorable time to perpetrate one of the most horrid crimes ever
projected. It was resolved that Guy Fawkes, one of the number, should
set fire to the train. They were all ready, and the 5th of November,
1605, was at hand, the day to which parliament was prorogued; but
Percy was anxious to save _his_ kinsman from the impending ruin, Sir
Everard Digby wished to warn some of _his_ friends, and Tresham was
resolved to give _his_ brother-in-law, Lord Mounteagle, a caution. It
seems that this peer received a letter so peculiar, that he carried it
to Cecil, who showed it to the king, and the king detected or
suspected a plot. The result was, that the cellar was explored by the
lord chamberlain, and Guy Fawkes himself was found, with all the
materials for striking a light, near the vault in which the coal and
the gunpowder were deposited. He was seized, interrogated, tortured,
and imprisoned; but the wretch would not reveal the names of his
associates, although he gloried in the crime he was about to commit,
and alleged, as his excuse, that violent diseases required desperate
remedies, the maxim of the Jesuits. But most of the conspirators
revealed their guilt by flight. They might have escaped, had they fled
from the kingdom; but they hastened only into the country to collect
their friends, and head an insurrection, which, of course, was easily
suppressed. The leaders in this plot were captured and executed, and
richly deserved their fate, although it was clear that they were
infatuated. But in all crime there is infatuation. It was suspected
that the Jesuits were at the bottom of the conspiracy; and the whole
Catholic population suffered reproach from the blindness and folly of
a few bigots, from whom no sect or party ever yet has been free. But
there is no evidence that any of the Catholic clergy were even privy
to the intended crime, which was known only to the absolute plotters.
Some Jesuits were indeed suspected, arrested, tortured, and executed;
but no evidence of guilt was brought against them sufficient to
convict them. But their acquittal was impossible in such a state of
national alarm and horror. Nothing ever made a more lasting and
profound impression on the English mind than this intended crime; and
it strengthened the prejudices against the Catholics even more than
the persecutions under Queen Mary. Had the crime been consummated, it
would only have proved a blunder. It would have shocked and irritated
the nation beyond all self-control; and it is probable that the whole
Catholic population would have been assassinated, or hunted out, as
victims for the scaffold, in every corner of England. It proved,
however, a great misfortune, and the severest blow Catholicism ever
received in England. Thus God overrules all human wickedness. There
was one person who suffered, in consequence of the excited suspicions
of the nation, whose fate we cannot but compassionate; and this person
was the Earl of Northumberland, who was sentenced to pay a fine of
thirty thousand pounds, to be deprived of all his offices, and to be
imprisoned in the Tower for life, and simply because he was the head
of the Catholic party, and a promoter of toleration. Indeed, penal
statutes against the Catholics were fearfully multiplied. No Catholic
was permitted to appear at court, or live in London, or within ten
miles of it, or remove, on any occasion, more than five miles from his
home, without especial license. No Catholic recusant was permitted to
practise surgery, physic, or law; to act as judge, clerk, or officer
of any court or corporation; or perform the office of administrator,
executor, or guardian. Every Catholic who refused to have his child
baptized by a Protestant, was obliged to pay, for each omission, one
hundred pounds. Every person keeping a Catholic servant, was compelled
to pay ten pounds a month to government. Moreover, every recusant was
outlawed; his house might be broken open; his books and furniture
destroyed; and his horses and arms taken from him. Such was the severe
treatment with which the Catholics, even those who were good citizens,
were treated by our fathers in England; and this persecution was
defended by some of the greatest jurists, divines, and statesmen which
England has produced. And yet some maintain that there has been no
progress in society, except in material civilization!

[Sidenote: Robert Carr, Earl of Somerset.]

One of the peculiarities of the reign of James was, the ascendency
which favorites obtained over him, so often the mark of a weak and
vacillating mind. Henry VIII. and Elizabeth had their favorites; but
they were ministers of the royal will. Moreover, they, like Wolsey,
Cromwell, Burleigh, and Essex, were great men, and worthy of the trust
reposed in them. But James, with all his kingcraft and statecraft,
with all his ostentation and boasts of knowledge and of sagacity,
reposed his confidence in such a man as Villiers, Duke of Buckingham.
It is true he also had great men to serve him; Cecil was his
secretary, Bacon was his chancellor, and Coke was his chief justice.
But Carr and Villiers rose above them all in dignity and honor, and
were the companions and confidential agents of their royal master.

[Sidenote: Greatness and Fall of Somerset.]

Robert Carr was a Scottish gentleman, poor and cunning, who had early
been taught that personal beauty, gay dress, and lively manners, would
make his fortune at court. He first attracted the attention of the
king at a tilting match, at which he was the esquire to Lord Dingwall.
In presenting his lord's shield to the king, his horse fell and threw
him at James's feet. His leg was broken, but his fortune was made.
James, struck with his beauty and youth, and moved by the accident,
sent his own surgeon to him, visited him himself, and even taught him
Latin, seeing that the scholastic part of his education had been
neglected. Indeed, James would have made a much better schoolmaster
than king; and his pedantry and conceit were beyond all bounds, so
that Bacon styled him, either in irony or sycophancy, "the Solomon of
the age." Carr now became the pet of the learned monarch. He was
knighted, rich presents were bestowed on him, all bowed down to him as
they would have done to a royal mistress; and Cecil and Suffolk vied
with each other in their attempts to secure the favor of his friends.
He gradually eclipsed every great noble at court, was created Viscount
Rochester, received the Order of the Garter, and, when Cecil, then
Earl of Salisbury, died, received the post of the Earl of Suffolk as
lord chamberlain, he taking Cecil's place as treasurer. Rochester, in
effect, became prime minister, as Cecil had been. He was then created
Earl of Somerset, in order that he might marry the Countess of Essex,
the most beautiful and fascinating woman at the English court. She was
daughter of the Earl of Suffolk, and granddaughter of the old Duke of
Norfolk, executed in 1572, and, consequently, belonged to the first
family in the realm. She was married to Essex at the age of thirteen,
but treated him with contempt and coldness, being already enamored of
the handsome favorite. That she might marry Carr she obtained a
divorce from her husband on the most frivolous grounds, and through
the favor of the king, who would do any thing for the man he delighted
to honor. She succeeded in obtaining her end, and caused the ruin of
all who opposed her wishes. But she proved a beautiful demon, a
fascinating fury, as might be expected from such an unprincipled
woman, although ennobled by "the blood of all the Howards." Her reign
lasted, however, only during the ascendency of her husband. For a
time, "glorious days were succeeded by as glorious nights, when masks
and dancings had a continual motion, and when banquetings rapt up the
spirit of the sacred king, and kept it from descending to earthly
things." But whatever royal favor stamps, royal favor, like fashion,
leaves. Carr was supplanted by Villiers, and his doom was sealed. For
the murder of his old friend Sir Thomas Overbury, who died in the
Tower, as it was then supposed by poison, he and his countess were
tried, found guilty, and disgraced. But he was not executed, and,
after a few years' imprisonment, retired to the country, with his
lady, to reproach and hate each other. Their only child, the Lady Anna
Carr, a woman of great honor and virtue, married the first duke of
Bedford, and was the mother of Lord Russell who died on the scaffold,
a martyr to liberty, in the reign of Charles II. The origin of the
noble families of England is curious. Some few are descended from
successful Norman chieftains, who came over with William the
Conqueror, and whose merit was in their sword. Others are the
descendants of those who, as courtiers, statesmen, or warriors,
obtained great position, power, and wealth, during former reigns. Many
owe their greatness to the fact that they are the offspring of the
illegitimate children of kings, or the descendants of the ignoble
minions of kings. Some few are enrolled in the peerage on account of
their great wealth; and a still smaller number for the eminent
services they have rendered their country like Wellington, Brougham,
or Ellenborough. A vast majority can boast only the merit or the
successful baseness of their ancestors. But all of them are
interlinked by marriages, and therefore share together the glory or
the shame of their progenitors, so far as glory and shame can be
transmitted from father to son, independently of all individual virtue
or vice.

[Sidenote: Duke of Buckingham.]

[Sidenote: Lord Bacon.]

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

[Sidenote: Trial and Execution of Raleigh.]

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

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

[Sidenote: Encroachments of James.]

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

[Sidenote: Quarrel between James and Parliament.]

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

James was inflamed with indignation at this remonstrance, which
militated against all his maxims of government; and he forthwith wrote
a letter to the speaker of the House of Commons, commanding him to
admonish the members "not to presume to meddle with matters of state
which were beyond their capacity, and especially not to touch on his
son's marriage." The Commons, not dismayed, and conscious of strength,
sent up a new remonstrance in which they affirmed that they _were_
entitled to interpose with their counsel in all matters of state, and
that entire freedom of speech was their ancient and undoubted right,
transmitted from their ancestors. The king, in reply, told the
Commons, that "their remonstrance was more like a denunciation of war,
than an address of dutiful subjects, and that their pretension to
inquire into state affairs was a plenipotence to which none of their
ancestors, even during the weakest reigns, had ever dared to aspire."
He farther insinuated that their privileges were derived from royal
favor. On this, the Commons framed another protest,--that the
liberties, franchises, privileges, and jurisdictions of parliament are
the ancient and undoubted birthright of Englishmen, and that every
member has the right of freedom of speech. This protest they entered
upon their journals, upon which James lost all temper, ordered the
clerk to bring him the journals, erased the protestation with his own
hand, in presence of the judges and the council, and then dissolved
the parliament.

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

[Sidenote: Death of James I.]

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

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

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

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

[Sidenote: The Struggle of Classes.]

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

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

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

[Sidenote: Rise of Popular Power.]

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

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

The House of Commons, which had acquired great strength, spirit, and
popularity during the reign of James, fully perceived the difficulties
and necessities of Charles, but made no adequate or generous effort to
relieve him from them. Some of the more turbulent rejoiced in them.
They knew that kings, like other men, were selfish, and that it was
not natural for people to part with their privileges and power without
a struggle, even though this power was injurious to the interests of
society. In the Middle Ages, barons, bishops, and popes had fought
desperately in the struggle of classes; and it was only from their
necessities that either kings or people had obtained what they
demanded. King Charles, no more than Pope Boniface VIII., would
surrender, as a boon to man, without compulsion, his supposed
omnipotence.

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

The king ascended his throne burdened by the debts of his father, and
by an expensive war, which the Commons incited, but would not pay for.
They granted him, to meet his difficulties and maintain his honor, the
paltry sum of one hundred and forty thousand pounds, and the duties of
tonnage and poundage, not for life, as was customary, but for a year.
Nothing could be more provoking to a young king. Of course, the money
was soon spent, and the king wanted more, and had a right to expect
more. But, if the Commons granted what the king required, he would be
made independent of them, and he would rule tyrannically, as the kings
of England did before him. So they resolved not to grant necessary
supplies to carry on the government, unless the king would part with
the prerogatives of an absolute prince, and those old feudal
privileges which were an abomination in the eyes of the people.
Charles was not the man to make such a bargain. Few kings, in his age,
would have seen its necessity. But necessity there was. Civil war was
inevitable, without a compromise, provided both parties were resolved
on maintaining their ground. But Charles fancied that the Commons
could be browbeaten and intimidated into submission; and, moreover, in
case he was brought into collision with his subjects, he fancied that
he was stronger than they, and could put down the spirit of
resistance. In both of these suppositions he was wrong. The Commons
were firm, and were stronger than he was, because they had the
sympathy of the people. They believed conscientiously, especially the
Puritans, that he was wrong; that God gave him no divine right to
enslave them, and that they were entitled, by the eternal principles
of justice, and by the spirit of the constitution, to civil and
religious liberty, in the highest sense of that term. They believed
that their rights were inalienable and absolute; that, among them,
they could not be taxed without their own consent; and that their
constitutional guardians, the Commons, should be unrestricted in
debate. These notions of the people were _ideas_. On ideas all
governments rest. No throne could stand a day unless the people felt
they owed it their allegiance. When the main support of the throne of
Charles was withdrawn, the support of popular ideas, and this support
given to the House of Commons, at issue with the sovereign, what could
he do? What could Louis XVI. do one hundred and fifty years
afterwards? What could Louis Philippe do in our times? A king, without
the loyalty of the people, is a phantom, a mockery, and a delusion,
unless he have physical force to sustain him; and even then armies
will rebel, if they feel they are not bound to obey, and if it is not
for their interest to obey.

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

[Sidenote: The Counsellors of Charles.]

But Charles was not without friends, and some of his advisers were men
of sagacity and talent. It is true they did not fully appreciate the
weakness of the king, or the strength of his enemies; but they saw his
distress, and tried to remove it. They, very naturally in such an age,
recommended violent courses--to grant new monopolies, to extort fines,
to exercise all his feudal privileges, to pawn the crown jewels, even,
in order to raise money; for money, at all events, he must have. They
advised him to arrest turbulent and incendiary members of the Commons,
to prorogue and dissolve parliaments, to raise forced loans, to impose
new duties, to shut up ports, to levy fresh taxes, and to raise armies
friendly to his cause. In short, they recommended unconstitutional
measures--measures which both they and the king knew to be
unconstitutional, but which they justified on the ground of necessity.
And the king, in his perplexity, did what his ministers advised. But
every person who was sent to the Tower, every new tax, every sentence
of the Star Chamber, every seizure of property, every arbitrary
command, every violation of the liberties of the people, raised up new
enemies to the king, and inflamed the people with new discontents.

[Sidenote: Death of Buckingham--Petition of Right.]

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

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

The Petition of Right, however, obtained the king's assent, though
unwillingly, grudgingly, and insincerely given; and the Commons,
gratified for once, voted to the king supplies.

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

[Sidenote: Earl of Strafford.]

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

[Sidenote: John Hampden.]

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

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

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

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

[Sidenote: Insurrection in Scotland.]

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

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

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

[Sidenote: Long Parliament.]

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

One of the first acts of the House of Commons was the impeachment of
Strafford. He had been just summoned from Ireland, where, as lord
lieutenant, he had exercised almost regal power and regal audacity; he
had been summoned by his perplexed and desponding master to assist him
by his counsels. Reluctantly he obeyed, foreseeing the storm. He had
scarcely arrived in London when the intrepid Pym accused him of high
treason. The Lords accepted the accusation, and the imperious minister
was committed to the Tower.

The impeachment of Laud soon followed; but he was too sincere in his
tyranny to understand why he should be committed. Nor was he feared,
as Strafford was, against whom the vengeance of the parliament was
especially directed. A secret committee, invested with immense powers,
was commissioned to scrutinize his whole life, and his destruction was
resolved upon. On the 22d of March his trial began, and lasted
seventeen days, during which time, unaided, he defended himself
against thirteen accusers, with consummate ability. Indeed, he had
studied his charges and despised his adversaries. Under ordinary
circumstances, he would have been acquitted, for there was not
sufficient evidence to convict him of high treason; but an
unscrupulous and infuriated body of men were thirsting for his blood,
and it was proposed to convict him by bill of attainder; that is, by
act of parliament, on its own paramount authority, with or without the
law. The bill passed, in spite of justice, in spite of the eloquence
of the attainted earl. He was condemned, and remanded to the Tower.

Had the king been strong he would have saved his minister; had he been
magnanimous, he would have stood by him to the last. But he had
neither the power to save him, nor the will to make adequate
sacrifices. He feebly interposed, but finally yielded, and gave his
consent to the execution of the main agent of all his aggressions on
the constitution he had sworn to maintain. Strafford deserved his
fate, although the manner of his execution was not according to law.

[Sidenote: Rebellion of Ireland.]

A few months after the execution of Strafford, an event occurred which
proved exceedingly unfortunate to the royal cause; and this was the
rebellion of Ireland, and the massacre of the Protestant population,
caused, primarily, by the oppressive government of England, and the
harsh and severe measures of the late lord lieutenant. In the course
of a few weeks, the English and Scottish colonies seemed almost
uprooted; one of the most frightful butcheries was committed that ever
occurred. The Protestants exaggerated their loss; but it is probable
that at least fifty thousand were massacred. The local government of
Dublin was paralyzed. The English nation was filled with deadly and
implacable hostility, not against the Irish merely, but against the
Catholics every where. It was supposed that there was a general
conspiracy among the Catholics to destroy the whole nation; and it was
whispered that the queen herself had aided the revolted Irish. The
most vigorous measures were adopted to raise money and troops for
Ireland. The Commons took occasion of the general spirit of discontent
and insurrection to prepare a grand remonstrance on the evils of the
kingdom, which were traced to a "coalition of Papists, Arminian
bishops and clergymen, and evil courtiers and counsellors." The
Commons recited all the evils of the last sixteen years, and declared
the necessity of taking away the root of them, which was the arbitrary
power of the sovereign. The king, in reply, told the Commons that
their remonstrance was unparliamentary; that he could not understand
what they meant by a wicked party; that bishops were entitled to their
votes in parliament; and that, as to the removal of evil counsellors,
they must name whom they were. The remonstrance was printed and
circulated by the Commons, which was of more effect than an army could
have been.

Thus were affairs rapidly reaching a crisis, when the attempt to seize
five of the most refractory and able members of parliament consummated
it. The members were Hollis, Hazelrig, Pym, Hampden, and Strode; and
they were accused of high treason. This movement of the king was one
of the greatest blunders and one of the most unconstitutional acts he
ever committed. The Commons refused to surrender their members; and
then the king went down to the house, with an armed force, to seize
them. But Pym and others got intelligence of the design of Charles,
and had time to withdraw before he arrived. "The baffled tyrant
returned to Whitehall with his company of bravoes," while the city of
London sheltered Hampden and his friends. The shops were shut, the
streets were filled with crowds, and the greatest excitement
prevailed. The friends of Charles, who were inclined to constitutional
measures, were filled with shame. It was now feared that the king
would not respect his word or the constitution, and, with all his
promises, was still bent on tyrannical courses. All classes, but
bigoted royalists, now felt that something must be done promptly, or
that their liberties would be subverted.

Then it was, and not till then, that the Commons openly defied him,
while the king remained in his palace, humbled, dismayed, and
bewildered, "feeling," says Clarendon, "the trouble and agony which
usually attend generous minds upon their having committed errors;" or,
as Macaulay says, "the despicable repentance which attends the
bungling villain, who, having attempted to commit a crime, finds that
he has only committed a folly."

[Sidenote: Flight of the King from London.]

In a few days, the king fled from Whitehall, which he was never
destined to see again till he was led through it to the scaffold. He
went into the country to raise forces to control the parliament, and
the parliament made vigorous measures to put itself and the kingdom in
a state of resistance. On the 23d of April, the king, with three
hundred horse, advanced to Hull, and were refused admission by the
governor. This was tantamount to a declaration of war. It was so
considered. Thirty-two Lords, and sixty members of the Commons
departed for York to join the king. The parliament decreed an army,
and civil war began.

Before this can be traced we must consider the Puritans, which is
necessary in order fully to appreciate the Revolution. The reign of
Charles I. was now virtually ended, and that of the Parliament and
Cromwell had begun.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Sidenote: Rise of the Puritans.]

Dissensions among the Protestants themselves did not occur until the
reign of Elizabeth, and were first caused by difficulties about a
clerical dress, which again led to the advocacy of simpler forms of
worship, stricter rules of life, more definite forms of faith, and
more democratic principles of government, both ecclesiastical and
civil. The first promoters of these opinions were the foreign divines
who came from Geneva, at the invitation of Cranmer, of whom Peter
Martyr, Martin Bucer, John à Lasco, were the most distinguished. Some
Englishmen, also, who had been travelling on the continent, brought
with them the doctrines of Calvin. Among these was Hooper, who, on
being nominated to the bishopric of Gloucester, refused to submit to
the appointed form of consecration and admission. He objected to what
he called the _Aaronical_ habits--the square cap, tippet, and
surplice, worn by bishops. But dissent became more marked and
determined when the exiles returned to England, on the accession of
Elizabeth, and who were for advancing the reformation according to
their own standard. The queen and her advisers, generally, were
content with King Edward's liturgy; but the majority of the exiles
desired the simpler services of Geneva. The new bishops, most of whom
had been their companions abroad, endeavored to soften them for the
present, declaring that they would use all their influence at court to
secure them indulgence. The queen herself connived at non-conformity,
until her government was established, but then firmly declared that
she had fixed her standard, and insisted on her subjects conforming to
it. The bishops, seeing this, changed their conduct, explained away
their promises, and became severe towards their dissenting brethren.

The standard of the queen was the Thirty-Nine Articles. She admitted
that the Scriptures were the sole rule of faith, but declared that
individuals must interpret Scripture as expounded in the articles and
formularies of the English church, in violation of the great principle
of Protestantism, which even the Puritans themselves did not fully
recognize--the right and the duty of every individual to interpret
Scripture himself, whether his interpretation interfered with the
Established Church or not.

[Sidenote: Original Difficulties and Differences.]

The first dissenters did not claim this right, but only urged that
certain points, about which they felt scruples, should be left as
matters indifferent. On all essential points, they, as well as the
strictest conformists, believed in the necessity of a uniformity of
public worship, and of using the sword of the magistrate in defence of
their doctrines. The standard of conformity, according to the bishops,
was the queen's supremacy and the laws of the land; according to the
Puritans, the decrees of provincial and national synods.

At first, many of the Puritans overcame their scruples so far as to
comply with the required oath and accept livings in the Establishment.
But they indulged in many irregularities, which, during the first year
of the reign of Elizabeth, were winked at by the authorities. "Some
performed," says an old author, "divine service in the chancel, others
in the body of the church; some in a seat made in the church; some in
a pulpit, with their faces to the people; some keeping precisely to
the order of the book; some intermix psalms in metre; some say with a
surplice, and others without one. The table stands in the body of the
church in some places, in others it stands in the chancel; in some
places the table stands altarwise, distant from the wall a yard, in
others in the middle of the chancel, north and south. Some administer
the communion with surplice and cap, some with a surplice alone,
others with none; some with chalice, others with a communion cup,
others with a common cup; some with unleavened bread, and some with
leavened; some receive kneeling, others standing, others sitting; some
baptize in a font, some in a basin; some sign with the sign of the
cross, other sign not; some minister with a surplice, others without;
some with a square cap, others with a round cap; some with a button
cap, and some with a hat, some in scholar's clothes, some in common
clothes."

These differences in public worship, which, by many, were considered
as indifferent matters, and by others were unduly magnified, seem to
have constituted the chief peculiarity of the early Puritans. In
regard to the queen's supremacy, the union of church and state, the
necessity of supporting religion by law, and articles of theological
belief, there was no disagreement. Most of the non-conformists were
men of learning and piety, and among the ornaments of the church.

The metropolitan bishop, at this time, was Parker, a great stickler
for the forms of the church, and very intolerant in all his opinions.
He and others of the bishops had been appointed as commissioners to
investigate the causes of dissent, and to suspend all who refused to
conform to the rubric of the church. Hence arose the famous Court of
the Ecclesiastical Commission, so much abused during the reigns of
James and Charles.

[Sidenote: Persecution during the Reign of Elizabeth.]

Under the direction of Parker, great numbers were suspended from their
livings for non-conformity, and sent to wander in a state of
destitution. Among these were some of the most learned men in the
church. They had no means of defence or livelihood, and resorted to
the press in order to vindicate their opinions. For this they were
even more harshly dealt with; an order was issued from the Star
Chamber, that no person should print a book against the queen's
injunctions, upon the penalty of fines and imprisonment; and authority
was given to church-wardens to search all suspected places where books
might be concealed. Great multitudes suffered in consequence of these
tyrannical laws.

But the non-conformists were further molested. They were forbidden to
assemble together to read the Scriptures and pray, but were required
to attend regularly the churches of the Establishment, on penalty of
heavy fines for neglect.

At length, worried, disgusted, and irritated, they resolved upon
setting up the Genevan service, and upon withdrawing entirely from the
Church of England. The separation, once made, (1566,) became wider and
wider, and the Puritans soon after opposed the claims of bishops as a
superior order of the clergy. They were opposed to the temporal
dignities annexed to the episcopal office to the titles and office of
archdeacons, deans, and chapters; to the jurisdiction of spiritual
courts; to the promiscuous access of all persons to the communion; to
the liturgy; to the prohibition, in the public service of prayer, by
the clergyman himself; to the use of godfathers and godmothers; to the
custom of confirmation; to the cathedral worship and organs; to
pluralities and non-residency; to the observance of Lent and of the
holy days; and to the appointment of ministers by the crown, bishops,
or lay patrons, instead of election by the people.

The schism was now complete, and had grown out of such small
differences as refusing to bow at the name of Jesus, and to use the
cross in baptism.

In our times, the Puritans would have been permitted to worship God in
their own way, but they were not thus allowed in the time of
Elizabeth. Religious toleration was not then understood or practised;
and it was the fault of the age, since the Puritans themselves, when
they obtained the power, persecuted with great severity the Quakers
and the Catholics. But, during the whole reign of Elizabeth,
especially the life of Archbishop Parker, they were in a minority, and
suffered--as minorities ever have suffered--all the miseries which
unreasonable majorities could inflict.

[Sidenote: Archbishops Grindal and Whitgift.]

Archbishop Grindal, who succeeded Parker in 1575, recommended milder
measures to the queen; but she had no charity for those who denied the
supremacy of her royal conscience.

Grindal was succeeded, in 1583, by Dr. Whitgift, the antagonist of the
learned Dr. Cartwright, and he proved a ruler of the church according
to her majesty's mind. He commenced a most violent crusade against the
non-conformists, and was so harsh, cruel, and unreasonable, that
Cecil--Lord Burleigh--was obliged to remonstrate, being much more
enlightened than the prelate. "I have read over," said he, "your
twenty-four articles, and I find them so curiously penned, that I
think that the Spanish Inquisition used not so many questions to
entrap the priests." Nevertheless fines, imprisonment, and the gibbet
continued to do their work in the vain attempt to put down opinions,
till within four or five years of the queen's death when there was a
cessation of persecution.

[Sidenote: Persecution under James.]

[Sidenote: Puritans in Exile.]

But the Scottish Solomon, as James was called, renewed the severity
which Elizabeth found it wise to remit. Hitherto, the Puritans had
been chiefly Presbyterians; but now the Independents arose, who
carried their views still further, even to wildness and radicalism.
They were stricter Calvinists, and inclined to republican views of
civil government. Consequently, they were still more odious than were
the Presbyterians to an arbitrary government. They were now persecuted
for their doctrines of faith, as well as for their forms of worship.
The Church of England retained the thirty-nine articles; but many of
her leading clergy sympathized with the views of Arminius, and among
them was the primate himself. So strictly were Arminian doctrines
cherished, that no person under a dean was permitted to discourse on
predestination, election, reprobation, efficacy, or universality of
God's grace. And the king himself would hear no doctrines preached,
except those he had condemned at the synod of Dort. But this act was
aimed against the Puritans, who, of all parties, were fond of
preaching on what was called "the Five Points of Calvinism." But they
paid dearly for their independence. James absolutely detested them,
regarded them as a sect insufferable in a well-governed commonwealth,
and punished them with the greatest severity. Their theological
doctrines, their notions of church government, and, above all, their
spirit of democratic liberty, were odious and repulsive. Archbishop
Bancroft, who succeeded Whitgift in 1604, went beyond all his
predecessors in bigotry, but had not their commanding intellects. His
measures were so injudicious, so vexatious, so annoying, so severe,
and so cruel, that the Puritans became, if possible, still more
estranged. With the popular discontents, and with the progress of
persecution, their numbers increased, both in Scotland and England.
With the increase of Puritanism was also a corresponding change in the
Church of England, since ceremony and forms increased almost to a
revival of Catholicism. And this reaction towards Rome, favored by the
court, incensed still more the Puritans, and led to language
unnecessarily violent and abusive on their side. Their controversial
tracts were pervaded with a spirit of bitterness and treason which, in
the opinion of James, fully justified the imprisonments, fines, and
mutilations which his minister inflicted. The Puritans, in despair,
fled to Holland, and from thence to New England, to establish, amid
its barren hills and desolate forests, that worship which alone they
thought would be acceptable to God. Persecution elevated them, and
none can deny that they were characterized by moral virtues and a
spirit of liberty which no people ever before or since exhibited.
Almost their only fault was intolerance respecting the opinions and
pleasures of many good people who did not join their ranks.

James's death did not remit their sufferings; but, by this time, they
had so multiplied that they became a party too formidable to be
crushed. The High Commission Court and the Star Chamber still filled
the prisons and pillories with victims; but every sentence of these
courts fanned the flame of discontent, and hastened the catastrophe
which was rapidly approaching. The volcano, over whose fearful brink
the royal family and the haughty hierarchy were standing, was now
sending forth those frightful noises which indicated approaching
convulsions.

During the years that Charles dispensed with the parliaments, when
Laud was both minister and archbishop, the persecution reached its
height, and also popular discontent. During this period, the greatest
emigration was made to New England, and even Hampden and Cromwell
contemplated joining their brethren in America. Arianism and Popery
advanced with Puritanism, and all parties prepared for the approaching
contest. The advocates of royal usurpation became more unreasonable,
the friends of popular liberty became more violent. Those who had the
power, exercised it without reflection. The history of the times is
simply this--despotism striving to put Puritanism and liberty beneath
its feet, and Puritanism aiming to subvert the crown.

But the greatest commotions were in Scotland, where the people were
generally Presbyterians; and it was the zeal of Archbishop Laud in
suppressing these, and attempting to change the religion of the land,
which precipitated the ruin of Charles I.

[Sidenote: Troubles in Scotland.]

Ever since the time of Knox, Scotland had been the scene of violent
religious animosities. In that country, the reformation, from the
first, had been a popular movement. It was so impetuous, and decided
under the guidance of the uncompromising Knox, that even before the
dethronement of Mary, it was complete. In the year 1592, through the
influence of Andrew Melville, the Presbyterian government was fairly
established, and King James is said to have thus expressed himself: "I
praise God that I was born in the time of the light of the gospel, and
in such a place as to be king of the purest kirk in the world." The
Church of Scotland, however, had severe struggles from the period of
its institution, 1560, to the year 1584, when the papal influence was
finally destroyed by the expulsion of the earl of Arran from the
councils of the young king. Nor did these struggles end even there.
James, perceiving that Episcopacy was much more consonant with
monarchy than Presbyterianism, attempted to remodel the Scottish
church on the English basis, which attempt resulted in discontent and
rebellion. James, however, succeeded in reducing to contempt the
general assemblies of the Presbyterian church, and in confirming
Archbishop Spotswood in the chief administration of ecclesiastical
affairs, which, it must be confessed, were regulated with great
prudence and moderation.

When Charles came to the throne, he complained of the laxity of the
Scotch primate, and sent him a set of rules by which he was to
regulate his conduct. Charles also added new dignities to his see, and
ordained that he, as primate, should take precedence over all the
temporal lords, which irritated the proud Scotch nobility. He moreover
contemplated the recovery of tithes and church lands for the benefit
of the Episcopal government, and the imposition of a liturgy on the
Scotch nation, a great majority of whom were Presbyterians. This was
the darling scheme of Laud, who believed that there could scarcely be
salvation out of his church, and which church he strove to make as
much like the Catholic as possible, and yet maintain independence of
the pope. But nothing was absolutely done towards changing the
religion of Scotland until Charles came down to Edinburgh (1633) to be
crowned, when a liturgy was prepared for the Scotch nation, subjected
to the revision of Laud, but which was not submitted to or seen by,
the General Assembly, or any convocation of ministers in Scotland.
Nothing could be more ill timed or ill judged than this conflict with
the religious prejudices of a people zealously attached to their own
forms of worship. The clergy united with the aristocracy, and both
with the people, in denouncing the conduct of the king and his
ministers as tyrannical and unjust. The canons, especially, which Laud
had prepared, were, in the eyes of the Scotch, puerile and
superstitious; they could not conceive why a Protestant prelate should
make so much account of the position of the font or of the communion
table, turned into an altar. Indeed, his liturgy was not much other
than an English translation of the Roman Missal, and excited the
detestation of all classes. Yet it was resolved to introduce it into
the churches, and the day was fixed for its introduction, which was
Easter Sunday, 1637. But such a ferment was produced, that the
experiment was put off to Sunday, 23d of July. On that day, the
archbishops and bishops, lords of session, and magistrates were all
present, by command, in the Church of St. Giles. But no sooner had the
dean opened the service book, and begun to read out of it, than the
people, who had assembled in great crowds, began to fill the church
with uproar. The bishop of Edinburgh, who was to preach, stepped into
the pulpit, and attempted to appease the tumultuous people. But this
increased the tumult, when an old woman, seizing a stool, hurled it at
the bishop's head. Sticks, stones, and dirt followed the stool, with
loud cries of "Down with the priest of Baal!" "A pape, a pape!"
"Antichrist!" "Pull him down!" This was the beginning of the
insurrection, which spread from city to village, until all Scotland
was in arms, and Episcopacy, as an established religion, was
subverted. In February, 1638, the covenant was drawn up in Edinburgh,
and was subscribed to by all classes, in all parts of Scotland; and,
in November, the General Assembly met in Glasgow, the first that had
been called for twenty years, and Presbyterianism was reëstablished in
the kingdom, if not legally, yet in reality.

From the day on which the Convocation opened, until the conquest of
the country by Cromwell, the Kirk reigned supreme, there being no
power in the government, or in the country, able or disposed to resist
or question its authority. This was the golden age of Presbyterianism,
when the clergy enjoyed autocratic power --a sort of Druidical
ascendency over the minds and consciences of the people, in affairs
temporal as well as spiritual.

[Sidenote: Peculiarities of Puritanism in England.]

Puritanism did not pervade the English, as it did the Scotch mind,
although it soon obtained an ascendency. Most of the great political
chieftains who controlled the House of Commons, and who clamored for
the death of Strafford and Laud, were Puritans. But they were not all
Presbyterians. In England, after the flight of the king from
Whitehall, the Independents attracted notice, and eventually seized
the reins of government. Cromwell was an Independent.

The difference between these two sects was chiefly in their views
about government, civil and ecclesiastical. Both Presbyterians and
Independents were rigid Calvinists, practised a severe morality, were
opposed to gay amusements, disliked organs and ceremonies, strictly
observed the Sabbath, and attached great importance to the close
observance of the Mosaic ritual. The Presbyterians were not behind the
Episcopalians in hatred of sects and a free press. They had their
model of worship, and declared it to be of divine origin. They looked
upon schism as the parent of licentiousness, insisted on entire
uniformity, maintained the divine right of the clergy to the
management of ecclesiastical affairs, and claimed the sword of the
magistrate to punish schismatics and heretics. They believed in the
union of church and state, but would give the clergy the ascendency
they possessed in the Middle Ages. They did not desire the entire
prostration of royal authority, but only aimed to limit and curtail
it.

The Independents wished a total disruption of church and state, and
disliked synods almost as much as they did bishops. They believed that
every congregation was a distinct church, and had a right to elect the
pastor. They preferred the greatest variety of sects to the ascendency
of any one, by means of the civil sword. They rejected all spiritual
courts, and claimed the right of each church to reject, punish, or
receive members. In politics, they wished a total overthrow of the
government--monarchy, aristocracy, and prelacy; and were averse to any
peace which did not secure complete toleration of opinions, and the
complete subversion of the established order of things.

[Sidenote: Conflicts among the Puritans.]

Between the Presbyterians and the Independents, therefore, there could
not be any lasting sympathy or alliance. They only united to crush the
common foe; and, when Charles was beheaded, and Cromwell installed in
power, they turned their arms against each other.

The great religious contest, after the rise of Cromwell, was not
between the Puritans and the Episcopalians, but between the different
sects of Puritans themselves. At first, the Independents harmonized
with the Presbyterians. Their theological and ethical opinions were
the same, and both cordially hated and despised the government of the
Stuarts. But when the Presbyterians obtained the ascendency, the
Independents were grieved and enraged to discover that religious
toleration was stigmatized as the parent of all heresy and schism.
While in power, the Presbyterians shackled the press, and their
intolerance brought out John Milton's famous tract on the liberty of
unlicensed printing--one of the most masterly arguments which the
advocates of freedom have ever made. The idea that any dominant
religious sect should be incorporated with the political power, was
the fatal error of Presbyterianism, and raised up enemies against it,
after the royal power was suppressed. Cromwell was persuaded that the
cause of religious liberty would be lost unless Presbyterianism, as
well as Episcopacy, was disconnected with the state; and hence one
great reason of his assuming the dictatorship. And he granted a more
extended toleration than had before been known in England, although it
was not perfect. The Catholics and the Quakers were not partakers of
the boon which he gave to his country; so hard is it for men to learn
the rights of others, when they have power in their own hands.

[Sidenote: Character of the Puritans.]

The Restoration was a victory over both the Independents and the
general swarm of sectaries which an age of unparalleled religious
excitement had produced. It is difficult to conceive of the intensity
of the passions which inflamed all parties of religious disputants.
But if the Puritan contest developed fanatical zeal, it also brought
out the highest qualities of mind and heart which any age has
witnessed. With all the faults and weaknesses of the Puritans, there
never lived a better class of men,--men of more elevated piety, more
enlarged views, or greater disinterestedness, patriotism, and moral
worth. They made sacrifices which our age can scarcely appreciate, and
had difficulties to contend with which were unparalleled in the
history of reform. They made blunders which approximated to crimes,
but they made them in their inexperience and zeal to promote the cause
of religion and liberty. They were conscientious men--men who acted
from the fear of God, and with a view to promote the highest welfare
of future generations. They launched their bark boldly upon an unknown
sea, and heroically endured its dangers and sufferings, with a view of
conferring immortal blessings on their children and country. More
prudent men would have avoided the perils of an unknown navigation;
but, by such men, a great experiment for humanity would not have been
tried. It may have failed, but the world has learned immortal wisdom
from the failure. But the Puritans were not mere adventurers or
martyrs. They have done something of lasting benefit to mankind, and
they have done this by the power of faith, and by loyalty to their
consciences, perverted as they were in some respects. The Puritans
were not agreeable companions to the idle, luxurious, or frivolous;
they were rigid ever, to austerity; their expressions degenerated into
cant, and they were hostile to many innocent amusements. But these
were peculiarities which furnished subjects of ridicule merely, and
did not disgrace or degrade them. These were a small offset to their
moral wisdom, their firm endurance, their elevation of sentiment,
their love of liberty, and their fear of God. Such are the men whom
Providence ordains to give impulse to society, and effect great and
useful reforms.

       *       *       *       *       *

We now return to consider the changes which they attempted in
government. The civil war, of which Cromwell was the hero, now claims
our attention.

The refusal of the governor of Hull to admit the king was virtually
the declaration of war, for which both parties had vigorously
prepared.

The standard of the king was first raised in Nottingham, while the
head-quarters of the parliamentarians were in London. The first action
of any note was the battle of Edge Hill, (October 23, 1642,) but was
undecisive. Indeed, both parties hesitated to plunge into desperate
war, at least until, by skirmishings and military manoeuvres, they
were better prepared for it.

The forces of the belligerents, at this period, were nearly equal but
the parliamentarians had the ablest leaders. It was the misfortune of
the king to have no man of commanding talents, as his counsellor,
after the arrest of Strafford. Hyde, afterwards lord chancellor, and
Earl of Clarendon, was the ablest of the royalist party. Falkland and
Culpeper were also eminent men; but neither of them was the equal of
Pym or Hampden.

[Sidenote: John Hampden.]

The latter was doubtless the ablest man in England at this time, and
the only one who could have saved it from the evils which afterwards
afflicted it. On him the hopes and affections of the nation centred.
He was great in council and great in debate. He was the acknowledged
leader of the House of Commons. He was eloquent, honest, unwearied,
sagacious, and prudent. "Never had a man inspired a nation with
greater confidence: the more moderate had faith in his wisdom; the
more violent in his devoted patriotism; the more honest in his
uprightness; the more intriguing in his talents." He spared neither
his fortune nor his person, as soon as hostilities were inevitable. He
subscribed two thousand pounds to the public cause, took a colonel's
commission, and raised a regiment of infantry, so well known during
the war for its green uniform, and the celebrated motto of its
intrepid leader,--"_Vestigia nulla retrorsum_." He possessed the
talents of a great statesman and a great general, and all the united
qualities requisite for the crisis in which he appeared--"the valor
and energy of Cromwell, the discernment and eloquence of Vane, the
humanity and moderation of Manchester, the stern integrity of Hale,
the ardent public spirit of Sydney. Others could conquer; he alone
could reconcile. A heart as bold as his brought up the cuirassiers who
turned the tide of battle on Marston Moor. As skilful an eye as his
watched the Scottish army descending from the heights over Dunbar. But
it was when, to the sullen tyranny of Laud and Charles, had succeeded
the fierce conflict of sects and factions, ambitious of ascendency,
and burning for revenge; it was when the vices and ignorance, which
the old tyranny had generated, threatened the new freedom with
destruction, that England missed that sobriety, that self-command,
that perfect soundness of judgment, that perfect rectitude of
intention, to which the history of revolutions furnishes no parallel,
or furnishes a parallel in Washington alone."[1]

               [Footnote 1: Macaulay.]

[Sidenote: Oliver Cromwell.]

This great man was removed by Providence from the scene of violence
and faction at an early period of the contest. He was mortally wounded
in one of those skirmishes in which the detachments of both armies had
thus far engaged, and which made the campaigns of 1642-3 so undecided,
so tedious, and so irritating--campaigns in which the generals of both
armies reaped no laurels, and which created the necessity for a
greater genius than had thus far appeared. That genius was Oliver
Cromwell. At the battle of Edge Hill he was only captain of a troop of
horse, and at the death of his cousin Hampden, he was only colonel. He
was indeed a member of the Long Parliament, as was Hampden, and had
secured the attention of the members in spite of his slovenly
appearance and his incoherent, though earnest speeches. Under his
rough and clownish exterior, his talents were not perceived, except by
two or three penetrating intellects; but they were shortly to appear,
and to be developed, not in the House of Commons, but on the field of
battle. The rise of Oliver Cromwell can scarcely be dated until the
death of John Hampden; nor were the eyes of the nation fixed on him,
as their deliverer, until some time after. The Earl of Essex was still
the commander of the forces, while the Earl of Bedford, Lord
Manchester, Lord Fairfax, Skippon, Sir William Waller, Leslie, and
others held high posts. Cromwell was still a subordinate; but genius
breaks through all obstacles, and overleaps all boundaries. The time
had not yet come for the exercise of his great military talents. The
period of negotiation had not fully passed, and the king, at his
head-quarters at Oxford, "that seat of pure, unspotted loyalty," still
hoped to amuse the parliament, gain time, and finally overwhelm its
forces. Prince Rupert--brave, ardent, reckless, unprincipled--still
ravaged the country without reaping any permanent advantage. The
parliament was perplexed and the people were disappointed. On the
whole, the king's forces were in the ascendant, and were augmenting;
while plots and insurrections were constantly revealing to the
parliamentarians the dangers which threatened them. Had not an able
leader, at this crisis, appeared among the insurgents, or had an able
general been given to Charles, it is probable that the king would have
secured his ends; for popular enthusiasm without the organization
which a master spirit alone can form, soon burns itself out.

[Sidenote: The King at Oxford.]

The state of the contending parties, from the battle of Edge Hill, for
nearly two years, was very singular and very complicated. The king
remained at Oxford, distracted by opposing counsels, and perplexed by
various difficulties. The head-quarters of his enemies, at London,
were no less the seat of intrigues and party animosities. The
Presbyterians were the most powerful, and were nearly as distrustful
of the Independents as they were of the king, and feared a victory
over the king nearly as much as they did a defeat by him, and the
dissensions among the various sects and leaders were no secret in the
royalist camp, and doubtless encouraged Charles in his endless
intrigues and dissimulations. But he was not equal to decisive
measures, and without them, in revolutionary times, any party must be
ruined. While he was meditating and scheming, he heard the news of an
alliance between Scotland and the parliament, in which the
Presbyterian interest was in the ascendency. This was the first great
blow he received since the commencement of the war, and the united
forces of his enemies now resolved upon more vigorous measures.

At the opening of the campaign, the parliament had five armies--that
of the Scots, of twenty-one thousand; that of Essex, ten thousand five
hundred; that of Waller, five thousand one hundred; that of
Manchester, fourteen thousand; and that of Fairfax, five thousand five
hundred--in all, about fifty-six thousand men, of whom the committee
of the two kingdoms had the entire disposal. In May, Essex and Waller
invested Oxford, while Fairfax, Manchester, and the Scots met under
the walls of York. Thus these two great royalist cities were attacked
at once by all the forces of parliament. Charles, invested by a
stronger force, and being deprived of the assistance of the princes,
Rupert and Maurice, his nephews, who were absent on their marauding
expeditions, escaped from Oxford, and proceeded towards Exeter. In the
mean time, he ordered Prince Rupert to advance to the relief of York,
which was defended by the marquis of Newcastle. The united royalist
army now amounted to twenty-six thousand men, with a numerous and well
appointed cavalry; and this great force obliged the armies of the
parliament to raise the siege of York. Had Rupert been contented with
this success, and intrenched himself in the strongest city of the
north of England, he and Newcastle might have maintained their ground;
but Rupert, against the advice of Newcastle, resolved on an engagement
with the parliamentary generals, who had retreated to Marston Moor, on
the banks of the Ouse, five miles from the city.

The next day after the relief of York was fought the famous battle of
Marston Moor, (July 2, 1644,) the bloodiest in the war, which resulted
in the entire discomfiture of the royalist forces, and the ruin of the
royal interests at the north. York was captured in a few days. Rupert
retreated to Lancashire to recruit his army, and Newcastle, disgusted
with Rupert, and with the turn affairs had taken, withdrew beyond
seas. The Scots soon stormed the town of Newcastle, and the whole
north of England fell into the hands of the victors.

[Sidenote: Cromwell after the Battle.]

[Sidenote: Enthusiasm of the Independents.]

This great battle was decided by the ability of Cromwell, now
lieutenant-general in the army of the parliament. He had distinguished
himself in all subordinate stations, in the field of battle, in
raising forces, and in councils of war, for which he had been promoted
to serve as second under the Earl of Manchester. But his remarkable
military genius was not apparent to the parliament until the battle of
Marston Moor, and on him the eyes of the nation now began to be
centred. He was now forty-five years of age, in the vigor of his
manhood, burning with religious enthusiasm, and eager to deliver his
country from the tyranny of Charles I., and of all kings. He was an
Independent and a radical, opposed to the Episcopalians, to the
Presbyterians, to the Scots, to all moderate men, to all moderate
measures, to all jurisdiction in matters of religion, and to all
authority in political affairs, which did not directly emanate from
the people, who were called upon to regulate themselves by their
individual reason. He was the idol of the Independent party, which now
began to gain the ascendency in that stormy crisis. For three years,
the Presbyterians had been in the ascendant, but had not realized the
hopes or expectations of the enthusiastic advocates of freedom. By
turns imperious and wavering, fanatical and moderate, they sought to
curtail and humble the king, not to ruin him; to depress Episcopacy,
but to establish another religion by the sword of the magistrate.
Their leaders were timid, insincere, and disunited; few among them had
definite views respecting the future government of the realm: and they
gradually lost the confidence of the nation. But the Independents
reposed fearlessly on the greatness and grandeur of their abstract
principles, and pronounced, without a scruple, those potent words
which kindled a popular enthusiasm--equality of rights, the just
distribution of property, and the removal of all abuses. Above all,
they were enthusiasts in religion, as well as in liberty, and devoutly
attached to the doctrines of Calvin. They abominated all pleasures and
pursuits which diverted their minds from the contemplation of God, or
the reality of a future state. Cromwell himself lived in the ecstasy
of religious excitement. His language was the language of the Bible,
and its solemn truths were not dogmas, but convictions to his ardent
mind. In the ardor of his zeal and the frenzy of his hopes, he fondly
fancied that the people of England were to rise in simultaneous
confederation, shake off all the old shackles of priests and kings,
and be governed in all their actions, by the principles of the Bible.
A sort of Jewish theocracy was to be restored on earth, and he was to
be the organ of the divine will, as was Joshua of old, when he led the
Israelites against the pagan inhabitants of the promised land. Up to
this time, no inconsistencies disgraced him. His prayers and his
exhortations were in accordance with his actions, and the most
scrutinizing malignity could attribute nothing to him but sincerity
and ardor in the cause which he had so warmly espoused. As magistrate,
as member of parliament, as farmer, or as general, he slighted no
religious duties, and was devoted to the apparent interests of
England. Such a man, so fervent, enthusiastic, honest, patriotic, and
able, of course was pointed out as a future leader, especially when
his great military talents were observed at Marston Moor. From the
memorable 2d of July he became the most marked and influential man in
England. Hampden had offered up his life as a martyr, and Pym, the
great lawyer and statesman, had died from exhaustion. Essex had won no
victory commensurate with the public expectations, and Waller lost his
army by desertions and indecisive measures. Both Essex and Manchester,
with their large estates, their aristocratic connections, and their
Presbyterian sympathies, were afraid of treating the king too well.
The battle of Newbury, which shortly after was gained by the
parliamentarians, was without decisive results, in consequence of the
indecision of Manchester. The parliament and the nation looked for
another leader, who would pursue his advantages, and adopt more
vigorous measures. At this point, the Presbyterians would have made
peace with the king, who still continued his insincere negotiations;
but it was too late. The Independents had gained the ascendency, and
their voice was for war--no more dallying, no more treaties, no more
half measures, but uncompromising war. It was plain that either the
king or the Independents must be the absolute rulers of England.

Then was passed (April 3, 1645) the famous Self-Denying Ordinance, by
which all members of parliament were excluded from command in the
army, an act designed to get rid of Essex and Manchester, and prepare
the way for the elevation of Cromwell. Sir Thomas Fairfax was
appointed to the supreme command, and Cromwell was despatched into the
inland counties to raise recruits. But it was soon obvious that the
army could do nothing without him, although it was remodelled and
reënforced; and even Fairfax and his officers petitioned parliament
that Cromwell might be appointed lieutenant-general again, and
commander-in-chief of the horse; which request was granted, and
Cromwell rejoined the army, of which he was its hope and idol.

[Sidenote: Battle of Naseby.]

He joined it in time to win the most decisive battle of the war, the
battle of Naseby, June 14, 1645. The forces of both armies were nearly
balanced, and the royalists were commanded by the king in person,
assisted by his ablest generals. But the rout of the king's forces was
complete, his fortunes were prostrated, and he was driven, with the
remnants of his army, from one part of the kingdom to the other, while
the victorious parliamentarians were filled with exultation and joy.
Cromwell, however, was modest and composed, and ascribed the victory
to the God of battles, whose servant, he fancied, he preëminently was.

[Sidenote: Success of the Parliamentary Army.]

The parliamentary army continued its successes. Montrose gained the
battle of Alford; Bridgewater surrendered to Fairfax; Glasgow and
Edinburgh surrendered to Montrose; Prince Rupert was driven from
Bristol, and, as the king thought, most disgracefully, which
misfortune gave new joy to the parliament, and caused new
thanksgivings from Cromwell, who gained the victory. From Bristol, the
army turned southward, and encountered what royalist force there was
in that quarter, stormed Bridgewater, drove the royalist generals into
Cornwall, took Winchester, battered down Basing House, rich in
provisions, ammunition, and silver plate, and completely prostrated
all the hopes of the king in the south of England. Charles fled from
Oxford, secretly, to join the Scottish army.

By the 24th of June, 1646, all the garrisons of England and Wales,
except those in the north, were in the hands of the parliament. In
July, the parliament sent their final propositions to the king at
Newcastle, which were extremely humiliating, and which he rejected.
Negotiations were then entered into between the parliament and the
Scots, which were long protracted, but which finally ended in an
agreement, by the Scots, to surrender the king to the parliament, for
the payment of their dues. They accordingly marched home with an
instalment of two hundred thousand pounds, and the king was given up,
not to the Independents, but to the Commissioners of parliament, in
which body the Presbyterian interest predominated.

At this juncture, (January, 1647,) Cromwell, rather than the king, was
in danger of losing his head. The Presbyterians, who did not wish to
abolish royalty, but establish uniformity with their mode of worship,
began to be extremely jealous of the Independents, who were bent on
more complete toleration of opinions, and who aimed at a total
overthrow of many of the old institutions of the country. So soon as
the king was humbled, and in their hands, it was proposed to disband
the army which had gloriously finished the war, and which was chiefly
composed of the Independents, and to create a new one on a
Presbyterian model. The excuse was, that the contest was ended, while,
indeed, the royalists were rather dispersed and humbled, than subdued.
It was voted that, in the reduced army, no one should have, except
Fairfax, a higher rank than colonel, a measure aimed directly at
Cromwell, now both feared and distrusted by the Presbyterians. But the
army refused to be disbanded without payment of its arrears, and,
moreover, marched upon London, in spite of the vote of the parliament
that it should not come within twenty-five miles. Several irritating
resolutions were passed by the parliament, which only had the effect
of uniting the army more strongly together, in resistance against
parliament, as well as against the king. The Lords and Commons then
voted that the king should be brought nearer London, and new
negotiations opened with him, which were prevented from being carried
into effect by the seizure of the king at Holmby House, by Cornet
Joyce, with a strong party of horse belonging to Whalley's regiment,
probably at the instigation of Cromwell and Ireton. His majesty was
now in the hands of the army, his worst enemy, and, though treated
with respect and deference, was really guarded closely, and watched by
the Independent generals. The same day, Cromwell left London in haste,
and joined the army, knowing full well that he was in imminent danger
of arrest. He was cordially received, and forthwith the army resolved
not to disband until all the national grievances were redressed, thus
setting itself up virtually against all the constituted authorities.
Fairfax, Cromwell, Ireton, and Hammond, with other high officers, then
waited on the king, and protested that they had nothing to do with the
seizure of his person, and even invited him to return to Holmby House.
But the king never liked the Presbyterians, and was willing to remain
with the army instead, especially since he was permitted to have
Episcopal chaplains, and to see whomsoever he pleased.

[Sidenote: Seizure of the King.]

The generals of the army were not content with the seizure of his
majesty's person, but now caused eleven of the most obnoxious of the
Presbyterian leaders of parliament to be accused, upon which they hid
themselves, while the army advanced towards London. The parliament, at
first, made a show of resistance, but soon abandoned its course, and
now voted that the army should be treated with more respect and care.
It was evident now to all persons where the seat of power rested.

In the mean time, the king was removed from Newmarket to Kingston,
from Hatfield to Woburn Abbey, and thence to Windsor Castle, which was
the scene of new intrigues and negotiations on his part, and on the
part of parliament, and even on the part of Cromwell. This was the
last chance the king had. Had he cordially sided now with either the
Presbyterians or the Independents, his subsequent misfortunes might
have been averted. But he hated both parties, and trifled with both,
and hoped to conquer both. He was unable to see the crisis of his
affairs, or to adapt himself to it. He was incapable of fair dealing
with any party. His duplicity and dissimulation were fully made known
to Cromwell and Ireton by a letter of the king to his wife, which they
intercepted; and they made up their minds to more decided courses. The
king was more closely guarded; the army marched to the immediate
vicinity of London; a committee of safety was named, and parliament
was intimidated into the passing of a resolution, by which the city of
London and the Tower were intrusted to Fairfax and Cromwell. The
Presbyterian party was forever depressed, its leading members fled to
France, and the army had every thing after its own way. Parliament
still was ostensibly the supreme power in the land; but it was
entirely controlled by the Independent leaders and generals.

[Sidenote: Triumph of the Independents.]

The victorious Independents then made their celebrated proposals to
the king, as the Presbyterians had done before them; only the
conditions which the former imposed were more liberal, and would have
granted to the king powers almost as great as are now exercised by the
sovereign. But he would not accept them, and continued to play his
game of kingcraft.

Shortly after, the king contrived to escape from Windsor to the Isle
of Wight, with the connivance of Cromwell. At Carisbrook Castle, where
he quartered himself, he was more closely guarded than before. Seeing
this, he renewed his negotiations with the Scots, and attempted to
escape. But escape was impossible. He was now in the hands of men who
aimed at his life. A strong party in the army, called the _Levellers_,
openly advocated his execution, and the establishment of a republic;
and parliament itself resolved to have no further treaty with him. His
only hope was now from the Scots, and they prepared to rescue him.

Although the government of the country was now virtually in the hands
of the Independents and of the army, the state of affairs was
extremely critical, and none other than Cromwell could have extricated
the dominant party from the difficulties. In one quarter was an
imprisoned and intriguing king in league with the Scots, while the
royalist party was waiting for the first reverse to rise up again with
new strength in various parts of the land. Indeed, there were several
insurrections, which required all the vigor of Cromwell to suppress.
The city of London, which held the purse-strings, was at heart
Presbyterian, and was extremely dissatisfied with the course affairs
were taking. Then, again, there was a large, headstrong, levelling,
mutineer party in the army, which clamored for violent courses, which
at that time would have ruined every thing. Finally, the Scotch
parliament had voted to raise a force of forty thousand men, to invade
England and rescue the king. Cromwell, before he could settle the
peace of the country, must overcome all these difficulties. Who, but
he, could have triumphed over so many obstacles, and such apparent
anarchy?

The first thing Cromwell did was to restore order in England; and
therefore he obtained leave to march against the rebels, who had
arisen in various parts of the country. Scarcely were these subdued,
before he heard of the advance of the Scottish army, under the Duke of
Hamilton. A second civil war now commenced, and all parties witnessed
the result with fearful anxiety.

The army of Hamilton was not as large as he had hoped. Still he had
fifteen thousand men, and crossed the borders, while Cromwell was
besieging Pembroke, in a distant part of the kingdom. But Pembroke
soon surrendered; and Cromwell advanced, by rapid marches, against the
Scottish army, more than twice as large as his own. The hostile forces
met in Lancashire. Hamilton was successively defeated at Preston,
Wigan, and Warrington. Hamilton was taken prisoner at Uttoxeter,
August 25, 1648, and his invading army was completely annihilated.

[Sidenote: Cromwell Invades Scotland.]

Cromwell then resolved to invade, in his turn, Scotland itself, and,
by a series of military actions, to give to the army a still greater
ascendency. He was welcomed at Edinburgh by the Duke of Argyle, the
head of an opposing faction, and was styled "the Preserver of
Scotland." That country was indeed rent with most unhappy divisions,
which Lieutenant-General Cromwell remedied in the best way he could;
and then he rapidly retraced his steps, to compose greater
difficulties at home. In his absence, the Presbyterians had rallied,
and were again negotiating with the king on the Isle of Wight, while
Cromwell was openly denounced in the House of Lords as ambitious,
treacherous, and perfidious. Fairfax, his superior in command, but
inferior in influence, was subduing the rebel royalists, who made a
firm resistance at Colchester, and all the various parties were
sending their remonstrances to parliament.

Among these was a remarkable one from the regiments of Ireton,
Ingoldsby, Fleetwood, Whalley, and Overton, which imputed to
parliament the neglect of the affairs of the realm, called upon it to
proclaim the sovereignty of the people and the election of a supreme
magistrate, and threatened to take matters into their own hands. This
was in November, 1646; but, long before this, a republican government
was contemplated, although the leaders of the army had not joined in
with the hue and cry which the fanatical Levellers had made.

[Sidenote: Seizure of the King a Second Time.]

In the midst of the storm which the petition from the army had raised,
the news arrived that the king had been seized a second time, and had
been carried a prisoner to Hurst Castle, on the coast opposite the
island, where he was closely confined by command of the army.
Parliament was justly indignant, and the debate relative to peace was
resumed with redoubled earnestness. It is probable that, at this
crisis, so irritated was parliament against the army, peace would have
been made with the king, and the Independent party suppressed, had not
most decisive measures been taken by the army. A rupture between the
parliament and the army was inevitable. But Cromwell and the army
chiefs had resolved upon their courses. The mighty stream of
revolution could no longer be checked. Twenty thousand men had vowed
that parliament should be purged. On the morning of December 6,
Colonel Pride and Colonel Rich, with troops, surrounded the House of
Commons; and, as the members were going into the house, the most
obnoxious were seized and sent to prison, among whom were Primrose,
who had lost his ears in his contest against the crown, Waller,
Harley, Walker, and various other men, who had distinguished
themselves as advocates of constitutional liberty. None now remained
in the House of Commons but some forty Independents, who were the
tools of the army, and who voted to Cromwell their hearty thanks. "The
minority had now become a majority,"--which is not unusual in
revolutionary times,--and proceeded to the work, in good earnest,
which he had long contemplated.

[Sidenote: Trial of the King.]

This was the trial of the king, whose apartments at Whitehall were now
occupied by his victorious general, and whose treasures were now
lavished on his triumphant soldiers.

On the 17th of December, 1648, in the middle of the night, the
drawbridge of the Castle of Hurst was lowered, and a troop of horse
entered the yard. Two days after, the king was removed to Windsor. On
the 23d, the Commons voted that he should be brought to trial. On the
20th of January, Charles Stuart, King of England, was brought before
the Court of High Commission, in Westminster Hall, and placed at the
bar, to be tried by this self-constituted body for his life. In the
indictment, he was charged with being a tyrant, traitor, and murderer.
To such an indictment, and before such a body, the dignified but
unfortunate successor of William the Conqueror demurred. He refused to
acknowledge the jurisdiction of the court. But the solemn mockery of
the trial proceeded nevertheless, and on the 27th, sentence of death
was pronounced upon the prisoner--that prisoner the King of England, a
few years before the absolute ruler of the state. On January 30, the
bloody sentence was executed, and the soul of the murdered king
ascended to that God who pardons those who put their trust in him, in
spite of all their mistakes, errors, and delusions. The career of
Charles I. is the most melancholy in English history. That he was
tyrannical, that he disregarded the laws by which he swore to rule,
that he was narrow, and bigoted, that he was deceitful in his
promises, that he was bent on overturning the liberties of England,
and did not comprehend the wants and circumstances of his times, can
scarcely be questioned. But that he was sincere in his religion,
upright in his private life, of respectable talents, and good
intentions, must also be admitted. His execution, or rather his
martyrdom, made a deep and melancholy impression in all Christian
countries, and was the great blunder which the republicans made--a
blunder which Hampden would have avoided. His death, however, removed
from England a most dangerous intriguer, and, for a while, cemented
the power of Cromwell and his party, who now had undisputed ascendency
in the government of the realm. Charles's exactions and tyranny
provoked the resistance of parliament, and the indignation of the
people, then intensely excited in discussing the abstract principles
of civil and religious liberty. The resistance of parliament created
the necessity of an army, and the indignation of the people filled it
with enthusiasts. The army flushed with success, forgot its relations
and duties, and usurped the government it had destroyed, and a
military dictatorship, the almost inevitable result of revolution,
though under the name of a republic, succeeded to the despotism of the
Stuart kings. This republic, therefore, next claims attention.

       *       *       *       *       *

     REFERENCES.--The standard Histories of England. Guizot's
     History of the English Revolution. Clarendon's History of
     the Rebellion. Forster's Life of the Statesmen of the
     Commonwealth. Neal's History of the Puritans. Macaulay's
     Essays. Lives of Bacon, Raleigh, Strafford, Laud, Hampden,
     and Cromwell. These works furnish all the common
     information. Few American students have the opportunity to
     investigate Thurlow's State Papers, or Rushworth,
     Whitelocke, Dugdale, or Mrs. Hutchinson.




CHAPTER XIII.

PROTECTORATE OF OLIVER CROMWELL.


[Sidenote: The Protectorate.]

On the day of the king's execution, January 30, 1649, the House of
Commons--being but the shadow of a House of Commons, yet ostensibly
the supreme authority in England--passed an act prohibiting the
proclamation of the Prince of Wales, or any other person, to be king
of England. On the 6th of February, the House of Peers was decreed
useless and dangerous, and was also dispensed with. On the next day,
royalty was formally abolished. The supreme executive power was vested
in a council of state of forty members, the president of which was
Bradshaw, the relative and friend of Milton, who employed his immortal
genius in advocating the new government. The army remained under the
command of Fairfax and Cromwell; the navy was controlled by a board of
admiralty, headed by Sir Harry Vane. A greater toleration of religion
was proclaimed than had ever been known before, much to the annoyance
of the Presbyterians, who were additionally vexed that the state was
separated entirely from the church.

The Independents pursued their victory with considerable moderation,
and only the Duke of Hamilton, and Lords Holland and Capel, were
executed for treason, while a few others were shut up in the Tower.
Never was so mighty a revolution accomplished with so little
bloodshed. But it required all the wisdom and vigor of Fairfax and
Cromwell to repress the ultra radical spirit which had crept into
several detachments of the army, and to baffle the movements which the
Scots were making in favor of Charles Stuart, who had already been
proclaimed king by the parliament of Scotland, and in Ireland by the
Marquis of Ormond.

[Sidenote: Storming of Drogheda and Wexford.]

The insurrection in Ireland first required the notice of the new
English government. Cromwell accepted the conduct of the war, and the
office of lord lieutenant. Dublin and Derry were the only places which
held out for the parliament. All other parts of the country were in a
state of insurrection. On the 15th of August, Cromwell and his
son-in-law, Ireton, landed near Dublin with an army of six thousand
foot and three thousand horse only; but it was an army of Ironsides
and Titans. In six months, the complete reconquest of the country was
effected. The policy of the conqueror was severe and questionable; but
it was successful. In the hope of bringing the war to a speedy
termination, Cromwell proceeded in such a way as to bring terror to
his name, and curses on his memory. Drogheda and Wexford were not only
taken by storm, but nearly the whole garrison, of more than five
thousand men, were barbarously put to the sword. The Irish quailed
before such a victor, and town after town hastened to make peace.
Cromwell's excuse for his undeniable cruelties was, the necessity of
the case, of which we may reasonably suppose him to be a judge.
Scotland was in array, and English affairs, scarcely settled, demanded
his presence in London. An imperfect conquest, on the principles of
Rousseau's philanthropy, did not suit the taste or the notions of
Cromwell. If he had consumed a few more months than he actually
employed, either in treaty-making with a deceitful though oppressed
people, or in battles on the principles of the military science then
in vogue, the cause of Independency would have been lost; and that
cause, associated with that of liberty, in the eyes of Cromwell, was
of more value than the whole Irish nation, or any other nation.
Cromwell was a devotee to a cause. Principles, with him, were every
thing; men were nothing in comparison. To advance the principles for
which he fought, he scrupled to use no means or instruments. In this
he may have erred. But this policy was the secret of his success. We
cannot justify his cruelties in war, because it is hard to justify the
war itself. But if we acknowledge its necessity, we should remember
that such a master of war as was Cromwell knew his circumstances
better than we do or can know. To his immortal glory it can be said
that he never inflicted cruelty when he deemed it unnecessary; that he
never fought for the love of fighting; and that he stopped fighting
when the cause for which he fought was won. And this is more than can
be said of most conquerors, even of those imbued with sentimental
horror of bloodshed. Our world is full of cant. Cromwell's language
sometimes sounds like it, especially when he speaks of the "hand of
the Lord" in "these mighty changes," who "breaketh the enemies of his
church in pieces."

When the conquest of Ireland was completed, Cromwell hastened to
London to receive the thanks of parliament and the acclamations of the
people; and then he hurried to Scotland to do battle with the Scots,
who had made a treaty with the king, and were resolved to establish
Presbyterianism and royalty. Cromwell now superseded Fairfax, and was
created captain-general of the forces of the commonwealth. Cromwell
passed the borders, reached Edinburgh without molestation, and then
advanced on the Scotch army of twenty-seven thousand men, under
Lesley, at Dunbar, where was fought a most desperate battle, but which
Cromwell gained with marvellous intrepidity and skill. Three thousand
men were killed, and ten thousand taken prisoners, and the hopes of
the Scots blasted. The lord-general made a halt, and the whole army
sang the one hundred and seventeenth psalm, and then advanced upon the
capital, which opened its gates. Glasgow followed the example; the
whole south of Scotland submitted; while the king fled towards the
Highlands, but soon rallied, and even took the bold resolution of
marching into England, while Cromwell was besieging Perth. Charles
reached Worcester before he was overtaken, established himself with
sixteen thousand men, but was attacked by Cromwell, was defeated, and
with difficulty fled. He reached France, however, and quietly rested
until he was brought back by General Monk.

[Sidenote: Battle of Worcester.]

With the battle of Worcester, September 3, 1651, which Cromwell called
his "crowning mercy," ended his military life. From that day to the
time when be became protector, the most noticeable point in his
history is his conduct towards the parliament. And this conduct is the
most objectionable part of his life and character; for in this he
violated the very principles he originally professed, and committed
the same usurpations which he condemned in Charles I. Here he was not
true to himself or his cause. Here he laid himself open to the censure
of all posterity; and although he had great excuses, and his course
has many palliations, still it would seem a mockery of all moral
distinctions not to condemn in him what we would condemn in another,
or what Cromwell himself condemned in the murdered king. It is true he
did not, at once, turn usurper, not until circumstances seemed to
warrant the usurpation--the utter impossibility of governing England,
except by exercising the rights and privileges of an absolute monarch.
On the principles of expediency, he has been vindicated, and will be
vindicated, so long as his cause is advocated by partisan historians,
or expediency itself is advocated as a rule of life.

[Sidenote: Policy of Cromwell.]

After the battle of Worcester, Cromwell lost, in a measure, his
democratic sympathies, and naturally, in view of the great excesses of
the party with which he had been identified. That he desired the
public good we cannot reasonably doubt; and he adapted himself to
those circumstances which seemed to advance it, and which a spirit of
wild democratic license assuredly did not. So far as it contributed to
overturn the throne of the Stuarts, and the whole system of public
abuses, civil and ecclesiastical, Cromwell favored it. But no further.
When it seemed subversive of law and order, the grand ends of all
civil governments, then he opposed it. And in this he showed that he
was much more conservative in his spirit than has often been supposed;
and, in this conservatism he resembled Luther and other great
reformers, who were not unreflecting incendiaries, as is sometimes
thought--men who destroy, but do not reconstruct. Luther, at heart,
was a conservative, and never sought a change to which he was not led
by strong inward tempests--forced to make it by the voice of his
conscience, which he ever obeyed, and loyalty to which so remarkably
characterized the early reformers, and no class of men more than the
Puritans. Cromwell abhorred the government of Charles, because it was
not a government which respected justice, and which set at defiance
the higher laws of God. It was not because Charles violated the
constitution, it was because he violated truth and equity, and the
nation's good, that he opposed him. Cromwell usurped his prerogatives,
and violated the English constitution; but he did not transgress those
great primal principles of truth, for which constitutions are made. He
looked beyond constitutions to abstract laws of justice; and it never
can be laid to his charge that he slighted these, or proved a weak or
wicked ruler. He quarrelled with parliament, because the parliament
wished to perpetuate its existence unlawfully and meanly, and was
moreover unwilling and unable to cope with many difficulties which
constantly arose. It may be supposed that Cromwell may thus have
thought: "I will not support the parliament, for it will not maintain
law; it will not legislate wisely or beneficently; it seeks its own,
not the nation's good. And therefore I take away its existence, and
rule myself; for I have the fear of God before my eyes, and am
determined to rule by his laws, and to advance his glory." Deluded he
was; blinded by ambition he may have been but he sought to elevate his
country; and his efforts in her behalf are appreciated and praised by
the very men who are most severe on his undoubted usurpation.

[Sidenote: The Rump Parliament.]

[Sidenote: Dispersion of the Parliament.]

Shortly after the Long Parliament was purged, at the instigation of
Cromwell, and had become the Rump Parliament, as it was derisively
called, it appointed a committee to take into consideration the time
when their powers should cease. But the battle of Worcester was fought
before any thing was done, except to determine that future parliaments
should consist of four hundred members, and that the existing members
should be returned, in the next parliament, for the places they then
represented. At length, in December, 1651, it was decided, through the
urgent entreaties of Cromwell, but only by a small majority, that the
present parliament should cease in November, 1654. Thus it was obvious
to Cromwell that the parliament, reduced as it was, and composed of
Independents, was jealous of him, and also was aiming to perpetuate
its own existence, against all the principles of a representative
government. Such are men, so greedy of power themselves, so censorious
in regard to the violation of justice by others, so blind to the
violation of justice by themselves. Cromwell was not the man to permit
the usurpation of power by a body of forty or sixty Independents,
however willing he was to assume it himself. Beside, the Rump
Parliament was inefficient, and did not consult the interests of the
country. There was general complaint. But none complained more
bitterly than Cromwell himself. Meeting Whitelock, who then held the
great seal, he said that the "army was beginning to have a strange
distaste against them; that their pride, and ambition, and
self-seeking; their engrossing all places of honor and profit to
themselves and their friends; their daily breaking into new and
violent parties; their delays of business, and design to perpetuate
themselves, and continue the power in their own hands; their meddling
in private matters between party and party, their injustice and
partiality; the scandalous lives of some of them, do give too much
ground for people to open their mouths against them; and unless there
be some power to check them, it will be impossible to prevent our
ruin." These things Whitelock admitted, but did not see how they could
be removed since both he and Cromwell held their commissions from this
same parliament, which was the supreme authority. But Cromwell thought
there was nothing to hope, and every thing to fear, from such a body
of men; that they would destroy what the Lord had done. "We all forget
God," said he, "and God will forget us. He will give us up to
confusion, and these men will help it on, if left to themselves." Then
he asked the great lawyer and chancellor, "What if a man should take
upon himself to be king?"--evidently having in view the regal power.
But Whitelock presented such powerful reasons against it, that
Cromwell gave up the idea, though he was resolved to destroy the
parliament. He then held repeated conferences with the officers of the
army, who sympathized with him, and who supported him. At last, while
parliament was about to pass an obnoxious bill, Cromwell hurried to
the House, taking with him a file of musketeers, having resolved what
he would do. These he left in the lobby, and, taking his seat,
listened a while to the discussion, and then rose, and addressed the
House. Waxing warm, he told them, in violent language, "that they were
deniers of justice, were oppressive, profane men, were planning to
bring in Presbyterians, and would lose no time in destroying the cause
they had deserted." Sir Harry Vane and Sir Peter Wentworth rose to
remonstrate, but Cromwell, leaving his seat, walked up and down the
floor, with his hat on, reproached the different members, who again
remonstrated. But Cromwell, raising his voice, exclaimed, "You are no
parliament. Get you gone. Give way to honester men." Then, stamping
with his feet, the door opened, and the musketeers entered, and the
members were dispersed, after giving vent to their feelings in the
language of reproach. Most of them wore swords, but none offered
resistance to the man they feared, and tamely departed.

Thus was the constitution utterly subverted, and parliament, as well
as the throne, destroyed. Cromwell published, the next day, a
vindication of his conduct, setting forth the incapacity, selfishness
and corruption of the parliament, in which were some of the best men
England ever had, including Sir Harry Vane, Algernon Sydney, and Sir
Peter Wentworth.

His next step was to order the continuance of all the courts of
justice, as before, and summon a new parliament, the members of which
were nominated by himself and his council of officers. The army, with
Cromwell at the head, was now the supreme authority.

The new parliament, composed of one hundred and twenty persons,
assembled on the 4th of July, when Cromwell explained the reason of
his conduct, and set forth the mercies of the Lord to England. This
parliament was not constitutional, since it was not elected by the
people of England, but by Cromwell, and therefore would be likely to
be his tool. But had the elections been left free, the Presbyterians
would have been returned as the largest party, and they would have
ruined the cause which Cromwell and the Independents sought to
support. In revolutions, there cannot be pursued half measures.
Revolutions are the contest between parties. The strongest party gains
the ascendency, and keeps it if it can--never by old, constituted
laws. In the English Revolution the Independents gained this
ascendency by their valor, enthusiasm, and wisdom. And their great
representative ruled in their name.

[Sidenote: Cromwell Assumes the Protectorship.]

The new members of parliament reappointed the old Council of State, at
the head of which was Cromwell, abolished the High Court of Chancery,
nominated commissioners to preside in courts of justice, and proceeded
to other sweeping changes, which alarmed their great nominator, who
induced them to dissolve themselves and surrender their trust into his
hands, under the title of Lord Protector of England, Scotland, and
Ireland. On the 16th of December, he was installed in his great
office, with considerable pomp, in the Court of Chancery, and the new
constitution was read, which invested him with all the powers of a
king. It, however, ordained that he should rule with the aid of a
parliament, which should have all the functions and powers of the old
parliaments, should be assembled within five months, should last three
years, and should consist of four hundred and sixty members. It
provided for the maintenance of the army and navy, of which the
protector was the head, and decided that the great officers of state
should be chosen by approbation of parliament. Religious toleration
was proclaimed, and provision made for the support of the clergy.

[Sidenote: The Dutch War.]

Thus was the constitution of the nation changed, and a republic
substituted for a monarchy, at the head of which was the ablest man of
his age. And there was need of all his abilities. England then was
engaged in war with the Dutch, and the internal state of the nation
demanded the attention of a vigorous mind and a still more vigorous
arm.

The Dutch war was prosecuted with great vigor, and was signalized by
the naval victories of Blake, Dean, and Monk over the celebrated Van
Tromp and De Ruyter, the Dutch admirals. The war was caused by the
commercial jealousies of the two nations, and by the unwillingness of
the Prince of Orange, who had married a daughter of Charles I., to
acknowledge the ambassador of the new English republic. But the
superiority which the English sailors evinced, soon taught the Dutch
how dangerous it was to provoke a nation which should be its ally on
all grounds of national policy, and peace was therefore honorably
secured after a most successful war.

The war being ended, the protector had more leisure to attend to
business at home. Sir Matthew Hale was made chief justice, and
Thurloe, secretary of state; disorganizers were punished; an
insurrection in Scotland was quelled by General Monk; and order and
law were restored.

Meanwhile, the new parliament, the first which had been freely elected
for fourteen years, soon manifested a spirit of opposition to
Cromwell, deferred to vote him supplies, and annoyed him all in its
power. Still he permitted the members to discuss trifling subjects and
waste their time for five months; but, at the earliest time the new
constitution would allow, he summoned them to the Painted Chamber,
made them a long speech, reminded them of their neglect in attending
to the interests of the nation, while disputing about abstract
questions, even while it was beset with dangers and difficulties, and
then dissolved them, (January 22, 1656.)

[Sidenote: Cromwell Rules without a Parliament.]

For the next eighteen months, he ruled without a parliament and found
no difficulty in raising supplies, and supporting his now unlimited
power. During this time, he suppressed a dangerous insurrection in
England itself, and carried on a successful and brilliant war against
Spain, a power which he hated with all the capacity of hatred of which
his nation has shown itself occasionally so capable. In the naval war
with Spain, Blake was again the hero. During the contest the rich
island of Jamaica was conquered from the Spanish, a possession which
England has ever since greatly valued.

Encouraged by his successes, Cromwell now called a third parliament,
which he opened the 17th of September, 1656, after ejecting one
hundred of the members, on account of their political sentiments. The
new House voted for the prosecution of the Spanish war, granted ample
supplies, and offered to Cromwell the title of king. But his council
violently opposed it, and Cromwell found it expedient to relinquish
this object of his heart. But his protectorate was continued to him,
and he was empowered to nominate his successor.

In a short time, however, the spirit of the new parliament was
manifested, not only by violent opposition to the protector, but in
acts which would, if carried out, have subverted the government again,
and have plunged England in anarchy. It was plain that the protector
could not rule with a real representation of the nation. So he
dissolved it; and thus ended the last effort of Cromwell to rule with
a parliament; or, as his advocates say, to restore the constitution of
his country. It was plain that there was too much party animosity and
party ambition to permit the protector, shackled by the law, to carry
out his designs of order and good government. Self-preservation
compelled him to be suspicious and despotic, and also to prohibit the
exercise of the Catholic worship, and to curtail the religious rights
of the Quakers, Socinians, and Jews. The continual plottings and
political disaffections of these parties forced him to rule on a
system to which he was not at first inclined. England was not yet
prepared for the civil and religious liberty at which the advocates of
revolution had at first aimed.

So Cromwell now resolved to rule alone. And he ruled well. His armies
were victorious on the continent, and England was respected abroad,
and prospered at home. The most able and upright men were appointed to
office. The chairs of the universities were filled with illustrious
scholars, and the bench adorned with learned and honest judges. He
defended the great interests of Protestantism on the Continent, and
formed alliances which contributed to the political and commercial
greatness of his country. He generously assisted the persecuted
Protestants in the valleys of Piedmont, and refused to make treaties
with hostile powers unless the religious liberties of the Protestants
were respected. He lived at Hampton Court, the old palace of Cardinal
Wolsey, in simple and sober dignity; nor was debauchery or riot seen
at his court. He lived simply and unostentatiously, and to the last
preserved the form, and perhaps the spirit, of his early piety. He
surrounded himself with learned men, and patronized poets and
scholars. Milton was his familiar guest, and the youthful Dryden was
not excluded from his table. An outward morality, at least, was
generally observed, and the strictest discipline was kept at his
court.

Had Cromwell's life been prolonged to threescore and ten, the history
of England might have been different for the next two hundred years.
But such was not his fortune. Providence removed him from the scene of
his conflicts and his heroism not long after the dissolution of his
last parliament. The death of a favorite daughter preyed upon his
mind, and the cares of government undermined his constitution. He died
on the 3d of September, 1658, the anniversary of his great battles of
Worcester and Dunbar, in the sixtieth year of his age.

Two or three nights before he died, he was heard to ejaculate the
following prayer, in the anticipation of his speedy departure; "Lord,
though I am a miserable and wretched creature, I am in covenant with
thee, through thy grace; and I may, I will come to thee, for thy
people. Thou hast made me, though very unworthy, a mean instrument to
do them good, and Thee service; and many of them have set too high
value upon me, though others wish and would be glad of my death. Lord,
however Thou disposest of me, continue and go on to do good to them.
Give them consistency of judgment, one heart, and mutual love; and,
with the work of reformation, go on to deliver them, and make the name
of Christ glorious in the world. Teach those who look too much on thy
instrument to depend more upon Thyself. Pardon such as desire to
trample upon the dust of a poor worm, for they are Thy people too. And
pardon the folly of this short prayer, even for Jesus Christ's sake.
And give me a good night, if it be Thy pleasure. Amen."

Thus closed the career of Oliver Cromwell, the most remarkable man in
the list of England's heroes. His motives and his honesty have often
been impeached, and sometimes by the most excellent and
discriminating, but oftener by heated partisans, who had no sympathy
with his reforms or opinions. His genius, however, has never been
questioned, nor his extraordinary talent, for governing a nation in
the most eventful period of its history. And there is a large class,
and that class an increasing one, not confined to Independents or
republicans, who look upon him as one habitually governed by a stern
sense of duty, as a man who feared God and regarded justice, as a man
sincerely devoted to the best interests of his country, and deserving
of the highest praises of all enlightened critics. No man has ever
been more extravagantly eulogized, or been the subject of more
unsparing abuse and more cordial detestation. Some are incapable of
viewing him in any other light than as a profound hypocrite and
ambitious despot, while others see in him nothing but the saint and
unspotted ruler. He had his defects; for human nature, in all
instances, is weak; but in spite of these, and of many and great
inconsistencies, from which no sophistry can clear him, his great and
varied excellences will ever entitle him to the rank accorded to him
by such writers as Vaughan and Carlyle.

[Sidenote: Regal Government Restored.]

With the death of Cromwell virtually ended the republic. "Puritanism
without its king, is kingless, anarchic, falls into dislocation,
staggers, and plunges into even deeper anarchy." His son Richard,
according to his will, was proclaimed protector in his stead. But his
reign was short. Petitions poured in from every quarter for the
restoration of parliament. It was restored, and also with it royalty
itself. General Monk advanced with his army from Scotland, and
quartered in London. In May, 1660, Charles II. was proclaimed king at
the gates of Westminster Hall. The experiment of a republic had been
tried, and failed. Puritanism veiled its face. It was no longer the
spirit of the nation. A great reaction commenced. Royalty, with new
but disguised despotism, resumed its sway.

       *       *       *       *       *

     REFERENCES.--Carlyle's, Dr. Vaughan's, and D'Aubigné's Life
     of Cromwell. Neal's History of the Puritans. Macaulay's
     History of England. Godwin's Commonwealth. The common
     histories of England. Milton's prose writings may be
     profitably read in this connection, and the various reviews
     and essays which have of late been written, on the character
     of Cromwell.




CHAPTER XIV.

THE REIGN OF CHARLES II.


[Sidenote: The Restoration.]

[Sidenote: Great Public Rejoicings.]

Few events in English history have ever been hailed with greater
popular enthusiasm than the restoration of Charles II. On the 25th of
May, 1660, he landed near Dover, with his two brothers, the Dukes of
York and Gloucester. On the 29th of May, he made his triumphal entry
into London. It was his birthday, he was thirty years of age, and in
the full maturity of manly beauty, while his gracious manners and
captivating speech made him the favorite of the people, as well as of
the old nobility. The season was full of charms, and the spirits of
all classes were buoyant with hope. Every thing conspired to give a
glow to the popular enthusiasm. A long line of illustrious monarchs
was restored. The hateful fires of religious fanaticism were
apparently extinguished. An accomplished sovereign, disciplined in the
school of adversity, of brilliant talents, amiable temper, fascinating
manners, and singular experiences, had returned to the throne of his
ancestors, and had sworn to rule by the laws, to forget old offences,
and promote liberty of conscience. No longer should there be a
government of soldiers, nor the rule of a man hostile to those
pleasures and opinions which had ever been dear to the English people.
With the return of the exiled prince, should also return joy, peace,
and prosperity. For seventeen years, there had been violent political
and social animosities, war, tyranny, social restraints, and religious
fanaticism. But order and law were now to be reëstablished, and the
reign of cant and hypocrisy was now to end. Justice and mercy were to
meet together in the person of a king who was represented to have all
the virtues and none of the vices of his station and his times. So
people reasoned and felt, of all classes and conditions. And why
should they not rejoice in the restoration of such blessings? The ways
were strewn with flowers, the bells sent forth a merry peal, the
streets were hung with tapestries; while aldermen with their heavy
chains, nobles in their robes of pomp, ladies with their silks and
satins, and waving handkerchiefs, filling all the balconies and
windows; musicians, dancers, and exulting crowds,--all welcomed the
return of Charles. Never was there so great a jubilee in London; and
never did monarch receive such addresses of flattery and loyalty.
"Dread monarch," said the Earl of Manchester, in the House of Lords,
"I offer no flattering titles. You are the desire of three kingdoms,
the strength and stay of the tribes of the people." "Most royal
sovereign," said one of the deputations, "the hearts of all are filled
with veneration for you, confidence in you, longings for you. All
degrees, and ages, and sexes, high, low, rich and poor, men, women,
and children, join in sending up to Heaven one prayer, 'Long live King
Charles II.;' so that the English air is not susceptible of any other
sound, bells, bonfires, peals of ordnance, shouts, and acclamations of
the people bear no other moral; nor can his majesty conceive with what
joy, what cheerfulness, what lettings out of the soul, what
expressions of transported minds, a stupendous concourse of people
attended the proclamation of their most potent, most mighty, and most
undoubted king." Such was the adulatory language addressed by the
English people to the son of the king they had murdered, and to a man
noted for every frivolity and vice that could degrade a sovereign.
What are we to think of that public joy, and public sycophancy, after
so many years of hard fighting for civil and religious liberty? For
what were the battles of Naseby and Worcester? For what the Solemn
League and Covenant? For what the trial and execution of Charles I.?
For what the elevation of Cromwell? Alas! for what were all the
experiments and sufferings of twenty years, the breaking up of old and
mighty customs, and twenty years of blood, usurpation, and change?
What were the benefits of the Revolution? Or, had it no benefits? How
happened it that a whole nation should simultaneously rise and expel
their monarch from a throne which his ancestors had enjoyed for six
hundred years, and then, in so short a time, have elevated to this old
throne, which was supposed to be subverted forever, the son of their
insulted, humiliated, and murdered king? and this without bloodshed,
with every demonstration of national rejoicings, and with every
external mark of repentance for their past conduct. Charles, too, was
restored without any of those limitations by which the nation sought
to curtail the power of his father. The nation surrendered to him more
absolute power than the most ambitious kings, since the reign of John,
had ever claimed,--more than he ever dared to expect. How shall we
explain these things? And what is the moral which they teach?

[Sidenote: Reaction to Revolutionary Principles.]

One fact is obvious,--that a great reaction had taken place in the
national mind as to revolutionary principles. It is evident that a
great disgust for the government of Cromwell had succeeded the
antipathy to the royal government of Charles. All classes as ardently
desired the restoration, as they had before favored the rebellion.
Even the old parliamentarians hailed the return of Charles,
notwithstanding it was admitted that the protectorate was a vigorous
administration; that law and order were enforced; that religious
liberty was proclaimed; that the rights of conscience were respected;
that literature and science were encouraged; that the morals of the
people were purified; that the ordinances of religion were observed;
that vice and folly were discouraged; that justice was ably
administered; that peace and plenty were enjoyed; that prosperity
attended the English arms abroad; and that the nation was as much
respected abroad as it was prosperous at home. These things were
admitted by the very people who rejoiced in the restoration. And yet,
in spite of all these substantial blessings, the reign of Cromwell was
odious. Why was this?

It can only be explained on the supposition that there were
_unendurable evils_ connected with the administration of Cromwell,
which more than balanced the benefits he conferred; or, that
expectations were held out by Charles of national benefits greater
than those conferred by the republic; or, that the nation had so
retrograded in elevation of sentiment as to be unable to appreciate
the excellences of Cromwell's administration.

There is much to support all of these suppositions. In regard to the
evils connected with the republic, it is certain that a large standing
army was supported, and was necessary to uphold the government of the
protector, in order to give to it efficiency and character. This army
was expensive, and the people felt the burden. They always complain
under taxation, whether necessary or not. Taxes ever make any
government unpopular, and made the administration of Cromwell
especially so. And the army showed the existence of a military
despotism, which, however imperatively called for, or rendered
unavoidable by revolution, was still a hateful fact. The English never
have liked the principle of a military despotism. And it was a bitter
reflection to feel that so much blood and treasure had been expended
to get rid of the arbitrary rule of the Stuarts, only to introduce a
still more expensive and arbitrary government, under the name of a
republic. Moreover, the eyes of the people were opened to the moral
corruptions incident to the support of a large army, without which the
power of Cromwell would have been unsubstantial. He may originally
have desired to establish his power on a civil basis, rather than a
military one; but his desires were not realized. The parliaments which
he assembled were unpractical and disorderly. He was forced to rule
without them. But the nation could not forget this great insult to
their liberties, and to those privileges which had ever been dear to
them. The preponderance of the civil power has, for several centuries,
characterized the government; and no blessings were sufficiently great
to balance the evil, in the eye of an Englishman, of the preponderance
of a military government, neither the excellence of Cromwell's life,
nor the glory and greatness to which he raised the nation.

[Sidenote: Excellences in Charles's Government.]

Again, much was expected of Charles II., and there was much in his
character and early administration to produce content. His manners
were agreeable. He had no personal antipathies or jealousies. He
selected, at first, the wisest and best of all parties to be his
counsellors and ministers. He seemed to forget old offences. He was
fond of pleasure; was good-natured and affable. He summoned a free
parliament. His interests were made to appear identical with those of
the people. He promised to rule by the laws. He did not openly
infringe on the constitution. And he restored, what has ever been so
dear to the great body of the nation, the Episcopal Church in all its
beauty and grandeur, while he did not recommence the persecution of
Puritans until some time had elapsed from his restoration. Above all,
he disbanded the army, which was always distasteful to the
people,--odious, onerous, and oppressive. The civil power again
triumphed over that of the military, and circumstances existed which
rendered the subversion of liberty very difficult. Many adverse events
transpired during his unfortunate and disgraceful reign; but these, in
the early part of it, had not, of course, been anticipated.

[Sidenote: Failure of the Puritan Experiment.]

There is also force in the third supposition, that the nation had
retrograded in moral elevation. All writers speak of a strong reaction
to the religious fervor of the early revolutionists. The moral
influence of the army had proved destructive to the habits and
sentiments of the people. A strong love of pleasure and demoralizing
amusements existed, when Charles was recalled. A general laxity of
morals was lamented by the wisest and best of the nation. The
religious convictions of enthusiasts survived their sympathies.
Hypocrisy and cant succeeded fervor and honesty. Infidelity lurked in
many a bosom in which devotional ardor had once warmly burned.
Distrust of all philanthropy and all human virtue was as marked, as
faith in the same previously had been. The ordinances of religion
became irksome, and it was remembered with bitterness that the
Puritans, in the days of their ascendency, had cruelly proscribed the
most favorite pleasures and time-honored festivals of old England. But
the love of them returned with redoubled vigor. May-poles,
wrestling-matches, bear-baitings, puppet-shows, bowls, horse-racing,
betting, rope-dancing, romping under the mistletoe on Christmas,
eating boars' heads, attending the theatres, health-drinking,--all
these old-fashioned ways, in which the English sought merriment, were
restored. The evil was chiefly in the excess to which these pleasures
were carried; and every thing, which bore any resemblance to the
Puritans, was ridiculed and despised. The nation, as a nation, did not
love Puritanism, or any thing pertaining to it, after the deep
religious excitement had passed away. The people were ashamed of
prayer-meetings, of speaking through their noses, of wearing their
hair straight, of having their garments cut primly, of calling their
children by the name of Moses, Joshua, Jeremiah, Obadiah, &c.; and, in
short, of all customs and opinions peculiar to the Extreme Puritans.
So general was the disgust of Puritanism, so eager were all to indulge
in the pleasures that had been forbidden under the reign of Cromwell,
so sick were they of the very name of republicanism, that Puritanism
may be said to have proved, in England, a signal failure.

Such were some of the reasons of popular acclamation on the
restoration of Charles II., and which we cannot consider entirely
without force. A state of mind existed in England as favorable to the
encroachments of royalty, as, twenty years before, it had been
unfavorable.

Charles was not a high-minded, or honest, or patriotic king; and
therefore we might naturally expect the growth of absolutism during
his reign. The progress of absolutism is, indeed, one of its features.
This, for a time, demands our notice.

On the restoration of Charles II., his subjects made no particular
stipulations respecting their liberties, which were incautiously
intrusted to his hands. But, at first, he did not seem inclined to
grasp at greater powers than what the constitution allowed him. He had
the right to appoint the great officers of state, the privilege of
veto on legislative enactments, the control of the army and navy, the
regulation of all foreign intercourse, and the right of making peace
and war. But the constitution did not allow him to rule without a
parliament, or to raise taxes without its consent. The parliament
might grant or withhold supplies at pleasure, and all money bills
originated and were discussed in the House of Commons alone. These
were the great principles of the English constitution, which Charles
swore to maintain.

[Sidenote: Repeal of the Triennial Bill.]

The first form in which the encroaching temper of the king was
manifested was, in causing the Triennial Bill to be repealed. This was
indeed done by the parliament, but through the royal influence. This
bill was not that a parliament should be assembled every three years,
but that the interval between one session and another should not
exceed that period. But this wise law, which had passed by acclamation
during the reign of Charles I., and for which even Clarendon had
voted, was regarded by Charles II. as subversive of the liberty of his
crown; and a supple, degenerate and sycophantic parliament gratified
his wishes.

About the same time was passed the Corporation Act, which enjoined all
magistrates, and persons of trust in corporations, to swear that they
believed it unlawful, under any pretence whatever to take arms against
the king. The Presbyterians refused to take this oath; and they were
therefore excluded from offices of dignity and trust. The act bore
hard upon all bodies of Dissenters and Roman Catholics, the former of
whom were most cruelly persecuted in this reign.

[Sidenote: Secret Alliance with Louis XIV.]

The next most noticeable effort of Charles to extend his power
independently of the law, was his secret alliance with Louis XIV. This
was not known to the nation, and even but to few of his ministers, and
was the most disgraceful act of his reign. For the miserable stipend
of two hundred thousand pounds a year, he was ready to compromise the
interests of the kingdom, and make himself the slave of the most
ambitious sovereign in Europe. He became a pensioner of France, and
yet did not feel his disgrace. Clarendon, attached as he was to
monarchy, and to the house of Stuart, could not join him in his base
intrigues; and therefore lost, as was to be expected, the royal favor.
He had been the companion and counsellor of Charles in the days of his
exile; he had attempted to enkindle in his mind the desire of great
deeds and virtues; he had faithfully served him as chancellor and
prime minister; he was impartial and incorruptible; he was as much
attached to Episcopacy, as he was to monarchy; he had even advised
Charles to rule without a parliament; and yet he was disgraced because
he would not comply with all the wishes of his unscrupulous master.
But Clarendon was, nevertheless, unpopular with the nation. He had
advised Charles to sell Dunkirk, the proudest trophy of the
Revolution, and had built for himself a splendid palace, on the site
of the present Clarendon Hotel, in Albemarle Street, which the people
called _Dunkirk House_. He was proud, ostentatious, and dictatorial,
and was bitterly hostile to all democratic influences. He was too good
for one party, and not good enough for the other, and therefore fell
to the ground; but he retired, if not with dignity, at least with
safety. He retreated to the Continent, and there wrote his celebrated
history of the Great Rebellion, a partial and bitter history, yet a
valuable record of the great events of the age of revolution which he
had witnessed and detested.

Charles received the bribe of two hundred thousand pounds from the
French king, with the hope of being made independent of his
parliament, and with the condition of assisting Louis XIV. in his
aggressive wars on the liberties of Europe, especially those of
Holland. He was, at heart an absolutist, and rejoiced in the victories
of the "Grand Monarch." But this supply was scarcely sufficient even
for his pleasures, much less to support the ordinary pomp of a
monarchy, and the civil and military powers of the state. So he had to
resort to other means.

[Sidenote: Venality and Sycophancy of Parliament.]

It happened, fortunately for his encroachments, but unfortunately for
the nation, that the English parliament, at that period, was more
corrupt, venal, base, and sycophantic than at any period under the
Tudor kings, or at any subsequent period under the Hanoverian princes.
The House of Commons made no indignant resistance; it sent up but few
spirited remonstrances; but tamely acquiesced in the measures of
Charles and his ministers. Its members were bought and sold with
unblushing facility, and even were corrupted by the agents of the
French king. One member received six thousand pounds for his vote.
Twenty-nine of the members received from five hundred to twelve
hundred pounds a year. Charles I. attempted to rule by opposition to
the parliament; Charles II. by corrupting it. Hence it was nearly
silent in view of his arbitrary spirit, his repeated encroachments,
and his worthless public character.

Among his worst acts was his shutting up the Exchequer, where the
bankers and merchants had been in the habit of depositing money on the
security of the funds, receiving a large interest of from eight to ten
per cent. By closing the Exchequer, the bankers, unable to draw out
their money, stopped payment; and a universal panic was the
consequence, during which many great failures happened. By this base
violation of the public faith, Charles obtained one million three
hundred thousand pounds. But it undermined his popularity more than
any of his acts, since he touched the pockets of the people. The
odium, however, fell chiefly on his ministers, especially those who
received the name of the _Cabal_, from the fact that the initials of
their names spelt that odious term of reproach, not unmerited in their
case.

These five ministers were Clifford, Arlington, Buckingham, Ashley, and
Lauderdale, and they were the great instruments of his tyranny. None
of them had the talents or audacity of Strafford, or the narrowness
and bigotry of Laud; but their counsels were injurious to the nation.

Clifford and Arlington were tolerably respectable but indifferent to
the glory and shame of their country; while Buckingham, Ashley, and
Lauderdale were profligate, unprincipled, and dishonest to a great
degree. They aided Charles to corrupt the parliament and deceive the
nation. They removed all restraints on his will, and pandered to his
depraved tastes. It was by their suggestion that the king shut up the
Exchequer. They also favored restrictions on the press.

[Sidenote: Restrictions on the Press.]

These restrictions were another abomination in the reign of Charles,
but one ever peculiar to a despotic government. No book could be
printed out of London, York, or the Universities. But these were not
made wholly with a view of shackling the mind, but to prevent those
libels and lampoons which made the government ridiculous in the eyes
of the people.

Nothing caused more popular indignation, during this reign, than the
Forfeiture of the Corporation of the City of London. The power of the
democracy resided, at this time, with the corporations, and as long as
they were actuated by the spirit of liberty, there was no prospect of
obtaining a parliament entirely subservient to the king. It was
determined to take away their charters; and the infamous Judge
Jeffreys was found a most subservient tool of royalty in undermining
the liberties of the country. The corporation of London, however,
received back its charter, after having yielded to the king the right
of conferring the appointments of mayor, recorder, and sheriffs.

Among other infringements on the constitution was the fining of jurors
when they refused to act according to the direction of the judges.
Juries were constantly intimidated, and their privileges were
abridged. A new parliament, moreover, was not convoked after three
years had elapsed from the dissolution of the old one, which
infringement was the more reprehensible, since the king had nothing to
fear from the new House of Commons, the members of which vied with
each other in a base compliancy with the royal will.

But their sycophancy was nothing compared with what the bishops and
clergy of the Established Church generally evinced. Absolute
non-resistance was inculcated from the pulpits, and the doctrine
ridiculed that power emanated from the people. The divine rights of
kings, and the divine ordination of absolute power were the themes of
divines, while Oxford proclaimed doctrines worthy of Mariana and the
Jesuits.

Thus various influences contributed to make Charles II. absolute in
England--the Courts of Justice, the Parliaments, the Universities, and
the Church of England. Had he been as ambitious as he was fond of
pleasure, as capable of ruling as he was capable of telling stories at
the dinner table, he would, like Louis XIV., have reared an absolute
throne in England. But he was too easy, too careless, too fond of
pleasure to concentrate his thoughts on devising means to enslave his
subjects.

[Sidenote: Habeas Corpus Act.]

It must not, however, be supposed that all his subjects were
indifferent to his encroachments, in spite of the great reaction which
had succeeded to liberal sentiments. Before he died, the spirit of
resistance was beginning to be seen, and some checks to royal power
were imposed by parliament itself. The Habeas Corpus Act, the most
important since the declaration of Magna Charta, was passed, and
through the influence of one of his former ministers, Ashley, now
become Earl of Shaftesbury, who took the popular side, after having
served all sides, but always with a view of advancing his own
interests, a man of great versatility of genius, of great sagacity,
and of varied learning. Had Charles continued much longer on the
throne, it cannot be doubted that the nation would have been finally
aroused to resist his spirit of encroachment, for the principles of
liberty had not been proclaimed in vain.

Charles II. was a tyrant, and one of the worst kings that ever sat on
the English throne. His leading defect was want of earnestness of
character, which made him indifferent to the welfare of his country.
England, during his reign, was reduced to comparative insignificance
in the eyes of foreigners, and was neither feared nor respected. Her
king was neither a powerful friend nor an implacable enemy, and left
the Continental Powers to pursue their own ends unmolested and
unrebuked. Most of the administrations of the English kings are
interlinked with the whole system of European politics. But the reign
of Charles is chiefly interesting in relation to the domestic history
of England. This history is chiefly the cabals of ministers, the
intrigues of the court, the pleasures and follies of the king, the
attacks he made on the constitution without any direct warfare with
his parliament and the system of religious persecution, which was most
intolerant.

The king was at heart a Catholic; and yet the persecution of the
Catholics is one of the most signal events of the times. We can
scarcely conceive, in this age, of the spirit of distrust and fear
which pervaded the national mind in reference to the Catholics. Every
calumny was believed. Every trifling offence was exaggerated, and by
nearly all classes in the community, by the Episcopalians, as well as
by the Presbyterians and the Independents.

[Sidenote: Titus Oates.]

The most memorable of all the delusions and slanders of the times was
produced by the perjuries of an unprincipled wretch called Titus
Oates, who took advantage of the general infatuation to advance his
individual interests. Like an artful politician, he had only to appeal
to a dominant passion or prejudice, and he was sure of making his
fortune. Like a cunning, popular orator, he had only to inflame the
passions of the people, and he would pass as a genius and a prophet.
Few are so abstractedly and coldly intellectual as not to be mainly
governed by their tastes or passions. Even men of strong intellect
have frequently strong prejudices, and one has only to make himself
master of these, in order to lead those who are infinitely their
superiors. There is no proof that all who persecuted the Catholics in
Charles's time were either weak or ignorant. But there is evidence of
unbounded animosity, a traditional hatred, not much diminished since
the Gunpowder Plot of Guy Fawkes. The whole nation was ready to
believe any thing against the Catholics, and especially against their
church, which was supposed to be persecuting and diabolical in all its
principles and in all its practice. In this state of the popular mind,
Oates made his hideous revelations.

[Sidenote: Oates's Revelations.]

He was a broken-down clergyman of the Established Church, and had lost
caste for disgraceful irregularities. But he professed to hate the
Catholics, and such a virtue secured him friends. Among these was the
Rev. Dr. Tonge, a man very weak, very credulous, and full of fears
respecting the intrigues of the Catholics but honest in his fears.
Oates went to this clergyman, and a plan was concerted between them,
by which Oates should get a knowledge of the supposed intrigues of the
Church of Rome. He professed himself a Catholic, went to the
Continent, and entered a Catholic seminary, but was soon discharged
for his scandalous irregularities. But he had been a Catholic long
enough for his purposes. He returned to London, and revealed his
pretended discoveries, among which he declared that the Jesuits had
undertaken to restore the Catholic religion in England by force; that
they were resolved to take the king's life, and had actually offered a
bribe of fifteen thousand pounds to the queen's physician; that they
had planned to burn London, and to set fire to all the shipping in the
Thames; that they were plotting to make a general massacre of the
Protestants; that a French army was about to invade England; and that
all the horrors of St. Bartholomew were to be again acted over!
Ridiculous as were these assertions, they were believed, and without a
particle of evidence; so great was the national infatuation. The king
and the Duke of York both pronounced the whole matter a forgery, and
laughed at the credulity of the people, but had not sufficient
generosity to prevent the triumph of the libellers. But Oates's
testimony was not enough to convict any one, the law requiring two
witnesses. But, in such a corrupt age, false witnesses could easily be
procured. An infamous wretch, by the name of Bedloe, was bribed, a man
who had been imprisoned in Newgate for swindling. Others equally
unscrupulous were soon added to the list of informers, and no
calumnies, however gross and absurd, prevented the people from
believing them.

It happened that a man, by the name of Coleman, was suspected of
intrigues. His papers were searched, and some passages in them,
unfortunately, seemed to confirm the statements of Oates. To impartial
eyes, these papers simply indicated a desire and a hope that the
Catholic religion would be reëstablished, in view of the predilections
of Charles and James, and the general posture of affairs, just as some
enthusiastic Jesuit missionary in the valley of the Mississippi may be
supposed to write to his superior that America is on the eve of
conversion to Catholicism.

[Sidenote: Penal Laws against Catholics.]

But the general ferment was still more increased by the disappearance
of an eminent justice of the peace, who had taken the depositions of
Oates against Coleman. Sir Edmondsbury Godfrey was found dead, and
with every mark of violence, in a field near London, and was probably
murdered by some fanatical persons in the communion of the Church of
Rome. But if so, the murder was a great blunder. It was worse than a
crime. The whole community were mad with rage and fear. The old penal
laws were strictly enforced against the Catholics. The jails were
filled with victims. London wore the appearance of a besieged city.
The houses of the Catholics were every where searched, and two
thousand of them imprisoned. Posts were planted in the street, that
chains might be thrown across them on the first alarm. The military,
the train bands, and the volunteers were called out. Forty thousand
men were kept under guard during the night. Numerous patrols paraded
the streets. The gates of the Palace were closed, and the guards of
the city were doubled. Oates was pronounced to be the savior of his
country, lodged at Whitehall and pensioned with twelve hundred pounds
a year.

Then flowed more innocent blood than had been shed for a long period.
Catholics who were noble, and Catholics who were obscure, were alike
judicially murdered; and the courts of justice, instead of being
places of refuge, were disgraced by the foulest abominations. Every
day new witnesses were produced of crimes which never happened, and
new victims were offered up to appease the wrath of a prejudiced
people. Among these victims of popular frenzy was the Earl of
Stafford, a venerable and venerated nobleman of sixty-nine years of
age, against whom sufficient evidence was not found to convict him;
and whose only crime was in being at the head of the Catholic party.
Yet he was found guilty by the House of Peers, fifty-five out of
eighty-six having voted for his execution. He died on the scaffold,
but with the greatest serenity, forgiving his persecutors, and
compassionating their delusions. A future generation, during the reign
of George IV., however, reversed his attainder, and did justice to his
memory, and restored his descendants to their rank and fortune.

[Sidenote: Persecution of Dissenters.]

If no other illustrious victims suffered, persecution was nevertheless
directed into other channels. Parliament passed an act that no person
should sit in either House, unless he had previously taken the oath of
allegiance and supremacy, and subscribed to the declaration that the
worship of the Church of Rome was idolatrous. Catholics were disabled
from prosecuting a suit in any court of law, from receiving any
legacy, and from acting as executors or administrators of estates.
This horrid bill, which outlawed the whole Catholic population, had
repeatedly miscarried, but, under influence of the panic which Oates
and his confederates created, was now triumphantly passed. Charles
himself gave his royal assent because he was afraid to stem the
torrent of popular infatuation. And the English nation permitted one
hundred and thirty years to elapse before the civil disabilities of
the Catholics were removed, and then only by the most strenuous
exertions of such a statesman as Sir Robert Peel.

It is some satisfaction to know that justice at last overtook the
chief authors of this diabolical infatuation. During the reign of
James II., Oates and others were punished as they deserved. Oates's
credit gradually passed away. He was fined, imprisoned, and whipped at
the pillory until life itself had nearly fled. He died unlamented and
detested, leaving behind him, to all posterity an infamous notoriety.

But the sufferings of the Catholics, during this reign, were more than
exceeded by the sufferings of Dissenters, who were cruelly persecuted.
All the various sects of the Protestants were odious and ridiculous in
the eyes of the king. They were regarded as hostile in their
sympathies, and treasonable in their designs. They were fined,
imprisoned, mutilated, and whipped. An Act of Uniformity was passed,
which restored the old penal laws of Elizabeth, and which subjected
all to their penalty who did not use the Book of Common Prayer, and
adhere strictly to the ritual of the Church of England. The
oligarchical power of the bishops was restored, and two thousand
ministers were driven from their livings, and compelled to seek a
precarious support. Many other acts of flagrant injustice were passed
by a subservient parliament, and cruelly carried into execution by
unfeeling judges. But the religious persecution of dissenters was not
consummated until the reign of James under whose favor or direction
the inhuman Jeffreys inflicted the most atrocious crimes which have
ever been committed under the sanction of the law. But these will be
more appropriately noticed under the reign of James II. Charles was
not so cruel in his temper, or bigoted in his sentiments, as his
brother James. He was rather a Gallio than a persecutor. He would
permit any thing rather than suffer himself to be interrupted in his
pleasures. He was governed by his favorites and his women. He had not
sufficient moral elevation to be earnest in any thing, even to be a
bigot in religion. He vacillated between the infidelity of Hobbes and
the superstitions of Rome. He lived a scoffer, and died a Catholic.
His temper was easy, but so easy as not to prevent the persecution and
ruin of his best supporters, when they had become odious to the
nation. If he was incapable of enmity, he was also incapable of
friendship. If he hated no one with long-continued malignity, it was
only because it was too much trouble to hate perseveringly. But he
loved with no more constancy than he hated. He had no patriotism, and
no appreciation of moral excellence. He would rather see half of the
merchants of London ruined, and half of the Dissenters immured in
gloomy prisons, than lose two hours of inglorious dalliance with one
of his numerous concubines. A more contemptible prince never sat on
the English throne, or one whose whole reign was disgraced by a more
constant succession of political blunders and social crimes. And yet
he never fully lost his popularity, nor was his reign felt to be as
burdensome as was that of the protector, Cromwell, thus showing how
little the moral excellence of rulers is ordinarily appreciated or
valued by a wilful or blinded generation. We love not the rebukers of
our sins, or the opposers of our pleasures. We love those who prophesy
smooth things, and "cry peace, when there is no peace." Such is man in
his weakness and his degeneracy; and only an omnipotent power can
change this ordinary temper of the devotees to pleasure and inglorious
gains.

[Sidenote: Execution of Russell and Sydney.]

Among the saddest events during the reign of Charles, were the
executions of Lord Russell and Algernon Sydney. They were concerned,
with a few other great men, in a conspiracy, which had for its object
the restoration of greater liberty. They contemplated an insurrection,
known by the name of the _Rye House Plot_; but it was discovered, and
Russell and Sydney became martyrs. The former was the son of the Earl
of Bedford, and the latter was the brother of the Earl of Leicester.
Russell was a devoted Churchman, of pure morals, and greatly beloved
by the people. Sydney was a strenuous republican, and was opposed to
any particular form of church government. He thought that religion
should be like a divine philosophy in the mind, and had great
veneration for the doctrines of Plato. Nothing could save these
illustrious men. The Duke of York and Jeffreys declared that, if they
were not executed, there would be no safety for themselves. They both
suffered with great intrepidity, and the friends of liberty have ever
since cherished their memory with peculiar fondness.

[Sidenote: Manners and Customs of England.]

[Sidenote: Milton--Dryden.]

Mr. Macaulay, in his recent History, has presented the manners and
customs of England during the disgraceful reign of Charles II. It is
impossible, in this brief survey, to allude to all those customs; but
we direct particularly the attention of readers to them, as described
in his third chapter, from which it would appear, that a most manifest
and most glorious progress has been made since that period in all the
arts of civilization, both useful and ornamental. In those times,
travelling was difficult and slow, from the badness of the roads and
the imperfections of the carriages. Highwaymen were secreted along the
thoroughfares, and, in mounted troops, defied the law, and distressed
the whole travelling community. The transmission of letters by post
was tardy and unfrequent, and the scandal of coffee-houses supplied
the greatest want and the greatest luxury of modern times, the
newspaper. There was great scarcity of books in the country places,
and the only press in England north of the Trent seems to have been at
York. Literature was but feebly cultivated by country squires or
country parsons, and female education was disgracefully neglected. Few
rich men had libraries as large or valuable as are now common to
shopkeepers and mechanics; while the literary stores of a lady of the
manor were confined chiefly to the prayer-book and the receipt-book.
And those works which were produced or read were disgraced by
licentious ribaldry, which had succeeded religious austerity. The
drama was the only department of literature which compensated authors,
and this was scandalous in the extreme. We cannot turn over the pages
of one of the popular dramatists of the age without being shocked by
the most culpable indecency. Even Dryden was no exception to the rule;
and his poetry, some of which is the most beautiful in the language,
can hardly be put into the hands of the young without danger of
corrupting them. Poets and all literary men lived by the bounty of the
rich and great, and prospered only as they pandered to depraved
passions. Many, of great intellectual excellence, died from want and
mortification; so that the poverty and distress of literary men became
proverbial, and all worldly-wise people shunned contact with them as
expensive and degrading. They were hunted from cocklofts to cellars by
the minions of the law, and the foulest jails were often their only
resting-place. The restoration of Charles proved unfortunate to one
great and immortal genius, whom no temptations could assail, and no
rewards could bribe. He "possessed his soul in patience," and "soared
above the Aonian mount," amid general levity and profligacy. Had he
written for a pure, classic, and learned age, he could not have
written with greater moral beauty. But he lived when no moral
excellence was appreciated, and his claims on the gratitude of the
world are beyond all estimation, when we remember that he wrote with
the full consciousness, like the great Bacon, that his works would
only be valued or read by future generations. Milton was, indeed,
unmolested; but he was sadly neglected in his blindness and in his
greatness. But, like all the great teachers of the world, he was
sustained by something higher than earthly applause, and labored, like
an immortal artist, from the love which his labor excited,--labored to
realize the work of art which his imagination had conceived, as well
as to propagate ideas and sentiments which should tend to elevate
mankind. Dryden was his contemporary, but obtained a greater homage,
not because he was more worthy, but because he adapted his genius to
the taste of a frivolous and corrupt people. He afterwards wrote more
unexceptionably, composed lyrics instead of farces, and satires
instead of plays. In his latter days, he could afford to write in a
purer style; and, as he became independent, he reared the
superstructure of his glorious fame. But Dryden spent the best parts
of his life as a panderer to the vices of the town, and was an idol
chiefly, in Wills's Coffee House, of lampooners, and idlers, and
scandal-mongers. Nor were there many people, in the church or in the
state, sufficiently influential and noble to stem the torrent. The
city clergy were the most respectable, and the pulpits of London were
occupied with twelve men who afterwards became bishops, and who are
among the great ornaments of the sacred literature of their country.
Sherlock, Tillotson, Wake, Collier, Burnet, Stillingfleet, Patrick,
Fowler, Sharp, Tennison, and Beveridge made the Established Church
respected in the town; but the country clergy, as a whole, were
ignorant and depressed. Not one living in fifty enabled the incumbent
to bring up a family comfortably or respectably. The clergyman was
disdained even by the county attorney, was hardly tolerated at the
table of his patron, and could scarcely marry beyond the rank of a
cook or housekeeper. And his poverty and bondage continued so long
that, in the times of Swift, the parson was a byword and a jest among
the various servants in the households of the great. Still there were
eminent clergymen amid the general depression of their order, both in
and out of the Established Church. Besides the London preachers were
many connected with the Universities and Cathedrals; and there were
some distinguished Dissenters, among whom Baxter, Howe, and Alleine if
there were no others, would alone have made the name of Puritan
respectable.

[Sidenote: Condition of the People.]

The saddest fact, in connection with the internal history of England,
at this time, was the condition of the people. They had small wages,
and many privations. They had no social rank, and were disgraced by
many vices. They were ignorant and brutal. The wages of laborers only
averaged four shillings a week, while those of mechanics were not
equal to what some ordinarily earn, in this country and in these
times, in a single day. Both peasants, and artisans were not only ill
paid, but ill used, and they died, miserably and prematurely, from
famine and disease. Nor did sympathy exist for the misfortunes of the
poor. There were no institutions of public philanthropy. Jails were
unvisited by the ministers of mercy, and the abodes of poverty were
left by a careless generation to be dens of infamy and crime. Such was
England two hundred years ago; and there is no delusion more
unwarranted by sober facts than that which supposes that those former
times were better than our own, in any thing which abridges the labors
or alleviates the miseries of mankind. "It is now the fashion to place
the golden age of England in times when noblemen were destitute of
comforts the want of which would be intolerable to a modern footman;
when farmers and shopkeepers breakfasted on loaves the very sight of
which would raise a riot in a modern workhouse, 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 Guinea. But we too shall, in our
turn, be outstripped, and, in our turn, envied. There is constant
improvement, as there also is constant discontent; and future
generations may talk of the reign of Queen Victoria as a 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."

       *       *       *       *       *

     REFERENCES.--Of all the works which have yet appeared,
     respecting this interesting epoch, the new History of
     Macaulay is the most brilliant and instructive. Indeed, the
     student scarcely needs any other history, in spite of
     Macaulay's Whig doctrines. He may sacrifice something to
     effect; and he may give us pictures, instead of philosophy;
     but, nevertheless, his book has transcendent merit, and will
     be read, by all classes, so long as English history is
     prized. Mackintosh's fragment, on the same period, is more
     philosophical, and possesses very great merits. Lingard's
     History is very valuable on this reign, and should be
     consulted. Hume, also, will never cease to please. Burnet is
     a prejudiced historian, but his work is an authority. The
     lives of Milton, Dryden, and Clarendon should also be read
     in this connection. Hallam has but treated the
     constitutional history of these times. See also Temple's
     Works; the Life of William Lord Russell; Rapin's History.
     Pepys, Dalrymple, Rymeri Foedera, the Commons' Journal, and
     the Howell State Trials are not easily accessible, and not
     necessary, except to the historian.




CHAPTER XV.

REIGN OF JAMES II.


[Sidenote: Accession of James II.]

Charles II. died on the 6th of February, 1685, and his brother, the
Duke of York, ascended his throne, without opposition, under the title
of _James II._ As is usual with princes, on their accession, he made
many promises of ruling by the laws, and of defending the liberties of
the nation. And he commenced his administration under good auspices.
The country was at peace, he was not unpopular, and all classes and
parties readily acquiesced in his government.

He retained all the great officers who had served under his brother
that he could trust; and Rochester became prime minister, Sunderland
kept possession of the Seals, and Godolphin was made lord chamberlain.
He did not dismiss Halifax, Ormond, or Guildford, although he disliked
and distrusted them, but abridged their powers, and mortified them by
neglect.

The Commons voted him one million two hundred thousand pounds, and the
Scottish parliament added twenty-five thousand pounds more, and the
Customs for life. But this sum he did not deem sufficient for his
wants, and therefore, like his brother, applied for aid to Louis XIV.,
and consented to become his pensioner and vassal, and for the paltry
sum of two hundred thousand pounds. James received the money with
tears of gratitude, hoping by this infamous pension to rule the nation
without a parliament. It was not, of course, known to the nation, or
even to his ministers, generally.

He was scarcely crowned before England was invaded by the Duke of
Monmouth, natural son of Charles II., and Scotland by the Duke of
Argyle, with a view of ejecting James from the throne.

Both these noblemen were exiles in Holland, and both were justly
obnoxious to the government for their treasonable intentions and acts.
Argyle was loath to engage in an enterprise so desperate as the
conquest of England; but he was an enthusiast, was at the head of the
most powerful of the Scottish clans, the Campbells, and he hoped for a
general rising throughout Scotland, to put down what was regarded as
idolatry, and to strike a blow for liberty and the Kirk.

Having concerted his measures with Monmouth, he set sail from Holland,
the 2d of May, 1685, in spite of all the efforts of the English
minister, and landed at Kirkwall, one of the Orkney Islands. But his
objects were well known, and the whole militia of the land were put
under arms to resist him. He, however, collected a force of two
thousand five hundred Highlanders, and marched towards Glasgow; but he
was miserably betrayed and deserted. His forces were dispersed, and he
himself was seized while attempting to escape in disguise, brought to
Edinburgh, and beheaded. His followers were treated with great
harshness, but the rebellion was completely suppressed.

[Sidenote: Monmouth Lands in England.]

Monmouth had agreed to sail in six days from the departure of Argyle;
but he lingered at Brussels, loath to part from a beautiful mistress,
the Lady Henrietta Wentworth. It was a month before he set sail from
the Texel, with about eighty officers and one hundred and fifty
followers--a small force to overturn the throne. But he relied on his
popularity with the people, and on a false and exaggerated account of
the unpopularity of James. He landed at Lyme, in Dorsetshire, about
the middle of June, and forthwith issued a flaming proclamation,
inviting all to join his standard, as a deliverer from the cruel
despotism of a Catholic prince, whom he accused of every crime--of the
burning of London, of the Popish Plot, of the condemnation of Russell
and Sydney, of poisoning the late king, and of infringements on the
constitution. In this declaration, falsehood was mingled with truth,
but well adapted to inflame the passions of the people. He was
supported by many who firmly believed that his mother, Lucy Walters,
was the lawful wife of Charles II. He, of course, claimed the English
throne, but professed to waive his rights until they should be settled
by a parliament. The adventurer grossly misunderstood the temper of
the people, and the extent to which his claims were recognized. He was
unprovided with money, with generals, and with troops. He collected a
few regiments from the common people, and advanced to Somersetshire.
At Taunton his reception was flattering. All classes welcomed him as a
deliverer from Heaven, and the poor rent the air with acclamations and
shouts. His path was strewed with flowers, and the windows were
crowded with ladies, who waved their handkerchiefs, and even waited
upon him with a large deputation. Twenty-six lovely maidens presented
the handsome son of Charles II. with standards and a Bible, which he
kissed, and promised to defend.

[Sidenote: Battle of Sedgemoor.]

[Sidenote: Death of Monmouth.]

But all this enthusiasm was soon to end. The Duke of Albemarle--the
son of General Monk, who restored Charles II.--advanced against him
with the militia of the country, and Monmouth was supported only by
the vulgar, the weak, and the credulous. Not a single nobleman joined
his standard, and but few of the gentry. He made innumerable blunders.
He lost time by vain attempts to drill the peasants and farmers who
followed his fortunes. He slowly advanced to the west of England,
where he hoped to be joined by the body of the people. But all men of
station and influence stood aloof. Discouraged and dismayed, he
reached Wells, and pushed forward to capture Bristol, then the second
city in the kingdom. He was again disappointed. He was forced, from
unexpected calamities, to abandon the enterprise. He then turned his
eye to Wilts; but when he arrived at the borders of the county, he
found that none of the bodies on which he had calculated had made
their appearance. At Phillips Norton was a slight skirmish, which
ended favorably to Mo