CHAPTER XXI.
The new modelling of the army was a necessary measure, and produced a very great moral improvement. Even Hampden had spoken of the insolence of the soldiers, and, after the fall of Reading, complaints of their conduct reached the Earl of Essex. It was declared that they had grown "outrageous," and that they were "common plunderers." According to report, they had ransacked five or six gentlemen's houses in a single morning. In fact, the Roundheads, in some instances, had grown to be as odious as the Cavaliers; and, without better discipline, they were threatening to prove a ruin, rather than "a remedy to this distracted kingdom." Having claimed an independence incompatible with military subjection, these volunteers needed a thorough re-organization, such as was accomplished by the new model. Fairfax, in his first march after the reform had commenced, resolved on "the punishment of former disorders, and the prevention of future misdemeanours." Offenders were tried and justice was summarily executed. A "renegado" was hanged in terrorem upon a tree at Wallop, in Hampshire, as certain troops were marching through that parish; and the next day a proclamation was issued, threatening with death any one who should dare to commit any act of plunder. There is no reason to doubt the testimony of Joshua Sprigg, Fairfax's chaplain, that a moral reformation ensued upon the adoption of the new military constitution, and that the men became "generally constant, and conscientious in duties; and by such soberness and strictness conquered much upon the vanity and looseness of the enemy."
1646.
But the state of religion chiefly concerns us. If the church at Oxford had been turned into a Royalist camp, the camp of Fairfax and Cromwell might now be said to be turned into a Republican Church. Not that there existed any organized ecclesiastical government, or any uniformity of worship; but, according to the authority just quoted, "the officers, many of them, with their soldiery, were much in prayer and reading Scripture," an exercise which before they had "used but little." "Men conquer better," adds the chaplain, "as they are saints than soldiers; and in the countries where they came they left something of God as well as of Cæsar behind them—something of piety as well as pay."[567]
Religion in the Camp.
1646.
Richard Baxter spent some time with the army, and has largely recorded his opinion of its condition. He found that an "abundance of the common troopers," and that many of the officers were honest, sober, and orthodox; but he complains of a few proud, hot-headed sectaries, amongst Cromwell's chief favourites, who by their "heat and activity bore down the rest, or carried them along with them." Baxter, with all his large-hearted charity, was not free from prejudice with regard to this subject, and his accounts of the "sectaries" must therefore be received with caution. He tells us they were hard upon the Presbyterian ministers, putting some gall into their wit, calling them "priest-byters, dry-vines, and the dissembly men." Honest soldiers of weak judgments, and little theological knowledge, were seduced into a disputing vein, sometimes for state democracy, and sometimes for church democracy, sometimes against forms of prayer, and sometimes against infant baptism,—sometimes against set times of prayer and the binding themselves to any duty before the Spirit moved them, and sometimes about free grace and free will, "and all the points of Antinomianism and Arminianism." We are by this reminded of the description of the Eastern Church by Gregory, of Nyssa. He tells us that knots of people at the street corners of Constantinople were discussing incomprehensibilities; in the market-place money-changers and shopkeepers were similarly employed. When a man was asked how many oboli a thing cost, he started a discussion upon generated and ungenerated existence. Enquiries of a baker about bread were answered by the assertion—that the Father is greater than the Son. When anybody wanted a bath, the reply was, the Son of God was created from nothing.[568] With some allowance for the extravagance of the satire, and with a change of terms to suit the Commonwealth controversies, the description of his countrymen by the Greek preacher may be applied to many of the soldiers of the new-modelled army. Here a field opened for controversy, adapted to Baxter's subtle and debate-loving nature. Honest as the day, with a passionate desire to reform the army, he went from tent to tent, with the Bible under his arm, whilst his eyes flashed with fire burning in the very depths of his soul. Everybody who knows the man will believe him when he says: "I was almost always, when I had opportunity, disputing with one or other of them, sometimes for our civil government, and sometimes for church order and government, sometimes for infant baptism, and oft against Antinomianism and the contrary extreme." Well armed with theological weapons, he was as much in his element with "the sword of the Spirit," cutting down regiments of ghostly errors, as any pikeman or trooper could be as he was stabbing an enemy or firing a pistol at his breast. Baxter particularly records an encounter he had at Amersham. Bethel's troopers, with other sectarian soldiers, accompanied by some of the inhabitants of Chesham, had a pitched battle with the Presbyterian Divine. He occupied the reading pew, and his antagonists, "Pitchford's cornet and troopers," took their place in the gallery: the church being filled "with poor, well-meaning people, that came in the simplicity of their hearts to be deceived." The debate went on till nightfall; Baxter stopping to the very last, lest his retirement should be construed into a confession of defeat.
Religion in the Camp.
It is remarkable that this champion of orthodoxy assures us that he found nearly one half of the religious party either sound in their belief, or only slightly tinged with error; and that the other half consisted of honest men, who, with kindly and patient help, seemed likely to be recovered from their theological mistakes. There were, in his judgment, only a few fiery spirits, and they made all the noise and bustle. One of the heaviest charges which he brings against the sectaries will, in the present day, redound to their honour; for he observes: "Their most frequent and vehement disputes were for liberty of conscience, as they called it, that is, that the civil magistrate had nothing to do to determine anything in matters of religion, by constraint or restraint, but every man might not only hold, but preach and do, in matters of religion, what he pleased—that the civil magistrate hath nothing to do but with civil things, to keep the peace, and protect the Churches, liberties."[569] In short, it appears that the Roundhead army really contained a set of men who anticipated John Locke's doctrine of toleration, and something more.
1646.
The chaplain of Fairfax was Joshua Sprigg, an Independent minister, already mentioned. Breathing the spirit then prevalent in the camp, he advocated the toleration of extreme opinions; but does not appear himself to have been a man of extravagant views. His history of the army is creditable to his intelligence and judgment; and, though tinctured with the peculiar rhetoric of the day, it is singularly free from all fanaticism. Another Independent Divine holding a chaplaincy under General Fairfax was the celebrated John Owen. The General had his head quarters for a time at Coggeshall, where Owen officiated as vicar, and in 1648 he preached before his Excellency and the Committee two sermons, which are published.[570] They commemorate the surrender of Colchester, and the deliverance at Rumford; and with an oratorical flourish, which has been severely criticised,—but which really means nothing more than that Providence had given success to the arms of the Parliament—the preacher speaks of the God of Marston Moor. The accommodation of the passage in Habakkuk—"God came from Naseby, and the Holy One from the West; His glory covered the heavens, and the earth was full of His praise," is less defensible—though the excitement of the moment, the flush of victory, and the aspect of a military audience, may be allowed to mitigate our censure of Owen's want of taste on the occasion;—and taste is hardly to be looked for in a military preacher, amidst the throes of a revolution full of fire and blood. The martial zeal appearing in some parts of these discourses is only a specimen of what blazed up much more fiercely in the addresses of other ministers who fulfilled their vocation in garrisons and tented fields. What must some of the sermons have been, where there was not Owen's learning, judgment, and devoutness to check the orator! And let us not here omit to remark, that Owen was true to the principle which was the guiding star of the new army, and insisted strongly in these sermons upon the iniquity of persecuting men for religion. In this respect there were few, if any, of the religious teachers popular amongst Cromwell's troops, who did not sympathize with the Coggeshall Divine.
Religion in the Camp.
It is useless to pick out the names of chaplains now unknown. Many of them, no doubt, if we were fully acquainted with their history, would be found more respectable and worthy men than were others whom we see thrown conspicuously on the surface, to attain by no means an enviable notoriety. Hugh Peters is chief of this class. He certainly must have been a man of considerable ability to have gained the influence which he possessed; and in earlier life he could have been no worse than a coarse but energetic preacher, followed by crowds of the common people. Escaping to Rotterdam to avoid persecution, he became colleague with the learned Dr. William Ames in the pastorate of an Independent Church.[571] The man bore a good reputation then, and, it is said, procured £30,000 for the relief of the Irish poor. He also visited New England, and for a long time after his return did not give up the idea of going back to America. In Sprigg's "History of the Army," Peters, who early became a military chaplain, is introduced repeatedly as a messenger to Parliament with tidings of victory, for which he received handsome rewards. A chaplain might have been better employed than in conveying messages of this nature, yet such an occupation was not so unsuitable to his sacred character as some other employments in which he was engaged; for it is related of him that he acted as a recruiting officer in market towns, entered into treaty with Royalist commanders for the surrender of garrisons, and even acted as a general of brigade against the Irish rebels.[572]
1646.
Another individual, less known to posterity, who combined the offices of chaplain and captain, was Thomas Palmer, of Nottingham, the account of whom by Lucy Hutchinson gives us an insight into a kind of character then very common. He had a bold, ready, earnest way of preaching, and lived holily and regularly as to outward conversation, whereby he obtained a great reputation, which swelled his vainglorious, covetous, contentious, and ambitious spirit. He had insinuated himself so far as to make these godly men desire him for their captain, which he had more vehement longing after than they, yet would have it believed that the honour was rather forced upon him. Being at that time in the castle with his family, he came to the governor and his wife, telling them that these honest people pressed him very much to be their captain, and desiring advice on the subject. They freely told him, that, as he held a charge of another kind, they thought it not fit for him to engage in this new one, and that he might equally advance the public service and satisfy the men who made the request by marching with them simply in the character of chaplain. He went away, she said, confused, observing that he would endeavour to persuade them to be content; but afterwards he informed her that they would not be otherwise satisfied, and so he was forced to accept the commission.[573]
Allowing for the lady's prejudices, her story of Palmer may be admitted in the main; and we may add that, in another part of her narrative, she mentions four hundred people, whereof "more than half were high malignants, who enlisted under one Mr. Coates, a minister and a godly man."
Religion in the Camp.
John Saltmarsh, another of the army chaplains, was a somewhat different character. He must have been a man of irreproachable spirit, for, according to a report preserved by Anthony Wood, "he always preached the bonds of love and peace, praying that that might be the cord to unite Christians in unity." "He meddled not in the pulpit with Presbytery and Independency," but only "laboured to draw the soul from sin to Christ."[574] Yet strange stories are told of him. He had visions just before his death. He visited Windsor Castle, where he refused to take off his hat to Fairfax and Cromwell, because, he said, the Lord was angry with them for committing the saints to prison. After administering reproof which was equally distinguished by faithfulness and fanaticism, he took his leave, remarking that he had finished his errand and must depart never to see the army any more. Returning home, cheerful and in health, to his wife at Ilford, he told her he had finished his course and must go to his Father; and then lying down immediately afterwards upon his bed, he died quietly the next day. These facts taken together indicate a disturbed condition of the brain just as the soul was about to shake off its mortal coil. But on turning to Saltmarsh's "Sparkles of Glory, or Some Beams of the Morning Star," the only book which we have read of his, we notice in it some of the clearest expositions of religious liberty which can be found in the literature of those times. The spirit of the treatise is singularly beautiful, and the teaching of such a man must have been of a healing tendency. It is very true he undervalued the baptism of water, and depreciated all outward ceremonies—in fact, entertained many opinions in common with Quakers; but he had an intense craving after spiritual unity, believing that he found God in lower as well as in higher things, in purer as well as in more corrupt administrations, and expressing "his tenderness and respect towards Episcopalians at home and abroad, though he did not approve of their forms." A mystical element pervades his books, strongly reminding us of John Tauler; and that person is to be pitied who can read the writings of such men without deriving interest and edification. Each exhibits an imaginative mind, striving eagerly to catch glimpses of the infinite and eternal, united to a tremulously sensitive heart, which reacts on the intellect and electrically touches it, so as to make every idea quiver with emotion. There was an abundance of mysticism in the Parliamentary camp; it might and did run into phantasies; but beneath much of what some keen men of the world would ridicule as jargon and absurdity, there may be felt the pulsations of the old patriarch's desire, "O that I knew where I might find Him!"
1646.
Religion in the Camp.
The religion of the camp, in which Fairfax and Cromwell had the rule, will not be fully understood unless we notice the ministrations of those officers who became theological teachers, although they claimed no clerical character. By them indeed the distinction between clergy and laity was quite broken down. Cromwell, Harrison, Berry, and others, preached and prayed in a manner esteemed by many of the soldiers more edifying than that of some Presbyterian, or even some Independent clergymen. It would be idle to judge of them by rules applicable to the arrangements of a standing army of the present day; although few now would object to religious efforts for the welfare of soldiers such as were employed by the late lamented General Havelock. But, nobody can deny that fondness for preaching became a monomania in the Parliamentary army. It led to inflammatory harangues, and also to dry and distressing diatribes. Ninety-seven divisions might be numbered in discourses by these sermonizing majors.[575] A preference for the style of preaching peculiar to such persons, or a prejudice in favour of doublet and cuirass over Genevan cloak and bands, or a belief in current scandals touching the parochial clergy, made the Roundhead soldiers at times disgracefully impatient under the preaching of regular ministers:—as, for example, when Captain Pretty, at Taunton, "with much admirable incivility," commanded the Presbyterian, Master Shepherd, to come down from the pulpit, publicly charging him with a "disorderlie walk."
1646.
Thank God, by the side of this fanatical folly, and even mixed up with it, there may be discovered also much of honest devotion and Christian morality. In many a military assembly during the civil wars, gathered in town or country church—or under some canvas roof in the midst of a camp—or in the open air by the hill-side—or in the depth of a valley—or upon a village green—or under the shadow of a secluded grove—where some unlettered soldier preached the gospel and prayed with his comrades—though there might be not a little to shock a cultivated taste, there would be very much more which was acceptable to Him who is a Spirit, and who overlooks much which is annoying to us, if men do but worship Him in spirit and in truth. Favourably would these simple and irregular forms compare with more orderly and imposing modes of religious service in cathedrals and churches and chapels,
"Where men display to congregations wide, Devotion's every grace except the heart."
Those who fought at Marston Moor and Naseby could not have cultivated so much communion with the Invisible as they did, without thereby gaining strength for carrying the daily burdens and fighting the common battles of human life. There is hardly more of poetry than of truth in the picture of a Puritan trooper with his helmet on the ground, and his sword-belt unfastened, sitting by his tent door in the heat of the day, to talk with the angels of God, whom faith in the well-worn book on his knee had enabled him to behold:—or, of another veteran of the same class, the night before a great battle, with clasped hands, looking up to the bright stars, seeking by prayer the help which he needed from the God above them. And all this kind of experience must have made such people not only better soldiers, but better men. It might not correct those obliquities of vision with which they regarded the character of their own cause, and the conduct of its enemies; but, where the great questions of the day did not interfere with their judgment and their will, prayer and the Bible helped to make them what it was their duty to be in the common relationships of human life, in their neighbourly charities, and in their habitual behaviour as fathers and husbands, as brothers and sons, as friends and citizens. We are convinced that multitudes of those who fought for the liberties of their country in the civil wars, were not the contemptible fanatics which they are frequently represented as being, but noble-hearted men, of whom the world was not worthy, and England may well be proud.
Religion in the Camp.
1646.
Some years afterwards, Whitelocke, the Commonwealth Ambassador to Christina of Sweden, had a curious conversation with her Majesty, respecting the religion of the army. "I have been told," said the Queen, "that many officers of your army will themselves pray and preach to the soldiers; is that true?" Whitelocke replied, "Yes, madam, it is very true. When their enemies are swearing, or debauching, or pillaging, the officers and soldiers of the Parliament's army used to be encouraging and exhorting one another out of the Word of God, and praying together to the Lord of Hosts for His blessing to be with them; who hath shewed His approbation of this military preaching by the successes He hath given them." "That's well. Do you use to do so, too?" asked the Queen. "Yes," said the Ambassador, "upon some occasions in my own family, and think it is as proper for me, being the master of it, to admonish and speak to my people, when there is cause, as to be beholden to another to do it for me, which sometimes brings the chaplain into more credit than his lord." "Doth your General and other great officers do so?" she proceeded to enquire. "Yes, madam," returned Whitelocke, "very often, and very well. Nevertheless, they maintain chaplains and ministers in their houses and regiments; and such as are godly and worthy ministers have as much respect and as good provision in England as in any place of Christendom. Yet 'tis the opinion of many good men with us, that a long cassock, with a silk girdle, and a great beard, do not make a learned or good preacher, without gifts of the Spirit of God, and labouring in His vineyard; and whosoever studies the Holy Scriptures, and is enabled to do good to the souls of others, and endeavours the same, is nowhere forbidden by that Word, nor is it blameable. The officers and soldiers of the Parliament held it not unlawful, when they carried their lives in their hands, and were going to adventure them in the high places of the field, to encourage one another out of His Word, who commands over all; and this had more weight and impression with it than any other word could have, and was never denied to be made use of but by the popish prelates, who by no means would admit lay people (as they call them) to gather from thence that instruction and comfort which can nowhere else be found." The Queen complimented the theological envoy. "Methinks you preach very well, and have now made a good sermon. I assure you I like it very well." The politeness of a courtier was not wanting in return. "Madam, I shall account it a great happiness if any of my words please you." Her Majesty continued to say, "Indeed, Sir, these words of yours do very much please me; and I shall be glad to hear you oftener on that strain. But I pray, tell me, where did your General, and you, his officers, learn this way of praying and preaching yourselves?" "We learnt it from a near friend of your Majesty," he added, with truth and adroitness, "whose memory all the Protestant interest hath cause to honour." "My friend," replied the Queen, "who was that?" "It was your father," rejoined Whitelocke, "the great King Gustavus Adolphus, who upon his first landing in Germany (as many then present have testified) did himself in person upon the shore, on his knees, give thanks to God for His blessing upon that undertaking; and he would frequently exhort his people out of God's Word; and God testified His great liking thereof, by the wonderful successes He was pleased to vouchsafe to that gallant King."[576] But we must leave the religious exercises of Cromwell's army, as our history now requires us to follow King Charles to the Scotch camp.
From May to July the Divine right of Presbyterianism formed a salient topic of conversation and debate amongst citizens and statesmen.[577] From May to July the same question was agitated at Newcastle between King Charles and Alexander Henderson.
Charles I. and Henderson.
The backbone of the King's strength having been broken at Naseby, and his midland capital being environed with a Parliamentary army, the monarch, defeated on all sides, resolved to flee. Though every reasonable hope had vanished, still he kept up his spirits—trusting to his own talent for intrigue, to some wonderful interposition of Divine Providence, and, above all, to that divinity which "doth hedge a king."
In a state of entire indecision as to whither he should bend his steps, the royal fugitive rode out of Oxford, and pursued the road to London. A thoughtful journey it must have been; and, at last, as he approached the metropolis, at Hillingdon, his heart sunk within him, when, pulling his bridle to the left, he galloped off through a cross country to the Scotch camp at Newark.[578] Arrived there, his treatment by those into whose arms he threw his fortunes without his confidence, was sufficient to cast him into absolute despair but for that strange hopefulness to which we have just referred. Removing with the army from Newark to Newcastle, the annoyances of his position considerably increased.[579] In his letters to Queen Henrietta Maria—his dear heart, as he fondly called her—he complained of being barbarously baited and threatened, of new vexations which happened to him every day; declaring to her that there never was a man so lonely as he, and then with a beautiful touch of tenderness he assured the woman—really the star of his evil fortunes—that she was his last comfort, and that her letters in cypher were around him all day, and under his pillow all night.[580]
1646, July.
Charles I. and Henderson.
Alexander Henderson sought to effect the King's conversion. Sheets and sheets of closely-written paper passed between them throughout those wearisome months. Each did his best. Day after day, night after night, these controversialists read and reflected, wrote and revised, and it must be allowed, to the credit of the King, that the intelligence and acuteness which he brought to this undertaking appear exceedingly respectable, even in comparison with all the accomplishments of his clerical antagonist.[581] Charles contended for the jus Divinum of Episcopacy, and the apostolical succession of bishops; Henderson for the jus Divinum of presbyteries and the human origin of prelacy. The monarch upheld the authority of the Fathers as interpreters of the Bible; the minister the interpretation of Scripture by Scripture—declaring patristic writings and traditions to be unworthy of trust. The royal disputant contended that inferior magistrates and the people had no power to reform religion; the clerical respondent that such persons did possess it, and that it became them to exercise it when even kings failed to perform their duty. The Prince urged that he was bound by his coronation oath to preserve the Church of England, and that he could be released only by the voice of the Church itself; the Presbyter that Parliament had sufficient authority to remove this obligation. His Majesty asked what warrant there was in the Word of God for subjects to force the royal conscience, and to make a ruler alter laws against his will? The reverend gentleman replied that when a man's conscience is misled, he necessarily does that which is amiss, and that his duty is to have his conscience better informed, and not to move till he has struck a light, and made further discoveries. This question involved another, as to the right of the subject to take up arms, which, of course, Charles held to be absolutely unlawful; whilst Henderson asserted the right of defensive war against unjust authority. It is enough to give this summary. Inconclusive arguments were advanced on both sides, and each was more powerful in attack than he was in defence. Under the circumstances, no good could come out of the controversy, for neither of the disputants would concede one jot; and what is still more important to be borne in mind is this, that the arbitrament of the question between them now rested in other hands.
1646, July.
The Parliament in July again held out propositions for peace. Papers duly signed by the clerks of both Houses were formally entrusted to the Earl of Pembroke and Montgomery, to the Earl of Suffolk, and to other commissioners, attended by Stephen Marshall, who acted as their chaplain. They travelled to Newcastle on the 24th of July. Thither they and the Scotch commissioners went in their coaches, at two o'clock in the afternoon, to wait upon his Majesty. He resided in a fine old house, with ornamented gables, goodly bays, mullioned windows, and a door-way guarded by columns—a mansion now totally demolished, but once the pride of Anderson's-place, in that famous town on the banks of the Tyne. When the visitors had entered this temporary palace, the King came forth into a large chamber which was made use of for the chamber of presence, and there stood at the end of a table until each had kissed his hand. He intimated his pleasure that they should follow him into another room, where the Earl of Pembroke stated that they had brought the Parliament's propositions for his Majesty to consider. "Have you power to treat?" asked the monarch, anxiously looking at the commissioners. "No," they replied; upon which he uttered one of those blunt, petulant speeches which did him almost as much damage as his proverbial insincerity. "Then, saving the honour of the business, an honest trumpeter might have done as much." As the propositions were read, the King listened attentively, and at last observed: "Gentlemen, I hope you do not expect a very speedy answer, because the business is of high concernment." They said their stay was limited to ten days, whereupon he promised despatch, and so terminated the interview. Mr. Marshall preached the next Sunday before the King, and took as the subject of his discourse, Isaiah xxxii. 17, "And the work of righteousness shall be peace, and the effect of righteousness quietness and assurance forever."[582]
Newcastle Treaty.
The propositions stipulated, that his Majesty should call in his declarations against the Parliament; place the control of the militia in its hands for twenty years; make void all peerages which had been conferred since May the 20th, 1642; punish such delinquents as had been proscribed; and disannul the Irish treaty. With these political demands others were coupled in relation to the Church. First, his Majesty must take the Covenant, and enjoin the same on his subjects; next, the ecclesiastical reformation must be completed, and Popery for ever crushed. Moreover, the bill, which had been transformed into an ordinance for constituting the Westminster Assembly, must receive the royal assent; and besides these, other measures, five in number, which he had not sanctioned, and which he was desired to confirm, were repeatedly mentioned in the negotiations: (1) The abolition of the hierarchy; (2) the due observance of the Lord's Day; (3) the suppression of innovations; (4) the advancement of preaching; and (5) the prevention of non-residence. Such were the objects to which the old bills referred, and a new one is mentioned as about to be framed for regulating the Universities and Schools of England.[583]
1646.
Charles did not at once break with the Presbyterians when these proposals were made to him; on the contrary, he professed a conciliatory spirit, and kept alive their hopes of his at last making some considerable concessions;[584] yet all the while he felt a most intense antipathy to their whole system. As a staunch Episcopalian, he hated Presbyterianism in itself, and he hated it also, and perhaps still more, because it touched his royal prerogatives, and because, if established, it would leave him only the name of a King; since, under pretence of a thorough reformation of religion, it would in reality take away all ecclesiastical power from the crown. All this he had said in letters which he wrote to the Queen; and, in one written from Newcastle (September the 7th), six weeks after the Parliamentary Commissioners had read their paper to him in the Council-room, he thus expresses himself to his "dear heart:"—"I assure thee that (by the grace of God) nothing can be said or done to me which shall make me quit my grounds; as, for instance, neither to grant the London propositions as they are (without great amendment), or sign or authorize the Covenant, without which, I must again tell thee, I am more and more assured that nothing can be expected from the Scots."
Allusions in his private correspondence to the Covenant for awhile betray no excitement: they are calmly expressed; but at last, doubtless harassed by solicitations on that point, enough to try any man's temper, he bursts into a violent passion, and writes to his wife in the following language: "This damned Covenant is the child of rebellion, and breathes nothing but treason, so that, if Episcopacy were to be introduced by the Covenant, I would not do it."[585] It was impossible for him to have said anything stronger than this; and with such feelings on the part of the King, the Newcastle Treaty came to an end.
Newcastle Treaty.
If a good deal of manœuvering appear in the negotiations with the Presbyterians carried on by Charles at Newcastle, there is as much downright intrigue with other parties to be discovered in his conduct at the same time. He inherited some portion of his father's love of kingcraft, and he employed to the utmost whatever ability of that description he possessed. To repair his broken fortunes, he sedulously endeavoured to make tools of the Independents, watching with great satisfaction the animosity existing between them and the Presbyterians, and hoping, as he says, that one of the factions would so address him that he might without difficulty attain his ends.[586]
And with the one great object of this part of his life in view, he was prepared to make terms with the Papists. In a letter from Oxford, March the 12th, 1646, addressed to his wife, he speaks of a former communication in which he had said: "I will take away all the penal laws against the Roman Catholics in England as soon as God shall enable me to do it, so as by their means I may have so powerful assistance as may deserve so great a favour and enable me to do it; and furthermore I now add, that I desire some particular offers by or in the favour of the English Roman Catholics, which, if I shall like, I will then presently engage myself for the performance of the above-mentioned conditions. Moreover, if the Pope and they will visibly and heartily engage themselves for the re-establishment of the Church of England and my crown (which was understood in my former offer) against all opposers whatsoever, I will promise them on the word of a King to give them here a free toleration of their consciences."[587]
1646.
Of course, all this intriguing involved much duplicity. The collection of letters which were written by Charles in 1646, and which are now published, will be found to exhibit this prominent feature of the King's character. Whenever he formally conceded any point, some quibbling about words, some dishonest reserve, some loophole out of which he might wriggle, is sure to appear in connection with a Jesuitical conscientiousness which was ever weaving casuistic theories, and starting ethical questions, in order to cover with a veil of seemliness the most dishonest and fraudulent acts. Charles was not rashly false; he did not heedlessly tell lies; he had undoubtedly certain notions of rectitude, which served occasionally to disquiet his spirit; and he wished to appear to himself honest and true, even at the moment of his wishing to deceive others. His mind, however, in these respects, is but a specimen of a large class of persons in this world of many-coloured falsehoods and delusions.
