SIR JOHN ELIOT.

During the second half of the sixteenth century and the first half of the seventeenth, the political and religious energies of Europe were very largely devoted to the settlement of questions that had been raised by that great upheaval known as the Protestant Reformation. On the Continent a reaction had almost everywhere set in. Not only were the new religious doctrines very generally stifled, but even those political discontents which seemed to follow as an inseparable consequence of the religious movement, were put down with a rigorous hand. The general tendency was toward the establishment of a firmer absolution both in Church and in State.

But in England this tendency was arrested. It was the good fortune of the nation to have a monarch upon the throne who vigorously resisted every foreign attempt to interfere with English affairs. It was doubtless the political situation rather than earnestness of religious conviction that led Elizabeth to make the Church of England independent of the Church of Rome. But in securing political independence she also secured the success of the Reformation. Doubtless she was neither able nor inclined to resist the prevailing tendency toward political absolutism; but it had been indispensable to her success that she should enlist in the cause of religious and political independence all the powers of the nation. However, as soon as independence was established by the destruction of the Spanish Armada, it became evident that there was another question to be settled of not less significance. That question was whether the English Constitution was to be developed in the direction of its traditional methods, or whether the government and people should adopt the reactionary methods that were coming to be so generally accepted on the Continent. It took a century of strife to answer the question. The struggle did not become earnest during the reign of Elizabeth, but it cost Charles I. his head, and the Stuart dynasty its right to the throne. For three generations the kings were willing to stake every thing in favor of the Continental policy, while Parliament was equally anxious to maintain the traditional methods. It was unavoidable that a conflict should ensue; and the Great Revolution of the seventeenth century was the result.

James I., during the whole of his reign, showed a disposition to override whatever principles of the Constitution stood in the way of his personal power. Charles I. was a man of stronger character than his father, and he brought to the service of the same purpose a greater energy and a more determined will. As soon as he ascended the throne in 1625, it began to look as though a contest would be inevitable between royal will on the one hand and popular freedom on the other. The King, determined to rule in his own way, not only questioned the right of Parliament to inquire into grievances, but even insisted upon what he regarded as his own right to levy money for the support of the Government without the consent of Parliament. This determination Parliament was disposed to question, and in the end to resist.

Under the maxim of the English Government, that “the King can do no wrong,” there is but one way of securing redress, in case of an undue exercise of royal power. As the Constitution presumes that the King never acts except under advice, his ministers, as his constitutional advisers, may be held responsible for all his acts. The impeachment of ministers, therefore, is the constitutional method of redress. It was the method resorted to in 1626. Articles of Impeachment were brought by the House of Commons against the King’s Prime Minister and favorite, the Duke of Buckingham.

One of the most prominent members of Parliament, and the foremost orator of the day was Sir John Eliot. This patriot, born in 1590, and consequently now thirty-six years of age, was appointed by the Commons one of the managers of the impeachment. With such skill and vigor did he conduct the prosecution against Buckingham, that the king determined to put a stop to the impeachment by ordering Eliot’s arrest and imprisonment. Eliot was thrown into the Tower; but the Commons regarded the arrest as so flagrant a violation of the rights of members that they immediately resolved “not to do any more business till they were righted in their privileges.” The King, in view of this unexpected evidence of spirit on the part of the Commons, deemed it prudent to relent. Eliot was discharged; and the Commons, on his triumphal reappearance in the House, declared by vote “that their managers had not exceeded the commission entrusted to them.”

Thus the first triumph in the contest was gained by the Commons. But the King was not unwilling to resort to even more desperate measures. He determined to raise money independently of Parliament, and, if Parliament should continue to pry into the affairs of his minister, to dispense with Parliament almost or quite altogether. This desperate determination he undertook to carry out chiefly by the raising of forced loans and the issuing of monopolies. But here again the King met with a more strenuous opposition than he had anticipated. Eliot and Hampden, with some seventy-six other members of the English gentry refused to make the contribution demanded. As such defiance threatened to break down the whole system, the King was forced either to resort to extreme measures or to abandon his method. He resolved upon the former course, but he was forced to the latter. He threw Eliot and Hampden into prison; but the outcry of the people was so great and so general that the necessary money could not be raised, and so he was obliged to call his third Parliament. Eliot and Hampden, though in prison, were elected members; and the King, not deeming it prudent to retain them, ordered their release a few days before the opening of the session.

The special object for which Parliament had been called by the King was the granting of money; but the members were in no mood to let the opportunity pass without securing from the monarch an acknowledgment of their rights in definite form. Accordingly, they appointed Sir Edward Coke, the most distinguished lawyer of the time, to draw up a petition to the King that should embody a declaration of the constitutional privileges on which they reposed their rights. The result was the famous “Petition of Right,” an instrument which, in the history of English liberty, has been only second in importance to the Great Charter itself. The petition asked the King’s assent to a number of propositions, the most important of which were that no loan or tax should be levied without the consent of Parliament; that no man should be imprisoned except by legal process; and that soldiers should not be quartered upon the people without the people’s consent. These propositions introduced nothing new into the Constitution. They professed simply to ask the King’s approval of principles and methods that had been acknowledged and acted upon for hundreds of years. The great significance of the Petition of Right was that it designed to secure the assent of the monarch to a reign of law instead of a reign of arbitrary will. The object of Parliament was to put into definite form a clear expression of the King’s purpose. They desired to know whether his intention was to rule according to the precedents of the English Constitution that had been taking definite form for centuries, or whether, on the contrary, he was determined to build up a system of absolutism similar to that which was very generally coming to prevail on the Continent. The petition passed the two Houses and went to the King for his approval. He gave an evasive answer.[1][; A] Parliament was taken by surprise and seemed likely to be baffled. It was a crisis of supreme danger. Sir John Eliot was the first to see that if they were now to thwart the King’s purpose it must be done by availing themselves immediately of the responsibility of Buckingham. He determined that the proper course was a remonstrance to the King; and it was in moving this remonstrance that his great speech was made.

[A] Numerals inserted in the course of the work refer the reader to corresponding Illustrative Notes at the end of each volume.

On hearing the King’s answer, Parliament, in great perplexity and despondency, immediately adjourned till the next day. When, on the morning of June 3, 1628, the Commons came together, “the King’s answer,” says Rushworth, “was read, and seemed too scant, in regard to so much expense, time, and labor as had been expended in contriving the petition. Whereupon Sir John Eliot stood up and made a long speech, and a lively representation of all grievances, both general and particular, as if they had never before been mentioned.”[2]

Throughout the speech there is a compactness and an impetuosity truly remarkable. No one at all familiar with the history and condition of the time, will fail to see that it was a masterly presentation of the issues at stake. It is pervaded with a tone of loyalty—even of affection—toward the King. The argument was founded on the theory that even under the best of kings, with an irresponsible form of administration, there can be no security against selfish and ambitious ministers, and that under any government whatever there can be no adequate guarantees against such abuses except in the provisions of law. The orator introduces no grievance personal to himself, though he had already twice suffered imprisonment for words spoken in debate. His entire object seems to have been to expose abuses that had oppressed the people during the ten years under Buckingham’s rule, and to show how, by means of his duplicity and incompetency, the honor of the country had been sacrificed, its allies betrayed, and those necessities of the King created which gave rise to the abuses complained of in the Petition of Right.

Aside from the striking oratorical merits of the speech and the light it throws on the all-important struggles of the time, there are two circumstances that tend to give it peculiar interest. It is the earliest parliamentary speech of real importance that has been preserved to us. The age in which it was delivered is enough to account for the antique air of the orator’s style—a style, however, which will be especially relished by all those who have learned to enjoy the quaint literary flavor of our early masters of English prose. The other circumstance of especial interest is the fact that soon after the delivery of the speech, and in consequent of it, Eliot was thrown into prison, where, after an ignominious confinement and a brutal treatment of two and a half years, he died a martyr’s death. His earnest plea not only cost him his life, but it cost him a long period of ignominy that was far worse than death. But he kept the faith, and calmly underwent his slow martyrdom. The last word that he sent out from his prison was an expression of belief that upon the maintenance or the abandonment of the privileges of Parliament would depend the future glory or misery of England. By the ability of his advocacy, by the constancy of his purpose, and by the manner of his death, he fully deserved that the author of the “Constitutional History of England” should call him, as he does, “the most illustrious confessor in the cause of liberty whom that time produced.”

SIR JOHN ELIOT.
ON THE CONDITION OF ENGLAND UNDER THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, DELIVERED IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS, JUNE 3, 1628.

Mr. Speaker:

We sit here as the great council of the King, and, in that capacity it is our duty to take into consideration the state and affairs of the kingdom; and, where there is occasion, to give them in a true representation by way of council and advice, what we conceive necessary or expedient for them.

In this consideration, I confess, many a sad thought has frighted me: and that not only in respect of our dangers from abroad, which yet I know are great, as they have been often in this place prest and dilated to us; but in respect of our disorders here at home, which do inforce those dangers, as by them they were occasioned.

For I believe I shall make it clear unto you, that as at first the causes of those dangers were our disorders, our disorders still remain our greatest dangers. It is not now so much the potency of our enemies, as the weakness of ourselves, that threatens us; and that saying of the Father may be assumed by us, Non tam potentia sua quam negligentia nostra. Our want of true devotion to Heaven, our insincerity and doubling in religion, our want of councils, our precipitate actions, the insufficiency or unfaithfulness of our generals abroad, the ignorance or corruption of our ministers at home, the impoverishing of the sovereign, the oppression and depression of the subject, the exhausting of our treasures, the waste of our provisions, consumption of our ships, destruction of our men!—These make the advantage to our enemies, not the reputation of their arms. And if in these there be not reformation, we need no foes abroad! Time itself will ruin us.

You will all hold it necessary that what I am about to urge seem not an aspersion on the state or imputation on the government, as I have known such mentions misinterpreted. Far is it from me to purpose this, that have none but clear thoughts of the excellency of his Majesty, nor can have other ends but the advancement of his glory.

To shew what I have said more fully, therefore, I shall desire a little of your patience extraordinary to open the particulars: which I shall do with what brevity I may, answerable to the importance of the cause and the necessities now upon us; yet with such respect and observation to the time as I hope it shall not be thought too troublesome.

For the first, then, our insincerity and doubling in religion, the greatest and most dangerous disorder of all others, which has never been unpunished, and for which we have so many strange examples of all states and in all times to awe us,—what testimony does it want? Will you have authority of books? look on the collections of the committee for religion, there is too clear an evidence. Will you have records? see then the commission procured for composition with the papists in the North? Note the proceedings thereupon. You will find them to little less amounting than a toleration in effect, though upon some slight payments; and the easiness in them will likewise shew the favor that’s intended. Will you have proofs of men? witness the hopes, witness the presumptions, witness the reports of all the papists generally. Observe the dispositions of commands, the trust of officers, the confidence of secrecies of employments, in this kingdom, in Ireland, and elsewhere. They all will shew it has too great a certainty. And, to these, add but the incontrovertible evidence of that all-powerful hand which we have felt so sorely, to give it full assurance! For as the Heavens oppose themselves to us, it was our impieties that first opposed the Heavens.

For the second, our want of councils, that great disorder in a State with which there cannot be stability,[3] if effects may shew their causes, as they are often a perfect demonstration of them, our misfortunes, our disasters, serve to prove it! And (if reason be allowed in this dark age, by the judgment of dependencies, the foresight of contingencies, in affairs) the consequences they draw with them confirm it. For, if we view ourselves at home, are we in strength, are we in reputation, equal to our ancestors? If we view ourselves abroad, are our friends as many, are our enemies no more? Do our friends retain their safety and possessions? Do our enemies enlarge themselves, and gain from them and us? What council, to the loss of the Palatinate,[4] sacrificed both our honor and our men sent thither; stopping those greater powers appointed for that service, by which it might have been defensible? What council gave directions to that late action whose wounds lie yet a bleeding? I mean the expedition unto Rhée,[5] of which there is yet so sad a memory in all men! What design for us, or advantage to our State, could that work import? You know the wisdom of our ancestors, the practice of their times; and how they preserved their safeties! We all know, and have as much cause to doubt as they had, the greatness and ambition of that kingdom, which the old world could not satisfy! Against this greatness and ambition we likewise know the proceedings of that princess, that never to be forgotten excellence, Queen Elizabeth; whose name, without admiration, falls not into mention with her enemies. You know how she advanced herself, how she advanced this kingdom, how she advanced this nation, in glory and in State; how she depressed her enemies, how she upheld her friends; how she enjoyed a full security, and made them then our scorn, who now are made our terror![6]

Some of the principles she built on, were these; and if I be mistaken, let reason and our statesmen contradict me.

First, to maintain, in what she might, a unity in France, that that kingdom, being at peace within itself, might be a bulwark to keep back the power of Spain by land. Next, to preserve an amity and league between that State and us; that so we might join in aid of the Low Countries, and by that means receive their help and ships by sea.

Then, that this treble cord, so wrought between France, the States, and us, might enable us, as occasion should require, to give assistance unto others; by which means, the experience of that time doth tell us, we were not only free from those fears that now possess and trouble us, but then our names were fearful to our enemies. See now what correspondence our action hath had with this.

Square it by these rules. It did induce as a necessary consequence the division in France between the Protestants and their king, of which there is too woeful, too lamentable an experience. It has made an absolute breach between that State and us; and so entertains us against France, France in preparation against us, that we have nothing to promise to our neighbors, hardly for ourselves. Nay, but observe the time in which it was attempted, and you shall find it not only varying from those principles, but directly contrary and opposite ex diametro to those ends; and such as from the issue and success rather might be thought a conception of Spain than begotten here with us.[B]

[B] This allusion or insinuation of Eliot’s provoked an instantaneous uproar. Buckingham had visited the Courts of Spain and France, and his name had been associated with discreditable intrigues. In the streets of London there had been talk of “treasonable correspondence,” and of “a sacrifice to vanity or passion of the most sacred duties of patriotism.” When Eliot, therefore, alluded to the act of England as springing from the “conception of Spain,” he struck a sensitive spot. The Chancellor, Sir Humphrey May, sprang to his feet, and exclaimed: “Sir, this is strange language. It is arraigning the Council.” But a general shout arose demanding that Eliot should go on. Then the Chancellor said: “If Sir John Eliot is to go on, I claim permission to go out.” In an instant, the Sergeant, by order of the House, opened the door, and, according to testimony of Alured, who was present, “they all bade him begone! Yet he stayed, and heard Sir John out.” It is evident from this incident that Eliot had the sympathies of the House in his firm grasp. When quiet was restored, Sir John resumed his argument.

Mr. Speaker, I am sorry for this interruption, but much more sorry if there have been occasion; wherein, as I shall submit myself wholly to your judgment to receive what censure you shall give me if I have offended, so in the integrity of my intentions, and clearness of my thoughts, I must still retain this confidence, that no greatness may deter me from the duties which I owe to the service of the country, the service of the King. With a true English heart, I shall discharge myself as faithfully and as really, to the extent of my poor powers, as any man whose honors or whose offices most strictly have obliged him.

You know the dangers Denmark was then in, and how much they concerned us; what in respect of our alliance with that country, what in the importance of the Sound; what an acquisition to our enemies the gain thereof would be, what loss, what prejudice to us! By this division, we, breaking upon France, France being engaged by us, and the Netherlands at amazement between both, neither could intend to aid that luckless King whose loss is our disaster.

Can those now, that express their troubles at the hearing of these things, and have so often told us in this place of their knowledge in the conjunctures and disjunctures of affairs, say they advised in this? Was this an act of council, Mr. Speaker? I have more charity than to think it; and unless they make a confession of themselves, I cannot believe it.[7]

What shall I say? I wish there were not cause to mention it; and, but out of apprehension of the danger that is to come if the like choice hereafter be not now prevented, I could willingly be silent. But my duty to my Sovereign and to the service of this House, the safety and the honor of my country, are above all respects; and what so nearly trenches to the prejudice of these, may not, shall not, be forborne.

At Cadiz,[8] then, in that first expedition we made, when they arrived and found a conquest ready (the Spanish ships, I mean), fit for the satisfaction of a voyage, and of which some of the chiefs then there have since themselves assured me the satisfaction would have been sufficient, either in point of honor, or in point of profit. Why was it neglected? Why was it not achieved? it being of all hands granted how feasible it was.

Afterward, when, with the destruction of some men, and the exposure of some others (who, though their fortunes have not since been such, then by chance came off), when, I say, with the losses of our serviceable men, that unserviceable fort was gained, and the whole army landed, why was there nothing done, nothing once attempted? If nothing were intended, wherefore did they land? If there were a service, why were they shipped again?

Mr. Speaker, it satisfies me too much in this, when I think of their dry and hungry march unto that drunken quarter (for so the soldiers termed it) where was the period of their journey, that divers of our men being left as a sacrifice to the enemy, that labor was at an end.

For the next undertaking, at Rhée, I will not trouble you much; only this in short: Was not that whole action carried against the judgment and opinion of the officers? those that were of council? Was not the first, was not the last, was not all, in the landing, in the intrenching, in the continuance there, in the assault, in the retreat? Did any advice take place of such as were of the council? If there should be a particular disquisition thereof, these things would be manifest, and more. I will not instance now the manifestation that was made for the reason of these arms; nor by whom, nor in what manner, nor on what grounds it was published; nor what effects it has wrought, drawing, as you know, almost all the whole world into league against us! Nor will I mention the leaving of the mines, the leaving of the salt, which were in our possession; and of a value as it is said, to have answered much of our expense. Nor that great wonder, which nor Alexander nor Cæsar ever did, the enriching of the enemy by courtesies when the soldiers wanted help! nor the private intercourses and parlies with the fort, which continually were held. What they intended may be read in the success, and upon due examination thereof they would not want the proofs. For the last voyage to Rochelle, there needs no observation; it is so fresh in memory. Nor will I make an inference or corollary on all. Your own knowledge shall judge what truth, or what sufficiency they express.

For the next, the ignorance or corruption of our ministers, where can you miss of instances? If you survey the court, if you survey the country, if the church, if the city be examined; if you observe the bar, if the bench; if the courts, if the shipping; if the land, if the seas; all these will render you variety of proofs. And in such measure and proportion as shows the greatness of our sickness, that if it have not some speedy application for remedy, our case is most desperate.

Mr. Speaker, I fear I have been too long in these particulars that are past, and am unwilling to offend you; therefore in the rest I shall be shorter. And in that which concerns the impoverishing of the King, no other arguments will I use than such as all men grant.

The exchequer you know is empty, the reputation thereof gone! The ancient lands are sold, the jewels pawned, the plate engaged, the debt still great, and almost all charges, both ordinary and extraordinary, borne by projects! What poverty can be greater? What necessity so great? What perfect English heart is not almost dissolved into sorrow for the truth?

For the oppression of the subject, which, as I remember, is the next particular I proposed, it needs no demonstration. The whole kingdom is a proof. And for the exhausting of our treasures, that oppression speaks it. What waste of our provisions, what consumption of our ships, what destruction of our men, have been,—witness the journey to Algiers![9] Witness that with Mansfield! Witness that to Cadiz! Witness the next! Witness that to Rhée! Witness the last! (And I pray God we may never have more such witnesses.) Witness likewise the Palatinate! Witness Denmark! Witness the Turks! Witness the Dunkirkers! Witness all! What losses we have sustained! How we are impaired in munition, in ships, in men! It has no contradiction! We were never so much weakened, nor had less hope how to be restored!

These, Mr. Speaker, are our dangers; these are they do threaten us, and are like that Trojan horse brought in cunningly to surprise us! For in these do lurk the strongest of our enemies ready to issue on us; and if we do not now the more speedily expel them, these will be the sign and invitation to the others. They will prepare such entrance that we shall have no means left of refuge or defence; for if we have these enemies at home, how can we strive with those that are abroad? But if we be free from these, no others can impeach us! Our ancient English virtue, that old Spartan valor, cleared from these disorders; being in sincerity of religion once made friends with Heaven; having maturity of councils, sufficiency of generals, incorruption of officers, opulency in the king, liberty in the people, repletion in treasures, restitution of provisions, reparation of ships, preservation of men—our ancient English virtue, I say thus rectified, will secure us.

But unless there be a speedy reformation in these, I know not what hope or expectation we may have.

These things, sir, I shall desire to have taken into consideration. That as we are the great council of the kingdom, and have the apprehension of these dangers, we may truly represent them to the King; wherein I conceive we are bound by a treble obligation of duty unto God, of duty to his Majesty, and of duty to our country.

And therefore I wish it may so stand with the wisdom and judgment of the house, that they may be drawn into the body of a Remonstrance, and there with all humility expressed; with a prayer unto his Majesty, that for the safety of himself, for the safety of the kingdom, for the safety of religion, he will be pleased to give us time to make perfect inquisition thereof; or to take them into his own wisdom and there give them such timely reformation as the necessity of the cause, and his justice do import. And thus, sir, with a large affection and loyalty to his Majesty, and with a firm duty and service to my country, I have suddenly, and it may be with some disorder, expressed the weak apprehensions I have, wherein if I have erred, I humbly crave your pardon, and so submit it to the censure of the House.