Debates in the House of Commons.
The resolute temper of the House of Commons, in resolving upon the enforcement of the Protestation in spite of the Lords, is to be ascribed very much to the new position in which the House had placed itself. Mistrusting the intentions of the King, fearful of another dissolution, which would frustrate all patriotic plans, the representatives of the people had passed a Bill to render Parliament indissoluble until it should dissolve itself. The Bill was read a third time on the 7th of May, and such was the ascendancy of the Commons, that the King—either struck for a moment, as if by the eye of a basilisk, or intending to violate the Act, should it be in his power; or influenced by "his own shame and the Queen's consternation at the discovery of the late plot"[175]—gave his assent to the fatal measure only two days after it had passed the Lords.
1641, May.
During the progress of the Protestation, the Londoners manifested the greatest excitement; crowds assembled in Palace Yard, and the King sent a message to the House of Lords to say, that, taking notice of the great tumult and concourse of people, he had called a council to advise what should be done, and it was his pleasure that Parliament should adopt some speedy course for preserving peace.[176] A laughable circumstance occurred amidst this panic. Two fat citizens, in the gallery of the Commons, stood earnestly listening to Sir Walter Erle, whilst he was descanting on the dangers of the times. Just then, an old board gave a loud creak, and Sir John Wray, imagining a second Guy Fawkes concealed in the cellar, called out, "he smelt gunpowder." This was enough. Knights and burgesses rushed out and frightened the people in the lobby, and the people in the lobby ran into Westminster Hall, crying, "the Parliament House was falling, and the members were slain." A few, scampering as fast as they could to Westminster Stairs, took water, and rowing at the top of their speed, reached the City, where they caused the alarm drums to beat, and the train bands to march as far as Covent Garden. All this arose from the creaking of a rotten board.[177]
The exposure of these idle fears did not, however, compose the House; for, on the 10th of May, members were in such consternation about a gunpowder plot, that the Serjeant-at-arms received an order to get the holes of the floor examined and stopped up; also a committee of five proceeded carefully to search the building to discover and prevent the designs of any ill-affected persons who might be imitating the example of Guy Fawkes. Whilst we smile at these unfounded terrors, we must believe some real danger to have been in the wind, to make strong hearts, such as beat in the Long Parliament, thus flutter with apprehension.
Debates in the House of Commons.
1641, May.
About the same time London echoed with "No popery riots." The presence of Marie de' Medicis in England excited immense uneasiness; and the zeal of that lady and her daughter, Queen Henrietta Maria, on behalf of the interests of the Roman Catholic religion, came to be regarded by Puritan citizens as a fountain of intrigue. At the end of April, the London apprentices—a class always foremost in city frays—catching the spirit of their sires and elders, gave it violent expression, by assaulting the Spanish ambassador's house in Bishopsgate Street, threatening to pull it about his Excellency's ears, and to take his life in revenge for permitting English Papists to frequent his chapel.[178]
Other tumults and a deeper excitement appear in connexion with the trial of Strafford. Though the charges against him were chiefly of a political character, and his overthrow was accomplished mainly for political reasons, yet the religious feelings of the Puritans were intensely excited against this arbitrary chieftain, as the friend of Laud, and the abettor of his High Church policy. They saw in him the evil genius of the past, and his removal seemed to them essential for accomplishing the ecclesiastical reforms which they desired.[179] The conclusions which a student will reach, or the doubts that he will entertain touching the righteousness of Strafford's attainder and sentence, depend entirely upon the point of view from which he may regard the question. No wonder that lawyers now pronounce the attainder infamous.[180] Looking at the statutes of treason, it is impossible to bring the conduct of the Earl within their scope. The subversion of the fundamental laws of the kingdom, with which Strafford was charged, can never be fairly construed into an act of treason against the King. But politicians, examining the subject on grounds of expediency, may regard the proceeding as one of necessity to save the liberties of England. They may also think, as some did at the time, that "stone dead hath no fellow"—that the only effectual way of getting rid of so formidable an enemy was at once to put him in his coffin; and, as a matter of state policy—overriding all statute and common law—such persons will pronounce the execution of Strafford perfectly justifiable. But when the moralist comes to investigate the matter, it assumes a different aspect. He will admit—unless he be under the influence of strong political prejudices—that the Earl was guilty of high crimes and misdemeanours; and that, though not guilty of treason at common or statute law, he was guilty of subverting the principles of the constitution. On grounds therefore of moral equity, it was right to inflict some punishment on the offender. But to what extent? Perpetual imprisonment, with proper precautions against rescue, might have sufficed to meet all which political expediency required. Sent out of the way, shut up in some strong castle, the Earl might have been rendered perfectly innocuous; and it may fairly be contended further, that such a proceeding would have accomplished the ends of justice—that such an expiation ought to have satisfied the moral indignation of the country. Yet, when that point is settled, another arises, which demands consideration from the historian.
Lord Strafford.