Answer to the Scottish Petition.
"Many of the Lords," says Clarendon, "were of opinion that a short answer would be best, that should contain nothing but a rejection of the proposition, without giving any reason; no man seeming to concur with his Majesty, with which he was not satisfied, and replied with some sharpness upon what had been said. Upon which the Lord Falkland replied, having been before of that mind, desiring that no reasons might be given; and upon that occasion answered many of those reasons the King had urged, as not valid to support the subject, with a little quickness of wit (as his notions were always sharp, and expressed with notable vivacity), which made the King warmer than he used to be; reproaching all who were of that mind with want of affection for the Church; and declaring that he would have the substance of what he had said, or of the like nature, digested into his answer; with which reprehension all sat very silent, having never undergone the like before. Whereupon, the King, recollecting himself, and observing that the Chancellor of the Exchequer had not yet spoken, called upon him to deliver his opinion, adding, that he was sure he was of his Majesty's mind with reference to religion and the Church."[332]
1643, February.
From Clarendon's narrative we discover, that with all Falkland's vivacity, he shewed lukewarmness in the cause of Episcopacy, and that the zeal of the King on its behalf went beyond that of his advisers. The historian reports his own speech, in which he recommended that reasons should be given, but not in the way his royal master wished. The result may be seen in a paper in the King's name, probably drawn up by the Chancellor.[333] No concessions, it was stated, could be made until propositions in a digested form should be submitted to the free debate of both Houses. The King would not be unwilling to call a synod of godly and learned Divines, regularly chosen according to the laws and constitutions of the kingdom, to which representatives from Scotland might be admitted—an Assembly which, in fact, would be a Convocation, whose spirit and proceedings were very well known. He gave no opinion on any Bills offered to him, but only expressed his wonder that the royal judgment should be prejudged, and that the Divine anger should be threatened for his non-consent. A sentence occurred towards the end which, though by no means agreeable to those for whom it was intended, certainly contained a large amount of truth. "Nor are you a little mistaken, if either you believe the generality of this nation to desire a change of Church government, or that most of those who desire it, desire by it to introduce that which you only esteem a reformation, but are as unwilling to what you call the yoke of Christ and obedience to the Gospel, as those whom you call profane and worldly men, and so equally averse both to Episcopacy and Presbytery; for if they should prevail in this particular, the abolition of the one would be no let to the other, nor would your hearts be less grieved, your expectations less frustrated, your hopes less ashamed, or your reformation more secured."
Treatment of the Scotch.
The Scotch mission ended in disappointment. Much hope had been built upon the King's friendliness towards Mr. Henderson during the royal visit to Edinburgh. All remembered the minister's standing next the royal chair in sermon time, and the loving cup which passed round at the banquet. People fancied "Mr. Henderson would do wonders with the King;" and perhaps the King thought he could do wonders with Mr. Henderson, for he strove to persuade him of the justice and necessity of taking up arms against the Parliament. But as that gentleman did not find the King so pliable as he wished; neither did the King find that gentleman so "credulous as he expected." Charles "did at once change his countenance," we are informed, when he discovered that his Scotch chaplain had written the petition which he had received, and that the document had been already circulated throughout the kingdom. Reports also had reached the royal ears of certain violent sermons and prayers uttered in Edinburgh, which tended to make the visitors at Oxford "verie unsavourie." Their life in the University city—so they complained—was uncomfortably spent. They were wearied out with delays; they had no private nor familiar conference, but all was done "in public, in a very harsh way;" letters sent to them by their friends were opened; and, in addition to this great insult, they were abused by all sorts of people, and they even feared that they should be poisoned or stabbed. "This policy," adds Baillie, "was like the rest of our unhappy malcontents' wisdom extremely foolish; for it was very much for the King's ends to have given to our Commissioners far better words and a more pleasant countenance."[334]
