Thus the Isle of Man became the brightest jewel in the possessions of the Earls of Derby; and now, in the opening year of the English Revolution, James, the seventh Earl, became Lord of Man. Of all that befell there under his not altogether wise, if always well intentioned and beneficent rule, will be seen later.

CHAPTER VIII

A FATAL CHOICE. STRAFFORD AND LAUD. HUGUENOTS AND ANGLICANS. ROYAL PRODIGALITY. PLEASANT HOURS IN THE PILLORY. SHIP-MONEY. A PATRIOT. MODERATE MEN. NO MORE PEACEFUL DAYS AT LATHOM. “THE RED HORSE OF THE LORD.” VIRGIL UNDER DIFFICULTIES. EDGEHILL. “COME LIKE SHADOWS, SO DEPART”

Charles was invariably unfortunate in his selection of advisers. When he lost Buckingham, he took into his place Sir Thomas Wentworth. This choice, on the face of it, would have appeared eminently wise, since at the beginning of his public career Wentworth was a favourite with the people and the Commons, chiefly on account of the Petition of Rights being practically his work. His temperament however, was not made for liberal partisanship. He was scholarly by rearing, proud, energetic, full of ambition, and, once on the side of the Crown, he made his power felt. In general demeanour he was a striking contrast to the amiable, courtly Buckingham, doing his work skilfully, with a grave ceremony. Unlike Buckingham too, who was before all things a royal favourite, Wentworth was first a statesman; and while standing high indeed in the King’s esteem, his usefulness was the quality which Charles more appreciated. Desirous of employing his powerful abilities to the greatest advantage, Charles rapidly advanced him in titles and dignities, until in 1631 Thomas, now Viscount Wentworth, was appointed Lord-Deputy of Ireland.

The deep-rooted attachment of Charles for the Anglican Church drew him into bonds of close sympathy with Wentworth’s friend, Laud, who about the same time, was raised to the Archbishopric of Canterbury. Laud was a man honest of conviction, pure in intention, but unconciliatory of speech, and narrow in his theological views. His intolerance of dissent from the Church of England was rigid, whether in the direction of Puritanism or of Romanism. This fixity of purpose was little understood in his own day, either by Papist or by Puritan, and perhaps not even by his greatest admirers; so little comprehended by the Romanists, that the Pope was deluded into offering him a cardinal’s hat. Laud established his theory of canonical guidance and of church rule solely upon the Prayer Book, carrying out its directions in the spirit and the rubric, and finding in these neither ambiguity nor elasticity; and he imposed upon all his clergy a rigorous adherence to the ritual and ceremonial of the Anglican Church, as he understood it. Many refused this, and were punished as contumacious, being deprived of their cures; and when the people crowded to hear the preaching of these “confessors”—for as such they were regarded—to Gospel truth in its purity, all expounding or preaching was forbidden them. While Laud denounced the excess, as he regarded it, of ecclesiastical ceremony conducted in the private chapel of the Queen, he offended the greater part of his own flock, clergy and lay alike, by the pomp and ceremonial which he introduced into the public services of the Church of England. Possibly no servant of the Anglican Church ever grasped more entirely than Laud the real spirit and tendency of Anglican doctrine; and, had he lived in a later time, his sphere and mission would have been widely acknowledged. As it was, though the few regarded his death as a martyrdom, the multitude rejoiced at the removal of such a stumbling-block in the path of the true spiritual seeker. Music and vesture and change of posture in the Lord’s house were choking husks, to be cast into the fire, and the advocates of these “mummeries” to be as summarily disposed of as might be. The mistake of Laud was in imposing outward observations of religion upon persons who had long discarded the self-denials and practices of the early Christians. Laud might and did closely abide by such rules himself, but they were less easily accepted by the general herd of professing churchmen, who had no mind for too much self-discipline: and hence the charge of pharisaism and needless austerities against the ritualist Laud and his disciples. The accusation of his papistical leanings holds good no further than that Laud, in common with many upright and charitably thinking Christians of all sects and nations, regretted the divisions among the followers of Christ, and strove to mould his teaching by a spirit which might one day develop a stronger desire for the unity of Christendom. Laud’s nature had in it, however, no temporising spark; and, though taxed with Jesuitry, he, at all events, did not understand that primary motive power of the Jesuits—of being all things to all men, or of gradual achievement. Charles, profoundly influenced by Laud, acted upon his counsel, and turned a cold eye upon the Protestants of the Continent, going the length of forbidding his ambassador in Paris to attend divine service in the Protestant chapel there; and, truly, the religious reform of France and Geneva wore a widely different aspect from that of England. No via media was offered by Huguenot and Calvinist. All was rigidly simple and austere in their public worship. The Psalms, sermons, and long prayers composing it were read, or, at the best, given forth in nasal sing-song, which allowed no exercise to the senses or to the intellect of the congregation. All was, or was intended to be, exclusively spiritual. And to men and women of education and of intellect such limitations were irksome and unedifying. Hence, when the Reformed members of the upper classes came to pitch their tents in England, many of them quickly conceived a liking for the Church of England, and, as in the case of the Huguenot Charlotte de la Trémoille, fell naturally in with its teaching and ritual, and so, as by second nature, mostly became ardent Royalists.

In order to retain foreign sympathy and support, Charles was often prodigal in his gifts to and recognitions of his Continental friends. This, considering the poverty of his exchequer and the needs of the country, was reprehensible to a degree. Abuses increased. Taxation became unendurable, and the people resisted, their remonstrances often being couched in terms of respect and of loyal feeling which are singularly pathetic. Every day the agitation and discontent increased; until at last, the King, fearful of the spread of its contagion in the country, issued commands that all country gentlemen should remain upon their own estates.

Force had now to be employed to repress the popular discontent. Four of the champions of the people were whipped, mutilated, and put in the pillory; but instead of the portion of stones, filth, and rotten eggs, ordinarily allotted to the occupiers of that unenviable eminence, they received an ovation of sympathy and applause for their endurance and patriotic courage.

The time had now arrived however, when the popular cause was to be taken up by the wealthy and powerful. John Hampden, a Buckinghamshire gentleman, refused to pay the tax of ship-money. He was not the first by many who had murmured against its levying, as an illegal act, because unsanctioned by Parliament; but he was the first to contest the question in open court. The Crown lawyers, on the other side, proved that the impost was of ancient origin, reaching as far back as the days when the Danes ravaged the English coasts in their dragon-prowed warships, and the people had contributed to the fitting-up and manning of vessels to keep them at bay. From time to time, as occasion had demanded in the interval of centuries, the tax had been revived, and dropped again when the requirement no longer existed. That this did now actively exist, the King’s party maintained; since the navy in James’s time had been criminally neglected, and the protection against foreign invasion was inadequate. The victory was to the King. Hampden was condemned, and suffered. But the victory was a losing one. Hampden was hailed as the champion of the people, and the greatest patriot of the time. Henceforth all was contention between the royal party and the popular party. No action on the part of Charles and his advisers went uncanvassed and uncontested. The spirit of religious and political freedom waxed fierce; Laud’s high churchmanship in England, Strafford’s high-handed government in Ireland, the King’s endeavour to propagate Protestantism in Ireland, and his attempt to force Episcopacy on Scotland, heaped fuel on fuel. The King’s accusation of high treason against the five members, with his command for their arrest, kindled the blaze of war. Mutual open defiance between the King and his subjects first reared its ugly head at Nottingham. Royalist and Roundhead fought a drawn battle at Edgehill, and henceforth bloodshed and strife ruled the country. Many moderate-minded men, before events reached this point, had withdrawn from the Parliamentary party. They foresaw with apprehension the lengths to which the “Reformers” were rushing; and, as it were, pausing to consider, remained to rally round the King, his truest, ablest advisers. Among these were Hyde, Lord Clarendon, who became Chancellor of the Exchequer; and Lucius Cary, Lord Falkland, the hero, as he has been called, of the great Chancellor’s epic.[[10]] And it is at this crisis that Lord Strange, not as yet Earl of Derby, first steps into prominence in the tragic scenes enacting in the drama, which only finds its parallel in the chronicles of modern times, in France, nearly a century and a half later.

[10]. Walpole.