Unable to walk, scarcely able to sit upright on his saddle, his energy was indomitable. He rallied the troops, upbraided the sluggishness of the leaders, and set a brilliant example to the whole army. But the King stayed his hand, and thwarted the vigorous tactics of his General, the command was in fact taken from him, although Charles was eager in his praises, and gave Strafford the Garter at York. He, moreover, insisted that they should travel together to London—two victims hastening to their doom.
Strafford was averse to the plan, foreseeing the danger which menaced him at the opening of Parliament, and his presentiment was realised, for a few days after the commencement of the session Pym began his long-meditated attack.
The bloodhounds were on the track, the hunt was up!
Lord Strafford was in the House of Lords, when Pym appeared at the bar to impeach him of high treason. He was allowed but a short time to say a few words, and was compelled to listen to the charge on his knees, then given into custody, and lodged in the Tower.
We deeply regret the limited space which forbids us to do more than glance at the circumstances of Strafford’s trial and defence, though in truth it is a well-known tale.
A Scotchman, and an enemy, gives a most graphic description of the noble scene which Westminster Hall presented on the occasion, crowded to the roof—the King, the Queen, the whole Court and nobility of England, ladies of the highest rank, whose tears flowed copiously, and who were unanimous in their verdict in favour of the illustrious prisoner.
It was well said by the elder D’Israeli, ‘that Strafford’s eloquence was so great as to perpetuate the sympathy which it received in the hour of his agony.’ He had, indeed, need of eloquence. Every obstacle was thrown in his way, especially in the matter of summoning witnesses in his favour, while his personal enemies were invited from all parts of England, Scotland, and Ireland. His confidence was betrayed, his words perverted; the proceedings were unlawful and unprecedented; but the Solicitor-General overruled such arguments by declaring that for ‘wolves and wild beasts of prey’ no law could be given, and that the prisoner ought to be knocked on the head.
Whereupon with difficulty a bill of attainder was provided, and some members who gave negative votes had their names posted up in the city as ‘Straffordians.’ The two Houses had passages of arms on the subject; but the vultures were hovering round, and would not be disappointed of their prey. Thus Thomas Earl of Strafford was declared guilty of high treason.
We will not dwell on the sad passage in Charles’s sad life. He had pledged his royal word, ‘You shall not suffer in honour, in fortune, or in life.’ Feeble attempts at intercession with the dreaded power of the Parliament, hesitation and delay, and then he signed the death-warrant of his devoted friend, weeping as he did so—yet he signed, laying up for himself hours of deep remorse, during the few years that he survived. The generous captive indeed wrote to his master to absolve him from his promise, but when he learned that he must prepare for death, he raised his eyes to heaven, exclaiming, ‘Put not your trust in princes, or in any child of men.’
During the short interval between the sentence and the execution, the prisoner, ‘resigned and at home with his own fate, experienced in full all that inward strength which had grown up with the unconscious religion of a noble life.’[[1]]