[Note 4], [p. 17].—The Elector Palatine, Frederick V., had married Elizabeth, the daughter of James I., of England, and by his election as King of Bohemia, became in a certain sense the representative and head of the Protestant party in Germany at the outbreak of the Thirty Years’ War in 1618. His cause was badly managed at home, and still more wretchedly managed in England. Constantly deluded with hopes of support from the great Protestant power in the North, he was doomed to perpetual disappointment. His cause was shattered at the first serious conflict at White Mountain in 1620, and he was obliged to flee to Holland for his life. Twelve thousand English troops were subsequently sent to the support of Mansfeldt, but they were so ill managed that they nearly all perished before they could be of any assistance. The sacrifice of “honor” and of “men” was most abundant.
[Note 5], [p. 17].—In 1627 Richelieu was engaged in the work of reducing La Rochelle, the stronghold of the Huguenots, into subordination to the King of France. The work had to be done by means of a siege, which included the construction of a dyke across the mouth of the harbor. Buckingham, inflamed with resentment against Richelieu, for personal reasons, determined to relieve the Rochellois. He collected a hundred ships and seven thousand land forces, and advanced to the rescue. But on reaching the scene of action, instead of advancing immediately to relieve the beleaguered city, he disembarked on the Isle of Rhée, and contented himself with issuing a proclamation, calling upon all French Protestants to arise for a relief of their brethren. The result was two-fold. In the first place, La Rochelle, after one of the most memorable sieges in all history, was reduced; and, secondly, the cause of Protestantism in France was completely crushed. In response to Buckingham’s call, the Protestants everywhere arose; but Richelieu was now at leisure to destroy them, and thus their last hope perished.
[Note 6], [p. 17].—The beauty of this allusion to the policy and the power of Queen Elizabeth has very justly been greatly admired. Nothing could have been more adroit than Eliot’s comparison of the ways of Elizabeth with those of Buckingham.
[Note 7], [p. 20].—Having now come to the third division of his subject, “The insufficiency of our generals,” Eliot naturally pauses before dragging Buckingham personally upon the scene. But for what follows the Duke was personally responsible.
[Note 8], [p. 21].—In 1625 an expedition of eighty sail had been fitted out for the purpose of intercepting the Spanish treasure ships from America. But by reason of the incompetency of the commander there was no concert of action in the fleet, and the treasure ships escaped, though seven of them that would have richly repaid the expedition might easily have been taken. But not wishing to return empty handed, the commander effected a landing near Cadiz. The soldiers broke open the wine-cellars and became so drunk that when the commander determined to withdraw, several hundred were left to perish under the knives of the peasants.
[Note 9], [p. 24].—What the orator contemptuously calls the “journey to Algiers,” was nothing less than an expedition sent out for its conquest. But it fared like the most of Buckingham’s other “journeys.” The Algerines turned upon the English; and thirty-five ships engaged in the Mediterranean trade were destroyed, and their crews sold into slavery.
[Note 10], [p. 43].—For powers and privileges of the early English Parliaments, see Stubbs, ii., §§ 220–233, and 271–298. Also on the right of Parliament to make a grant depend on redress of grievances, Hallam: “Mid. Ages,” Am. ed., iii., p. 84, seq. It is a curious fact that in the Early Middle Ages there was a very general reluctance on the part of towns to send representatives. Hallam: “Mid. Ages,” iii., 111. Cox: “Ant. Parl. Elections,” 84, 93, 98. Todd: “Parl. Govt.,” ii., 21. Hearn: “Govt. in Eng.,” 394–407.
[Note 11], [p. 43].—Bagehot, in his remarkable work on the English Constitution (p. 133) lays much stress on what he calls “the teaching” and “informing” functions of the House of Commons. “In old times one office of the House of Commons was to inform the Sovereign what was wrong.”
[Note 12], [p. 45].—There is a remarkable letter written by Thomas Allured, a member of the Parliament of 1628, which describes what took place on the day alluded to. The letter is preserved in Rushworth’s Hist., Coll. i., 609–10, and in part is reproduced in Carlyle’s Cromwell, i., 46. After saying that “Upon Tuesday, Sir John Eliot moved that as we intended to furnish his Majesty with money, we should also supply him with counsel,” he says: “But next day, Wednesday, we had a message from his Majesty, by the Speaker ‘that we should husband the time and despatch our old business without entertaining new.’ Yesterday, Thursday morning, a new message was brought us, which I have here inclosed, which, requiring us not to cast or lay any aspersion on any Minister of his Majesty, the House was much affected thereby. Sir Robert Philips, of Somershire, spoke and mingled his words with weeping. Mr. Pym did the like. Sir Edward Cook, overcome with passion, seeing the desolation likely to ensue, was forced to sit down, when he began to speak, by abundance of tears. Yea, the Speaker in his speech could not refrain from weeping and shedding of tears, besides a great many others whose grief made them dumb. But others bore up in that storm and encouraged the rest.” The writer then states how the House resolved itself into a Committee, how the Speaker who was in close communication with the King, asked for leave to withdraw for half an hour, and how “It was ordered that no other man leave the House on pain of going to the Tower.” He then continues: “Sir Edward Cook told us ‘He now saw God had not accepted of our humble and moderate carriages and fair proceedings; and he feared the reason was, we had not dealt sincerely with the King and country, and made a true representation of all these miseries, which he, for his part, repented that he had not done sooner. And, therefore, not knowing whether he should ever again speak in this House, he would now do it freely; and so did here protest, that the author and cause of all these miseries was the Duke of Buckingham,’ which was entertained and answered with a cheerful acclamation of the House. As when one good hound recovers the scent, the rest come in with full cry, so they pursued it, and every one came home, and laid the blame where he thought the fault was. And as we were putting it to the question whether he should be named in our Remonstrance, as the chief cause of all our miseries at home and abroad, the Speaker having been, not half an hour, but three hours absent, and with the King, returned, bringing this message: ‘That the House should then rise, adjourn till the morrow morning, no Committee sit or other business go on in the interim.’ What we expect this morning, God in heaven knows! We shall meet betimes this morning, partly for the business’ sake, and partly because two days ago we made an order, that whoever comes in after Prayers shall pay twelve pence to the poor.”
The events alluded to by Pym in this rapid indictment are all given in considerable detail in “Parl. Hist.,” ii., 442–525. On the 2d of March, when Eliot moved a new Remonstrance, the Speaker refused to put the motion, alleging an order from the King. The House insisted, whereupon he was about to leave the Chair. Holles, Valentine, and some others forced him back into it. “God’s wounds,” said Holles, “you shall sit till it please the House to rise.” And much else of a similar nature. “Parl. Hist.,” ii., 487–491.