When the English Parliament of 1628 came together, the King told them: “If you do not your duty, mine would then order me to use those other means which God has put into my hand.” Charles’s notion of Parliamentary duty was simply that the members should vote necessary supplies, and then leave the expenditures to the royal will. Parliament, however, insisted upon some assurances that abuses would not be repeated. The Petition of Right, as we saw in our account of Eliot, was the result. Though the King was obliged to give his assent to the petition, it soon became evident that he had no intention to carry out its provisions either in the letter or in the spirit. The liberal supplies granted by Parliament after the signing of the petition were soon exhausted. Every expedient of economy was resorted to in order to avoid the necessity of calling another Parliament.

At first there was perhaps no clearly defined purpose to cause any positive breach of constitutional obligation, but gradually the government drifted into a policy of the most flagrant oppression. No Parliament was called for eleven years. The powers of the prerogative were strained at every point. Knighthood was forced on the gentry in order that large sums might be extorted as the price of composition. Enormous fines were levied for removing defects in title deeds. Large sums were exacted of landowners for encroachments on the crown lands. London, in consequence of its open sympathy with the Parliamentary cause, became a special object of royal dislike. An edict was issued prohibiting the enlargement of the metropolis; and large districts in the suburbs were saved from demolition only by the payment of three years’ rental to the royal treasury. The powers of the Court of Star Chamber were applied to the trying of causes on the simple information of the King’s attorney, and the court was authorized to adjudge any punishment short of death. Under its jurisdiction enormous fines were levied for the most trifling offences. A simple brawl between two wealthy lords had to be atoned for by the payment of £5,000, and more than twice that sum was exacted of a gentleman as a fine for contracting marriage with his niece. Monopolies, which had been formally abandoned both by Elizabeth and by James, were now revived in direct and open violation of the Petition of Right, in order that large sums might be realized from the persons receiving the privileges bestowed by the concession. Nearly every article of domestic necessity had to be procured directly or indirectly from some monopolist; and, consequently, the expense of living was very greatly increased. Customs duties were levied just as if they had been voted by Parliament, and after a time writs were issued for a general levy of benevolences from the shires. Thus, one by one, even the most flagrant of the abuses he had promised to abolish, were resorted to without hesitation and without scruple.

Not less flagrant were the abuses of a religious nature. The Commons, in the last moments of the session of 1629, had resolved that “whoever should bring in innovations in religion,” as well as “whoever advised the levy of subsidies not granted in Parliament,” was to be regarded as “a capital enemy of the kingdom and commonwealth.” And yet it was to “bring in innovations in religion” that the energies of the English church were now chiefly directed. At the head of the church was Archbishop Laud, whose determination was “to raise the Church of England to what he conceived to be its real position as a branch, though a reformed branch, of the great Catholic church throughout the world.” He protested alike against the innovations of Rome and the innovations of Calvin. In his view the Episcopal succession was the essence of the church; and, therefore, when the Lutheran and Calvanistic churches rejected the office of Bishop, they “ceased to be churches at all.” As he rejected the church of the reformers, and as he acknowledged Rome as a true branch of the church, he drew constantly nearer to Rome, and removed further and further from the doctrines of the Reformers. In all parts of England ministers who refused to conform were expelled from their cures. It was this aggressive and revolutionary policy that drove thousands of Puritans to New England. Three thousand emigrants left England in a single year; and during the period between 1629 and 1640 no less than about twenty thousand Puritans found a refuge in the New World.

In Scotland resistance to the innovations of Laud took a more active turn. Royal proclamation had been made, reinstating the Episcopal forms; but when the Dean of Edinburgh opened the new Prayer Book, a murmur of discontent ran through the congregation, and a stool, hurled by one of the members, felled him to the ground. Petitions for the removal of the Prayer Book were showered in upon the court. Various writers were dragged before the Star Chamber and branded as “trumpets of sedition.” To a petition presented by the Duke of Hamilton the King replied: “I will rather die than yield to these impertinent and damnable demands.” Of these seething discontents, what is sometimes called the “Bishops’ War” was the result. The King was determined to suppress opposition by force of arms, and for that purpose he committed the fatal error of calling over Strafford from Ireland. Scotland at once arose to resist him, while at his back all England was at the point of revolt. A London mob burst into the Bishop’s palace at Lambeth, and then proceeded to break up the sittings of the High Commission at St. Paul’s. Charles, finding the army in no condition to cope with the discontents of the time, at length, with great reluctance, yielded to his advisers, and once more summoned the Houses of Parliament.

In April of 1640, the newly-elected members came together. During the eleven years that had elapsed since the dismissal of the Parliament of 1629, many of the old leaders had passed away. Sir Edward Coke and Sir Robert Philips were dead, and Eliot had perished as a martyr in prison. But in the meantime a new leader had appeared. By the consent of all, that distinction was now held by John Pym. This gentleman, now fifty-four years of age, had been the companion of Eliot in the third Parliament of Charles, and, next to Eliot and Wentworth, had been acknowledged the most effective speaker in that body. But in the course of the past eleven years his talents and his energy had caused him everywhere to be hailed as the popular leader. He was a gentleman of good family, a graduate of Oxford, and an Episcopalian in religion. His influence was probably all the greater because he did not belong to the extreme party. We are told that he was no fanatic, that he was genial and even convivial in his nature. He has been called by Mr. Forster the first great popular organizer in English politics. In company with Hampden he rode through several of the English counties, as Anthony Wood states, “with a view of promoting elections of the puritanical brethren.” He urged the people to meet and send petitions to Parliament, and by him the custom of petitioning was first organized into a system. When the new House of Commons was called to order every one looked to Pym as by a common instinct for guidance.

The speech with which Pym responded to this expectation is doubtless one of the most remarkable in the history of British eloquence. It abounds in passages which, for weight of argument and closeness of reasoning, remind one of the compositions of Lord Bacon. Throughout the whole there is a precision of statement, and a gravity of manner that show plainly enough that he was not unconscious of the responsibility that rested upon him. The speech has been a matter of general comment with all the historians of the period, for there is abundant evidence of its extraordinary influence on Parliament and on the people of England. And yet, until within a few years, no complete copy of it was known to be in existence. Several mutilated versions were published in the seventeenth century, but these conveyed a very imperfect impression of its power. Mr. May, the historian of the Long Parliament says that “Mr. Pym, a grave and religious gentleman, in a long speech of almost two hours, recited a catalogue of grievances which at that time lay heavy on the commonwealth, of which many abbreviated copies, as extracting the heads only, were with great greediness taken by gentleman and others throughout the kingdom, for it was not then the fashion to print speeches in Parliament.” These “abbreviated copies” “of heads only,” were until recently supposed to be the only reports of the speech in existence. But Mr. Forster, when writing his Life of Pym, was led to institute a careful search among the world of papers in the British Museum; and his effort was rewarded with success. He discovered a report of the speech with corrections by Pym’s own hand. This version, corrected by the orator himself, is the one here reproduced. It is somewhat abridged by Mr. Forster; and the report given in the third person is preserved. In unabbreviated form it has never been published.