PARLIAMENT OF THE YEAR 1621.

We already know the antipathy of James to the Parliament, which had become a power to which, as soon as it was manifested in a newly assembled House, the power of the King was obliged to bend. James had already often felt the ascendancy of Parliament. The schemes of union with Scotland, which filled his soul with ambition, had been shattered by the resistance of that body. The exclusively Protestant disposition which prevailed there had made it impossible for him to give a legal sanction to the favour which he entertained for the Catholics, and which his views of policy naturally disposed him to show. He had been obliged to desist from the attempt to secure financial independence by surrendering the feudal privileges of the crown. The Parliament raised claims which the King regarded as attacks on the prerogative of the crown: even his advances to it had been met by a stubborn resistance. In the ordinary course of things he would never again have summoned Parliament together.

This complication in foreign affairs then arose. All parties, including even the King himself, were convinced that England must step forth armed among the contending powers of the world: and that, not in the fashion of the last expedition, so little in keeping with the situation, when private support and tacit sympathy found the means, but on a large scale, as the position of the kingdom among the great powers demanded. But without Parliamentary grants this was impossible. The summoning of a new Parliament was therefore an incontestable necessity.

A.D. 1621. But on the other hand there was not wanting reasons for hesitation, for it could not be disguised that concessions would be inevitable. King James saw that as plainly as any one, and declared himself beforehand ready to make them. In contradiction to his former assertions he gave out that he would this time allow grievances to be freely alleged, and would give his best assistance in removing them. He said that he wished to meet Parliament half way, and that it should find him an honourable man. From the investigation of abuses the less was feared because the late opposition was ascribed to a factious resistance to Somerset's administration. But that favourite had since fallen: and of the leaders of that opposition several had gone over to the government, and some had died.[407] The declared purpose of arming for the reconquest of the Palatinate was in accordance with the feelings of the nation and of the Protestants: no doubt was felt that it would win universal sympathy.

This was in fact the case. The most favourable impression was produced when the King in his speech from the throne (January 30, 1621), which was principally taken up with this subject, declared his resolution to defend the hereditary claim of his grandchildren to the territories of the Palatine Electorate, and the free profession of Protestantism; to compel peace if it were necessary sword in hand; for which objects he claimed the assistance of the country. Parliament did not hesitate for an instant to express its concurrence with him in these designs. Two subsidies were granted on the spot, and the resolution was carried into effect during the continuance of the debates, a step which was altogether unprecedented. The King thanked the Parliament for this extraordinary readiness, which would, he said, increase his importance both at home and abroad.

But this did not prevent Parliament on the other hand from bringing forward its claims with all possible energy. The power of granting money was the sinew of all its powers. The necessity of asking assistance from Parliament in urgent embarrassments, which the Tudors had avoided as far as possible, now appeared as pressing as ever. Was it not to be expected that demands should call forth counter-demands? And the opposition in the previous Parliament rested on a far wider basis than that of hostility to Somerset: at the present election also the candidates of the government were rejected in most of the counties and towns.[408]

The commission appointed for the investigation of abuses did not deal only with those which were acknowledged to be such. The principal question rather concerned the competence of the crown to confer such privileges as those out of which the abuses originated. Under the lead of Edward Coke, the great lawyer, Parliament adopted a principle which secured for it a firm standing ground.

Coke, who moreover did not think it necessary to ask the King's consent for liberty of speech, because this was, he thought, an independent right of Parliament, vindicated the position that no royal proclamation had validity if it contradicted an act of Parliament or an existing law. He took his stand on the times of the later Plantagenet and of the Lancastrian kings: and he considered that the form which the relation between the government and Parliament then assumed was the only legal form. But the government of James I had granted extraordinarily obnoxious privileges—for instance, the right of setting up taverns with a restriction on the entertainment of guests by private individuals, or by the old inns; and again the right of arresting acknowledged vagrants. But the most obnoxious grants were those of patents for the monopoly of some trade, which were annoying to the whole mercantile class, and brought profit only to a few favoured individuals. Coke argued that the patents were either in themselves illegal, or injurious in their enforcement, or both together. While he proved to Parliament its forgotten or disregarded rights, Coke won the full confidence of both Houses alike: the Upper and the Lower House made common cause. Thus the system of government as it had been developed under the Tudors and continued under the Stuarts was encountered face to face by another system, which rested upon other precedents and principles.

And people were not content with merely declaring the patents invalid; they called those to account who had got possession of them, and even the high officials who had contributed to issue them. A general commotion ensued: every day fresh information came in and fresh complaints were drawn up.[409]

The Lord Chancellor Bacon had been already brought into danger by this affair. He had assisted in introducing monopolies of different manufactures under the pretence that work would be found for the poor by means of them. It was well known that in matters of this sort he had for the most part followed the suggestions of the Prime Minister. While Bacon was defending the ideal mission of the monarchy, he had the weakness to identify himself too closely with the accidental form which authority just at that particular moment took. In return he found on the other hand that the attacks really aimed at the government recoiled in the first instance upon him. In reality they were directed principally against Buckingham. In order to save him from destruction, suggestions had been made to the King that he might prefer to dissolve Parliament, as it seemed plain that he had far more reason to expect harm from the attacks than advantage from the grants made by that body. Buckingham saved himself only by coming forward against the monopolies himself, in accordance with the advice of his ecclesiastical confidant, Dean Williams. Claims had been made against two of his brothers also on account of the monopolies. Far from taking them under his protection, he said on the contrary that his father had still a third son who was determined to root out abuses; and that not until the present proceedings had been taken had he recognised the advantages of parliamentary government. Upon this, the leading men with whom Williams had formed a connexion, desisted from attacking the First Minister. It even came about that a person of high rank, accused at the bar of the House of Lords, who had let fall an expression, comparing Buckingham to old favourites of hateful memory, was obliged to retract it with considerable ceremony. But a victim was required: one was found in the Lord Chancellor Bacon.

Although condemned by law and morality, an evil practice still prevailed of receiving presents of money in official transactions. The sums were known and have been registered, by means of which Gondomar retained the services of a number of statesmen in the interest of Spain. How many similar abuses in the control of the Treasury had been brought to light only a short time before! Even the great philosopher, who in his writings is so zealous against bribes, contracted during his administration the stain of receiving them. That he might stand on an equality with the great lords, he incurred inordinate expenses, which these bribes assisted him to meet. Edward Coke was wholly in the right when he exclaimed that a corrupt judge was 'the grievance of grievances.'[410] Two-and-twenty cases were proved in which the supreme judge, the Lord Chancellor of England, had taken presents from the parties concerned. Lord Bacon made no attempt to justify his conduct; he only affirmed—and this appears in fact to have been the case—that in his decisions he never was influenced by the presents that had been made him. When he was called to account for them, he acquiesced himself in the justice of the proceeding, for he allowed that a reform was necessary, and only deemed himself unfortunate in being the person with whom it began. The Lords pronounced sentence upon him that he should never again fill an official position, nor be capable of sitting in Parliament, and that he should be banished from the precincts of the court. Apart from its importance as affecting individuals, this event is very important in the history of the constitution, which now returned to its former paths. That the Lower House again as in old times was able to procure the fall of one of the highest officials, is an evidence of its growing power. That the First Minister and favourite allowed his intimate friend to fall is a proof of the weakness of the highest authority, which moreover ought itself to have attacked abuses of this kind. Bacon justly remarked that reform would soon reach higher regions.

But while Parliament, which the government had no inclination to withstand openly, thus obtained the ascendancy in domestic matters, it was also already turning its eyes in the direction of foreign affairs. These were times in which a warm religious sympathy was awakened by the advance which the counter-reformation was making in the hereditary dominions of Austria, as well as in France, and by the persecutions which befell the Protestants in both countries. The Spaniards were again engaging in war for the subjugation of the Netherlands. In Parliament, on the other hand, it was thought necessary to combine with the Republic, and to equip a fleet to assist the Huguenots, and even to attack Spain, in order thus to make a diversion in favour of the Palatinate. At the very time of the opening of Parliament the ban of the empire was pronounced against Frederick Elector Palatine amid the sound of trumpets and drums in the Palace at Vienna. This was regarded in the whole Protestant world as an injustice, for it was thought that Ferdinand II had been injured by Frederick only as King of Bohemia, and not as Emperor: and on the same grounds the English Parliament was of opinion that the execution of the ban ought to be hindered by force of arms; and it showed itself dissatisfied that the King sought to meet the evil only by demonstrations and embassies.

We can easily understand that the attitude of Parliament aroused the anxiety of the King. He caused the debates on the war to be put a stop to, remarking that they infringed his prerogative, for which great affairs of this kind were exclusively reserved. And yet, so extraordinary was the complication of affairs that the declarations made in Parliament were not altogether displeasing to him. In June he adjourned Parliament, without formally proroguing it. What was the reason of this? Because Parliament had brought in a new bill containing the severest enactments against Jesuits and Catholic recusants. The King refused to accept it, as by this means the persecution of Protestants in Catholic countries would receive a new impulse. But he was also unwilling to express his refusal in a final shape, because he knew that the wish to hinder the adoption of harsh measures against the Catholics would exercise an influence upon the Spaniards in their negotiations with him.[411] If he had proceeded to a prorogation, he would have been obliged to reject the laws; and he preferred to keep the prospect of them still open, which he was able to do by resorting to the form of an adjournment. He made it a merit in the eyes of the Spaniards that, far from increasing the severity of the penal laws, he did not even enforce them in their existing form, when moreover, if enforced, they would bring him in a large sum. But he was glad to see that people feared that he might do at some future time what at present he had refrained from doing. When he promised the Parliament on his royal word, that he would call it together again without fail in the autumn, he was also influenced by the consideration that he intended the Spaniards to look forward with fear to the resolution which might then be taken. He was greatly pleased that Parliament before dispersing drew up an energetic remonstrance against the persecutions of the Protestants all over the world, and especially against the oppression of his children. Not that he wished to give effect to it: on the contrary he adhered to the policy of assisting his son-in-law only by means of diplomacy: but he desired that the Spaniards should fear a war with England, and he thought that anxiety on this point would induce them and their friends to show themselves conciliatory and respectful.

Sir John Digby, who was commissioned with the negotiations at the Spanish court, was referred by that power to Brussels and Vienna; and in fact he received favourable answers, not only from the Infanta Isabella in the former, but even from the Emperor himself in the latter city. The Emperor held out to him the hope that the matter would be reconsidered at a future assembly of the Estates of the Empire, which he intended to convene at Ratisbon. But meanwhile warlike operations and the execution of the ban held their course undisturbed. In Bohemia the counter-reformation was carried through with extreme severity. Four-and-twenty Protestant nobles and leaders were executed, and their heads with hoary beards were seen exposed on the Bridge at Prague. Silesia hastened to make its peace with the Emperor: the Princes of the Union laid down their arms, but they did not yet make their peace by this means. Tilly took possession of the Upper Palatinate, and then turned with his victorious army to the Lower Palatinate in order to complete the subjugation of this province, notwithstanding all the protection of England. On the Lower Rhine the forces of the Spaniards and of the States General confronted each other in arms. Under these circumstances the Princes, who were invited, refused to appear at an Assembly of the Empire,[412] for none of them thought that he could leave his home without incurring evident danger. The Infanta Isabella too in Brussels declined to conclude the truce which Sir John Digby proposed.

While affairs were in this position, Parliament resumed its interrupted sittings in November 1621. Dean Williams, who after Bacon's fall had received the Great Seal, opened the session with a request for the immediate grant of new subsidies, which he said would be required even before Christmas. He promised that in the coming February, when they resumed their sittings, the other affairs should be brought under discussion.[413] On this occasion as on a previous one, the King wished for nothing more than a renewed and stronger demonstration. Even now he lived and moved in a policy of compromise between opposite views. While his son-in-law was being robbed of his country in the interest of Spain, he adhered to the wish of marrying his son to a Spanish Infanta: he thought that he would bring about the restoration of the Palatinate most easily by the influence which this new alliance would confer. But he thought that his friendly advances should also be accompanied by threats, and he wished to be placed by the grants of Parliament in a position to arm more effectually than before. It would have been in accordance with his views, if Parliament had repeated its former declarations, according to which it was ready to put forth all its power in his behalf, in order to place him in a position to compel by force of arms what might be refused to his peaceful negotiations.

It is worth noticing in all this that James not only met the wishes of Parliament because he required support, but that he also encouraged the disposition which it showed in favour of Protestantism, in order to avail himself of it: he thought that he would always be able to control it. But how often has a policy been shipwrecked, which has thought to avail itself of great interests and great passions for some end immediately in view!

How could it be expected that while religious parties on the continent were meeting in a struggle for life and death, the English Parliament would approve of the wavering policy of James I, which aimed at compromise and had hitherto been without results?[414] Quite the contrary: starting with the view that England was the centre of Protestantism and must avert the dangers which assailed it, Parliament declared itself ready, it is true, to pay the King new subsidies, but not until the following year, and on the presumption that he should have accepted and ratified the bills for the welfare of the people which had passed the House.[415] They thought that the common danger to religion arising from the alliance between the Pope and the King of Spain had been brought upon England also by the indulgence hitherto shown to the recusants. Parliament invited the King to draw the sword without further circumlocution for the rescue of the foreign Protestants; in the first instance to break with the power whose army had carried on the war in the Palatinate, but above all to marry the Prince his successor to a lady of the Protestant faith.

The King wished to avoid war because he was anxious lest he should be constantly compelled by Parliament, owing to his repeated want of subsidies, to make fresh concessions, which would affect and diminish the substance of his authority. The Parliament wished for war because it expected that such a proceeding would furnish it with great opportunities for establishing its power.

As soon as the rival powers encountered each other on this ground, all agreement between them was at an end. Parliament interfered still more vigorously than before with the affairs which the King reserved for himself: it wished to induce him to adopt those very measures which he was resolved to avoid. He was expected to break with that power with which it was his principal ambition to become most closely connected. He was expected to take the sword in order to defend the common cause of Protestantism. He was expected to put an end to the indulgence which he had hitherto shown to his Catholic subjects; to do what ran counter to all the expectations which he had raised at Rome and Madrid; and what perhaps, considering the strength of the Catholic element in England, was not without danger to the maintenance of quiet at home. Meanwhile the payment of the subsidies, which he required at once in order to maintain his political position, was indefinitely deferred. Although it was not actually stated, yet it was quite clear that Parliament made the validity of its grants dependent on his compliance with its advice. And on what important matters was that advice offered! The King complained that his prerogative was openly infringed by it; that Parliament wished to decide on his alliances with other sovereigns, and to dictate to him how to conduct the war; that it brought under debate questions of religion and state, and the marriage of his son: what portion of the sovereign power, he asked, was left to him? On the competence which Parliament claimed as its hereditary right, he remarked that it had to thank the favour of his ancestors and himself for this: that he would protect Parliament, but only in proportion to the regard which it showed for the prerogative of his crown.

If we had to specify the moment in which the quarrel between the Parliament and the Crown once more found its full expression, we should choose this.[416] The Parliament, which had dissolution in immediate prospect, employed its last moments in making a protest, in which it again affirmed that its liberties and privileges were a birthright and heirloom of the subjects of the English crown, that it certainly was within its power to bring under debate public matters affecting the King, the State, the Church, and the defence of the country; and that full liberty of speech without any subsequent molestation on that account must be secured to every member in the exercise of these rights.

The King would not forego the satisfaction of punishing by arrest a number of members who were peculiarly hateful to him; he declared the protestation null and void, and struck it out of the clerks' book with his own hand. In a detailed exposition of his view of these transactions, in which he gives the assurance that he will still henceforth continue to summon Parliament, he emphatically repudiates this protestation, which he affirms to be drawn up in such terms that the inalienable rights of the crown are called in question by it, rights in the possession of which the crown had found itself in the times of Queen Elizabeth of glorious memory. He affirms that as King he cannot tolerate any such pretensions.

Parliament demanded the policy of Queen Elizabeth; King James demanded her rights. The privileges accorded to the crown and the opposition to Spain had formerly gone together: the surrender of the latter under King James served to supply Parliament on its part with a motive for making an attack upon the former.

The cause of Parliament was of great importance, even when it stood alone: deeper impulses and fresh life and vigour were first imparted to it by its combination with foreign policy and with religion.