not only gave the testimony of his silence to these untruths, but, on its being reported to the house the same day, approved thereof there also." 1 The inevitable discovery of the truth, therefore, by the arrival of Bristol, now completely shattered all the popularity which Charles and Buckingham had acquired in the last reign, from the breach of the Spanish treaties. But it did more. It inflamed displeasure by the shame of imposition; and poisoned at once those fresh springs of public confidence, which a new king has, as it were, a right to claim as his own. Nor was this all. With an almost indecent haste, the king had entered into a marriage with a daughter of Roman catholic France; had consented to certain secret articles in the settlement of the marriage, in favour of her religion; had agreed to a suspension of the penal laws against the catholics; and, as an earnest of his promised indulgences, had already granted to several Romish priests a special pardon, without the formality even of a conviction, of all offences committed by them against the penal laws. In fact, of his own inconsiderate will, he had provoked in the English nation that precise shame of religious subjection, to avoid which they had been anxious to rush into a war with Spain. Nor was this the only religious wrong. Symptoms had shown themselves of an unholy bellum episcopale at home. Laud's celebrated schedule of ecclesiastics, branded with the letters O and P, as they happened to be orthodox, or suspected puritan, had already been discussed in the ministerial councils, and had been felt also in portentous signs of that exclusive system of church patronage, the subsequent effects of which were so terrible.2

This parliament, therefore, shaped their determinations accordingly. Their first efforts were directed to secure the future safety of the people by an enlargement of the basis of popular representation. On a repetition of the king's demand for supplies, Eliot and his friends went up to him with an address, respectfully and cautiously worded, promising supplies, but claiming the redress of grievances. The intemperate and threatening answer of the king had no effect on the steady purposes of these great men. They voted tonnage and poundage for one year. The house of lords, disdaining to accept it with such a limitation, rashly rejected the bill. Still the commons were not alarmed. They pursued their own course calmly; granted the king readily, as they had promised, two subsidies; and were proceeding to votes of inquiry and censure into various wrongs and grievances, when the plague suddenly broke out in London. The major part of the members objected to continue at their post. "While we are now speaking," said one, "the bell is tolling every minute." 2 An adjournment to Oxford was consequently proposed, and, after a vast deal of squabbling between the king and his two rival ministers, granted. Williams and Buckingham, now coming fast to an open rupture, could not but illustrate the truth of the old saying. Just as the house was adjourning to Oxford, however, sir John Eliot, with characteristic spirit, rose and made the following motion, "An order, that within three days after our next meeting, the house shall then be called, and the censure of the house to pass upon all such as shall then be absent." Ever true and sincere himself,

3

he would consent to no adjournment which had not some chance, in the sincerity of others, of answering the end proposed.1

In the course of the proceedings before this adjournment, I should mention, that I have observed a circumstance which seems likely to have been the origin of sir Thomas Wentworth's dislike of Eliot. A feeling of bitterness unquestionably existed between them during the greater part of their parliamentary career.2 Mr. D'Israeli does not fail to suggest, that Wentworth might have " disdained the violence and turbulence of Eliot3;" and he goes on to state all the malicious motives that have been suggested on both sides by Hacket and his hero. Even Mr. Hallam is betrayed, I think, on this point, into an unworthy admission. "Always jealous," he says, speaking of Wentworth, "of a rival, he contracted a dislike for sir John Eliot, and might suspect that he was likely to be anticipated by that more distinguished patriot in royal favours." 4 Such a supposition, on Wentworth's part, supposes a possibility of its truth on Eliot's. I believe the dislike to have originated in no such matter; but, on the contrary, in Eliot's keen penetration and unswerving sense of justice. I find that, shortly after this first parliament assembled, a dispute upon the validity of sir Thomas Wentworth's return for the county of York came before the house. Sir John Saville claimed a new election. This was opposed by the court party, who, for reasons best known to themselves and the intriguing archbishop Williams, supported Wentworth.5 Eliot, on the other hand, supported the claims of Saville; and impressed their justice so forcibly on the popular side of the house, that the election of Wentworth was declared void. From this I date the hatred of the future earl of Strafford towards one whom no court intrigue could influence, whom no friendship could persuade, to desert the great principles of public and of private justice. Wentworth was again returned; thenceforward opposed Eliot whenever he was able; and, when that great statesman had perished in the cause so basely forsaken by himself, he sneered at him as a "fantastic apparition;" and never ceased to spit forth venom to the creature Laud against his memory and glory.

Sir John Eliot, however, was on the eve of illustrating, by a more striking example, this great feature in his character. Though he still held the office of viceadmiral of Devonshire 2, he felt that the time had at last arrived, which left him no alternative of choice, with reference to the lord high admiral. Up to this period he had sustained, as is all but certain from the the proofs I have alleged, a personal intercourse with that nobleman, and was certainly still connected with him in office. His duty now required that this should cease. His youthful companion had long been lost in the pampered minister of kings, his superior in office was beneath him in public honesty. Both were abandoned. Sir John Eliot now saw, in the speedy destruction of Buckingham, the only destruction of that power behind the throne which was greater than the throne itself, and was daily becoming more and more fatal to the people.1 He had at last concentred in his own person, and in those of his servile adherents, the most considerable offices of the crown, and in his single existence seemed to be content to involve the question of the privileges of the nation. Eliot, contented also with that issue, buckled himself to the destruction of the minister with terrible earnestness.

It is a striking tribute to the honesty of Eliot that the dishonest men of all parties declared themselves in turn against him. Archbishop Williams, in his abject paper of apology to the king, to disclaim all connection "with any of the stirring men," declared that about this time "sir John Eliot, the only member that began to thrust in a complaint against me, was never out of my lord duke's chamber and bosom." 2 This, one of the cringing falsehoods of that learned divine, simply proves that Eliot hated sycophancy in every shape, whether popular or aristocratic, and was equally opposed to the duke, and to Williams, the duke's mortal enemy. At the very moment when the lie was so hardily asserted, he had been appointed one of the secret managers to prepare an impeachment against Buckingham.

This charge is yet scarcely so preposterous as one of of a similar character, belonging also to this period, gravely brought forward by Mr. D'Israeli. "That sir John Eliot," says that writer, "was well known to the king, and often in the royal circle, appears by sir

1 "The whole power of the kingdom was grasped by his insatiable hand; while he both engrossed the entire confidence of his master, and held, invested in his single person, the most considerable offices of the crown." Hume's History, vol. v. p. 137. "Who he will advance, shall be advanced; and who he doth but frown upon, must be thrown down." Strafford Papers, vol. i. p. 28.

2 Scrinia Reserata, part i. This would have been better guessed, as I shall have occasion to show, of Wentworth. Still, it would have been incorrect.