John's complaint in the parliament at Oxford in 1625, of six Romish priests being lately pardoned, which the duke had prevailed upon the king to be done, in his presence, at Hampton Court." Whereupon Mr. D'Israeli concludes that "Eliot, like sir Dudley Digges, was in fact a great servant of the duke's." 1 This is an oddly emphatic instance of perverse misrepresentation, or I would scarcely hazard the reproach of tediousness in refuting it. Archdeacon Echard is Mr. D'Israeli's authority. Roger Coke I discover to have been the only authority for archdeacon Echard. I quote the original passage. "When the parliament met at Oxford" (says Coke, plagiarising a previous statement by Hacket), "the speaker had no sooner taken his chair but a western knight enlarges the sense of his sorrow that he had seen a pardon for six priests bearing test July 12.; whereas but the day before it, when they were to part from Westminster, the lord keeper had promised in the king's name before them all, that the rigour against the priests should not be deluded." 3 Oldmixon, quoting this account, makes the western knight sir Robert Philips of Somersetshire, and quotes it correctly enough.4 The archdeacon, on the other hand, takes for granted that the western knight must have been sir John Eliot of Cornwall; and, with his usual incorrect ness, coupling the passage with a few words that go before it, stating that the king had signed the pardon in the presence and by the influence of Buckingham, tortures it into what Mr. D'Israeli has adopted. And Mr. D'Israeli consummates the series of misrepresentations by supporting upon their authority a charge of sycophancy against Eliot! I have now to state that whatever demerit attaches to the circumstance must be removed from Eliot, and from Philips also; for that the "western knight" who "enlarged the

sense of his sorrow was sir Edward Gyles, one of the the Cornish members. 1

Eliot had more stirring game in hand. Scarcely had the parliament reassembled at Oxford when secret intelligence reached him that the loan of ships which had been promised to the king of France, at the close of the late reign, for the purpose of employment against the Spanish interest in Italy and the Valtoline, had been perverted, by the deliberate treachery of Buckingham and his minion the king, to the use of the French catholics against the huguenots of Rochelle. 2 He saw and seized his opportunity. He hurried down to the the house, and implored them to grant no further supplies, for that there were heavy grievances to be considered. Charles having heard this, summoned the houses to meet him at the great hall in Christ Church, to "convince them of the necessity of considering his business first." Under his direction, his ministers then detailed his wants; and to prevent the effect, so much dreaded, of the disclosure of the affair at Rochelle, secretary Cooke told the commons, with a cool and deliberate hypocrisy, that "the French king chose to sheath his sword in the bowels of his own subjects rather than declare war against the catholics." 1 After the conclusion of this conference, the members of the commons returned to their house, and sir John Eliot rose. He implored them to pause before they yielded up their only irresistible arguments for good government. "It is not usual," he said, "to grant subsidies upon subsidies in one parliament and no grievances redressed." He then boldly stated that the treasury had been misemployed, that evil counsels guided the king's designs, that the necessities of the nation had arisen through improvidence, and that they had need to petition the king for a strait hand and a better counsel to manage his affairs. 2 Next, he "desired there might an account be given for all the monies given in parliament since the 12th of king James, with some invectives against the commissioners, whom he called the pretending sparers of the king's purse; laying to their charge the loss of thousands of men's lives in our late expeditions by land and sea." 3 He reserved his heaviest blow for the last, aiming it with a deadly effect against Buckingham. "I desire to know," said Eliot, "whether the money designed for the Palatinate did not maintain the ships sent against Rochelle?" 4 The commons, inflamed by this address, threw out intelligible hints of impeaching Buckingham. The king, exasperated in the extreme, threatened a dissolution, while he urged once more his necessities. Cold and resolute was the answer of the commons. "Necessity is a dangerous counsellor, and is a continual argument of supplies in all parliaments. Those

who have put the king and kingdom into such a necessity and hazard ought to answer for it, whosoever they be." 1 This ominous allusion more nearly alarmed the king, and an abrupt dissolution followed. Parliament was dismissed on the 12th of August.2

It was speedily re-summoned; but disgraceful scenes had intervened. The king, under the advice of Buckingham, had openly dispensed with the laws. Letters had been issued by order of council, under the privy seal, forcing loans from private persons 3, generally those who were connected with the popular party, for the mad purpose of carrying on the Spanish war; and the Spanish war was carried on, up to the disastrous, illconcerted, and most wretchedly conducted, expedition to Cadiz. Parliament could then be warded off no longer, hated as was even its name. Buckingham, with an ominous foreboding of the future, strove to disqualify the leading men, by getting them pricked as sheriffs of their respective counties. Eliot, it is said, was the chief object of his anxiety on this head 4; but, in Eliot's case, he found it impracticable. I think it probable, however, that the duke prevented his election for Newport. Here was only a means of greater triumph. He presented himself to his native county of Cornwall, and was instantly returned by the electors.1 It was an age when the middle and lower ranks of the people shared a common enthusiasm, and were inaccessible alike to fear or to favour. It is striking, and even affecting, to mark the quiet calmness with which Eliot now sought to provide, that the risk and danger, to which he knew his conduct in the coming parliament must expose himself, might not fall heavily on his children. He assigned over every portion of his most extensive estates in trust to relatives for the benefit of his family.2 Having done this, he repaired to his place in the house of commons, resolved, at whatever hazard, to strike down the great traitor who had imperilled the liberty and the property of the kingdom.

At Westminster, on the 6th of February, 1626, this "great, warm, and ruffling 3” parliament assembled. Eliot had scarcely taken his seat, before his vehement eloquence, overflowing with embittered invective, was heard thundering against the doomed minister. In his style of oratory, a singular power of severity and keenness united itself with the clearest facility of detail, was adorned with the most pleasing classical allusion, and was directed against its object with such warmth and earnestness of passion as it is always most difficult to resist. The case of the chaplain Montagu 4 was abandoned for the higher quarry: searching committees were appointed, and the defeats and disgraces of the nation were traced home to Buckingham. The rage of the king exceeded all bounds; and, under its influence, he sent an insolent message to the house. "I must let you know, that I will not allow any of my servants to be questioned among you, much less such as are of eminent place, and near unto me. ** I see you es