hausts the revenues of the crown, not only to satisfy his own lustful desires, but the luxury of others; and, by emptying the veins the blood should run in, he hath cast the body of the kingdom into a high consumption. Infinite sums of money, and mass of land exceeding the value of money, nay, even contributions in parliament, have been heaped upon him; and how have they been employed? Upon costly furniture, sumptuous feasting, and magnificent building, the visible evidences of the express exhausting of the state! And yet his ambition," proceeded Eliot, alluding darkly to more dreadful charges, "which is boundless, resteth not here, but, like a violent flame, bursteth forth, and getteth further scope. Not satisfied with injuries and injustice, and dishonouring of religion, his attempts go higher, - to the prejudice of his sovereign. The effects I fear to speak, and fear to think. I end this passage, as Cicero did in a like case, -ne gravioribus utar verbis quam rei natura fert, aut levioribus quam causæ necessitas postulat."

The closing passage of Eliot's speech was tremendous, and must have electrified the house.

"Your lordships have an idea of the man, what he is in himself, what in his affections! You have seen his power, and some, I fear, have felt it! You have known his practice; and have heard the effects. It rests then to be considered what, being such, he is in reference to the king and state-how compatible or incompatible with either? In reference to the king, he must be styled the canker in his treasure; in reference to the state, the moth of all goodness. What future hopes are to be expected, your lordships may draw out of his actions and affections. In all precedents I can hardly find him a match or parallel. None so like him as Sejanus, thus described by Tacitus: - Audax sui obtegens, in alios criminator, juxta adulator et superbus. My lords, for his pride and flattery it was noted of Sejanus that he did clientes suos provinciis adornare. Doth not this man the like? Ask England, Scotland, and Ireland, and they will tell you! Sejanus's pride was so excessive, Tacitus saith, that he neglected all counsel, mixed his business and service with the prince, seemed to confound their actions, and was often styled imperatoris laborum socius. How lately, and how often, hath this man commixed his actions, in discourse, with actions of the king! My lords, I have done. YouU SEE THE MAN! By him came all these evils; in him we find the cause; on him we expect the remedies; and to this we met your lordships in conference."

The rage of the king, when told of Eliot's speech, betrayed him. In a manuscript letter of the time the writer alludes to the unseemly anger displayed as "private news which I desire you to keep to yourself as your own, by separating this half sheet, and burning it or concealing it." The allusion to the death of his father, and to Sejanus, had strangely affected Charles. "Implicitly," he exclaimed, "he must intend me for Tiberius!" - and he hurried to the house of lords to complain of sir John Eliot. Then began those cruel persecutions which Eliot had foreseen, and prepared himself for, and which were only exhausted at last in the death of their illustrious object. He was that day committed close prisoner to the Tower; and, by an odd kind of chance, which may be worth noting for some of my readers, was flung into the dungeon which, after a few short months, received Felton, Buckingham's assassin.2 Digges was also committed. The house of commons, on hearing of this gross breach of privilege (the first of that series of open and undisguised outrages which brought Charles to the scaffold), broke up instantly, notwithstanding a very heavy press of business before them; and, after dinner, many members met in Westminster Hall, “sadly communicating their minds to one another." 1 The following morning they met in the house; but when the speaker reminded them of the business of the day, - "Sit down! sit down!" was the general cry: no business till we are righted in our liberties!"2 A sullen silence succeeded, which was broken by the memorable expostulation of sir Dudley Carleton, the king's vice-chamberlain. Unadvisedly he let the court secret out! After complaining of the violent and contemptuous expressions resorted to by Eliot and Digges, he blurted forth as follows: beseech you, gentlemen, move not his majesty with trenching on his prerogative, lest you bring him out of love with parliaments. In his messages he hath told you, that if there were not correspondency between him and you, he should be enforced to use new counsels. Now, I pray you to consider what these new counsels are, and may be. I fear to declare those that I conceive. In all Christian kingdoms you know that parliaments were in use anciently, until the monarchs began to know their own strength, and, seeing the tur

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bulent spirit of their parliaments, at length they, by little and little, began to stand upon their prerogatives, and at last overthrew the parliaments throughout Christendom, except here only with us. And, indeed, you would count it a great misery, if you knew the subjects in foreign countries as well as myself, to see them look not like our nation, with store of flesh on their backs, but like so many ghosts, and not men, being nothing but skin and bones, with some thin cover to their nakedness, and wearing only wooden shoes on their feet; so that they cannot eat meat, or wear good clothes, but they must pay and be taxed unto the king for it. This is a misery beyond expression, and that which yet we are free from." Poor sir Dudley had scarcely delivered himself of this when his ears were saluted with loud and unwelcome shouts "Το the bar! to the bar!" He narrowly escaped the necessity of apologising at the bar on his knees.

Ultimately Digges, coy patriot, having consented to retract certain expressions complained of, was released. Eliot, on the other hand, coldly and sternly refused to listen to any proposals; and the king, unable to keep up the struggle, was obliged, after the expiration of eight days, to sign a warrant for his release. On his reappearance in the house, the vice-chamberlain, by his master's command, repeated the charge of intemperate language; upon which sir John, instead of denying anything he had said, or meanly endeavouring to explain away the harshness of the terms he had made use of, in a remarkably eloquent and sarcastic speech avowed and defended every name he had applied to Buckingham.2 The spirit of this great man communicated itself to the house; and, by a unanimous vote, refusing even to order him to withdraw 1, they cleared him from every imputation.

Charles, nothing taught by this egregious failure, continued to play the minion to Buckingham, who had now resolved, by another dissolution, to throw for his only chance of safety. This was, indeed, a desperate step, and so Charles would seem to have considered it; but his fears, his consciousness of the injuries he was committing on his subjects, every thing sank before the influence of the favourite. "The duke being in the audience chamber, private with the king, his majesty was overheard (as they talk) to use these words: 'What can I do more?' I have engaged mine honour to mine uncle of Denmark, and other princes. I have, in a manner, lost the love of my subjects. What wouldest thou have me do?' Whence some think the duke moved the king to dissolve the parliament." 2 Or, it may have been, the duke moved the king to get himself promoted to the chancellorship of Cambridge. Monstrous as it appears, a royal message was sent forthwith to the convocation, on the present occurrence of the vacancy, ordering them to elect the duke! Vain was every entreaty to postpone the election; at least until after the event of the impeachment were known. It was carried3,